Chapter 8

Outside

Weskar stood, toes spread on the cool marble and ears forward, as he contemplated the row of portraits. The creatures depicted behind the glass were so like him – and yet quite different. Then his heart jumped in excitement when a familiar splash of white and tan drew his gaze to one end of the room.

“Sam!” he cried, his voice coming out as a squeak as he bounced from one paw to another. “Look at this!”

The photos at the end of the row depicted a handsome tan-and-black German Shepherd, and a huge shaggy Saint Bernard. Sam grinned up at them. “Wow! What a good-looking pair!”

“But look at the names!” Weskar forced himself to slow down and take a breath. “The Shepherd is Wells – Just like my Great Grandfather!”

Sam's ears went forward and his eyes widened as he read and re-read the ancient text. “And the Saint is called Fletcher, just like me!”

“Don't you see? They are our ancestors – sort of!”

Sam grinned and struck a pose in front of Fletcher. “Now I see where I got my rugged good looks!”

That was not all. A proud Ridgeback male gazed down from one photo, while the elegant and regal features of a Great Dane filled another. There were Rottweilers, Jack Russells, Bull Mastiffs, and all the other breeds who made up the population of New Hope City.

A cough from Alenna broke their rapt study of the portraits. She staggered, and Sam caught her as she fainted. Weskar rushed to her side and lifted her paw in his fingers. Even without a thermometer, he could feel her fever. Her heart-beat fluttered beneath her hot skin.

Sam's face mirrored the Shepherd's concern at the gravity of their predicament.

“We’ve got to find help.” He stroked the Ridgeback's forehead with a gentle paw.

They carried her to the control room, where the humming electronics added a little warmth to the air. She stirred and mumbled, but they both knew she could walk no further. Beneath the blood-soaked bandages, a angry red swelling surrounded her injury. Weskar changed the dressing and tried to make her comfortable.

She had been only a casual acquaintance when she knocked on Weskar's door a couple of nights earlier, but her determination and strength had kept them all going through their adventures and drawn them closer together.

Sam shook the dirt off his shirt and spread it over her. “We must be near the surface now. We can only hope that there is someone out there who can help us.”

Leaving Alenna to her fevered slumber, they set out down the unexplored corridor. Before long, it ended in a heavy steel door – far stronger than anything they had yet seen. This was no ordinary door, and the sight of it quickened Weskar's heart with excitement. Somehow, he suspected that a new world awaited them behind the thick metal plating.

A rugged switch protruded from the wall in place of any handle, and a sign with faded letters read “Open” and “Close”.

Weskar looked at his Saint Bernard friend, and Sam looked back. They both hesitated, sensing that they stood on the threshold of changes they couldn't imagine. Fear knotted Weskar's stomach along with excitement. It is one thing to search for the truth you are missing; it is quite another to stand on the threshold of discovery, knowing that nothing will ever be the same again.

Sam reached out with a shaggy paw, and flicked the switch to the “Open” position.

Weskar jumped as a strident buzzer cut the silence of the tunnel, the discordant sound accompanied by a flashing orange light. Then a grinding sound issued from inside the wall, and rose to a steady whine. The large door jerked into motion and rumbled slowly to one side.

Fresh air swirled in through the widening gap, filling Weskar's nose with strange smells. Seasons in the underground world of New Hope City were nothing more than notes on the calendar, yet something in the young dog's ancient genetic memory recognised the cold touch of winter in the air.

They stood blinking as their underground eyes adjusted to the light spilling into the corridor, while the door clunked to a stop. Beyond, there lay a square porch. Weathered and moss-covered concrete walls stood at either side. But above them...

Clouds...

...Gaping nothing...

Weskar teetered and leaned against the concrete as the world turned and vertigo tugged at the corners of his mind. His gaze fell to the safety of the ground at his feet, but then he slowly raised it again to confront the breath-taking scene before him.

Sky.

The ground steadied beneath Weskar, and he dared to take a few steps forward - into the Outside.

