Constant noise in front of him, always something to the back. If there wasn’t the sounds of shooting, it was wild life making itself known, Hope Count was a mess and he was too sure what he could really do. He tried as he might to help where he could, chase off those peggies would thought setting fires was something to pass the time or what? To mask what they had done? He lifted his hand to punch the bridge of his nose, steps leading him without a thought in his mind, not until he heard it not far off from him, the sounds of…a dog?
As quickly as he could, he got to where they were, hands out to show he was no threat, body bent in a way to appear smaller, palms facing heavenward. “Hey there, buddy. Got no owner? I’ve seen some of your pals around, been tryin’ to help them all out. You want some food? I got some.” Max watched carefully, cautiously edging forward to see if there was a collar, his anger a bitterness he had to swallow lest he spook his new canine friend. Things have changed, he watched it happen every day but if he could make it easier for anyone who needed help then he would do just that.
Food? Timber’s ears perk up and towards the man. He is a dog, after all, and not having to eat whatever scraps he can find makes his stomach rumble. Still, he is cautious. Sniffing the out stretched hands.
No, he doesn’t have a collar. Has no owner. He’s never had one. Hope County is large, it was easy for him, other dogs, to remain stray. At least until all these strange and mean people started showing up. They caught many of the other dogs, Timber doesn’t know what happened to them, and other animals. He saw them often, in strange outfits, hunting. Still rounding up wolves. But this man is dressed differently, he smells different. So Timber’s tail starts to wag. Slowly, yes, but a tentative sign of his friendship.
A whine, please, I’m hungry! He promises he’ll pay him back, somehow, in a way dogs do.
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