The crisp night air rolls through the cemetery. The dogs are at a standstill.
Up close, the differences are unmistakable. One pants and wags his tail, radiating a vivacious energy with every exhale. The other one remains frozen, as if locked in place. Gnarled bone protrudes from a gaping hole in its abdomen.
The two dogs remain silent as the seconds inch by. Their gazes are unbroken, a crooked image reflected in each pair of eyes.
The pounding pierced through the thin veil of sleep, and the old man jerked awake. He was no longer as sharp as he was, but even through his diminished hearing, Nippolyte could tell that the usual suspects were not at his door tonight. The knocks were too rhythmic. Too vigorous.
He raised himself out of bed and shuffled down the staircase. His feet planted unsteadily on the landing, the imbalance sending his stomach turning.
His half-consciousness propelled his feet towards the front door. Nippolyte had raised a grizzled hand to the door chain when the pounding resumed, louder and more frantic than before.
If this stranger had knocked on his door a mere week ago, he would probably already be serving them cookies and tea. Instead, he found himself hesitating, icy fear oozing down his spine.
The villagers may have been amicable before, but a chill had descended upon Tazmily Village. If you had only recently touched down upon the quaint town, you might not even notice anything amiss. It snaked its way through houses wordlessly, poisoning every friendly nod and polite conversation. Even Nippolyte, who only went into town once every fortnight for baked goods, could sense the shift.
He backed away towards the foyer table and snatched up a riffler he'd been using only hours prior. Better safe than sorry.
Nippolyte cleared his throat, gripping the tool like a lifeline.
"W-Who's there?" he rasped.
The knocking stopped. Nippolyte could feel goosebumps erupting along his arms.
"L-Lucas!"
Warm relief washed over the old man. He had barely unhooked the chain before the door burst open, the young boy staggering over the threshold.
Nippolyte tried to contain it, but the shaking in his hands persisted even after he set the riffler back on the table.
Lucas collapsed, gulping for air. His shirt was covered with grime and scuff marks, and he gripped a flimsy stick in his left hand.
"Dear boy," Nippolyte wheezed, "What on earth are you doing here at this time of night? People need to sleep, you know!"
The boy turned over, his forehead pressed into the hardwood floor.
"Are you alright? Are you hurt?"
Lucas shook his head. Nippolyte furrowed his brow. He knew the boy had already been through a lifetime's worth of misery, but his refusal to speak was bringing up that fear again.
"Listen, my boy," he huffed. "I can't help you unless you tell me what is going on."
Slowly, the boy got to his knees. Tears cut a clean path through the grime that also caked his face.
"What happened, Lucas?"
Lucas pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes. "There was - there was - Boney - gone - that thing - !"
Nippolyte stared.
Loam turns to gravel, yet the crunching beneath the boy's feet is no more diminished.
He's not sure why his feet bring him to the cemetery night after night, but something about this place - the gnarled hands of long dead yew trees, the rows of headstones spectating his movements - brings him a crooked sense of comfort.
The dog, trailing him, whines almost imperceptibly, but the boy feels it all the same. It takes him some time to find it in the darkness of the night, but he extends a hand, feeling the quiver of the soft, warm fur.
The dog's whimpers subside.
Their movements are methodical, but the boy makes a quick detour to scavenge a thin branch at the base of a particularly large yew. Better safe than sorry, he thinks.
Some of the warmth had returned to Lucas's fingers, no doubt helped along by the Innit Tea slowly turning lukewarm in his hands.
"A dog?"
"Yes."
Nippolyte stared at him quizzically.
"Pets are put to rest on a different plot, Lucas. In the fifty years I've worked and lived here, I've never seen even a kitten make its way up here."
Lucas pressed the back of a sweaty hand to his lips. He felt like throwing up.
"Why would I lie to you? I was just out there, and I'm telling you what I saw!"
"Okay," Nippolyte raised a hand in defeat. "Okay, I believe you. Drink some of the tea."
His throat was dry but bringing the cup to his lips was a mammoth task. Nippolyte looked at him the same way everyone did now - brows slightly raised, soft creases around the sides of the eyes.