The great cavern of New Hope City was big, but you always knew there were solid walls around and above you. Out here, there was nothing... and yet gravity still held Weskar's paws firmly to the earth. He took another step, and his vertigo evaporated as his mind adjusted to the wide expanse.

An expanse of white, he noticed, even as he became aware of the biting cold. Tree-covered slopes dropped away into a broad valley, and dark clouds hurried low overhead. A soft white substance coated everything, and Weskar reached out to touch some.

“It’s just like snow!” he exclaimed. “Except cold and wet!”

New Hope City held a Yuletide Festival every year, and all the pups gathered to drape tinsel decorations from fake trees throughout the park - and to apply a liberal coating of fluffy spray-on snow.

Sam scooped up a handful and laughed. “You dolt! This is REAL snow!”

Then a wicked gleam appeared in his eyes as he scrunched his handful into a ball and lobbed it at the Shepherd. It hit Weskar in the neck with a Splotch sound.

“Uggh!” Weskar brushed slush out of his fur. “The real thing is a lot colder!” But then, quick as a flash, he made his own snowball and splotched it on Sam’s head, and soon snow flew in all directions as a snowball fight ensued.

Panting and more than a little damp, they eventually stopped to shake the snow from their fur.

“We're outside!” The Shepherd's voice brimmed with excitement. “I never really believed it existed until now...”

Sam smiled, and didn't say whether or not he had believed in the Outside. Then Weskar saw a more serious cast return to the wide Saint Bernard features.

“But now we need to find help.”

The Outside world spread out before them, a deserted winter wilderness, and Weskar shivered in the icy wind. Ranks of snow-clad trees marched down the slope until they were lost in the murky distance beneath the brooding sky.

Sam and Weskar had lived all their lives in the close confines of the underground city. Out here, no walls surrounded them, no lights would light their way, and no heating would drive out the cold. A vast and lonely world surrounded them, but it filled Weskar's heart with wild joy.

Could there be other canines out here to help them? The possibility seemed remote, yet at that moment the wind shifted and Weskar caught a whiff of something. He sniffed more deeply.

“Smoke!”

Sam sniffed too, but the weak smell eluded his nose.

“If it is, maybe there's a warm house - not to mention food - to go with it.”

Weskar's tummy grumbled at the thought of food. He sniffed again, but now he could smell only pine trees and wet earth in the cold breeze. However, he was quite sure he had caught a whiff of wood smoke.

“You stay with Alenna. I’ll try to find it!”

Sam considered this proposal, but couldn’t think of any better suggestion. Weskar was definitely the faster of the two, and he had the nose for the job.

“Okay! But be careful; we have no idea what to expect out here!”

The two friends touched noses, then Sam turned back to the tunnel, and Weskar found himself alone in the snowy forest.

Outside...

He turned slowly, marvelling at the unfamiliar surroundings while he tried to get his bearings. The exit door had brought them out on a ridge, and a gap in the clouds revealed steep crags and snow-filled cols. Somewhere below there is the city, he thought.

The wind blew up the slope from the valley below, and the Shepherd's nose picked up the faint tang of smoke again. That smell held the possibility of warmth and help, if he could only follow it. He set off at a jog with the wind in his face, his paws crunching and squeaking in the powdery snow.

The sheer exhilaration of running – downhill, with no walls to check his progress – chased the fear and uncertainty from Weskar's mind. He leaped over fallen logs and floundered through snow drifts as he weaved between the trees. He could feel the cold seeping into his paw-pads from the frozen ground, but the sensation merely added to his excitement. The timid Shepherd of the city was gone along with his day-dreams and the hated accountancy journals. An ancient and primeval wildness rose in Weskar's heart as the memory of distant wolf ancestors awoke.

Snowflakes drifted down from lowering clouds, here and there at first, multiplying to a swirling flurry of white which obscured the landscape. The smell of smoke grew stronger, and he thought he could make out other things – enticing, spicy smells which made his mouth water.

An abrupt change in the slope caught him by surprise. Trees and snow spun as he tumbled into a ravine and landed with a thump in a thick snowdrift. A shower of snow followed him, and most of it ended up down the back of his shirt.

