You do not know the true meaning of desperation
until your entire party is dead
and Dog is manning the ballista
Swords clashing, shrieks, the stench of the Rotten. Dog rips and tears, lets out a howl that makes the Rotten falter. He takes advantage, barreling forward, knocking the leader to the ground. Dog mauls the creature and when he’s done the foulness of its blood on his fur makes him snort. He fights to protect the Archer and his pack.
He hears a cry, bright, piercing. It’s the human woman who smells of lyrium and wisps, silk and old parchment. She’s fallen, surrounded by Rotten. Dog runs to her aid, charging past the elf whose scent is leather and wine, Archer’s mate. The elf fights with steel but the Rotten beat him, and he crumples to the ground.
Dog sniffs frantically. No! That leaves only Archer, his leader, his normal scent of smoke and leaf, sun and beeswax cut with sweat and blood. Dog howls again but it’s too late. Archer falls and Dog is frantic with rage.
He leaps, he tackles, he shreds. But there are so many Rotten. He remembers a different battle in the stone place, humans climbing on wood, hands working parts that moved, and the Rotten fell as one. Dog runs to the wooden machine, growling at the Rotten that chase after him. He leaps up, clawing fervently at the bits of wood bound with steel and cord.
The machine moves! A stone far bigger than himself hurtles toward the Rotten and they collapse beneath its weight. Dog runs to the stone, tearing out the throats of those who lay there stunned. It is over.
Archer and the others slowly get back to their feet. Dog nearly knocks Archer over in his excitement, wagging his tail and letting out a triumphant bark.
“Good boy,” says Archer, rubbing Dog’s ears. Dog pants. He thinks he has been a very good boy indeed.
I can't believe this post now has its own fanfiction this will be my legacy
