The skelebot never budged. It lashed out at Sabot and connected with flesh. He yelped a high pitched cry and rolled away.
Sabot lay with a wound so wide that bone shone bright in the sun. Samson backed away with his head low. The skelebot sunk a heavy claw into Sabot’s chest and held it, as if making sure it was properly in place, before drawing it out.
“No!” Denali wanted to bark but she couldn’t. Her breath was knocked out of her and she could hardly stand. She eyed an escape, the only way out, and knew that she could never outrun the hunter. Her only hope was to hide.
Then two smells hit her. One was of a dog, another dog, a dog she didn’t know. The other was the same blue tang of the skelebots, but it was so rich on the wind that she almost gagged.
The skelebot before her paused and turned its wide skull at her. Its eyes were flecked with sand and pitted like an old lens. Then it tracked back to Samson and pumped its leg.
Denali felt helpless. She barked so she could at least do something, but it came out as a hard wheeze. Fear coursed through her but she had to help. Had to. Instead of aiming low and trying to knock it down she chased after and decided to go high.
The skelebot slammed down and jabbed out a claw at Samson like a hunting crab.
Samson dodged to the side but caught the edge of the claw on his hindquarter. His rear end skidded out and he lost his footing. The skelebot dug in its single foot and slung one arm out and aimed for Samson.
Denali leaped towards the skelebot. She grasped hard metal in her jaws, feeling the grittiness on her tongue. She held on through the first shake, and even the second, but the third sent her sprawling into the low weeds.
The skelebot clacked both of its claws and dug them into the dirt and took one more stride towards Samson. It stopped after a single stride and cocked its head. The unblinking eyes whined a high pitch sound and turned back to Denali.
She scrambled backwards in the weeds and backed up against an old chalky wall. Fear overwhelmed her as a rubble wall cased her in on both sides. Trapped. Trapped. She bared her teeth and growled. If anything, she’d go down snarling.
Samson stepped towards the skelebot and stopped. A look of realization rolled over his face and the anger melted away. He turned and padded off with his tail between his legs.
Denali snarled and lowered her head down. Her eyes followed Samson until he disappeared.
Her only escape was to wait for it to strike and sprint next to it. The arms were always slow to retract. But first she had to dodge the first strike.
It snapped forward with one claw and came short. Denali pulled back and coiled her muscles like a spring. Like a brown bolt she darted underneath the arm.
She could see the freedom beyond the skelebot. Her nose was there and then the second claw hit her. It didn’t pierce her with tips of the claws but instead bludgeoned her chest like an iron mace. The sky flipped with the ground and she rolled a dozen meters. She could taste blood.
“No,” she whispered, trying to stand. Her legs buckled. “No.” The agony turned to rage and she tried to stand, to pull herself along, to do anything to get free. The animal soul inside tore out her consciousness and she was nothing more than a cornered wolf.
It saved her. The bot came down and slammed both of its claws onto her. But that last determined move put her next to its single leg.
She rolled, glanced up at the stump where a leg had been and tried to scurry away. A part of her wondered what happened to it, the wound was perfectly clean, like it was sheared off. But the animal inside of her pushed away the thoughts and focused on escape. “Focus” was too weak of a word—instinct.
Her paws scratched at the broken concrete. Bits broke away under her nails. Her legs were slow to react and her chest blazed with pain. The wolf inside demanded she run. Get away!
The smell hit her again and snapped the wolf away. Dog.
At first she thought that Samson had returned. Her heart slammed in her chest. But it only took a moment to realize that it was someone else, someone she didn’t know.
The new dog slammed the skelebot and drove it to the ground. His teeth latched onto the spine joint where the banana shaped head attached to the body. Dim blue light illuminated the dog’s time etched teeth. A tooth chipped and clacked.
The sound of the new dog savaging the neck joint of the skelebot was deafening. Growls, snarls, and mechanical revolt all sang through the air. Denali stood on shaky legs and watched the fury.
