• Within


    Fleeting rays from dusk’s glory illuminated the forest outside the steel carriage’s window, albeit hard to tell one tree from another as all the green blurred into one amalgamation. Hanging slightly out the window and letting the wind pass over me with its cool caress always made the trip go better. Although hitting my head squarely on the window top for every pothole the Master managed to hit stole some of that pleasure. After the third round of this I withdrew my head and growled at him.

    “Are you still half asleep? Most people try to at least go around the sunken earth, rather
    than intentionally put themselves through a carnival ride from hell.”

    The only response I received was a hand on the head with a small scratch on the right ear, followed by the usual cajoling manner.

    “Easy Reaver, just try to take it a little while longer. Be a good boy and don’t growl in my ear while driving, unless you want me to hit more of these blasted craters.”

    A snort with my nose in the air was the reply, not only was the Master hitting every “crater” already, but once again used the same tone as if speaking to an ordinary mutt. You would think he’d show a little more respect when dealing with a noble wolf such as myself, but as with most humans, the Master was ever so deaf to my protests.

    At risk of receiving a few more lumps I once again ventured into the breeze and enjoyed the precious moments of pleasure. Glancing ahead the road , much to my relief, had gradually improved in quality. Gratitude faded quickly however, as I retreated back inside to prevent an embarrassing death by dust asphyxiation. Taking the proper cue for a change, the Master rolled up the window before the cloud of death could finish what it began. Much to my dismay he seemed to find humor in my current discontent and gave me yet another ear scratch. I will admit, at times a scratch behind the ear is all I need to be satiated, but today such a paltry offering wouldn’t even begin to substitute as proper appeasement.

    Before I could begin plotting revenge for this disgrace, my attention was quickly redirected by a few grains of sand that seemed to have stealthed their way into my nose. There’s a human saying, “If you ignore something for long enough, eventually it will go away.” Unfortunately that statement belongs under the category of wishful thinking. The Master’s twisted sense of humor became more vocal as he fed upon the slight of me pawing at the offending grains, which sad to say lay beyond my reach. As I felt the tingling sensation grow, an idea popped into my head on how to deal with both my problems at once. I felt it coming, the air rushed into my lungs and the erupted out in a violent blast, a mixture of wind and debris issuing from my snout turned cannon. The ending result quickly silenced the laughter and replaced it with a stillness. A white cloth over his face and a glance in my direction told me my pride had been partially avenged. My only regret was that the Master wasn’t wearing one of his few decent outfits, alas I only added a drop into the ocean of stains on that grey jacket.

    “You did that on purpose, didn’t ya?”

    Replying to that question would’ve been a waste of time and energy, instead I simply turned my head to look forward and placed my paws on the dash. The little cloth was folded over once and placed back into a pocket of his jeans, I didn’t notice which pocket, as my concern at the time was (and still is), if that was the same pocket he kept my occasional beef scraps.
    After the long drive it seemed our destination was finally at hand. The trees started resuming their original forms, melting from the green mass into unique individuals. A break in the timberline exposed a rather large house for this far out in the forest, yet it was hard to determine how old it was due to the army of nature invading all four walls. The only sanctuary from the blitzkrieg of vines and leaves was the small chimney pipe, seeming to cry to the heavens for help that would never arrive.

    Anticipating the Master’s habits, my paws quickly came off the dash and planted themselves into the floor. Sure enough, our momentum was cut short seconds later, signaled by the most horrid wailing, the kind that made one’s ears ring for hours afterwards and haunted your mind like a banshee. Maybe it was imaginings of my own bitterness, but the Master seemed slightly disappointed over not seeing a nose imprint on his windshield. Hearing the door’s click was my signal, and the Master quickly found 195 pounds of wolf bounding over his lap to get out of that infernal machine.

