BLUE HATED WINTER IN THE CITY. Curled next to Max to keep him warm, Blue spent most of her time in their makeshift den. She left only to eat and drink. Gray bleakness filled most of the days until a rare ice storm, followed by snow, caused everything in Georgia to come to a grinding stop.
The air was silent and crisp. She caught a familiar scent, followed by a familiar bark.
“Hello?” a voice howled in the frozen wind. Blue raised her head and perked her ears.
A German Shepherd was staring at her, with a big toothy grin.
“Buddy!” Blue said joyously. She crawled out. Max followed.
“Who is it?” Max asked, sleepily, staring at the dog breathing clouds of steam in the fresh snow.
Blue looked at her long-time friend with fondness. Over the years, Buddy had visited her and Diamond each winter, coming back from all points of the world. He came from a long line of traveling dogs, packs that would forage from city to city. These bands of dogs learned about different cultures, and often picked up tricks and survival techniques with every new pack they met. Of course, sometimes the packs would find things missing days or weeks after the traveling band left—but it was almost okay because of the glitter and mystery the new dogs brought.
To Blue, Buddy always made the world brighter, especially when her small life in the alley was gray and cold.
Piercings were in his ears. In addition, she noticed tattoos on his stomach where the hair was less dense. Strange symbols she didn’t recognize.
“New markings?” she asked, one eye raised.
“Yeah,” Buddy said, “I found a whole new clan of dogs hidden among the Pyramids.”
Max peeked out between Blue’s two front legs.
“Soooo. You’ve had a pup?” Buddy lowered his big head to Max.
“Oh, no, no. Nothing like that,” Blue said. “I saved him from being hit by a car.”
Buddy nodded. He looked around her den, sniffing. Not much there.
Blue smiled. “Please,” she said, waving her paw in a grand jesture, “join me for some rat.”
Buddy laughed. “Ah, yes, you’re just the most elegant of dogs.”
They talked and laughed for hours.
As it got darker, Buddy changed the conversation. “Blue,” he said. “I almost completely forgot. There is going to be an even bigger snowstorm than this.” He disdainfully pressed into the snow where it only came up to his knee.
“You need to come with me to safety, especially now that you have this pup.”
Annoyed, Blue said, “Well, thanks for telling me.” She started to look worried. Their home was not faring well in the cold, with the snow slowly banking around it.
Buddy shrugged. “Sorry, I was distracted by your lovely rat dinner. Chin up; we’ve still got time. But we have to get a move on.”
“I can bring Max too, right?” she asked.
“Of course!” he said. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve already got a truck in mind.”
The truck was perfect. It was filled with snow-covered firewood, the perfect camouflage for him and Blue. A tarp covered everything. With a quick yip, Buddy, Max, and Blue climbed under a big tarp beside a small stack of wood, warm and safe.
“I don’t really feel like making a run for any more wood today,” a bearded red-haired man said to another, shorter version. “It’s bound to get worse out there, and you know, Atlanta don’t know nothing about snow,” he said with a laugh. “I just want to get back home, with a quilt, a beer, and a video game controller.”
He paused. “Oh, and my family—always forget that.” Both men chuckled.
“You’re funny, but we need at least two more cords of wood. It’s time to make the money,” the short man said. “So it’s time to get hauling.”
He blew the steam off his warm cup of coffee. “Get back into those mountains, pick up that firewood, and then get the heck home. We just gotta get the job done as quick as possible.”
The red-haired man grumbled, put on an orange sock hat, and cranked up the truck. “Too dang old for this.”
The truck headed off with the dogs on board, rumbling and crunching through the thin layer of snow and ice.
Blue hoped things would be better where they were going, especially for Max. She snuggled in with the other two for the long ride ahead.
Blue hadn’t realized she had fallen asleep, until Buddy nudged her awake the next morning.
“This is it,” he said in short barks. “We need to get out here.”
Once Buddy saw the red-haired man walk away, the three leaped from the truck. Landing silently in the deep, soft snow, they ran toward a grove of trees.
Blue stood for a moment, taking in the vista of mountains before her. They were round, gentle slopes of land, covered in trees and snow—silent. Coming from the city, this quiet was almost unnerving.
She realized she could smell dogs—many of them. Yet, she didn’t see any. Only a rolling field with…
“Snow dens,” Buddy said with joy. “Most Huskies know how to build snow dens as insulation from the cold.” Blue knew he was gently mocking her. “It will keep you and Max safe through the storm.”
Suddenly, dogs burst out of the snow, yipping, barking, and bounding toward them.
Buddy walked up to the pack’s leader, Balta, a white Husky and clearly the Alpha of the snow pack. Buddy bowed to her. “I have brought Blue as we discussed, but will you also offer protection to this pup, Max?”
“Anything for you, Buddy, but they will have to prepare with the rest of us. The storm is set to get much worse. All of you will probably have to stay here at least one night.”
