Opening the trap he finds two pheasants,
that's something at least.
Deftly wringing their necks he ties their feet together
and swings the pair over his shoulder.

Calling for Dog, he makes his way back through the woodland.
His catch will see him and Dog a few more days of food.
Not that he is hungry.

Time passes slowly and he is tired.
His mind not his own for,
well, he can't remember for how long now.
All he knows is she is gone.

He enters the clearing before his home,
his heart is as heavy as his boots, now caked in mud.
Autumn is here and the nights are nothing but darkness and stars,
and she is gone.

Dog bounds on ahead without a care in the world,
happily sniffing through the leaves and grasses.
Disturbing the earth.

The ache in the mans heart only serves to drag him down,
making his muscles powerless with the weight.

Entering his home, their home..
he takes the birds to the cool room beyond the kitchen
and hangs them on the hook.
He can't think to deal with them now.

Returning to the kitchen he takes a log of seasoned wood from the basket and places it on the low burning fire.
He knows it will be cold again tonight.
He can't bare to think of her fate.
Where did she go?

For months he has searched,
for miles.
Called until his voice was hoarse.
Walking until exhaustion over came him.
Dog running ahead,
sniffing, scenting, tracking.
But nothing...

Day after day, night after night, in rain and storm,
he searched, calling to the heavens,
calling to the stars and the moon too
if they would but listen.

The fire crackles bringing back his attention,
he removes his boots and sits in his chair.
He watches the flames grow,
adding another log to last the evening
as Dog takes his place on the rug.

The hole in his life is endless,
he can't see as to where it starts
and to where it ends,
it just is...

With the night drawing in he moves to close the door
and then finds food for Dog.
Laying the plate down,
Dog gratefully woofs down his meal,
wagging his tail in appreciation.

"Good Boy Dog" he tells him.
Dog looks up, but not as to see his Master.
He is listening, hearing.
His Master takes the cue from Dog,
knowing Dog can hear more than he.
He knows there is someone here.

Taking his gun from the mantle he loads it.  
He lets Dog lead the way to the stairs and the sound.
Now Dog is on high alert.
Gone is his playfulness.
He is aware of his duty.
To find, to seek out, to protect his master.
He now awaits his masters instruction.

Taking the stairs, the gun loaded,
socked feet silently treading up each step,
he reaches the landing.
Trying to keep his breath shallow,
trying to make no sound.
But his heart thunders in his ears.
So loud he thinks even Dog might be able to hear it.
He too hears a sound,
like a gentle whisper,
and he knows someone is in his bedroom.

He points the gun ahead.
The evening has darkened and now
shadows play across the door before him.

Dog awaits his command.
The safety catch is released.
The door is slowly pushed aside
and the gun is raised.
Dog waits.

He takes in the sight and his eyes widen.
His heartbeat so loud.
His finger on the trigger.

And Dog... wags his tail.

Because,
even though his master is yet to believe his eyes,
Dog already knows.

She is home.





To be continued...