Lucas hated it.
"All I'm saying is," Nippolyte said. "It's dark out there, and you were scared. I don't doubt that these grounds host any number of abnormalities - matter of fact, I could've sworn last night I saw one of the stones move - but we tend not to make our best judgements at this hour. I'm sure you have nothing to worry about."
"You - you need to check for yourself." Lucas pointed at the window, obscured by a set of rickety shades. "That - thing " - an involuntary shudder worked its way through his body - "has to still be out there."
Lucas could still sense the disbelief in the old man's face, but he got up all the same. Nippolyte peered out from the window for a long time, but when he turned away his reaction was placid.
"There's nothing out there, my boy."
"No - " Lucas stammered. "There has to be. I was just there."
"You're welcome to look for yourself."
A mixture of revulsion and longing worked its way up Lucas's throat. His heart beat like a drum within his chest, but he got up from his chair.
The glow of the solitary oil lamp post illuminating the cemetery caught his eyeline. All was still.
Lucas spluttered. "But - I - I could've sworn - !"
Nippolyte clapped a hand to the boy's shoulder.
"Listen, Lucas," the old man soothed. "It's dark, there's a breeze. Maybe something moved, and your mind just assumed the worst, okay? I won't fault you for having an overactive imagination."
Lucas kept staring.
"Stay here for the night, okay? I don't know how you got here, but it's too dark to go back the way you came, alright?"
"Boney," he whispered.
"What?"
"Boney is still out there. I have to go get him."
"He'll be alright for one night," Nippolyte said, his voice delicate. "In the morning we'll find him. He's probably curled up underneath a tree somewhere, fast asleep."
Lucas tried to align his imagination with what the old man was saying, but all he saw was Boney running pell-mell, hounded by the creature that had terrorized them all through the cemetery.
He saw the mutt, spittle spraying as it gained on Boney. He watched the gaping maw, exposing rows upon rows of teeth - an infinitely expanding array of oblong nails yellowed by rot and decay - pressing down on a tail. He heard an unpleasant chomp cut through the silence of the night like a hot knife through butter, an anguished howl slicing an auditory gash -
He wasn't going to let that happen.
Lucas's jaw tightened. He set his cup down on the windowsill forcefully, spilling some of the tea.
"No, I have to go get him tonight."
Nippolyte's voice hardened. "That would be a very bad idea, Lucas."
"I can't lose him."
"And you won't. He'll come back, because deep down you know he's a good dog, and he loves you. You just need to take it nice and slow for now, okay?"
Lucas shook his head vigorously. Nippolyte reached out, perhaps to touch him again, but the boy had already bounded back to the front door, whisking up the withered stick along the way. Lucas wasn't sure where this newfound energy was coming from, but it was burning up his insides like lava, and he knew the only way to exhaust it would be to get back out into the night. His skin crawled with energy.
That ever-present fear still weighed down on his stomach, but there was something propelling him, if not forever then at least for a brief moment.
"Listen, I'm going." The snarl in his own voice surprised him. "And you can either stay here or help me, but either way I'm leaving."
Nippolyte stared at him, unblinking. Then something behind his eyes relented. The old man only hesitated to pick up a rusty-looking lantern on his way to the door.
The darkness doesn't seem to slow the boy down. His movements are so deliberate, so refined, that you would be forgiven for thinking he had planned for this set of extenuating circumstances all along.
He's confident, until he opens his mouth to speak. His voice comes out no louder than a rattle.
"C-come on, Boney. Not too far now."
The dog whimpers, but he knows that the boy is right. He doesn't understand why the boy chooses to relive the same plight night after night. But he does know that that's beyond his scope anyway. He cannot be the lighthouse, guiding wayward souls back home.
He's the buoy. Keeping him alive and adrift, even if the tides carry him further out to sea.
The headstones thin out as they approach the hill. The knot in the boy's chest loosens, and he allows himself a flicker of a smile.
"See, Boney, I told you we'd make it - "
A bark shatters the silence. Every hair on the back of the boy's neck stands on end. Something misshapen, obscured by the thick blanket of darkness, has blocked the path up the hill.
