More Sergeant Preston!

[camwyn]

September, 1936
Late Evening
The Winkie Country, Oz

We've more or less decided to go back to the civilized (ha!) countries and gather up what allies and resources we can before returning to Oz. The situation here is more than we can handle alone. It's going to be a long discussion with Inspector Moore back at Fort Munn. . . That's going to have to wait for now, though. Miss Poppins says we won't be leaving before morning. Once that was settled, I slipped away from the others. Cranston (or Lamont, or whatever name he's using this week- still doesn't change the fact that I don't trust him) had seen me speak to Prince aboard the dirigible, and had seen Prince answer me. The sight of Ev where the Atlantic Ocean ought to have been hadn't thrown him off, but a talking dog? That bothered him. The last thing I needed was another fuss, whether from him or from anyone else. This was a matter between myself and Prince alone.

Prince had been hanging about the edges of our tactical council, but hadn't said anything. He hadn't gone far. The yellow woods of the Winkie Country are a tangled, mucky mess, more like the forests of the southern United States than anything back in Canada. Prince had found himself a clean patch of grass near the fringes of the trees and was sitting on his haunches, gazing up at the moon. "Hello, Sergeant," he said without turning his head.

I was standing downwind of him, but I haven't met a White man yet who could move silently through a forest, and that includes myself. "Didn't mean to disturb you, old fellow," I said.

"That's all right." He turned his head a little, one eye looking at me. "We are going back?"

"Tomorrow, yes."

He dropped his muzzle briefly. When he spoke I realized it was a nod. "I see."

I hesitated; there was something odd in his tone of voice. At least, if he were a man, I would have said that. "We should have included you," I said. "I'm sorry."

Prince's tail swished from side to side in the yellow grass. "It is all right," he said, looking back up to the moon. "I would like to go home for a while. It is very warm here."

This wasn't going to be easy. "Prince," I asked, "do, ah. . . d'you mind if I sit down?"

The dog shook his head, edging sideways to offer me a better spot on the ground. I settled down next to him. "Thank you."

He nodded again. "Of course," he said.

I didn't know what to say next. It's not every day a man tries to have a heart-to-heart talk with his dog - at least, not once he's past the age of twelve. And even a boy doesn't really expect his dog to answer. For a while, all I did was look up at the sky myself.

"There is something you want to say," came Prince's quiet voice.

"How can you tell?"

The grass swished under his tail. "You smell uncomfortable," he said simply. "And you sit like you do when someone has killed a man and his mate does not know it yet."

That actually made me smile. "I didn't know I was that predictable," I murmured.

"It is a habit, isn't it? Little Paws bites herself when she itches. White Ears tries to claw up the ground when he is nervous. You sit like that when you want to speak. It's the same thing."

"Little Paws - oh, the dog team back home?"

"Yes."

"You would know, wouldn't you," I said slowly. "You've been with me long enough, after all."

He nodded. I glanced over at him. His eyes were still on the moon, but eyes don't mean as much to a dog as they do to a man, and his ears were tilted just a bit in my direction. I took a deep breath, and couldn't help but notice them tilt a little bit more. All right, he was listening, whether he showed it or not.

"Prince," I began, "I. . . "

Silence, except for the insect noises of the woods. Prince canted his head a little, curious.

Sighing, I shook my head. "Sorry, old boy," I said ruefully. "Too many words."

"Ah," said Prince. "It is like eating from many bowls."

"Excuse me?"

He glanced over at me. Since both of us were sitting on the ground, he hardly had to look up at all. "You have the words," he said, "but you cannot use them all. They are all good words, so you do not know which one to start with. It is like eating from many bowls, because you cannot choose."

"Well, yes - but if I don't speak, another man isn't going to come along and take the words away, is he?"

Prince's tongue lolled out in something like a smile. "That would be something to see," he said.

"I suppose it would, wouldn't it?"

"It would have to be the big man. The one you call Danner. I don't think the others are big enough to beat you in a fight."

I laughed, and Prince wagged his tail. "I suppose you're right, fella. I might just as well pick a place to start."

He closed his mouth then, but there was still something of a smile about him. "Then start. I am listening."

