Page 82 of Blacktail

That shut them up for a moment, but as he wandered off, he heard them call after him, “There he goes, the King of the Skeletons.”

“Aye,” agreed Sliderpaw. “The cacti have lost a fine leader.” The prairie dogs’ cackling laughter echoed from every bolt-hole within a day’s walking distance. From then on Chester was called the King of the Skeletons by all. Hell, he had discovered, is also laughter.

i have bound myself to an unsane pack

When he was little, Chester loved his two-legs so much that he felt his heart would burst from it. He lived in her den for as long as he could remember. In the evenings, when it snowed, they would lay by the fire and nibble little morsels together—first a bite for her, then a bite for him. Sometimes she would rub his belly. Sometimes she would whisper soft words in his ear in a language he could not understand. It was a gentle time. Back then he thought all times were gentle.

i offer up my suffering and my life as penance

Chester loved his two-legs, but sometimes he angered her without meaning to. Many days she would go away and leave him to his own company. That terrified him—why didn’t she take him with her? Were they not a pack? Was he not worthy? Left alone in massive House, he would seek out things that smelled of her, and sleep on them, or chew them, or take them to a special place and leave them there. When he was hungry he ate from the bins of used food. When he was bored he chewed stuff. Toward the end he began to form an uneasy association with the piles of chew scraps and her rages. He made them less for a while after that, then stopped entirely. But no matter how she beat him, he never understood what wrong could come of relieving himself, not when she left him to lie alone in the dark for so long.

subjugate me to thy will, o lord

Finally a day came when she took him along with her. He jumped into Car, grinning and wagging. The two of them ran down the road faster than even the fastest dog might run. Chester hung his head out the side. The wind rushing up his nose made him nearly insane with the ecstasy of smells. When they stopped, they were in what he would come to call the Starving Rocks.

that i may at last join your pack

His two-legs called him out of Car and patted him a little. Chester wagged his tail and showed her his belly for the last time. She rubbed on it for a few breaths. She said soft things. He noticed that small waters leaked from her eyes. He thought that strange, but attached little import to it. Men often do strange things.

When Car swallowed her and ran away, he followed, thinking that this was some new game. But Car was fast, so fast. Chester cried out to her, saying, “Please don’t leave me,” saying, “I’m sorry,” saying, “I swear I’ll be good.” But she didn’t stop, no matter how he begged. When he gave up the chase and found himself alone in the forest of rocks and sand, when he saw that the sun was setting and felt the first bite of the night chill, when his stomach made its first tiny stirrings of hunger, he thought it was a mistake. Perhaps she had just forgotten? For days, he held tight to the hope, the certainty, that she would be back.

He understood nothing.

and be with you, lord, either in this world or the next

Now, in his final extremity, Chester had poured out the last shreds of those hopes. He had eaten his last “sammich,” he realized, warmed his butt by his last fire. Everything was ended but the ending. With that understanding came a perverse sort of comfort. Now he had fallen away from himself. Now the hunger was ended. Now he drifted in the darkness. Now he touched nothing but his memories and his prayer.

amen

ii

Chester felt the sun’s warmth fall away, as if a dark cloud had passed over. He opened one eye and saw an enormous black silhouette blocking the sun.

“Lord?” he croaked. “Is that you, lord?”

The shadow stood silent, impassive.

“You’ll have to wait a little, I think,” Chester said. “I may not be finished until tonight, or perhaps even tomorrow.”

Still the shadow said nothing, but only scented him about the neck and hips. Chester did not resist. In truth, he barely noticed.

“You have mistaken me for someone else.” The voice was quiet but somehow frightening, like the roar of a distant forest fire.

“Eh? You aren’t God?”

“No.”

“Perhaps the Puppy of Darkness?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

“Fairly sure, yes.”

“Then leave me.” Chester sighed and lay his head back down. “I’ve a bit of work left to do.”

“Hunting?”