Champion

Snow fell, heavy and silent on the snow packed forest floor, a fresh coat to conceal what patches of earth managed to break through since the last storm. Night was falling, visibility poor. Through the gray, there came the sound of labored breathing and something being pulled over the snow.

A small, one-man sled, its rider slumped unconscious in his seat. Attached to the front of the sled, a grunting, straining Burnese mountain dog. He was frothing at the mouth; his eyes were huge with anxiety. Even so, if someone could see him, they would notice his hulking body, his perfect markings – the white stripe running from the top of his massive head down his snout, the white starburst on his chest, the brown runners on his arms and legs, everything accentuating the glossy black that comprised the rest of his thick coat – and they would know, this was a fine dog, a champion.

He was panting heavily, his fiery breath steaming in the frigid air. At one hundred and ten pounds and in the prime of his life, he was perfectly capable of pulling the combined weight of the sled and the man. Work of this sort was what his ancestors were bred for. Still, he’d been pulling for hours, up steep hills, navigating frozen creeks and gnarly bracken, and he was exhausted.

He was lost too. He was following what he believed was the scent that would lead him back to their camp, but between the snow and his fear, he might’ve confused it for some other scent. All he knew was that he must keep going, get his man somewhere safe, out of the snow. Under all the layers of clothing he wore, he was hairless. He couldn’t survive the cold like the dog could.

The forest was getting darker all the time; night was swift approaching. Desperate, the dog called on what remained of his great strength and broke into a run. He ran wildly, not knowing where his destination was, only that he must get there fast. He ran until each breath was glass breaking in his lungs; until froth sprayed, splattered his jowls, his snout, even his ears. He ran past the point that would’ve burst the heart of a lesser dog. Then he ran some more.

It was not his lungs or his heart that finally gave out and made him stop. It was a rock. The left ski of the sled smashed against a rock and caused it to overbalance. The shock of it brought the dog down. Down he stayed. He panted, his eyes rolled in his head, his chest rose and fell like a mad tide. He did not want to get up.

Suddenly, he noticed something in the growing darkness. A looming structure off to the right. A barn. Old, the paint peeling from its walls, but sound. His man would be safe in there, he knew. How to get him in though, with the sled lying on its side? There was no choice. He was still in the harness. The dog would just have to drag him there.

If pulling the sled on its skis was hard, pulling it like this was a nightmare. The dog strained every muscle he had just to put one paw in front of the other. At last, they reached the barn. The door was closed. The dog tried pushing it with his snout. It budged. A good sign. At least it wasn’t locked. He pushed again. It opened further. Little by little, the dog nosed his way inside.

He dragged his man to the center of the barn, where the fingers of the cold couldn’t reach, before he allowed himself to stop. Still, his ordeal was not over. He needed to get his harness disconnected from the sled and find help for his man.

It was a full hour later when his relentless gnawing finally paid off, and the last strap connecting him to the sled broke. Immediately, he went to his man and started sniffing. He located the injury immediately, a patch of dried blood on his right temple. He licked at the blood and whined. He barked for several minutes in his man’s ear, even nipped at his hands. No use. He wouldn’t wake.

If the dog couldn’t wake him, he would have to find other people to help him. Not wanting to leave his man, the dog’s tail drooped between his legs as he left the barn.

He sniffed the air, hoping to catch the cozy scent of a fire burning in a chimney somewhere close. Nothing. By now, it was full night. Time for humans to be settling down. Even if there was a house nearby, its humans might be sleeping.

He searched in a wide circle around the barn, hoping to find a house. He barked and howled, hoping a human might hear him. He ate snow and felt a little stronger with fresh water in him, so he widened his search, but to no avail. If there was a house nearby, he could not find it. Whimpering, he returned to his man.

The scent reached him the moment he spotted the barn. A huge scent, vaguely familiar yet alien at the same time. He couldn’t place it, but it didn’t matter. Whatever it belonged to, it was currently inside the barn.

He made it inside in five swift bounds. Standing over his man, sniffing at the dried blood on his temple, a massive gray wolf. It turned its yellow eyes him and bared its teeth, longer and sharper than any the dog ever saw.

If it hadn’t been for his man, the dog would’ve tucked tail and ran from that yellow stare, that dagger smile. If he left now though, his man would learn just how sharp those teeth really were. That fact was the only one that mattered, more so than the wolf being larger than him, more agile, used to fighting, killing for its food. His man was in danger. So instead of running, he crouched low and growled with a menace he never knew he had.

