Post by Shhasow on Apr 30, 2011 13:36:19 GMT 10
Dangerous Dog Spittle
Rating: PG
Summary: Pounce and Achoo meet for the first time.
The sorrowful amber eyes gazed into his, flicked away, then returned slowly, tentative and shy, as if asking permission.
Pounce, as his current charge called him, blinked. Why do you hesitate?
You have teeth. Sharp teeth.
Yes, I do. Pounce yawned. I do not bite. Much. Not dogs, at least.
The dog slunk her body close to the ground and inched forward, just slightly. What about your claws?
What about them?
She crept a finger-length closer. They’re sharp.
Yes, I know. Pounce was rather amused by this dog who seemed to vibrate with repressed energy and excitement at meeting another new creature, yet restrained herself so solemnly and cautiously.
No biting? Another step forward. No scratching? Another.
Promise. At least for now. Anything after this moment was fair game, as far as Pounce was concerned.
Alright, if you really, really promise. The curly-haired dog crossed the gap between them by stretching out her neck, though her ears flattened and her whole body seemed poised to leap back at the tiniest hint of aggression.
I really, really promise. Pounce lifted his head and their noses touched. I am called Pounce.
I am Achoo Curlypaws. She said this with a low woof of pride. They sniffed each other, Pounce languorously, Achoo cautiously, and what the dog smelled must have comforted her - Pounce assumed it was the fish on his breath, the little tidbit he’d snagged from a prosperous merchant on their patrol - because the dog wagged her tail, just slightly.
Then she sneezed, and Pounce was the one to leap back as he was drenched with dog spittle. Yuck, he complained primly.
Sorry. Her apology seemed at odds with her dog grin. I can lick it off for you.
Not a chance.
Pounce didn’t hide behind Beka, though he did slink close to Goodwin’s leg. Beka was a born traitor, he knew, but certainly the surly Guardswoman wouldn’t-
Drat. Even the duty-bound, sharp-tongued, no-nonsense woman couldn’t resist giving the mongrel a pat, and Achoo grinned at Pounce again.
See, I’m not so bad. Here, let me get that off before it dries.
Don’t you have a job to do?
Pounce’s sour rejoinder occurred just as Achoo’s handler directed her to seek the scent of blood, and Pounce admitted to himself that the dog sprung into duty quite admirably. All traces of play disappeared, and when the hound caught blood, the last bit of amiability disappeared as she growled murderously and strained against the lead, vengeance in every inch of her suddenly-tense body, quivering now for different reasons than before.
After they caught the murdering cove, the Dogs hobbled him and marched him to the Cages.
Achoo strayed behind her handler, subdued. Pounce maintained a respectful distance from her wicked tongue and dripping nose, but drew alongside her.
Why do they do it? She asked, her mournful eyes turning to her new friend.
He knew what she wanted to know, but flicked his ears back as he considered what he had contemplated for years. Many reasons, he finally said. Greed. Lust. Arrogance.
Achoo whined unhappily. Her handler glanced down at her, but seeing the two seemingly in the midst of a conversation, shrugged. Animals often acted strangely. Especially Beka’s Pounce.
It’s not right.
No, it’s not. Pounce certainly agreed with that sullen statement.
Achoo seemed to think for a second. I’m going to catch them.
Don’t you do that now?
I’m going to catch all of them.
Pounce coughed slightly, a cat’s laugh. An admirable goal, puppy.
What? I’m no Puppy! I’m a Dog! Quite affronted, Achoo glared at the smug cat, who drifted just out of her reach. She grumbled under her breath, waited for a moment when Pounce was distracted by a bit of fish that dangled high in a fishmonger’s booth, and stretched out as far as her lead would allow.
She let her running nose gather as much ammunition as possible, and sneezed.
Pounce wailed and darted up his human’s back, ignoring her slight gasps of pain as his needle-like claws touched her skin, and perched on her shoulder. Far out of reach of any dangerous dog spittle, he cleaned himself, glaring murderously at the grinning dog.
