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The Cry of Sodom

Book II, Scroll VI

"You're sure it's them? You are sure, are you not?"

The golden Arabian horse counted to five slowly, lest he release a less than polite sigh in the canine's face. It had taken too long, far too long, but it was the final minutes leading up to reunion that he was finding the most grating. Pacing the small room, which was situated near the central meeting square of Sodom, Edith wound herself up in circles.

"Edith." Imran suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "I have told you, my dear, it can be no one else. Yes, they are back. It truly and absolutely is them."

"And Lot too?" The Canaan dog danced from paw to paw, demonstrating the perfect image of a young lady who urgently needed the latrine. "He's with them? It is all of them that have returned to me?"

Imran sighed this time, coupling the display of aggravation with an appeasing nod. He had to be patient a little longer, it would not be so bad. Flicking his long tail - it once again needed a trim - the equine glanced between Edith and the door, lips parting and closing as he chose and discarded words in turn. Nothing suited. Nothing could capture the gravity of what she was about to witness, if the whispers were true. He cleared his throat.

"Edith, I must warn you -"

She was not listening. Her gaze fixed intently on the main door, ears pricked as eagerly as a young pup awaiting a treat from her mother or father. Imran did not deny himself a smile at the sight. It made him want nothing more than to take the canine into his arms and show her the family she had missed so much. Only...he had heard talk. Talk that made his stomach twist with curls of dark jealousy for a mare left behind and his legacy, still unformed.

Edith's fur bristled: there were voices outside. Sensing time was short, Imran darted for the canine, reaching and catching her arm. He turned the trembling canine to face him.

"I have to warn you, Edith," he said clearly, making her look him in the eyes. "There's something not right here."

"Warn me?" Her voice shook, ears slipping back against her skull. "Warn me of what? Are they hurt? Is there something I should know? What happened to them? Is there something wrong with my daughters?"

"No, not that I know of." Imran's brow furrowed and he shook his head. "Something is amiss. Something. I cannot put my finger on it, Edith."

"That is hardly reassuring," Edith snorted, forgetting her manners in a rare moment of the jitters. "What do you think could be wrong? Why would you say that?"

Oh, just the way no one else would give me a straight answer, Imran thought. But he could not say that - it would only worry Edith more. The voices outside drew closer, disallowing him from making a further decision. He was simply out of time.

"We shall soon see, either way," Imran murmured to no one in particular, his comment falling on deaf ears.

The door swung open, revealing a stern jackal with shocking amber eyes. Following at his heels, sandwiched between the jackal and another bulky fur, Lot entered, muzzle pointed down to the ground. Edith stepped forward as if to embrace him and paused in the next heartbeat. The older canine held his paws awkwardly behind his back and it was only upon craning her neck at a bizarre angle that Edith realised that they were securely tied so that he could not bring them forward at all.

"Lot?" Edith laughed aloud. "What on earth have you on your paws? Are you well? Where are Pheine and Thamma? Are they behind?"

Lot raised his muzzle, refusing to meet her eyes. Slowly, he looked over his wife's new attire, seeing her dressed in a loose relaxed robe that hung nicely from her curvaceous frame, accentuating rather than hiding. He, on the other paw, wore his tattered robe from the road, not being deemed worthy enough to deserve a change of clothing after his captors had uncovered what he had done. But Edith did not know that.

"Lot?" Edith huffed, resting one paw on her hip. "Do you have so little to say to me?"

"Edith..." He mumbled, words rolling over one another. "I did not mean to. I did not mean it."

"What are you speaking of?" She blinked. "Honestly."

Whether Lot was cowed by the newly discovered spark in his wife or his predicament, onlookers could only speculate. Edith's gaze slid beyond and her eyes brightened. She cared for Lot, that much was true, but it was her daughters that she truly craved to see. Tucked between three other furs - why did they have bodyguards? - Pheine and Thamma's lips stretched into wide grins and they started towards their mother, arms outstretched.

"Pheine, Thamma," Edith started, relief thick in her voice. "It's so good..."

She trailed off, paws falling to her sides. She had meant to draw her daughters into her arms. She had meant to hold them close. She had meant to remind them how much they meant to her. They were right there! Standing with her arms hopefully outstretched, Pheine's smile faltered and she looked to her sister. Edith tried to speak, lips parting, but no words were forthcoming, failing her in the moment that she needed them most.

"Mother?" Thamma tilted her head to the side, muzzle flushing as her paws moved to cover her belly. "Mother...please do not look at us like that."

How could she not stare? How could her stomach not plummet? Shaking her head, Edith folded her arms over her chest and unfolded them an instant later. Her paws twitched with a mind of their own, restlessly moving from one body part to another as if by reminding herself of her body's contours she could reinstate herself in reality. Because her daughters could not be part of any waking world. She had not considered that they may return...different.

Edith had not counted on them being pregnant.

And the only male they had been in the company of was Lot. It was cruelly obvious why the male dog's paws where tied and Edith rounded on him with the fury of a caged beast thus released.

"What have you done to them?" Edith's voice rose, twisting into a shriek. "It was you, wasn't it? Tell me now! What have you done?"

