Back at the camp, Locke was polishing one of his many knives, intently going over it with a rag. Kate put down her backpack of fruits and sat down near him. "Where're you going?" Locke looked up, smiled, and pocketed the small knife before answering her. His voice was rough and gravelly, but she could tell he was excited: He always got excited before a hunt. "Boar huntin'. Could use an extra hand," He replied. Kate volunteered instantly, just like he knew she would. "I'll go." But someone else had their eyes on the hunting trip, and he didn't waste time speaking up. Not that he usually did. "I'll go along for the hell 'a it." Kate didn't have to look to know it was Sawyer, but she looked anyway. He did the thing with his head, the one where he tilted it and gave that insanely annoying smile, the one that always made Kate smile, too. Locke nodded, "Let's go, then." And so, they did.
They'd promptly spilt up upon entering the jungle- Sawyer and Kate stayed together, and Locke went off on his own, for his own reasons. Kate brushed a fern aside, and Sawyer, who hadn't been paying much attention, had a good slap in the face by it. "Damnit!" He exclaimed loudly. Kate, still walking, looked back, still smiling. "Pay attention." He glared at her, but she continued on, un-phased. At least, until the rustling began. It was soft, at first, and far away. Kate stopped, and Sawyer stopped behind her. "What is it?" She didn't answer. Her first guess was a boar, but she couldn't have been more wrong. She heard it before she saw it- whatever was approaching was panting. Like a dog. She peered closely at the ferns around her, and then, suddenly, the hound appeared in front of her.
It was a brownish-colored animal, a little smaller than Vincent, and obviously a mutt. She sat down and continued panting. When neither Kate nor Sawyer said anything, the dog gave a plaintive whine. Kate crouched down. "Come on, girl. Come here." The dog stood up and took a step forward, her tail lowering. Sawyer rolled his eyes, and said loudly "Oh, great. Another fleabag to waste water and food on." The dog jumped back, her eyes glittering, and Kate shot him an accusatory glare. "What?" She didn't answer right away. "Shut up!" Sawyer obliged, leaning against a tree and trying to look bored. Eventually, the dog was being covered in pats from Kate. She could tell the animal was gaining trust, and fast. But she noticed, then, that the dog had tags- no name, but the names of the owner-
KRISTEN ANDREWS
678-99-8158
Kate fingered the tag, and Sawyer, now interested, leaned down beside her. "The same Kristen, do you think, as the one on our plane?" Kate looked back at him, a little surprised. "You remember that?" Sawyer snorted. "Of course I remember it. Answer the question, Freckles." Kate shook her head, thinking for a while before answering him. "Probably. But this dog's survived on something for four months, hasn't it?" Sawyer nodded, and added, "Probably stole our boar. You gonna keep it?" Kate stood up, and the dog stared up at her, trustfully. "Seeing as her owner's dead, yeah, I guess I will." Sawyer nodded. "Whatcha' gonna name it?" Kate sighed. "I don't know, Sawyer." He grinned, standing up next to her. "How's about calling her Boar?" Kate gave him a slightly amused, mostly disgusted look, and replied, "Fine. Boar, for now, since I can't think of anything else. Let's head back; I'm sure Locke will catch something." Sawyer didn't say anything, just followed her retreating figure with the dog trailing behind, trotting behind him, almost respectably. Damn, I could get used to this! Sawyer thought, smiling.