Laugh now, Puppy. I’ll get you back.
Rating: PG
Summary: Pounce and Achoo meet for the first time.
The sorrowful amber eyes gazed into his, flicked away, then returned slowly, tentative and shy, as if asking permission.
Pounce, as his current charge called him, blinked. Why do you hesitate?
You have teeth. Sharp teeth.
Yes, I do. Pounce yawned. I do not bite. Much. Not dogs, at least.
The dog slunk her body close to the ground and inched forward, just slightly. What about your claws?
What about them?
She crept a finger-length closer. They’re sharp.
Yes, I know. Pounce was rather amused by this dog who seemed to vibrate with repressed energy and excitement at meeting another new creature, yet restrained herself so solemnly and cautiously.
No biting? Another step forward. No scratching? Another.
Promise. At least for now. Anything after this moment was fair game, as far as Pounce was concerned.
Alright, if you really, really promise. The curly-haired dog crossed the gap between them by stretching out her neck, though her ears flattened and her whole body seemed poised to leap back at the tiniest hint of aggression.
I really, really promise. Pounce lifted his head and their noses touched. I am called Pounce.
I am Achoo Curlypaws. She said this with a low woof of pride. They sniffed each other, Pounce languorously, Achoo cautiously, and what the dog smelled must have comforted her - Pounce assumed it was the fish on his breath, the little tidbit he’d snagged from a prosperous merchant on their patrol - because the dog wagged her tail, just slightly.
Then she sneezed, and Pounce was the one to leap back as he was drenched with dog spittle. Yuck, he complained primly.
Sorry. Her apology seemed at odds with her dog grin. I can lick it off for you.
Not a chance.
Pounce didn’t hide behind Beka, though he did slink close to Goodwin’s leg. Beka was a born traitor, he knew, but certainly the surly Guardswoman wouldn’t-
Drat. Even the duty-bound, sharp-tongued, no-nonsense woman couldn’t resist giving the mongrel a pat, and Achoo grinned at Pounce again.
See, I’m not so bad. Here, let me get that off before it dries.
Don’t you have a job to do?
Pounce’s sour rejoinder occurred just as Achoo’s handler directed her to seek the scent of blood, and Pounce admitted to himself that the dog sprung into duty quite admirably. All traces of play disappeared, and when the hound caught blood, the last bit of amiability disappeared as she growled murderously and strained against the lead, vengeance in every inch of her suddenly-tense body, quivering now for different reasons than before.
After they caught the murdering cove, the Dogs hobbled him and marched him to the Cages.
Achoo strayed behind her handler, subdued. Pounce maintained a respectful distance from her wicked tongue and dripping nose, but drew alongside her.
Why do they do it? She asked, her mournful eyes turning to her new friend.
He knew what she wanted to know, but flicked his ears back as he considered what he had contemplated for years. Many reasons, he finally said. Greed. Lust. Arrogance.
Achoo whined unhappily. Her handler glanced down at her, but seeing the two seemingly in the midst of a conversation, shrugged. Animals often acted strangely. Especially Beka’s Pounce.
It’s not right.
No, it’s not. Pounce certainly agreed with that sullen statement.
Achoo seemed to think for a second. I’m going to catch them.
Don’t you do that now?
I’m going to catch all of them.
Pounce coughed slightly, a cat’s laugh. An admirable goal, puppy.
What? I’m no Puppy! I’m a Dog! Quite affronted, Achoo glared at the smug cat, who drifted just out of her reach. She grumbled under her breath, waited for a moment when Pounce was distracted by a bit of fish that dangled high in a fishmonger’s booth, and stretched out as far as her lead would allow.
She let her running nose gather as much ammunition as possible, and sneezed.
Pounce wailed and darted up his human’s back, ignoring her slight gasps of pain as his needle-like claws touched her skin, and perched on her shoulder. Far out of reach of any dangerous dog spittle, he cleaned himself, glaring murderously at the grinning dog.
Laugh now, Puppy. I’ll get you back.