Not giving him the chance to respond, Edith launched herself bodily at her husband, fingers curled into vicious imitations of claws. Her own blunt claws, typical of two-legged canines, would _not_suffice for the damage she intended to cause. She could imagine how it would feel to tear into him, make him pay for what he'd done. He had not even had the masculine bone, the stomach, to give her a reason, not that she would listen to another word of his bile ever again. She was almost within clawing distance when furs moved to block her path but that did not faze her - she would barrel through them! And then she jerked back, stopping a foot short of the blank-faced Lot as a heavy weight dragged upon her left arm. The weight heaved her back, gasping from the strain.

"Mother!" Pheine clung to her arm, holding her back solely with the weight of her own body. "Stop this now! This is madness! Father was not to blame."

"Pheine!" Torn, Edith stepped away, pulling her daughter with her, away from the male dog. "Don't jump about, you can't..."

She sagged forward, conflicted between the primal urge to sink her teeth into Lot's jugular and to take care of Pheine. She couldn't bounce around anymore! Edith fluttered her fingers at her daughter, whimpering softly. She had to think of the cub. Pheine's vice grip loosened, believing her mother to be in control of her own actions once more. Standing up tall, the female canine crossed her arms over her chest and seethed.

"Pheine, Thamma," Edith said curtly, straightening her robe. "Please go to the other side of the room."

"Mother?" Thamma rested her paw on Edith's arm. "Please do not do this. We can explain, I promise you. Nothing bad has happened to us at all. Why are you not happy for us?"

The older canine gently gave Thamma's paw back, eyes as stern as when she had had two pups, not two pregnant daughters.

Pregnant.

"Now."

Thamma swallowed and turned away, meekly doing as she was bid. Pheine joined her on the far side of the room, paws folded protectively over her belly. And when had she developed that habit? Edith's heart wrenched. Too young, she was too young. She needed more experience, more life. The watching guards stood by, cautiously observant of every shift in muscle. Edith knew some of Sodom and it was with a vicious delight that she realised they would not put a stop to her actions. What Lot had done was not only morally twisted but a true crime in Sodom.

"It was not our father," Pheine said loudly, ensuring her voice cut through her mother's furious haze.

"Then who was it?" Edith questioned in a monotone, eyes riveted on her husband.

Pheine hesitated.

"It was your father who got you with pups?" The older canine pressed, voice rising at the end of the statement to pose it clearly as a question.

"Yes, father has put pups in us," Pheine admitted, though her eyes blazed. "But it was my idea."

"Your idea?" Edith barked a laugh at the notion. "Darling, I understand you love your father, though I can no longer fathom why, but this is wrong. What he did was wrong."

There was to be no further discussion in the matter. Keeping her daughters at her back, Edith placed herself between her husband and them, using her body as a shield. She was sure her daughters would not even want to look at him.

But she did look at him. Taking in every inch of his lolling physique, Edith wrinkled his nose. The old dog smelled. He may as well have slept in his own shit for all the good it did him. Filth emanated from him like a wave of heat, smacking her about the head in sudden, dark clarity. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a guard take a pace forward, only to be halted by one of his companions. A bubble of crazed laughter threatened to break loose and Edith held it down the best she could. Trying to stop her? From what? She would not kill Lot. He deserved worse than that. Despite it lacking dignity, she stretched up on to the tips of her toes, putting her muzzle within an inch of Lot's. Still, he would not look at her, so she clamped her paw around his snout, forcing his head up, staring straight into his eyes. They were fresh wrinkles in the corners than she remembered.

"You disgust me."

Pulling her paw back, she struck her husband across the cheek. She had not thought fit to keep her claws out of the way and they dug in through the dirty fur, slicing skin that was as tainted as the dog that wore it. Lot recoiled, a low grunt of pain passing his lips as he staggered back, crashing bodily into a feline guard. The guard made a noise of disgust and pushed him away, forcing the old dog to find his own hind paws once more: he would find no sympathy from them.

Edith's paw stung and she curled her fingers into a fist, leaping forward as her fist swung a second time, landing a blow to Lot's stomach and knocking the wind from him. Lot's eyes shot wide and his muzzle gaped comically, breath reeking as Edith was treated to the full force of his rankness at close quarters. Muzzle wrinkling, she stepped away and shook out her paw, releasing the hold that had kept Lot upright, if hunched over like a cripple. He sank to the ground like a sack of rotten fruit, crumpling and wheezing as he struggled for breath that had been forced from unprepared lungs.

Behind her, Thamma gasped and Edith flushed hotly, one thought after the other flickering through the forefront of her mind. Had she gone too far? No, she should not feel guilty, that was wrong. Nothing would be too far. Adjusting her robe as if she had done no more than walk across the room, Edith locked eyes with the nearest guards and raised her paw.

"Take him away."

"At once."

Closing in around Lot, the guards blocked him from view and hustled him out the door as if they had rehearsed the motion. All too swiftly, his wife and daughters were swept from sight and, though he ached to return, he had neither the heart nor the strength to plead his case. He doubted he would ever be given the chance to. In the street, Lot plodded with his head down, gut throbbing from the force of Edith's blow. Passing furs jeered and threw small stones at him, only called to stop when the pebbles grew in size, one striking him across the temple. It was as if everyone knew what he had done, who he was and where he was going.

Pausing, Lot lifted one hind paw and then the other, trying to shake off the weariness that seemed to have set in to stay. Oh, what he would give for another chance, another fate. The guards were less patient with his musings.

"Keep moving!" The jackal snarled, shoving him between the shoulder blades. "We don't keep rapists in the streets."

Lot heaved a sigh.

A rapist was all he had become.