A stream ambled down the gully, its banks encrusted with ice. Dark rock jutted up beyond the trickle of water, sweeping up to form impassable cliffs. To the right, the slopes closed in to form a steep ravine which swung back towards the mountains. Turning in the other direction, Weskar followed the stream as he searched through the swirling snow for a way up the far side.

The novelty of running through the white landscape was wearing off by the time the cliff gave way to a climbable slope and the bedraggled Shepherd could clamber up. In his imagination, he reached the top, and strolled across flat ground to the welcoming glow of a warm house, where a smiling canine (who looked a lot like Sam's mother) was already dishing out their dinner. Thus he was doubly disappointed when he hauled himself up the last crag and looked out over an unpromising wilderness of rocky ridges. To make matters worse, the light was failing and he had well and truly lost the smell of smoke. The only option was to make his way back along the rim of the ravine and hope he found it again.

How far had he come? He wasn't sure. He scrambled over yet another boulder and slithered into the snow-choked gully on the far side. A rock turned under his paw, and he fell head-first into a snow bank.

His muscles ached with fatigue, and the snow felt very comfortable. Like my futon at home. He barely felt the cold now. I'll just lie here a while.

Then he thought of Alenna, sick and shivering, and Sam waiting anxiously for his return. He made himself get up again, and tried to wring the water and snow out of his fur as best he could. “You've got to keep going,” he told himself. “Slow and steady. Don’t panic.”

He could barely see the ravine now, or much of anything through the swirling snow. However, the wind still blew from his left, ruffling the fur of his cheek and chilling his ears. If he kept going, he must eventually encounter the smoke again. If there was still smoke to smell. And if the wind hadn’t changed. And if his nose didn’t freeze...

The snowfall eased to a few drifting flakes, and the evening got very cold and very dark. It is never truly dark, of course – not Outside – and the faint glow of starlight showed through the clouds. Against this dim backdrop he could see only the dark silhouette of the trees and hills, and he kept stumbling over obstacles he couldn’t see, and floundering through snowdrifts.

Had he gone too far? He trudged on, fatigue leaving little room for worry in his mind. Cold crept into his bones despite his fur.

Suddenly he stopped. A smell... something important... Smoke! The faint tang in the breeze shook Weskar out of a cold-induced stupor. Suddenly elated, he angled his course toward the smell, and followed his nose upwind. He stumbled and slipped over rough ground in the darkness, but the return of hope leant new energy to his steps.

He soon crested a ridge, and saw a very welcome sight. A little valley lay before him, and warm orange lights twinkled amongst the trees. The smell of wood smoke and spice wafted up the slope.

But who would he find there? Canines? Humans? Some other kind of creature? I sure hope they're friendly, he thought. I don't think I can go much further if they aren't. Nerves slowed his steps despite his desperation to escape the cold and find help.

The nearest light glinted through the trees from a clearing at the foot of the hill, and trepidation filled the young dog as he approached. A story-book house made from interlocking logs nestled among the trees, and the inviting orange glow spilled from its windows, while wisps of smoke drifting from the chimney hinted at a warm fire within. As he neared the edge of the clearing, a dark shape emerged from behind the building. It had legs and stood upright, but a lumpy bulge disfigured its upper body.

Weskar's mind conjured frightening visions of trolls and monsters as he stood stock-still beneath the trees, his heart pounding. But as the figure turned the corner and passed under the pool of light from the window, it resolved into a perfectly ordinary canine, wrapped in a thick jacket and carrying an armful of neatly cut firewood.

She scraped the snow off her paws on the porch, and kicked the door shut behind her as she disappeared inside. Now or never, Weskar thought. He strode across the open expanse of snow, and knocked boldly.

He could feel his heart thumping through a moment of silence, then the door swung open to reveal the female, this time without her load of wood. Close up, Weskar noticed her Golden Retriever heritage, and the grey of middle-age splashed across her muzzle fur. She stared for a long moment at the bedraggled and unfamiliar dog who stood on her doorstep, then said “Oh My!”