The skelebot tried to rise but without a second leg it couldn’t overcome the weight of the dog on its back. It thrashed and pumped with both arms but the beast was locked on. The machine threw its slender leg and tried to roll. The dog wavered, shifted, and pinned the bot tight.
A click, almost imperceptible above the sounds of the fight, announced the end. The limbs of the skelebot went rigid like steel pipes and the head crumbled back. The dog gave one final head shake and tore the skull free.
Denali sat down hard. Her hind legs sprawled out to the side. The pain in her chest was like being wrapped in a hot iron blanket. She fixed her eyes on the dog and waited for it to turn.
The victor stood on the shoulders of the skelebot before dropping the head with a thud. He seemed reluctant to turn and face Denali. His tail wagged slowly and he lowered his heavy paws onto the ground.
“Thank you,” Denali said. Lights danced in her eyes and every breath tortured her.
The dog stirred and his eyes grew soft. His tongue came out and he panted. He stepped closer and looked down at Denali.
“Thank you,” she said again and laid down even farther. The pain grew like burning embers.
He said nothing and looked to his side. A thin gash dripped a tiny rivulet of blood. His tongue darted out slowly and lapped at the wound.
The scent hit Denali again. More were coming. “We have to go.” She coughed and tasted more blood. “There’s more! More coming!” Her eyes darted to the dead skelebot. Even through her pain she knew they had to go, the smell was now a mechanical stench.
He stretched his paws out before him and tucked in tight to the ground. His tongue came out again.
“We need to go? Can you hear me? There’s more of them, can’t you smell it?”
Then she knew. Exile. The gifts once bestowed by the machine gods were stripped away. His teeth would fall out. His body no longer healed as quickly. But more importantly, his mind was that of a regular dog. The consciousness they were born with was taken away. It was but an animal.
But it was an animal that saved her life.
“Go, go!” The fear came back. She had to go, move, get away, but her legs felt so weak.
The smell wafted on the wind, thick and tarry. The dog stirred and his ears snapped up. His giant head scanned the ruins.
Denali knew her nose was better than almost everyone else, and even better than this one, she thought. “Good, good!”
The dog stood and trotted away.
“No!” Denali tried to stand again, fiery pain slammed into her chest. She cried out and lay shaking. It took her a moment for the burning to subside. When she looked up again, the exile was gone.
The wind shifted once more. Grit blew down from the tops of the walls and a scattering of dust shifted through the abandoned city. The smell left Denali for a moment, but came back on the swirls.
She pleaded to herself to move. Grew angry, spat and snarled. She got herself into this mess, she’d damn well get out. Always trying to prove herself tough. Well, now here was her chance. Get out, tell them that Samson ran first. She put Sabot out of her mind, it was no one’s fault. All of their fault. She just felt afraid and wanted to be back with the pack. Even if she felt like an outsider.
First one paw and then the next. Both of her front legs shook like willows in the wind. Every breath brought a searing pain.
One step. Her back legs quivered even worse than the front. Then her front paw faltered and she fell again. She yelped and whimpered as she rolled from side t
o side. All of this, she thought, over a stupid caribou.
CHAPTER THREE
Chalk
Denali woke and felt cool grass underneath her. She took a short sniff. The air smelled clear. She opened her eyes.
The hills around her were shrouded in green with the wreckage of some long forgotten mechanical monstrosity sprawled on the side. It was like a great fish deposited into the rock and slowly returning into the earth. Heaps of scrap piled on the slopes beneath it. Mounds of salvage. Salvage for the machine gods.
She once asked Karoc how old it was. The shaman bowed his head and stared down. When he looked back up, his eyes were sad. “Older than any can remember.”
The way he answered the question seemed so sad to her. As if he wanted nothing more than to see it. Whatever it was.
“Home,” she whispered, and immediately regretted it.
The fire in her ribs wasn’t gone and reminded her she hadn’t just fallen asleep. Which meant that Sabot really was dead and Samson gone.
