From TC 9:2 – “Search, Rescue” by Andrew Minnick

Two hours after the walk began the dog was lost. The master had set off in the mild cool of a warm February day with light gloves and a pocket full of old steak. A gentle motion and a quiet word, a “go,” or “off,” or “run,” released the beast from obsequence to instinct and the master watched the dog run through the cluster of aspens into the pine forest beyond.
It had been so warm that day, the odd cloudless sky offering the land to the sun. Now it grew cold. The treacherous flame of life leaving open the door to darkness and the chill it spoke. No movement in the pine, no sight of the dog. The master slid his hands into his coat pockets and kept on.
Continue Reading

Print Friendly, PDF & Email