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| 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.
200 words
@nickjohns999
This story was written for Rebekah Postupak's Flash! Friday writing challenge
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