Weskar tried to remember his manners. “Sorry to bother you, Ma’am, but I could use some help.”

The Retriever bitch was looking him over. “Well well well! You’d better come in from the cold!” She stepped aside to let him in the door, closing it behind him.

Inside, the warmth hit him like an oven. Rustic chairs stood around the cosy room, facing a large wood stove upon which sat a pot emitting delicious smells. Cheery orange light and an oily smell came from a lamp hanging from the ceiling.

Assorted curiosities lined the walls, and Weskar noticed a brass telescope, a sextant and the stuffed head of a large feline animal. A small kitchen filled the far end of the room, and rows of dried herbs hung from the roof beams, where they jostled for space with shiny pots and string bags bulging with vegetables.

The Retriever regarded him with a perplexed expression.

“You’re not from around here, but I’ve seen your style of dress somewhere before.”

“My name is Weskar,” Weskar said, not sure where to begin. “My friends and I have come from New Hope City, which is somewhere under the mountains.”

He did not expect the name to mean anything to her, but her paws went to her mouth, which had dropped open.

“New Hope!” she repeated, her voice now filled with awe. “Now I know where I have seen your style of clothing before. In photos which my great-great-grandmother brought with her when she escaped from the city. Only... it was so long ago, it has become almost a legend. People gave up waiting for others to escape long ago!”

“Well, it wasn’t easy. My friend is injured, and we need your help.”

Her manner became immediately businesslike.

“Of course! But first, you must be frozen through, not to mention that you are dripping on the floor. Dear me, where are my manners? Let me get a towel.”

She hurried out a door, through which Weskar could see a bed and shelves piled with clothes and blankets. She returned with a big white towel.

“Come on, get those wet things off!”

Weskar stripped off his sodden shirt and dropped it to the floor with satisfaction. But then hesitated.

“Don’t be shy!“ Weskar saw the golden retriever wink. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before!”

The towel called to Weskar with its promise of an invigorating rubbing, so he swallowed his shyness and slipped off his pants as well. City clothes were designed with fashion and comfort in mind, and definitely not for walking in a blizzard. They offered no protection from the weather, and he realised that he would have been better off without their sodden weight.

She handed him the towel. “My name is Sophie. If you want to shake, you will have to go back outside.”

“I think the towel will do!”

Weskar couldn't stifle a wide grin as he set about drying himself. Warmth had never seemed such a sweet pleasure as he turned one way and the other in front of the fire and rubbed the water out of his fur.

Sophie hung her coat behind the door, and then set about making a pot of tea. Weskar accepted the mug she handed him and wrapped his chilled paws around it. He took a sniff of the hot liquid, and almost sneezed as the unfamiliar aroma filled his nose.

Real milk, and real honey to sweeten it, he reminded himself. The machines of New Hope city synthesised tea and coffee and even alcoholic beverages (in strictly rationed quantities), along with a few delicacies to supplement the Kibble diet. Out here, though, there would be no machines.

“Are you hungry?” Sophie asked. “I have some stew cooking.”

“A little!” Weskar tried not sound too eager despite his watering mouth. “Breakfast was a long time ago.”

“You poor boy! We will have to do something about that! In the mean time, please tell me the situation of your friends and how you got here.”

Weskar turned around to dry his back, as the smell of damp fur rose from his coat. Sophie busied herself with plates and bowls while he related the story of their escape from the city and their journey through the caves. He described their encounter with the giant eel in detail, and how Alenna's bitten ankle had become infected.

Two bowls of steaming stew stood on the table by the time Weskar reached his solo journey through the snow in search of help, and Sophie added a loaf of dark bread and some butter.

Weskar forced himself to eat slowly, despite the mouthwatering flavours of the stew. So this is real food! he thought as the cacophony of new tastes threatened to overwhelm him. He never wanted to see another bowl of Kibble again.

Sophie watched him with a smile as she sipped on a spoonful. “Once we've eaten, we must consult with the rest of the village about your friends. We'll need to organise a rescue party!”