She turned her head slowly. The exile huddled close to the ground. His eyes were on the camp below. His ears perked high, his nose sucked in giant breaths. But most telling were his lips, they quivered.
He hadn’t noticed that she was awake.
Who is he? She wanted to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.
A low growl sounded and Samson bounded over the chalk colored scree.
The exile scrambled to his feet. Rocks clattered down the slope. In two great leaps he was over the ridge line and gone.
Denali tried to speak but the great fire in her chest held her tight. She could hear howls and a great bellowing from the camp below. Someone had seen them.
Samson stopped with his teeth bared and blood still on his snout. His eyes were hard and flinty like pits of polished granite. He leaned close to Denali. His breath was hot and smelled of blood. “You,” he snarled.
Denali tensed up and wanted to close her eyes. She knew the marauders would be up to investigate the rockslide, but Samson could do anything until then.
“You lured us out there, we tried to save you, Sabot tried to save you, and you ran. I saved you from the skelebot and brought you here.”
“No,” Denali whimpered.
“I’ll kill Barley’s pups,” Samson snarled in a voice devoid of emotion.
Denali closed her eyes tight. She loved the pups, still bundles of fur and wet noses. They’d not even shed the fine puppy coat of hair. “I won’t say anything.”
“My father will ask, tell him that I saved you. Tell him that Sabot died trying to save you, but that I killed it!”
Denali said nothing. She clenched her eyes tight.
“Say it!” Samson growled and locked his sharp teeth onto Denali’s throat. “Say it!”
“You saved me. I lured you out, you and Sabot, and you saved me from the skelebot—”
“—and I killed it!”
“You killed it, you did,” Denali repeated. The teeth were sharp on her throat and every word seared her. She felt every breath he took, a warm, wet air.
Samson released Denali and stepped away. His coat was sticky and matted with clotted blood. He glared at her and kept his teeth bared, teeth that still had her hair stuck in clumps.
She wanted to whimper and cry. She was so scared, even the truth was beyond her. And now she’d be taking the blame. The pups came back to her and she closed her eyes. It’s worth it, it’s worth it for them.
Munin arrived first. His gray coat shone in the high mountain air. He pursued the exile, but came back quickly. He listened to Samson and then to Denali and said nothing. More marauders came and paced off the area, they covered the draws and edges of the hills. Lastly came Samus with Grat on his heels.
Samus’s eyes darted between the dogs. His chopped tail was like an unmoving dagger. He glared at Samus and then his eyes burned onto Denali. Munin met him at the edge of a crumbling stone.
Denali couldn’t hear what they said. The wind whipped the words into the heavens.
Samus stared at his son. A part of him seemed to grow smaller as Munin spoke, as if a great weight crushed into him. Munin took a step closer but Samus walked away in stilted steps. He stood alone until Grat came closer.
Denali knew that Grat had lost an entire litter before she came to the pack. She never knew the details. Now she watched the two fathers who had lost sons speak in words that none could hear. Finally both were silent and Denali knew it would be her time to speak.
“Go, bring back his body,” Samus ordered.
A trio of marauders ran over the hills, noses to the ground.
Samson growled at Denali and locked his eyes onto hers.
Samus stood between them and looked at either. “My son is dead.”
The words drifted in the air like a snowflake in the wind. It was a statement, not an observation.
“And you,” he snarled at Denali, “are the one who led him to this.”
Denali averted her eyes and stared at Samus’s massive paws.
“Look at me!” Samus bellowed out.
Denali looked up into a face of barely contained rage. Samus’s eyes were ringed with liquid and his lips quivered. She’d never been more afraid in her life.
“Why?” he said in a low growl. “Why?”
“It was a game,” Denali said.
“A game,” Samus spat.
“They chased after me, I went farther.”
“But why?” Samus asked again, louder.
“We were having fun, it was a game,” Denali said, almost believing herself.