"All right." Another deep breath. "It's like this, Prince. . . back home, dogs are - well, they're dogs. They're smart, or they're dumb, or they're like you, but no matter what, they're dogs."

Prince rolled his head from side to side. "We are still dogs here," he pointed out. "Although the black one, Toto, is small enough that I could eat him in two bites."

"You're not going to, are you?" I asked with some alarm.

His tongue lolled out again, and I got a very definite feeling that he was having a joke at my expense. "It would not be right. Dogs should not eat each other. And the girl would miss him."

It seemed like an opening. "Yes, she would," I said. "Just like I would miss you, if anything had happened when you went looking for the Lion."

Prince nodded. "I know," he said calmly.

"Is that important to you?" I asked.

His head jerked up at that, eyes wide as he stared at me. "Yes!" he barked.

"You're sure about that?"

"Yes!" He came to his feet. "This is a stupid question. I do not want to hear it any more."

"I'm. . . sorry, Prince. I didn't think it would bother you."

He snorted, refusing to look at me. "You are my person," he said, gazing fixedly off into the woods. "You have always been my person. You should know this."

"I'm not a dog, Prince, I don't know how it is for you-"

"You should know," he repeated. The fur along his back was just starting to stand on end. "I do not believe that you do not know."

What was I supposed to say to that? I sat back in silence, watching him. Every line of him was taut, tense. He looked like he wanted to bolt, or pounce. As if there were something chasing him and he didn't know whether to fight or flee. In the end the effect was the same: he stayed nailed to the spot, bristling.

Eventually, he spoke. His voice was low, on the edge of growling. "When I was a puppy," he said, "a man came and looked at all of us. My mother was afraid of him. She said he would take us away. Then my father came up to the fence and spoke. It was my father who told us what would happen, that he would give us to men when we were old enough. He said some men were cruel and bad. He said some men were kind, and would take care of us, but make us pull heavy loads and sleep in the cold. And he said that his man was the best of all."

Stunned, all I could say was, "Your father was Duke."

"Yes. Duke." Prince looked sharply at me. "You fed him, he said. You kept him with you, and talked to him like you did to men. When he was hurt you bandaged him. When men said bad things about dogs you barked them down, because you had him. You took care of him before you took care of yourself. You were his person. He said he was glad, because you treated him like a person, and that was good."

"He was my lead dog, though," I pointed out. "He had to work as hard as the other dogs-"

"You work hard for your pack, too," Prince said.

"Excuse me?"

"The people you guard? You work hard for them, to keep them safe. Men have tried to kill you but you still work for them. Your people are your pack, yes?"

"It's not quite like that."

"It is enough." Prince started to pace in a slow circle. "Everything you do is for the pack. My father said this. He was right. I have seen that."

I shook my head slowly. Prince went on. "He said that you would come, and you would take one of us. You would teach us things and make us work hard, but you would be good to us. He said we should be glad to be your dog, because you would always take care of us, and so we should always take care of you."

"I've always tried to do that. For all my dogs."

"Yes." Prince stopped pacing, looking to me again. "But especially to my father, and to me."

"Well . . . yes."

"That is why," he said softly. "That is why it is important. I do not want anyone to hurt you, ever. In the place of the burned people you were in danger. They would have torn you apart. I would have torn out their throats for you."

He said it so matter-of-factly.

"The people who have come to this land have done things that make you angry. If they can, they will kill you. I do not want that to happen."

"Because I'm your person?"

"Because you are you, and because you are my person. You would not let them hurt me, would you?"

I didn't even have to think about the answer. "Of course not!"

"There. You see? It is like that. I was not afraid when you asked me to go with Toto to find the Lion, even though the smells were strange. Even when the twenty wolves surrounded us, and the things with wings and hands tried to attack me."

I leaned forward at that. "The winged monkeys attacked you?"

Prince licked his chops. "They tried," he said. "They were not good at it. I bit most of them. All they got was the thing with the voices."

"The wireless headpiece."

"If that is what you call it." He gave a slight snort. "They tried to fight me, because they thought I came with the men who make you angry. There were many of them, and many wolves, and the Lion and the Tiger. If they had all fought me and won-"

I found that my hand had crept up over my shoulder, and was resting on the handle of the axe I'd brought to Oz with me. Prince saw the motion and nodded. "There. You would have fought them for me, yes?"