While they ate, it was Sophie’s turn to talk. She described their village, populated by canines descended from the original outsiders. Weskar gathered that they numbered a few hundred, and that they eked out an existence through a mix of farming, hunting and scavenging supplies from the ruins of ancient human towns.

“My great-grandmother was one of those who escaped, and I heard the stories from my grandmother. They expected others to follow but nobody ever did. Then a landslide buried the entrance to the old mine, and they couldn't get back in.

“In the meantime, we've built a life for ourselves out here. I don't think you'd find anyone who wanted to go back.”

Weskar pondered her words. This was the real Outside, not the mythical world of legends. Survival out here meant hard work, adversity, suffering. Would he choose this life over the comforts of the city?

Sophie rummaged through her shelves and pulled out a coat made from animal skins, which she handed to Weskar. He marvelled at the soft leather and careful stitching, both of which indicated skilful craftsmanship. The mink fur lining made a warm blanket around him as he slipped it on.

“There you go! That will keep the worst of the snow off.” She looked at him with an appraising eye. “You'd be OK with that nice fur of yours, but there’s no need to shiver if you don’t have to.”

She lit a hurricane lantern and adjusted the flame until it burned cleanly, then closed the protective glass. The flickering light fascinated Weskar, accustomed as he was to instant electrical power. Sophie pulled on her own coat over her pale gold fur, and they set off into the snow, the lantern swinging in her paw.

The blizzard had cleared, and bright stars showed here and there through gaps in the hurrying clouds. Real stars! Awestruck, Weskar stared up at the tiny points of light.

“You look as if you’ve never seen the sky before!” Sophie smiled. “I suppose you haven't, either!”

Marvels abounded in this new world, but Weskar forced himself to focus on rescuing the others. Plenty of time to look at scenery later. He followed Sophie and her lantern, and in a few minutes they came to another house. He could see others dotted around the valley, their windows glinting through the trees.

Sophie knocked on the door, and Weskar was introduced to Syenna, a tall Weimaraner female. Her greying fur and bent frame indicated considerable years, but a mischievous twinkle showed in her pale eyes.

“Syenna is our medical expert,” Sophie explained, “and we often seek her wisdom on other matters.”

Syenna acknowledged the introduction with a curt nod, and then looked Weskar up and down. “Sophie does exaggerate so. Now, I may be getting old and senile, but I don’t recall seeing you around before, youngster. So you had better come inside, and tell me what’s going on.”

They did just that, and Weskar found himself in another cosy house, this one decorated with paintings depicting stylised animals and landscapes. A bookcase monopolised one wall, and Weskar marvelled at the extensive collection of antique paper books.

The Shepherd had to explain their escape from New Hope City once again. Syenna listened in silence, her keen gaze on Weskar's face and her eyes bright with excitement. She interrupted only to ask for a more detailed description of Alenna’s injuries and her condition. She grasped the situation very quickly, despite her suggestion of senility, and Weskar sensed her wisdom and competence. The other canines clearly respected her as a leader, and she dispatched Sophie to get someone called Red and organise a rescue party.

“The weather is clearing, and the patient may need urgent treatment, going by young Weskar’s description. We’d better try and get to them tonight. You will need to get a sled out, and organise some warm clothes and blankets. Weskar can stay here with me for the moment, if he likes.”

Weskar was quite happy with that, and Syenna poured him another cup of tea while Sophie disappeared with her lantern to find the others and make the necessary preparations.

“My, my!” Syenna sipped from an ornate cup which must have been centuries old, a salvaged relic of a lost era. “New Hope City, eh! We were starting to think it had vanished like Atlantis.”

She opened a side door, revealing a tidy medical bay. Brimming jars of dried herbs lined the walls, along with other unrecognisable substances. A glass-fronted cabinet held clean bandages, tongs, tweezers and scalpels, while two beds occupied curtained alcoves along one wall.

“I’m afraid this is terribly crude compared to what you're used to. We have obtained a few supplies from the ruins of the old towns, but most of the medicines have lost their potency over the centuries. You would be surprised at how many plants have medicinal properties, though, and we get by.”