Samus locked his eyes onto Denali’s and held her in the grip of his sorrow. The wind stirred and the marauders stood as sentinels in the distance. Denali watched the sorrow on Samus and could feel the eyes of the pack on her. Her fault. But most of all, she couldn’t bear to look at Grat. He always knew when she was lying. She prayed he wouldn’t ask, but knew he would.
“I should have killed you that night,” Samus said. He turned and stood next to Samson. “You killed one.”
Samson looked to Denali and back to Samus. “I did.”
“How?”
Samus stared at the ground.
“He stood on its shoulders and pinched its spine,” Denali said quickly.
Samus turned his head to listen but wouldn’t look at Denali.
“Is a good place to bite.” Samus nodded. “Show me your teeth.”
Samson bared his blood flared teeth.
“It was an old one, it only one leg,” Denali added again.
Samus looked at Samson’s teeth and snorted. “Maybe. Maybe,” he said, but didn’t sound convinced.
“Sabot was on it first,” Denali said, trying to weave the tale. “Then Samson leaped onto it. The claws knocked me to the ground, they both saved me.”
“So I’ve traded a son for a runt,” Samus spoke again, harshly.
Grat looked on in silence. His jowled face wore no emotion but his eyes wore sorrow like a old cloak.
Samus turned and walked away, alone.
Two of the marauders came and helped Samson to his feet and walked him down into the camp. Denali tried to stand. Grat came close and helped her up. His eyes showed concern and a touch of confusion. Denali could barely bring herself to look at him.
They walked slowly through the scree field. Denali stepped gently onto each stone and felt the reassuring weight of Grat at her side. The ordeal seemed a bit less with his large form by her side. She glanced up at him, but looked away quickly before he noticed. She wanted to tell him, tell him everything, she’d done nothing wrong other than shirk a day’s work. She wanted to do the right thing, but she wanted to prove herself to him. To everyone.
The journey down out of the scree field brought them through low and jagged rocks with wispy willows clinging to every crevice. It smelled like home to Denali. The scents of dried caribou wafted with the smell of dogs, young and old.
The remnants of some long lost structure clung to the hills. Bands of
rust streaked conduit danced between the buildings, all to some function no one knew. Between the facilities great columns rose up as if to placate the heavens, but only rust perched on top. It all looked like a drunken spider wove it together to capture some giant insect.
There were eyes on the pair as they walked laboriously through the camp. Denali wondered if they knew yet, she guessed they did, and skulked as quickly as she could.
Grat stepped first into the building and sat with a grunt. A pile of willow branches crumpled and cracked as he settled himself in. “Tell her,” Grat said to Denali, and closed his eyes.
Barley jumped up from a mound of sleeping pups with her eyes already teary. “Child!” she barked out. “What happened to you?”
Denali set herself down stiffly and whimpered. Then she lied.
They returned with Sabot’s body as the sun dropped beneath the peaks and everything took on an ashen pale. The marauders stopped on the edge of the camp. Each draped a long red tongue into the evening air and panted heavily. They waited for Samus to come to them.
Denali watched from the doorway and felt Grat and Barley both watching her. The pups had woken excited, played, and were sleeping again. She loved that they didn’t notice a thing. To them, she was still innocent. That very fact made her feel even worse.
Samus stood next to the corpse with his head low. He turned to Munin and the two spoke. Then Samus walked towards Denali.
“Father,” Denali said to Grat.
Grat stirred and opened his heavy eyes.
“Samus is coming.”
Grat stretched and plodded across the room. He sat down next to Denali. His chest leaned against her with just enough pressure so that she knew he was there.
Samus loped up to the doorway. “Why didn’t you say there were more?”
Denali fumbled on the words. She’d forgotten about the other skelebots.
Samus saw that she knew. “After all of this and you don’t warn us? The one with the golden nose.”
She’d forgotten and now felt ashamed of herself. She whimpered and pushed her tail between her legs.
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