The boy's dog keeps barking. Each howl an ellipses to a sentence neither party knows the ending to.
A rank smell permeates the air. Bile rises in the boy's throat, but he swallows quickly, and tightens his grip on the branch.
"Go away!" It's not nearly powerful enough.
A low growl precedes a deep bark. It's nothing like what the boy's dog produced - this is distorted, otherworldly.
The boy can almost feel his insides liquefying. His brain short circuits, but his legs are raring to go, sending him down the hill.
The creature bristles for an imperceptible moment. The calm before the storm.
"You got separated at the base of the hill?"
"Yes."
Nippolyte could practically see the sheen of impatience crawling on Lucas's skin, but he could no sooner control the flare-ups in his joints than control the weather. So the pair moved slowly, the silence between them settling like amber.
Nippolyte coughed. "How's your old man?"
Lucas shrugged. "I think you know how he is. He comes here every day, doesn't he?"
"Not much for conversation these days, your father," Nippolyte responded, chewing his lip. "He says what he needs to say, does what does, and leaves without another word."
"You mean he's ignoring you?"
Nippolyte hesitated. "No. But he's not there when we speak."
Lucas shot the old man a short, incredulous look.
Nippolyte figured it would be difficult to put into words how he and Flint spoke. Each interaction came out a more tiresome iteration of the last. The younger man, his posture still rigid as a washboard, passing by the old man's house, a fresh bouquet of wildflowers tied together with a scrap of ribbon. If times were better Nippolyte would've teased him about his obsession with floral decorum - how perfectly he arranged each stem, the prim knot of each bunch. But the times they lived in were openly hostile to such simple pleasures.
Flint was still unfailingly polite if a little surly. He would raise a hand to his cap and utter a gruff hello as he passed by Nippolyte. The old man would return the greeting and affect a smile which went unreciprocated. After a short spell, Flint would pass by again, and issue a curt goodbye.
Sometimes Nippolyte wondered if there would ever be a day in which he turned back, decided to spend a few more impulsive moments by the freshest grave in the lot. But the day never came. There were no changes in the routine, not even to accommodate for -
"Lucas," Nippolyte said. "You've never come up with your old man, have you?"
"Yeah." The word pulsed with tension.
Nippolyte pushed the words around in his mind.
"He could use your company. I understand it's been hard for the both of you, but he needs his son now more than ever."
Lucas said nothing, but his pace quickened. Nippolyte huffed painfully attempting to match speed.
"You don't have to run from him," the old man gasped. "Whatever it is, I'm sure the two of you can work it out."
"I'm not so sure." Lucas's voice shook.
"He might not be so present right now, but if you could just open up to him - "
"That's the problem!"
The force of the snarl stopped Nippolyte in his tracks. Mercifully, the boy stopped moving as well. Angry tears tracked a light sheen down his grime-smeared face.
"What does he need to hear me say that he doesn't already know?" Lucas snapped. "Everything - he knows already! He knows I killed her, I let Claus go! I did all of this, didn't I? I let all of this happen because I wasn't good enough! Wasn't strong enough to save my mom, wasn't brave enough to make sure Claus didn't hurt himself.
"If I had traded places with any one of them - Mom, Claus - then he'd be better off. He wouldn't have to spend all his time coming here, going to the mountains, coming here…"
His voice shook, but he soldiered on.
"He'd have his life, they'd have their's, and all three of them would forget about me eventually, wouldn't they? I'm not so hard to forget, am I?"
Lucas sank to the ground, burying his face in his hands. His sobs were dry now, each one preceded by a guttural inhale, as if he couldn't suck in enough air to fill his lungs.
Nippolyte knelt alongside him.
"Lucas - "
The boy sniffled.
"I'm sorry," he choked. "I know you didn't need to hear that."
"But you needed to say it," Nippolyte said. "However twisted and dark it was. And make no mistake, you are wrong about it. One day you'll know."
"You don't know that," Lucas murmured. "He - he must hate me. I just know it."
"Hate you? He keeps looking for your brother because he knows you might not be whole without him. He stays strong for your sake.
