Fluke (19 page)

More footsteps, silence, and I waited for the second blast. I swerved as much as I could and crouched low to make myself as small a target as possible. The hens leapt into the air in horror as I passed them, no doubt thinking I had returned for second helpings.

I leapt into the air myself as my tail seemed to explode into shreds. I yelp-yelped in that rapid way dogs do when they're hurt, but kept going, relieved that I could actually keep going. The barking behind me reached a new frenzy and then I knew the mastiff had been let loose, for the sound took on a new, more excited pitch. The welcoming fields rushed forward to meet me and I scrambled under a fence and was into them, my tail on fire.

'Gorn boy!' came the shout from behind and knew the monster dog was closing up on me. The field
Page 84

seemed to stretch out before me in the moonlight and grow wider and longer, the hedge on the far side shrinking rather than growing. The mastiff hadn't caught up with me yet, but his heavy panting had. He'd stopped barking to save his breath and conserve his energy. He really wanted me, that dog.

I inwardly cursed myself for being so stupid and allowing myself to be used as a decoy by the fox. It made me very angry and almost caused me to turn and vent my anger on the pursuing dog. Almost, but not quite -1 wasn't that stupid.

The mastiff seemed to be panting in my left ear now and I realised he was very close. I turned my head quickly to see just how far behind he was and immediately wished I hadn't - his grinning teeth were level with my left flank!

I swerved just as he took a snap at me and he went sailing on by, rolling over on the grass as he endeavoured to stop himself. The mastiff came racing back and I went racing on again, so he found himself running in the wrong direction once more.

Looming up ahead was the hedge and I was grateful it had stopped playing shrinking tricks on me. I dived into it and prayed I wouldn't hit a tree trunk; the mastiff plunged in right behind me. Brambles tore at us and startled birds complained of the noise, but we were through in an instant and tearing across the next field. Knowing he would soon catch up, I began my swerving tactics again. Fortunately, the mastiff wasn't too bright and he fell for my tricks every time. It was exhausting though and several times his teeth raked across my flank, but eventually even his energy seemed to be depleting. On one very successful twist he had gone at least five yards beyond me, so I stopped for a breather. The mastiff stopped too and we both faced each other across the grass, our shoulders and chests heaving with the effort.

'Look,' I panted, 'let's talk about this.'

But he had no inclination to talk at all. He was up and at me, growling as he came. So on I went.

As I ran, I picked up a scent. Foxes are usually pretty smart when it comes to covering their tracks -

they'll double back, climb trees, jump into water, or mingle with sheep - but when they've got a dead chicken in their mouth, dripping blood and feathers, it's another story. She'd left a trail as strong as cat's-eyes in a road.

The mastiff got a whiff of it and momentarily lost interest in me, then we both tore off down that smelly path. Through another hedge we went, and then we were m the wood, dodging round trees and heavy clumps of bushes. Startled night creatures scurried back to their homes as we crashed past, twittering and protesting at our intrusion.

I don't think the mastiff's night vision was as good as mine - probably he was a lot older - because his progress wasn't so fast, and several times I heard him cry out when he bumped into trees. I gained some distance on him and began to feel a little more confident about getting away. Then I bumped into the fox.

The hen had hampered her flight and she must have dropped it at this point and paused to retrieve it. I bore no malice - I was too frightened at what lay behind - and would probably have ignored her had I not gone straight into her crouching body. We rolled over in a struggling heap, fox, chicken and dog, but parted immediately when the mastiff joined us. He bit out at everything within reach and, fortunately for both the vixen and me, we were able to leave him there with a mouthful of chicken, content in his catch as he shook the dead body and tried to rip it apart. The farmer would be well pleased when his guard dog returned with a mouthful of feathers and blood.