"Of course."

"That is why I was not afraid," he said. "You were near."

"But I sent you and Toto out alone. . ."

"And when the - monkeys? - when they took the speaking thing, you came looking for me, yes?"

I thought, for a moment, that I should say "for both of you" - but in my heart I knew it wasn't true. When I made that lantern and set off into the Yellow Woods I was looking for Prince, and Prince alone. Toto would have been a bonus, but. . . "Yes," I said honestly. "For you."

"I knew you would," he said simply.

I let out my breath and leaned forward, my arms across my knees. It was . . . somehow, it was not what I'd expected. I don't know what I'd been thinking. It wasn't the words of the dog in Bambi; there wasn't anything of worship in it. It seemed too simple, somehow. "Back home," I said slowly, "you hunt for me. Does that ever bother you?"

"Should it?"

"Your mother was a wild wolf," I said. "But you track wild things down for me."

"No," said Prince, "I track them down with you. I hunt with you."

"What's the difference? Half the time all I do is say 'Prince, find them'."

Prince snorted; it sounded like amusement. "It is the pack," he said. "A pack hunts together. My mother said so. The first of the pack leads the hunt, but the others hunt too. When the first of the pack does not find the trail, the others do it. When they make the kill, they share it."

"But I'm a person," I said. "Not a wolf. Or a dog."

"You treat me like a person," Prince answered. "I have heard you say that I am as good as any man."

"Well- you are."

"Then you are as good as any dog," he said. "Or any wolf."

I've been called a lot of things in my time, good and bad alike, and I have to say. . . that was probably the second-best compliment I've ever had.

Prince padded over to me. "You do not smell uncomfortable any more," he noted. "Are you done?"

The answer took a few moments, but I finally nodded. "I think so."

"Good," he said, and nosed at my right arm. "I do not like it when you smell like that. Try not to let that happen again."

I smiled, and reached over to scratch him behind the ears. "All right, old boy," I murmured, "if that's what you want."

"Good," he said again. The grass swished; he was wagging his tail.

"You're not going to be able to speak when we get back to Canada, you know," I said.

His tail didn't pause one bit. "I will manage."

"You're sure?"

"Yes." He paused. "There is one thing. . ."

"What is it?"

"Will we be going to the other place, too?"

"England, you mean?"

"If that is what you call it."

"I think so. Why?"

"There was this poodle. . ."

Comments

[sdelmonte]

A small correction: I have tried to not use the name Kent Allard in the game, as it is not only the name The Shadow doesn't share, it was not even revealed to the audience as his true identity until 1937. Technically, even I shouldn't know it yet. But I think that Preston and the others haven't heard it at all.

[camwyn]

Wasn't sure if J. had mentioned it or if it had been in the dossiers we were initially handed. I have edited the post and my copy of the original file to remove the name. Thanks for the heads-up!

[sdelmonte]

I figure that J. knows, but would he put such a detail in the dossiers? Seems unlikely, as it would be one less thing to threaten The Shadow with. (As cold a character as The Shadow is, he's got nothing on J.)

[dormouse-in-tea.livejournal.com]

It's so very awkward, when you write things that make me shriek out loud with laughter, and then my father comes barging in and wants me to explain.

"There was this poodle..."

[camwyn]

The poodle is actually Seanan's contribution. I lifted it from slightly earlier in the game session - it works better here. That particular conversation went something like this:

"I would like to go back to the place where we stayed with Lord Wimsey. There was a poodle there-"
"Prince, she was less than a quarter of your weight!"
OOC: Tom Swift's player (I think): "Maybe it was one of those standard poodles, not the yappy ones?"
Me: "Prince weighs 160 pounds."
IC: "Accommodations could be made."
"Prince, that's ridiculous. Couldn't you find a nice German Shepherd or something?"
"There weren't any nice German Shepherds!"
"We'll find you one!"
"There are lots of nice wolves here, too..."
"That's also acceptable. Your mother was a wolf. Wolves are fine."
"But I would still like to see the poodle again."

[dormouse-in-tea.livejournal.com]

*giggles a LOT* Oh boy!