Later on into the night, when she whined to go out, they let her out, and though she didn't exactly know what she was doing, she kept the shed in sight. Turns out forgetting wasn't part of the plan after all.
Her tail was down, her jaws were closed, and her ears were tucked when she stopped a few feet away, seeing his black shadow pacing from between the slats and holes in the wood.
She didn't know what had drawn her out here... It wasn't curiosity, that much she knew. It wasn't like she wanted this. No, she'd rather be inside, but, watching him pace she couldn't–
He stopped, she stiffened, lower to the ground than she had been. She knew he couldn't get out. He didn't even react to anyone, so she was safe, right?
He fixed a green eye on her and all she could do was look back and feel her heart beating too-fast in her chest.
She wanted to whine. It wouldn't come in the silence punctuated by the sound of far off geese.
Then, as if nothing had happened, he continued pacing, not licking his wounds– did he even sleep? Did he need to?
She lay down on the ground, just watching his back and forth motion.
Eventually, he did lay down. His black fur was pressed up against the slats. She heard the sounds of him licking.
It was a silent vigil they kept.
Was she going to stay there the whole night?
She was one of the ones with a thicker pelt of fur, almost like his, except tan and white to his black and gray.
He ruminated upon the thought of this dog as he licked his wounds, having eventually grown accustomed to her presence. Sometimes he'd see her from her window, so it wasn't that strange, really. Just an absence of a man-made wall. And as the night stretched on further, he could hear her breathing, soft and slow. It was... comforting in a way. No jeers, no jabs, no 'well-meaning' questions, though he wasn't sure he'd mind the questions at this point. And maybe he'd have his own in return.
She smelled young. And on the verge of being nervous. But not now. Not settled the way they were.
He thought he might say something– warn her about her friend approaching his master like that or something just to–
Why?
He sighed, slumping further against the wood, hearing it creak.
After a bit, the winds changed. Her scent was blowing at him full force, frightened, as her footsteps led her this way.
He didn't know how to feel: indignant, guarded, curious himself?
He felt her wet nose snuffling along the edge of the wood, brushing against his fur by mistake it seemed, and his eyes widened, his lips pulled. He turned his head, craning it over to look up at her through the chinks, only to find she was lower down than he'd anticipated, hunkering.
She scuttled back, tail between her legs, saying, "Sorry! I– I was worried– Uh–" looking behind her once, then back to him, she rounded, and he watched her slink back to her house, tucking herself up on the porch, pressed close to the door.
Worried?
She got up then and scratched at it, whining softly, looking over her shoulder– not at him or the shed he was in.
One moment passed as he watched her ears prick expectantly, as his did the same.
Two.
And then she huffed a sigh and curled up once more, tucking her head by her back feet that were pink-pawed.