Page 85

We went our separate ways, the vixen and I, she back to her cubs, me to find somewhere quiet to nurse my wounds. It was growing lighter by the minute now and I hurried to get away from the area, not sure of my directions but wanting to travel as far as possible before daybreak. I knew (how did I know?) farmers took great pains to seek out and destroy any killer dogs who plagued their livestock and this particular farmer would certainly regard me as such. My tail stung terribly now, overriding the hurt from my various other wounds, but I didn't dare stop and examine the damage. I came to a stream and swam across, enjoying the coolness on my wounds, and when I reached the other side, clambered out with reluctance. I gave myself a good shake then sped onwards, determined to get clear of the farmer's land.

The sun had risen and was gathering strength by the time I stumbled into a resting-place. I ached and I hurt, and all I could do was lay there in a dip in the ground and try to recover my strength. After a while I was able to twist my head and examine my throbbing tail. The wound wasn't half as bad as I expected; only the very tip had been damaged and much of the hair had gone from it. Victoria would have been pleased, for our tails were now a good match. The sting from the scratches on my back and flanks caused by the wire mesh and the mastiff's teeth weren't too bothersome, but irritating nonetheless. I rested my head between my paws and slept.

When I awoke, the sun was high overhead and covering my body with its warmth. My mouth and throat felt dry and my wounds were a dull throb. My stomach grumbled over the lack of food. Rousing myself, I looked around and saw I was resting in the dip of a gentle slope. A valley spread out below and other grassy hills rose up on the other side, their soft summits mounted by beech copses. I wandered down hoping to find a spring at the bottom of the hill, nibbling at certain grasses as I went. The grass -

sheep's fescue it's called - wasn't too tasty, but I knew many downland animals ate it, so at least it would provide nourishment. Again, I wondered how I knew about such things: how I knew the snail I'd just pushed was a Roman snail that used calcium in the chalky downland soil to make its shell; how the bird that sang somewhere to my right was a skylark; how the butterfly that fluttered by was an Adonis blue wakened prematurely by the sudden warm weather. I had obviously taken a keen interest in the countryside in my past life and taken the trouble to learn about nature and her ways. Had I perhaps been a naturalist or a botanist? Or had it been only a hobby to me? Maybe I had been brought up in the countryside and names and habits came naturally to me. I shook my head in frustration: I had to find out who I had been, what I had been; how I had died and why I had become a dog. And I had to discover who the man was, the man in my dreams who seemed so evil, who seemed such a threat to my family.

My family - the woman and the little girl - I had to find them, had to let them know I wasn't dead. Had to tell them I'd become a dog. Wasn't there someone who could help me?

There was. But I wasn't to meet him till two nights later.

Fifteen

Pay attention now because this is important. This is the point in my story where I heard a reason for my existence, why I was a dog. This is the part that may help you if you're prepared to accept it. I won't mind if you don't, it's up to you, but bear in mind what I asked of you at the beginning: keep your mind open.

I wandered on for two more days, finding the road again and relieved to find it. I was determined not to
Page 86

waste any more time, but to find my home and to find some answers.

Road signs were becoming more difficult to read; I had to gaze at them for a long time and concentrate hard. However, I found the right way and continued my journey, pleased to reach a town further on; it was much easier for me to get food when I was among people and shops. A few people took pity on me in my bedraggled state (although others chased me away as though I were something unclean) and gave me scraps. I spent the night with a family who took me in, and I think they had intentions of keeping me as a pet, but the following morning when they let me out to relieve myself, I ran off to the next town. I hated spurning this family's kindness, but nothing could deter me from my purpose now.

I was less successful in scrounging food in the next town, although I still ate adequately enough. The road was becoming more and more familiar and I knew I was nearing my home. My excitement grew.

When dusk fell I was between towns, so I left the roadside and entered a deep wood. Hungry (of course) and tired (naturally), I searched for a safe place to sleep. I don't know if you've ever spent the night in a wood alone, but it's very creepy. It's pitch-black for a start (no street lights), and there's a constant rustling and cracking of dry twigs as the night animals mooch around. My night vision's good -

better than yours - but even so, it was still difficult to detect much in the darkness. Eerie glowing lights set my heart racing until I investigated and discovered a couple of glow-worms going through their meeting routine. Another blue-green glow upset me until I realised it was only honey fungus growing on a decaying tree-trunk.