    The first order of business was settled with a quick sniff, the delectable perfume mingled with the wind gave away the location of a small spring running along the road, from which I partook a sizeable helping from its bounty. A quick shake to remove the remaining hitchhiking particles from my coat readied me for the night’s work. I trotted back over to the Master, waiting for him to do his own preparations. The Master must’ve been half-asleep still because the metal case was just being hauled out when I returned. Many strange things did the Master keep in that case, I observed him as he removed a few of his prized metal toys, “guns” I think he called them. My past experience with “guns” showed them to be nothing but noisy and very ineffective, I shall never comprehend why the Master carried those things around when claws and fangs were far superior. Come to think of it I had never seen a human with any sort of natural defense. No fur, no fangs or claws, needing a strange glowing ball to see at night; it’s a wonder they survived for so long without our help. The Master drew out one of those unusual balls, this one dim as they all are to begin with, and soon called forth illumination with one of his sticks of flame (perhaps one of the human’s greatest achievements). I could hear the Master’s muttering while he dug for more tools out of his case.

    “The things I do for a living... Driving out to this Godforsaken kudzu sanctuary as a “favor” for Iris. Why me? Do I look like an exterminator?”

    Ranting again, that explained why he wasn’t ready yet. Although he had no reason to be complaining, we would probably be doing a lot less of these odd jobs if the Master would learn to quit drinking after every assignment. Or at least change pubs where they throw you out before 20-man brawls erupts.

    A sharp whistle in my direction came from his lips. It was about time he finished. I fell in line behind him, approaching the house before us with some apprehension. There was something about it beyond description, something that penetrated my skin, all the way into the recesses of my soul. That odd feeling which often caused my fur to feel strangely stiff now washed over me, involuntarily provoking a deep growl from within. The Master, acknowledging the warning, slowed his progress and stood to the side of the door, opening it with utmost caution.

    Once again, the wind brought to me all to be told about the area, and the news it carried on it’s path evoked a much louder growl from the previously lower one, for it delivered unto me the scent of blood. Surely the Master could detect something amiss, why did he beckon to me? Why did he still insist on proceeding forward? Fool as he was, no amount of pride would be enough to justify letting the Master venture into danger alone. As chilled wood replaced the feeling of cool grass under my paws, I nudged my way past him into point position. The Master’s voice backed up my suspicion of being too lax too soon.

    “Now what’s got you so riled up? Smell a raccoon or something?”, charging more humor at my expense. I couldn’t believe it, he put the gun inside his coat. Was he asking for an early grave? I wonder how long he’d live without me around to cover his rear.

    Dull clicking resounded behind me, followed by mutterings about “no electricity.” A quick glance of the room didn’t reveal anything out of place. Beside the door spiraled a narrow stairwell, winding up into the ever present darkness. The room itself was rather empty, only the neighborhood spiders and dust swarms claimed this place as home. Sniffing the floor, pieces of the mysterious scent began to fall into place. Like a river, the scent flowed into a small closet built into the far wall, and driven by duty I followed it to the source. Rearing up, I placed my paws against the door, which protested loudly against every inch given. Light from outside illuminated the compressed space, allowing me to make a quick survey of the area.

    If there was a god of irony he must’ve been in high spirits today as the Master hadn’t been too far off base with his raccoon joke. Laying forsaken on the barren floor was a stringy tabby cat, most likely having died of old age not too long ago. I took a moment to sniff the cat over, apparently it wasn’t even two days old judging from the scent. Drool started to pool in the recess of my throat. I would never let the Master know this, but I’ve always had a soft spot for fresh (or near fresh) cat. Often the meal was much more satisfying than the decrepit mess humans call “dog food”, and the chase made the reward all the more satisfying. Perhaps just a quick bite wouldn’t hurt, the Master was far too busy examining the stairwell and pawing off any bloody evidence wouldn’t be a problem.

    I was just about to partake of my “snack” when something unusual about this feline forced me to hesitate. After nudging its head over for a better look, one was able to get a good look at the Tabby’s eyes. They were dilated to diminutive specs amongst the white gelatin, what little white could be discerned that is. Most of the blood vessels remained bulged, some even pulsing. An ill memory invaded the spot previously filled with thoughts of cat fillet. I’d seen this look before during one particular a cat hunt.

    Months ago I’d gotten into it with a smart mouthed Siamese and her sister. Apparently in that town, nobody had taken it upon themselves to instruct all cats that pouncing on a wolf, leaving little red lines on the nose, and running off with his dinner wasn’t the smartest course of action. Having given chase, I managed to corner the older sister on a remote wooden stake the humans seem to plant in rows. We exchanged terse words although she didn’t have to say something that cheeky about my father. Feeling rather vindictive I decided to camp the pole all night, just to teach her some respect. However before the dawn light could peer over the horizon, I sensed something odd from above. Her heart rate had sharply increased from the almost rhythmic thumping to a fast rapport of thudding. Soon after the Siamese flew down to meet mother earth, having died of fear with this same appalling expression plastered across her face.

