It felt strange, being free in a canoe. She quickly learned to move to help steady it every time a wave slapped them. She’d have liked to doze, but the bottom of the canoe kept filling up with water, so she couldn’t put her head down. Bony Boy kept scooping the water out, in between sessions of paddling.
The sun rose higher. It grew hot, but not as hot as when she’d been tied up the day before. The spray dampened her fur; and now she could move the wind cooled her. Every so often Bony Boy stopped and offered her water — just a handful, but it was enough — then drank himself.
The smell of land grew closer.
It took her a while to realise what was wrong. The land smelled … different. Not just of new things, but the absence of things that should be there too.
No pig smell. No dogs.
But it was land. For now, that was enough.