I could hear bats flapping around, their high-pitched squeals making me jump, and a hedgehog trundled into me and pricked my nose with its spikes. I considered going back to the roadside, but the blinding lights and roaring engines of passing cars were even more frightening.

The woods at night are almost as busy as in the daytime, except everything seems even more secretive.

I adopted this secretive attitude myself and skulked around as stealthily as I could in search of a resting-place. Finally I discovered a nice soft mound of earth beneath a thick roof of foliage, just under a tree. It made a snug hiding place and I settled down for the night, a strange feeling of portentousness filling me. My instincts were right, for later that night my sleep was disturbed by the badger.

And it was the badger who explained things to me.

I had failed to fall into a comfortable sleep and lay dozing in the dark with my eyes constantly blinking open at the slightest sound. A shifting of earth behind me made me jump and twist my head round to see the cause of the disturbance. Three broad white lines appeared from a hole in the sloping ground and a twitching nose at the base of the middle stripe sniffed the air in all directions.

It stopped when it caught my scent.

'Who's there?' a voice said.

I didn't reply -1 was ready to run.

The white lines widened as they emerged from the black hole. 'Funny smell,' the voice said. 'Let me see you.'

I now saw there were two shiny black eyes on either side of the middle stripe. I realised it was a badger
Page 87

speaking, and it was, two black stripes running down his white head which gave him this white-striped appearance. I backed away, aware that these creatures could be fierce if alarmed or angered.

'Is it ... is it a ... dog? Yes, it's a dog, isn't it?' the badger guessed.

I cleared my throat, undecided whether to stay or run.

'Don't be afraid,' the badger said. 'I won't cause you any bother unless you mean us harm.' He waddled his great coarse-haired body out of his sett and I saw he was at least three feet long and very tall.

'Yes, I thought I recognised the smell. We don't get many dogs in here on their own. You are on your own, aren't you? You're not night-hunting with one of those cattle farmers, are you?'

Like the fox, he didn't seem to trust the dog's association with man. I found my voice and nervously assured him I wasn't.

He seemed puzzled for a moment and I felt rather than saw him regard me curiously. Whatever was going on in his mind was interrupted as another badger shuffled from the sett. I assumed this was his sow.

'What's going on? Who's this?' came a sharp voice.

'Hush now. It's only a dog and he means us no harm,' the boar told her. 'Why are you alone in the woods, friend? Are you lost?'

I was too nervous to speak up right then and the sow piped up again: 'Chase him away! He's after the babies!'

'No, no,' I managed to say. 'No, please, I'm just passing through. I'll be on my way now. Don't get upset.' I turned to trot off into the darkness.

'Just a moment,' the boar said quickly. 'Stay awhile. I want to talk to you.'

Now I was afraid to run.

'Chase him away, chase him away! I don't like him!' the sow urged.

'Be quiet!' the boar said quietly but firmly. 'You go on about your hunting. Leave a good trail for me to follow - I'll join you later.'

The sow knew better than to argue and huffed her way rudely past me, emitting a vile odour from her anal glands as a comment.

'Come closer,' the boar said when his mate had gone. 'Come where I can see you better.' His enormous body had shrunk and I realised his hair must have become erectile on seeing me and had now returned to its normal smoothness. 'Tell me why you're here. Do you belong to a man?'

I shuffled forward, ready to flee.

'No, I don't belong to anyone. I used to, but don't any more.'

Page 88

'Have you been mistreated?'

'It's a lucky dog who hasn't.'

He nodded at this. 'It would be a fortunate animal or man who hasn't,' he said.

It was my turn to regard him curiously. What did he know of man?

The badger settled himself into a comfortable position on the ground and invited me to do the same and, after a moment's hesitation, I did.

'Tell me about yourself. Do you have a man name?' he asked.

'Fluke,' I told him, puzzled by his knowledge. He seemed very human for a badger. 'What's yours?'

The badger chuckled dryly. 'Wild animals don't have names, we know who we are. It's only men who give animals names.'