    Gradually I found my ideal snack becoming less and less appetizing, and I turned away, telling myself I had a job to focus on. Having re-emerged from the closet, I looked around only to find the Master was no longer in the room. Well I suppose I deserved to be left behind for getting distracted by a worthless cat. More dust rained down having been announced by the upstairs floorboards that chanted the same protest as the rest of the house for being disturbed. Urgent to catch up, I took the stairwell in a few bounds, and halted on the second floor landing.

    The Master still wasn’t anywhere in sight, but the hallway before me was only a few doors long, and of those doors only one was open. If that wasn’t enough of a clue, a flickering light also penetrated the open gap, probably from the Master’s light ball. A loud impact from within caused me to tense up, and I rushed into the room once the initial shock had faded. The door flung to the side as I barreled past, and soon plowed into a wall of books. Giving a few wheezes to regain my wind, I found that task rather difficult due to something below poking into my rib cage. A few muffled words could be discerned from underneath the book-slide.

    “Get off...sack of fur...can’t breath...”

    A few seconds later I was once again airborne as the Master lifted himself up and tossed a few dozen books in every direction along with myself. He gave a few coughs of his own before he tossed a glare in my direction. Why had he given that look at me? How was I to know what was in here? I took it upon myself to snort back and ignore his comments, although a few choice ones regarding my weight managed to slip through. While the Master regained his composure, a thorough sniffing was given over the room. Although it was probably not much smaller than downstairs, the illusion of size was thrown off by the mounds of piled books and assorted trunks.

    In the west corner however, a lone mirror leaned up against the wall. Having no interest in the speed bumps posing as books, I made my way through the stacks and examined the mirror. The border seemed ordinary enough. Dust covered wood with something etched into the frame at the top. I hopped up to try and discern what was embedded there.

    “Nosce te ipsum. Nosce inimicum tuum...”

    What a peculiar language, odd that humans feel the need to speak in so many tongues when only one would suffice. Content with that discovery I resumed standing on all fours and inspected the mirror itself. Seeing my own reflection was at least one comfortable constant I could rely on, granted the Master’s rude tossing brought back other memories regarding him, a mirror, me as a pup, and a very sore nose. Time slipped by while I gazed into this mirror, how much time I cannot say. There was something about the reflection that seemed smooth and crisp. Like the ocean on a day with no wind, almost as if one touch would produce a...ripple?

    I blinked and pawed my eyes before having to squint for a better look. There it was again, the surface of the mirror definitely produced a shallow ripple having originated from the center and glided silently to the frame. Backing down quickly and letting out a loud bark at this strange occurrence, my warnings were only greeted with a barrage of Sherlock Holmes and Hemingway.

    “Will you quiet down? I thought you’d gotten over that, mutt. How can I think
    when you’re incessantly barking like an idiot at your own reflection?’

    Leave it to the Master to dredge up his own evil doings and use them against me. However when I turned back to the mirror, I found a renewed reason to continue barking. The once calm ripples had increased in intensity, changing the still ocean into a storm-wrought sea.

    Near the base a dark protrusion emerged from the deep blue. My barks suddenly caught in my throat, coming out in rough intervals. Five more protrusions followed the first, attached to a crimson mass. Even my unconscious mind in its most chaotic moments never produced a creature this foul, at best it looked like those annoying parasites my master yanked off my skin every few days. At worst my guess was that Cerberus must’ve had some of Iris’s cooking and this was the result two hours later.

    The pincers near the head, the bloated body sloshing with every click of those daggered legs, the bloody eyes that shimmered with the same purity as the mirror which vomited it hence. Rankness infected the air around me, it filled my nostrils with a stench so foul that I wished God would rip my entire breathing system out. Issuing a bark no longer became possible, nor did my legs want to move me away from this abomination. Those ruby eyes called to me. I could see my own pathetic weakness reflected in their deceptive purity, feel the strength leave my legs as they became useless stilts for me to balance upon, and yet the still vibrant surface drew me in.

