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Night noises made her jumpy and Leilah needed the torchlight as soon as the canopy blocked out the moon. The dogs bounced ahead, stopping at intervals to wait for her to catch up. Moss mounted Patch at every opportunity and Leilah cringed, hoping against an outcome and imagining Hector’s anger. Pups took time and effort he didn’t have and denied him his best working dog for weeks he couldn’t spare. Patch growled and turned to bite Moss, indicating the early stages of her heat and obvious reluctance. Inexperience made him hasty and he didn’t manage to lock properly. Leilah crossed her fingers behind her back and hoped his feeble slip mating released her from blame and Patch from consequences.
The torch light bounced along the ground and night creatures skittered away from the intrusion. A possum shot from the undergrowth, grey fur coat reflecting the light. Moss released an excited yip and gave chase, but Patch glanced back at Leilah before following. “Drop!” she hissed, watching the big dog’s reluctance as she eased her body to the ground. The thin tail of Moss disappeared between a stand of towering pungas and shot beneath the fence which kept cattle from soiling and contaminating the drinking water. “Fantastic!” Leilah spat, putting a hand on Patch’s leather collar. The dog rose, sleek and graceful and glued herself back to Leilah’s thigh.
They found the gully and stepped over and under supplejack vine with the torchlight catching the steady trickle of water. Patch remained close, her ears flicking at the sound of an occasional bark from Moss on his mission to catch the uncatchable. “Dumb dog!” Leilah grumbled as the sound echoed off the rocky outcrops and threatened to give her away. “I’d ask God to keep Hector asleep, but I don’t think he likes me.” She gave a sigh and Patch looked up at her, tongue lolling sideways and ears alert. Leilah gave a pinched smile, her lips tight against her teeth. “I meant God, but I don’t think Hector likes me either,” she whispered. “They both think I’m too much trouble.”
Leilah knew the bush in daylight, able to find her way without compass or direction. The night presented a different face, shrouded and terrifying. She comforted herself with a hand on Patch’s collar, her fingers feeling the worn leather strap and the coarse hair of the dog’s dormant hackles either side. Pressing on through the many natural hazards of fallen branches and swirling vines, she found the pipe which fed water to the house and paddocks by tripping over it. Leilah fell hard, grazing her palms on spiked tree roots and bush debris. Her knees smarted and she gasped for air, winded and in pain. Patch had darted sideways as she crashed to the ground and just managed to avoid being squashed. She stood waiting with her endless patience, regarding Leilah with an air of confusion as she grovelled in the dirt. Leilah clutched her chest and waited for her breathing to settle, panting small amounts through pursed lips. Patch moved closer, pushing her snout into Leilah’s face and giving a maternal whine of concern. Wrapping an arm around the bitch’s neck, Leilah rested her head against the smooth fur and scented the soft straw of kennel bedding and the unmistakable tang of dog. “I should give up,” she puffed, pushing tangled hair from in front of her eyes. “This is ridiculous. What am I doing?”
Patch whined again in reply and then stiffened. The warning growl left her throat as a snarl and Leilah froze.
The sound of crashing came closer as someone moved through the bush at speed. Birds disturbed in the tree tops and Leilah panicked as the noise drew closer, on a direct course for her. The stupid pup landed on top of Leilah, hours of training gone from his exciting bounce and undignified whines of glee. He’d degenerated back into an unpredictable mutt and Patch moved aside in disgust as he battered Leilah with lolling wet tongue and batting paws. “Drop!” she wailed from beneath his frantic attentions and a switch flicked back on in his glittering eyes. Panting and smiling with an open maw of complete pleasure, he sank to the ground. Patch crouched down with immediate effect, but Moss kept his breastbone hovering above the leaves as though exacting some small, invisible protest.
“Stay!” Leilah commanded, picking herself up and dusting off dirt, crushed leaves and a squirming tiger slug. She flicked the slippery body with a squeak of horror and Moss snapped his jaws around it in mid-air and swallowed. “Ugh! You’re disgusting!” Leilah protested. Bored with her lack of appreciation, the dog crept forward commando style and tried to mount Patch again. She rose and to Leilah’s chagrin, let him.
Disaster loomed on so many fronts and Leilah ran her hands over her face. When she put a hand out to stop them, Moss gave a warning snarl and she withdrew it. Hector’s wrath would shake the mountain. “Great night out for you!” she hissed at the frantic coupling. “Dinner and a shag!”
Deciding to abandon them to it, she took a step forward and discovered the reason for the dog’s triumphant return. Trained to scent, track and round up errant stock from the foothills of the mountain, he’d done as Hector taught him. Only this time, he’d returned something different to its owner. Leilah bent down and scooped up the length of pale blue cloth with a curse, the blood speeding up in her veins. “What the hell?” she demanded, as her missing bra dangled from her fingers.