"I've known your father for as long as he's lived. Watched him grow up. And I say, with absolute certainty: that man is incapable of hate, even after everything."
Lucas stared at Nippolyte, the pause long enough for the both of them to feel uncomfortable. Then, something in his gaze broke. He rose, and continued walking, his pace slow enough for Nippolyte to keep up.
His legs feel like they're going to detach from their sockets, but the boy keeps running. He's only peripherally aware of his dog matching his pace, but the thought comforts him all the same.
Pinpricks of hope begin to light up his brain. He can feel the hill begin to give way to flatter ground. If they can keep this pace up for just a little longer, they're home free.
But something pulls at a lower region in his gut. For a brief, delirious moment his entire body feels weightless. It almost feels like flying, before the ground intercepts his chin.
His trajectory is set, and he tumbles down the hill, limbs flailing. It can't have lasted for longer than half a minute, but it feels like an eternity. They'll have to clean bits and pieces of him off the hill with a chisel.
But he gets up anyway. The world spins. Visions multiply like viruses.
In the din of his spiralling senses, he catches the glimpse of his dog, bracing just a few feet in front of him. The putrid smell of the creature catches his nostrils, and he feels a swooping sensation of fear.
"No," he groans. "Boney…don't."
The dog barks. The sound is met with silence.
The last thing he remembers before the world descends into darkness is the sight of his dog and the creature pawing their way slowly back up the hill, side by side.
A hallucination, surely?
Arriving at the bottom of the hill, Lucas dropped the stick and cupped his hands around his mouth.
"Boney!"
The seconds of silence after felt deafening.
Then, the bark cut through, clear as a bell.
"Boney!" Lucas shouted, a bubble of laughter rising to his lips. "I'm coming!"
Another series of barks, each one growing louder.
Nippolyte raised an eyebrow. "Don't think you need to worry about going up there, son. He's coming to you."
The lantern traced the quickly approaching dog, his brown fur shining like honey in the yellow light.
"Boney!" Lucas shouted, as the dog came to a stop at his feet. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!"
Beside him, Nippolyte bristled.
"Whatever it is…" he said. "It's here."
Lucas shot back up, scrambling to retrieve the weapon. He brandished it in front of him with as firm a grip as he could muster, but it wavered in the glow of the lantern. Boney, however, seemed content even as the other dog meandered towards the group.
Up close, the stench didn't seem so bad. The zombie dog still reeked of something decidedly dead, but it was no worse than the sheep barn after a particularly heavy storm. The creature's skin was sallow, and there was a patchwork of skin and protruding bone on his abdomen, but in low light Lucas figured he could be mistaken for a dog that had missed a few too many meals.
Nippolyte exhaled. "It's just a dog. I've never seen one like this before, but it's just a dog."
Lucas still felt oddly jumpy, but he knelt and gingerly extended a hand. As if on cue, the dog arched his back so that the hand nestled on the top of his head.
"You're not so bad, are you?"
Boney yapped excitedly.
For what felt like the first time in years, Lucas smiled.
– Haven't seen you in a long time, Chip. You look good.
– Don't flatter me. Just because you've still got some fur on your back.
– I mean it. For a dead guy you don't look half bad.
– Thanks. How's your family?
– …
– That bad, huh?
– Hinawa died.
– ...I'm so sorry.
– …
– …
– I don't know how it happened. I was with Flint back home.
– Lucas and Claus, were they…?
– They watched it happen.
– …
– …
– How are the boys holding up?
– Claus ran away. And you know how Lucas is.
– Must be hard on him.
– Yeah. He – he blames himself.
– Good lord.
– I don't think he's accepted it. He comes back here, night after night.
– Why?
– I don't know. I don't think he knows either. He's just a kid that misses his mom.
– Must be hard.
– No kiddin'. I don't know how to tell him how to navigate that darkness. That he's not defined by the bad things that happened to him. He's not responsible for Hinawa's death. It could've happened to anyone, we just got unlucky. It'll pass if he lets it.
– Be good, huh? If he could learn all that himself.
– You said it. But at the end of the day, what are we? Just a pair of dumb dogs.