The wolf wasted no time in attacking. Lightning quick, it jumped toward him, jaws snapping at his legs. Rearing back on his hind legs, he swatted the wolf’s snout like a boxer. It seemed not to feel the blow however and snapped at him again, this time, aiming for his underbelly. The dog twisted to avoid the teeth, overbalanced, fell on his back. The wolf was on him immediately, biting at every weak spot. It was all the dog could do to keep the beast at bay with his paws. Completely by accident, he landed a solid kick square in the center of the wolf’s snout. It yelped and leaped back. The dog was on his feet in an instant and charging forward.

The world was suddenly painted red. Red was in his nostrils. Filling his mouth. There was no thought but red. No sound but a red sound. All sense of time was gone, everything frozen in this one red moment.

Then the wolf swiped hard at his eyes. Stunned, he backed off, and the wolf was up and running for the door. The dog knew he’d hurt it bad, but he would take no chances on it coming back. He followed it into the snow, barking like mad.

It gave good chase through the forest. Still, its wounds were grievous, it was limping, slowing down. At last, it collapsed at the foot of an oak tree, the barren branches casting sharp shadows on the snow. The dog approached warily, as there was a cold fear in the yellow eyes now. An angry animal is a fearsome foe, but a frightened one is dreadful.

All at once, a chorus of howls enveloped the dog. It froze his blood and churned his bowels. Yellow eyes were all around him now, burning between trees. Though the wolf before the dog was breathing its last, the fear in its eyes was gone now. Perhaps the cries of his pack comforted it. It made no difference. One wolf was bad enough. He couldn’t hope to fend off a whole pack.

Nevertheless, he bared his teeth and growled, turning in a circle to see where his first attacker would come from. If escape was out of the question, all he could hope for was that he caused as much damage as possible. He only hoped his man would be all right without him.

Just then, ringing out through the forest, sending the wolves scurrying back to their den, there came the sound of a gunshot. The sound scared the dog as well, but his man owned a gun and he’d heard the sound before. He stayed put, for scary as the sound was, it was a human sound, and it filled him with hope.

As the last member of the pack abandoned their fallen comrade, a man emerged from the shadows of the forest holding a rifle. He removed a face mask and looked down at the dog in surprise.

“Thought I heard barking earlier,” he said. “Then I heard all that yippin and yappin. Suppose that was you and your, uh, friend there? Well, can’t fault a doggo for tryin to protect himself. Looks like I got here just in time. I reckon them wolves were set on revenge. But jeez, you’re a fine lookin thing! Little scuffed up maybe, but you ain’t no mutt, that’s clear as day. What’s a first-class doggo like you doin out here scrappin with wolves?”

The dog quickly told him everything, what had happened to his man, how he needed help, and where he was. The man just said, “Easy, boy. Calm down now.” The dog whined in frustration. Humans really were simple creatures.

He tugged at the man’s wrist with his teeth. When he pulled it away, the dog barked, retreated in the direction of the barn, barked again. The man took a hesitant step forward. The dog wagged his tail. Finally, the man seemed to understand what he was trying to get him to do.

He followed him through the forest and when they reached the barn, he muttered, “This is the Thompson’s old barn. I forgot this was out here. How’d you find it, doggo?”

The dog ignored him and led him inside. When he saw the sled and the injured man inside, he dropped his rifle crying, “Oh, jeez!”

He rushed over and knelt beside him.

“Mister!” he shouted, feeling for a pulse. “Hey mister, you ok?”

The dog whined and wagged his tail and waited for the man to do something.

“Well, he’s alive,” he said after a while. “That’s something. Reckon he might have a concussion. Doctor Wyatt could fix him up, but he’s too old to come hoofin through the snow.”

He looked at the sled, then gave the dog an appraising look.

“You pull this thing?”

The dog gave a sharp bark in response.

The man rubbed sore ears and chuckled.

“All right, let’s see if I can get this thing up and outside. Looks like you chewed through your harness but, I reckon I can rig something together. After that, you’re gonna have to pull him to my house. Ain’t far but, well, ain’t close either. What do you think, doggo? Can you do it?”

The dog barked again, louder this time.

“Jeez! A simple ‘yes’ would do, you know.”

Outside, the dog waited for the man to rig him up to the sled, impatiently wagging his tail. Things would be all right now. He was exhausted, hungry, and his right leg shook whenever he put weight on it. But his man was alive, a doctor would fix him up, and they weren’t that far now from wherever they were going. Maybe not that close, but not that far either.