    Perhaps I would become one with that ruby shade, be assimilated to forever and observe all those who gazed into them. Suddenly the red landscape cracked, black lightning tore through the endless crimson, heralded by the roar of dark thunder. Slowly I returned from that place of madness, and found the creature angled with one side to me, one on the priory perfect eyes now cracked and gushing out a yellow fluid. Still trapped in a slowly fading mental fog, I could only make out a dull buzz of someone or something trying to speak to me. Once more the herald sounded forth with his tremendous yell, and the creature recoiled from a crater formed along the abdomen.

    With my senses returning, I realized it was the Master’s doing that brought forth my salvation. The creature sagged and retreated back towards the mirror. Vanishing in the same wave of ripples that heralded its arrival. I heard the Master’s footsteps as he came over towards me. Kneeling down the Master quickly ran his hands over me, searching for any sign of injury before turning his attention to the mirror.

    “So...not just a little pest control job is it? Now where did that thing come fro...”

    Looking up into his face I observed a dazed look about his eyes, as though the Master were off in what humans refer to as a “daydream”. I nudged his arm twice but no response was given. Something was wrong, I could smell it billowing off every pore in his body; the same scent given by all humans plunged into the chaotic state of fear. Turning back towards the mirror I observed a new abomination standing before us. A billowing dress of black, deeper than the deepest night. Tattered and dirtied hair billowing behind it with a shadow covering the specter’s face; only the slits of eye whites visible through it. This feminine apparition took the Master’s face into her hands. I was waiting for some sign or signal of what to do from him, despite every cell in my body screaming to drive her back into the hell that spawned her. However the Master did nothing, said nothing, only stared into the void of that ghoul’s face. A face from which a jagged smile emerged; greeting the master with rows of teeth even a shark would envy. Discipline broke and going off pure instinct I lunged forward and propelled myself between that creature and the Master. I met her mid-section and my fangs found the mark, latching into a wound in here side where the previous crater has been inflicted during its prior incarnation.

    An unearthly screech indicated this aberration was not happy with my intervention; although it seemed from the grin on it’s visage as its ghastly imitation of a human mouth split open, that I would suffice its insatiable rage for the moment. The jagged teeth closed around my ribs, I felt the grinding heat, the cracking of egg shells as one support after another gave way under the pressure. It was then I felt a sudden embrace behind me, a shadow cast over my fading vision. Was this perhaps the reaper come to collect his due? It was then one last gleam of light exposed that patch faded gray and my last bit of conscious recognized the black lighting which issued again and again. Through the shallow slits of my eyes I could make out the apparition recoiling in agony, the Master standing tall once again, and the shattering of the mirror before me as the metal weapon released one final fiery blast; and then it all returned to white.

    “Darn, you just had to wake up. Few more days and I figured that I’d get me a new fur
    coat.”

    Brilliant gold poured into the darkness obscuring my vision. When the light dimmed into
    a more tolerable hue, I discovered the Master sitting beside me with some strange cloth in his hands. His smile seemed strangely strained, probably his poor attempt to refrain from laughing at his own warped humor. I felt the familiar pressure of his hand rubbing against my ears as he still gave me that look.

    “Quite a relic you stumbled upon I must say. Nosce te ipsum. Nosce inimicum tuum... Do you know what that means Reaver?”

    “...”

    I simply stared at him. To begin with my injures were causing enough discomfort to even attempt trying to follow the Master’s logic. More importantly, the Master never waited for a reply even with asking; or even understood if I could spout one off in time.

    “Know thyself. Know thy enemy. A mirror capable of reading one’s soul and producing an aberration keyed to your greatest fear. It appears breaking mirrors was actually a trace of good luck for us was it not?”

    The Master walked over to his hanging coat, slipping in a small brown envelope into the front pocket. Between the sweet scent and the heart seal on it’s front I can only conclude it was Iris’s payment; he then turned his attention back to me.

    “I guess you’re going to be wanting food now, try not to spill it on the couch mutt. Or else
    Iris will be tanning my hide, and remember which way dung rolls, pooch.”

    The wonderful scent of dried meat hovered in the air seconds before the source quickly entered my jowls. Dog comments again... I guessed for a while I could take them without offense. He is my Master after all.

    Copyright @ Aioshi Heartilly/Aio-chan 2008