A/N Following a kiss and an argument, Erik left the Manor and headed toward the orchard where he found something in the snow. Thanks again for reviewing! It's interesting to hear what everyone thinks. I appreciate it and so does Monsieur Belmont.

Paladin25

A low, inhuman groan rumbled from the crumpled mass lying before Erik, signaling that it was still alive. The sound startled him, and despite thinking better of it he still ran his bare hand over the object, feeling soft fur rise and fall beneath his hand. Judging by the long legs and slim body it could have been a fox curled up in a ball. Though he didn't know much about animals, he assumed that anything exposed to the elements must have been sick or injured, especially a fox. Impossible to catch, they would fight to the death or run for cover. Foxes were rarely seen. Perhaps it was a wolf, as its size suggested.

Erik started to remove his other glove but stopped, thinking that the leather would at least protect him if the feral beast lashed out. He had seen the stagehands torture and kill cats before and recalled how, even when the animal was skinned alive, they could bite and scratch until their hearts gave out.

The animal before him whined as it moved, and Erik saw its head rise from the rest of its body. Glassy eyes blinked at him once before closing again, and as the head fell again to the ground, its thin tail gave a pathetic wag.

A dog.

"Citrine's dog," Erik whispered as he threw both gloves beside him in the snow.

If it were the same dog he had seen Citrine feeding it was tame, not a wild fox or wolf as he had first thought. Still, he had no idea what had happened to the animal or why it had wandered so far.

Wiping his hand over his face, Erik sighed. He stared at the body quickly becoming covered with the falling snow and considered his options.

The most logical was to leave it and return home. By the looks of it there was little chance it would survive, and the last thing Erik wanted to do was drag home a half-dead animal. He preferred having it die unseen rather than watching it slowly fade. At least if the dog were found frozen Citrine wouldn't know it had died until there was nothing to be done.

Still, Erik lingered a moment longer. The breathing seemed to slow, but as if it knew what was about to happen, the dog whined again, inching closer to Erik's knees. He rested his hand along the ribs and felt the dog's side rise and fall. It exhaled, inching closer to death with each breath.

The longer he remained the less he desired to leave the beast. Erik closed his eyes and told himself that nothing could be done. There were no tracks in the snow, so there was no way to tell how long the animal had been wandering about. It must have exhausted itself and fallen. This was nature's way.

With his mind made up, he rose to his feet and considered looking for an ax or something blunt to crack the skull and put the animal out of its misery. The easiest thing would have been to strangle it or break its neck, but he didn't want to touch it with his bare hands.

He searched a few moments, finding nothing with which to kill the dog. With nothing left to be done, he decided to leave it.

Halfway over the fence Erik stopped himself. He was shivering, his shoes soaked and his legs numb from kneeling in the snow. He wanted to return home, add more wood to the fire and strip out of his wet clothes. Dinner would be ready. He could sit in his room, work on his music, and take his supper as he was accustomed to.

Erik stepped over the fence again and grumbled to himself. This damned dog would be on his mind throughout the night. Already he couldn't shake the image of Citrine giving the hound scraps earlier in the day, and though he knew he shouldn't feel guilty, Erik couldn't stop the regret he already felt mounting.

He would lie awake in bed and think of how he abandoned an ignorant creature to die alone. That was more than he could bear, as each time he closed his eyes he could see himself curled in a ball and left to perish, with people briefly glancing at him as they went on their way.

When he returned, the animal was covered in a growing pile of snow. Erik knelt again and brushed away what he could, which drew another whimper from the animal. He started to brush the snow onto his pant leg when he noticed the dark splotch. Bringing his hand to his face, he tasted the tip of his glove.

Blood.

The animal was injured, no doubt, but he didn't know where or to what extent. Only moving the dog would reveal that information.

"Don't bite me," he said under his breath as he grasped the dog around the middle and pulled it toward his knees.

A chain rattled and the animal yelped, which made Erik release it immediately. The dog lifted its head and stared at him a moment before it struggled to sit up. Within seconds the animal exhausted itself and fell, doing nothing more than whine. Again a chain rattled, yet Erik saw nothing around its neck.

With his brow furrowed, he felt around the body from beneath the front legs to the ribs and up to its tail. Nothing.

Perhaps the chain was underneath the animal. Doing his best to move slowly, Erik reached beneath the emaciated animal and lifted it partially from the snow. The dog arched its back and kicked wildly, yelping out in pain. The chain rattled again, and Erik finally found the source.

At first he couldn't move, as he had never seen anything like it before. His heart paused as he examined the injury then raced as he realized what had happened to the dog.

There was a combination of blood and mud everywhere as the animal had struggled and gnawed to free itself from the leg trap. Running his hand over the dog's back, Erik attempted to calm it as he groped for the chain.

The moment his hand neared the trap the dog screamed in a way he had never heard anything, man or beast, cry before. Startled, Erik moved back, allowing the animal its space so that it didn't feel threatened.

He exhaled again and swore under his breath. From what he had seen, the trap was nailed to the base of the tree, which meant he would have to either pry the animal from the trap or find an ax and return.

The last thing Erik wanted to do was leave the animal alone, but he wasn't sure he could open the trap with his bare hands. The dog was clearly skittish, which was expected. It was a young animal, thin as a rail and accustomed to living beneath the smokehouse. Frozen and in a great deal of agony, it was a danger to itself as well as to anyone who dared approach.

He had to remove the trap from the tree so he could carry the dog back to the Manor and clearly see how bad the injury was. In the dark it was impossible to see the depth of the wound or whether or not the bone was broken.

Rising, Erik stepped over the dog and tugged at the end of the chain secured to the tree. It didn't budge, even when he put his full weight into it.

He swore again and glanced around, hoping he had missed something he could use to break the chain. Searching was in vain, as the snow was building and making it impossible to find anything. Erik was almost certain that if he left the dog alone he wouldn't be able to find it again. Already his tracks were buried and the snow near the fence line was up to the middle of his shins.

His frustrations were quickly mounting. He clamped his hands around his head and growled, not knowing what else to do but return to the Manor, grab the axe, and hope for the best.

The moment he passed through the gate again he saw lantern light coming up the trail. Judging by size, he knew the petite frame belonged to either Sophia or Citrine.

"Here!" he yelled into the wind and snow.

The woman brought the lantern up to her face and Erik saw that it was Citrine.

"Fetch me an ax and bring it here at once," he shouted.

"Monsieur, what are you doing out here?" she called back.

"Can you lift an ax?" he shouted, patience waning.

She made no reply.

"Mademoiselle, can you lift an ax or not."

"I think so."

"Then bring it here at once!"

"Monsieur—"

"No questions! Do as I say!"

She visibly straightened and turned away, the lantern light disappearing as she scuttled down the hill again.

Through the snow he could see Turro's coach departing from the drive. His anger flared again, but he forced himself to turn and head back into the woods.

He rubbed his stiff hands together and fell to his knees. With snow blinding his eyes, he uncovered the dog, checking to be certain it was still alive. His first indication of life wasn't the rise and fall of lungs. With what little strength it had the animal lifted its head and licked the palm of his hand.

"Damn it, you better stay alive," he muttered as he unfastened his cloak and draped it over the dog's body.