|Image copyright Dan Fador|
Man’s Best Friend
I had just turned back towards the family when I saw him circling me.
From a distance of course, he knew better than to approach too close, although that might change after dark.
I stopped, considering. There might be more nearby. I couldn’t risk leading them to the family.
He edged closer, then stopped too, and stood watching, waiting. He was a big one. Rangy and scarred, but he could be a real problem for me if I wasn’t careful.
He had a broken front tooth and his gums looked too red, but he probably wasn’t feeding properly up here in the mountains.
That was true of both of us I suppose. There had been lots of them at first. We had to travel very carefully, keeping the little ones close and quiet. But as we moved away from the chaos and disease in the city, I saw mostly dead ones.
But he was tough. A survivor.
We’d both ended up living somewhere harsher, less hospitable.
No easy pickings up here in the high country.
I guess that’s why he’d decided to try me.
But he’d made a bad decision.
Men always did.
I growled and launched myself at him.
This story was written for Rebekah Postupak's Flash! Friday writing challenge