'Kael, here boy….' She whispers from crumbling ruins, the warm glow of a welcoming fire lights up the outline of her shoulders. 'Come Rest, Boy!'
The Mabari winces and shuts his eyes tightly. The memories that rest at the edge of his mind tempt him so sweetly, and he wishes for nothing more than to lie down and think of them. Steeling himself, the hound resolutely forces his eyes to open, and he pushes himself free of His Woman's doorway.
The hallways stretch before him, and Kael lumbers on.
With eyelids drooping tiredly and a head that sags low to the ground, he makes slow progress, and struggles to recall how to escape the keep the quickest. As he remembers, the brightest glimmers of the moon peak through the skylights, and bathe his path in a dim blue glow. The halls are silent for his last patrol. Thick paws plod across the stone floors until he reaches the western exit near the kitchens. He knows the door is loose on its hinges here and that escape is always easy.
The old brute stares up at the wooden planks for several moments before he groans with effort, straining higher. Kael pushes his nose firmly into the cracks, thick lips mashing against long yellowing fangs. The wood groans. The clicking noise he searches for is no longer heard, but Kael finds that he can still feel the door give way.
'That's my Good Boy, Kael," Her fingers scratch his neck and reach for sweet spots—
Kael shakes his head quickly.
The grizzly mabari stumbles through this new exit, and a rush of night time air and confusing scents climb into his nostrils. Callused paw pads sink into rain-moistened dirt. For long moments, Kael simply stands by the door. Milky eyes shift across blackened courtyards, and his fur begins to prickle. In summers past, the light of the moon is enough to guide his way, but with years that weigh him down like so many rough stones, the task is harder.
The war hound shifts the cropped rims of his ears.
A soft growl rolls in the back of his throat.
'This way, come on!'
Stern wrinkles dig their way into his features as his head snaps up to watch a familiar shadow of a boot slip around the nearest corner. He knows that he should not be able to hear Her voice, but he is glad for this one blissful piece of aging. He can think of no better voice to listen to and no better footsteps to follow, but he wishes that the sound of Her—thought lost forever—and thoughts of Her did not drag his feet.
Squishy bits of mud slip between his paw pads and chipped toenails, and Kael steps forward into the light misting of rain that is never kind to his joints. The stocky hound chuffs and wuffs as he clambers after Her shadow. He nearly slips in the mud, but rights himself. Kael follows Her figure as it darts over the picket lining, though he struggles to be able to fit his shoulders through a hole in the next planking. She runs as though he is not old. Kael flexes his muscles and lopes in Her direction. So far from the torches of the keep, he cannot see more than a lunges distance in front of his muzzle, but the smell and feel of the dirt tell him where She is leading him.
'Kael?' She has Her sleepy morning-time voice, and She giggles—
Kael narrowly avoids tripping at the sudden change of tone. He stands at the very edge of the Brakh fields, his paws having unearthed some of the brown lumps. The tall gate ends inside of the rock face beyond the next picket. Murky eyes turn higher.
If he can hoist himself up onto the outcropping, he knows he will be able to escape.
He tenses his haunches and edges closer, raising one forepaw to gauge the angle of the incline. Moments of years past flash through his limbs and remind him of a time such hesitation is not needed. He remembers what it feels like to coil and spring in one motion. Kael's claws scrape against the side of the rock, and the worn dog hauls himself up after long minutes and thick ropes of drool splattering the grey stones, panting heavily from a victory that feels more strongly of defeat.
The hound wheezes as he turns to face the ledge and he peers over the side of the high wooden wall. He has not made this jump in three winters. The ache in his bones warns him that he will not be able to do it twice.
Her scent flits by his nose. She is so close—
Kael lurches forward before the memory can take root. His chest takes the brunt of the fall and his legs aide very little in recovery. He groans with pain and determination, furrowing his brow as he pushes himself to his paws once more. Kael favors his leg- but he keeps going.
The nearest patch of woods is not far, though in the darkness and with eyes that barely see in daylight hours, it is an hour in the making for Kael. The air thaws around him as he slumps into the tree line, and the big brute continues his search. He will show Her that he remembers, and that he loves Her with everything that he is.
Kael's nose is not what leads him farther into the forests.
His vision pulses and blurs by the time his steps begin to slow. The sun peaks through the uppermost branches. As the earth warms, he feels a sense of relief. The woodland creatures grow quiet as the venerable war hound passes by with jaws that hang wide and pant heavily. A heaviness drags after him that he cannot outrun.
Kael brushes against the trunk of a sapling as he makes his way into a clearing. It must be near. He knows of this place from seasons long past, when laughter came easier to Her. It is a good place. His paws sink into the dirt as he steps forward. With faded vision and exhaustion pulling at his muzzle, Kael struggles to find the energy to sniff out his goal.
A small growth of elfroot, mature enough to bloom in full, but not so heavy as to have leaves weighed down and stinking of too much water and mud.
His muzzle sags open, and the hound whines gently. Kael slowly lowers himself beside the bush. He means only to find a stem to snip with his teeth. He will rise again, he will get up and return to Her; he will bring Her this proof—
The breath catches in his throat and chokes him, and Kael's muscles give way underneath him. The war hound slumps into the damp dirt underneath the foliage. A leaf dangles on his nose, and he can smell nothing else. Wetness begins to drip down from the skies. It is not enough for more than a stray drop to pierce the overhanging tree branches, but the breaking of the rain eases the tension in his bones. He breathes a final heavy, rattling sigh that shakes his lungs, and though his jaws do not obey him, he thinks he chews a leaf free.
'Kael? What are you—Oh, you Handsome Boy, what are you getting into?' She says to him. Her scent washes over everything, and he feels Her hands as they shimmy against his thick muscled sides. She is here, here with him! Excitement makes him shiver, and Kael turns his eyes to look up at His Woman, and to see the way the sunlight washes over her skin and skinny tipped ears.
'Were you chewing this?' She says.
Kael finds that the soreness is gone from his joints, and the mabari hoists himself forward and up against her legs. He barks and yips and paces. His nubby tail wags, and it wags, and he knows that it may never stop now. He pushes his head into Her hands to steal pets just like the first She has ever given him—but His Woman stoops down and slings Her arms around his thick neck to hug him against Her.
'My Sweet, Sweet Boy," She says, Her voice growing faint and soft, "I know you do."
The tension slackens from Kael's body, and his eyes close.