Balta barked to her captains to show Blue and Max how to form their own snow den. After Max wore himself out leaping in the snow and eating a full meal of deer meat, Blue and Max snuggled together again for another restful night.
The next day, a blizzard hit the mountains, howling through the forest. Even inside Blue’s den, wind pushed against her newly formed walls, making her shiver. Max was sneezing, and Blue worried that his nose was dry. She feared she hadn’t made a very good snow den. After all, even Buddy had declined to share it with her. Instead, he’d made his own den elsewhere.
The entire day had been cold. The fact that it would’ve been worse in Atlanta kept her going—no help, no shelter, no knowledge to protect against this onslaught of ice. It felt like a thousand hours had passed since she had woken up this morning. Exhaustion got the best of her, and she settled Max down. He fell asleep quickly, and she curled around him and slowly nodded off.
Late that night, Blue awoke to murmuring sounds far away. Her ears pricked as she tried to detect the voices. She whispered to Max, “Stay here,” before slowly crawling out of her now cozy and warm snow den, carefully keeping it intact for the puppy.
On the ground with her eyes barely peeking above the snow, her white fur was a perfect cover. Two dogs were whispering to each other.
“I have brought the Husky as promised,” Buddy quietly told a Doberman Blue did not recognize.
“Good,” the Doberman replied.
“I expect my reward soon,” Buddy said, starting to circle back to his den. “Remember—don’t hurt her or the pup. I like them both.”
“Yeah, there’s been a change in plans about that,” the Doberman said, with a sudden snarl. Buddy turned toward him and swerved his head, but the Doberman sprang forward, ripping a deep wound into his throat, splattering blood onto the white snow.
Blue couldn’t comprehend what she had just seen. It happened so fast, like a knife cutting her own heart. Her eyes started to burn hot with tears, but instead of howling in grief, she stayed still—her survival instincts taking over.
The Doberman sniffed the air, and said to himself, “Where’s that Husky?” His eyes suddenly brightened, and with one leap, he plowed through her den and stepped back out with Max in his jaws.
Blue couldn’t bear it any more.
“Hey, JERK!” she barked.
The Doberman squinted trying to see the white and black dog against the white snow and black night. He dropped Max in the snow and laughed. “Blue. That is your name, right? I’m going to need you to come with me. Otherwise, well…things are going to get much worse.” He leaned close to the terrified pup, the blood of Buddy still on his fur.
Blue felt her fur rising and ears move backwards. “You pick on puppies? What a coward. What scum.”
Sabu rolled his eyes. Why does every job have to become so difficult.
Pushing Max to side, he lunged at Blue, knocking her down. She hit her head on a rock buried beneath the snow. Blue scrambled to her feet, ears ringing from the rock.
“Is that all you’ve got?” she yelled.
Sabu narrowed his eyes. Blue sprang at him, but he was quicker and dodged her. She wasn’t used to this snow, despite being a Husky. She regrouped, shaking off the snow trapped in her coat. Snarling again, Blue tried to catch him, but once again missed. This time he pushed her to the ground and pinned her there. Blue struggled under him, snapping at his paws.
“Let me go, you fool!”
Sabu laughed, “Fool? Take a look at a mirror once in a while!”
For a split second, the Doberman seemed distracted.
“What’s that?” Sabu asked. “Oh, sorry. Okay, I got it.”
Blue realized that, while he was momentarily distracted by what seemed to be imaginary voices, he had shifted his weight on her. She quickly slid out from under him, and kicked him hard in the jaw with her back legs. He fell back, something flying from his ear.
Blue got to her feet. He was lying still on the cold ground, breathing slowly. Her kick had injured his nose and mouth; blood stained the snow. Blue walked over to the black device that had been clipped to his pointed ear. She sniffed it, and very faintly, she heard a voice coming from it.
WHAM!
Blue fell forward from the impact, her vision blurred. The Doberman stood over her, breathing heavily. She tried to get up, but the earth began spinning.
She snarled at him: “Take one more step, and you’re dead, cat breath.”
The Doberman watched her try to burrow deeper into the snow for protection. “Get on your feet and show me what you’ve got,” he sneered.
Blue was defeated. She knew it. She couldn’t even raise her head.
Sabu slipped the earphone back on. “Yeah, she’s still alive. I’m sure she’s fine. She’s got a thick skull.”
Blue muttered at him as she faded out: “Shut…up…cat breath.”
The Doberman smacked Blue with his huge paw.
A dog was coming closer to her. A German Shepherd, with thick brown and black fur. Blue moaned in pain. Buddy, is that you? The German Shepherd stood there for a second in silence, staring at her. Slowly, he shook his head. “No. Dig deeper,” he whispered to her. Then, he slowly turned and walked away, disappearing into the snowstorm. She looked up one more time, and he became a ghost against the gray horizon.
Blue blacked out. As her head dropped into the blood-stained snow a final time, one small pierced hoop caught in her paw.