Page 17 of A Single Thread Of Hope

Thank them for me. Tell them that if they need assistance, they have the gratitude of Cydon.I looked at my old friend.You do too. If you wish to get off the streets, the Mother of Fate will find you a home. Or regular meals, at least. This town will be safe for us all.

Attie grumbled at the idea that he’d need assistance from humans.I’ll tell the street dogs. Some of the younger ones may wish for an easier life.He conveyed the idea with a flash of an image—scraggly-looking puppies curled up on fluffy pillows beside full bowls.

I touched my cheek to his, a sign of affection from his alpha, and he huffed and trotted away back to town. I’d put the offer out there, and that was all I could do.

Tilting my face to the wind, I picked up the scent of Wren in the air. Even the thought of her made my heart thrum heavily in my chest. I wanted to go to her immediately, but I forced myself to finish my rounds of the village. Not all the dogs who’d fought in the battle had come inside the compound’s gates. Some of my pack trusted me and would follow me into battle, but had a distrust of both Mythics and humans. They hid out in the unoccupied land around the village, making dens in dense bushes and rock crevices.

I particularly wanted to check on the pregnant female. She’d never been permitted to fight, but her mate had answered the call, and so she came too. Honestly, the extra food and shelter would be beneficial to the survival of their young, even if there was the risk of death during the fighting.

A street dog’s life was always shadowed by the risk of death. Though this option came with an abundance of food and the illusion of safety, at least for a little while.

I yipped happily at the townsfolk I saw as I went past, stopping to greet at Stavros where he ate lunch at thepsistaria. Stavros was a wily old bastard. Some part of him knew that I wasn’t a normal dog. He’d always spoken to me like I was a human, just another old friend to share his worries with. It might’ve been because I had been an “old” dog back when he was a boy. I’d disappear down to Heraklion every ten or so years, and come back after a few more, so no one really could say for sure I was the same white dog who’d lived in the town for so long, but I knew a few of the older inhabitants wondered.

I always returned to this place. I never stayed away long, not in a thousand years. Because I knew this was the place I would be needed.

Stavros didn’t doubt himself about anything, let alone this. He gave me a piece of cheese, which I ate from his fingers happily. “You seem to have more than a few friends roaming about the place, Cy.” I tilted my head at him, the closest thing I could do to a shrug. I had my reasons, and he knew those reasons. “More than a few have made their way in front of the fires of locals.” I gave him a toothy dog grin, and he shook his head. “The girl is okay up there with the Others?”

The townspeople always called them the Others. Not part of the town, but as fundamental to Amourgeles as the old stone roads they still drove on or the vista of the land they saw from their front doors. There was no Amourgeles without Demke and his Demigods.

But no one in town was ever quite game enough to call them Gods out loud.

I tilted my head at him again. What would he do if she wasn’t okay? Stavros was a good human; he mightn’t want to go againstDemke and the others, but he would if he thought Wren was being mistreated. I sat and wagged my tail, my mouth opening so my tongue could loll out happily. Positive body language helped me communicate with the humans in this form too.

Finally, I nodded, in case he needed something more concrete than my attempts at dog body language. He gave a harrumph, then reached out to give me the remains of his lamb bone. I took it in my jaws and trotted away happily, out of town and down one of the dirt roads toward a small outcropping of trees and craggy rocks, where the less social members of the pack were staying. There was a weather-beaten stone building, with a roof that was one harsh storm away from collapsing, and I knew that’s where the pregnant female was bunkered down to whelp her pups.

I accepted the greetings of the other dogs in the area, immediately feeling at peace in the pack. There was nothing like the sheer acceptance of street dogs. Sure, there were occasional squabbles amongst them to figure out who fit where in the hierarchy, but there really wasn’t any of that alpha/beta stuff you heard about with wolves.

Street dogs were territorial over three things: food, mates, and dens. If everyone played nice on those three points, you were more likely to have a friend for life. And with plenty of food and no real need to fight for dens, it was relaxed outside of town in their temporary packlands.

No one even tried to take the food from my mouth.

When I walked into the rundown building, I saw the mother dog straight away. Turns out, she’d had her pups already. Walking over to her hovering mate, I dropped the bone at his feet.

Congratulations. A fine litter.From what I could see, there were at least nine puppies, which meant a lot of mouths to feed for the mother.

The male, Listís, gave a happy chuff of appreciation. He lifted the bone and took it over to the mother, sniffing at the squirming babies. They weren’t more than lumps with legs at this point, but they were certainly cute. I padded over slowly, watching the parents for any sign they might get upset at my proximity to their young, but the mother, Tsíli, just wagged her tail at me tiredly.

I booped each of them with my nose, committing their scents to my memory. These were the first pups that had been born into the pack since I’d created it, and that made them special—at least to me.

It would be safer within the walls,I told the parents, and they looked at each other.There is no pressure, but the Mother of Fate will make sure you’re safe and they’re protected, just like her own young.

I was making promises on Wren’s behalf, but I felt like I knew her enough to know this was what she’d want. She wouldn’t want them to be out here, at risk of becoming food for a monster creeping through the darkness, trying to breach the walls of the compound.

Tsíli laid her head down, obviously still tired. Listís stared at his young, all different shades of gray and red and white, making it impossible to tell what breed they might have originated from.

We’ll do what’s best for the pups,he said.Take us to your mistress.

I laughed at the idea that Wren was my mistress, but didn’t protest. Shifting into a man, I went to the basket in the corner of the building. I kept some old clothes here, in case any situation called for me to be a man and not a dog. It looked like today was that day.

A plain blue t-shirt and a pair of well-worn jeans with one too many holes in them were pulled out of the basket. Thankfully, Tsíli hadn’t decided to have her babies on them. There was also ahooded sweatshirt in case I needed it in winter, but for today, it would do as some soft bedding to transport the young.

I looked down at Listís, who was now eyeing me warily.It’s true that you turn human. I always thought it was a rumor, despite the call. You really are a God.

I grinned at him, wishing he could see that I was the same entity, on two legs or four.I’m not a man. I’m not a dog. But I am pack, first and foremost.Mostly true. I was Wren’s first and foremost, but she was also pack. She just didn’t know it yet.

I put the basket down beside Tsíli, then stepped out so they could put the pups in one by one without having to keep one eye on me too. While I might be pack, a parent’s protective instincts overrode such things as hierarchy.

The day was getting hot, but I knew that soon enough, the nights would cool considerably and winter would come. I smiled at the dogs outside, who were also more wary of me in this form, wagging their tails in greeting but staying a healthy distance from me.

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