Brutal Asset, page 27
The fourth round Wade asked for guidance with his troubled sister. When it came time for me to speak, the words flowed out of their own accord.
“Creator, I thank Okwari for his friendship and his sacrifice. I do not understand why he was forbidden from being in this realm and I worry for him. I ask you for some sign of his well being, some indication of what he has gone on to….please? One dipper please.”
The lodge was silent for a moment as the steam billowed up, the water hissing on the glowing red of the top layer of lava rocks.
Suddenly, my hyper acute ears picked up the sound of a loud SNAP followed by the rush of padding paws. I was the only one ready when the door flap was yanked off and a big furry black and tan dog head poked into the lodge and woofed at me.
“Awasos! What are you doing?” I asked, as if expecting an answer. He just looked at me steadily, expectantly, as I slid out of the lodge. “I’m really sorry, I don’t know what got into him,” I apologized to Tom and Wade who were both still shocked by the sudden light and the furry face in the doorway.
A six inch chunk of torn nylon rope hung from his collar. The stuff was supposed to be rated for over five hundred pounds of stress, but he’d snapped it like cheap thread. Not something even a big dog would likely do to brand new rope. I got him turned so his back was to the lodge and the curious looks of Wade and Tom. He sat for me while I untied the broken chunk, his big brown eyes still locked on my face, which his tongue kept trying to wash.
“I must have tied it wrong or something,” I said, keeping the snapped rope out of sight.
“You are very interested in bears?” Tom asked.
When I looked up, puzzled, he went on. “You have a friend named Okwari or bear in Mohawk. Your….dog..is named Awasos,” he explained.
I nodded. “Yeah, I guess if I were Native American, I would look to the Great Bear for guidance,” I said. He nodded at my words.
“I am Bear Clan, as was my father before me,” he said. “Although, looking at Awasos, I wonder that you didn’t name him Molsum…wolf?”
“He does look pretty wolflike,” I allowed as I adjusted the fit of the collar in the thick neck fur. His brown eyes caught my glance and then something happened. The brown flashed red, bright red like the coals in the fire or the color of molten lava, then just as quickly were brown again. He panted, his jaws open in a toothy grin.
Shocked, I still managed to speak, even as I struggled with what only I had seen, as his back was to them. “You’ll just have to trust me that at times he is more bear-like than wolf.”
End
John Conroe is known to live in upstate New York with his wife and children, where he fabricates stories and knives. Twenty-four years of banking and finance experience have left their mark on his psyche, driving him to create worlds of urban fantasy. Visit him at www.johnconroe.com to learn more about him and his novels.
John Conroe, Brutal Asset