She got out a sturdy satchel with plenty of pockets, and handed it to Weskar. He helped her pack it with herbal concoctions, clean bandages and bottles of disinfectant.

The crunch of footsteps in the snow outside announced the return of Sophie with the rescue team. Red turned out to be a magnificent male Husky with reddish-brown mottles in his thick white fur. He stood a head taller than Weskar, and he looked very fit and strong. His bushy tail curved upwards, and piercing blue eyes regarded Weskar with interest. They don't go in for pants much here, Weskar thought, noting that Red wore nothing more than a light jacket over his heavy fur. The Husky looked like he relished the prospect of a late night run through a snow-filled forest. He bowed graciously and touched noses with Weskar, and then stepped back. “We're all ready for action!”

Apart from Red, the team included a Bernese Mountain Dog called Terry, resplendent in a green jacket, his thick black fur dotted with blobs of tan and white. He smiled and wagged gently at the sight of the newcomer.

Beside Terry, a Black Labrador bitch called Ruby bounced from one foot to another, and wagged furiously when Sophie introduced her. Last was a tall and lanky dog of indeterminate breed, whom Sophie introduced as Misha. He said nothing more than a quiet “Hello”, and offered a little bow and a slow tail wave, but his ears were forward and Weskar saw an odd look of interest in his shrewd eyes.

They all piled into Syenna’s house and crowded around the table, where Red unrolled a map. He tapped a group of dots representing the village.

“We are here, and here is Sophie’s house on the edge of the village.”

Weskar studied the map, orienting himself. The big Husky towered over him, and the Shepherd could feel heat radiating from his bright, soft fur. Red was an Outside dog, wild and free, not subject to any city rules or traditions. Weskar was a little frightened of him, but also drawn to his strength. Here was a dog you could depend on if you were lucky enough to be called his friend. But beware if you made an enemy of him! The Shepherd forced himself to focus on the map.

“Okay, that must be the ravine I had trouble with.” He pointed to an area of closely-packed contours. Beyond the ravine, more contours showed the steep flank of the mountain.

“I don’t fancy trekking all the way back through there, though. It took me several hours, and I wasn’t towing a sled.”

Red chuckled. “I’m afraid you took the hard way! It’s not marked on this map, but there is an ancient bridge right about here.” He pointed to a part of the ravine. “If you had gone a bit further that way, you would have seen it, and saved yourself a lot of trouble. There's an easy trail leading to it.”

The husky scanned the area around the bridge, then continued.

“I can also guess where your door in the mountainside is. There are old ruins here.” He indicated a ridge which did appear to be in the right place, as best as Weskar could tell. “I don’t think anybody has explored too thoroughly up there.”

Red folded the map and slipped it into his jacket. “If everyone is ready, I think we should begin!”

Weskar knew he needed to go with the rescue party, but dammit, it was nice and warm in Syenna's house and he was getting sleepy. He shook his fur and stretched, trying to look energetic. The rescue team made a splendid sight as they lined up in the snow beside the wooden sled. Red and Terry shrugged their shoulders into simple harnesses to pull the sled for the first stint. Syenna donned a jacket, looped her satchel over her shoulder, and joined the group, and Ruby and Misha swung in behind. Sophie remained in the village with a list of preparations to make for their return.

The sky had cleared, revealing an undulating snowy landscape beneath a wash of cold bright stars. Weskar had never seen anything so beautiful, for it surpassed even the constellations of glow worms above the Blue Pool.

Paws crunched through the drifts and the runners swished as they pulled out of the village, following a snow-covered path. In ten minutes they had left the village behind, and the trail started to rise. Syenna climbed onto the sled to rest, and Ruby took a turn on the harness, replacing the Bernese. Red barely seemed to notice the weight he pulled.

By contrast, Weskar was starting to feel the effects of a long day,and he stumbled and fell face first into a snow drift. Strong paws lifted him and helped him across to the sled. As he sat down gratefully, he looked up into the deep brown eyes of Misha. He was a large dog, but thin, with tan fur which blended to black around his muzzle and the tips of his ears, and he wore a faded jacket with a thick fur ruff around the neckline.

He eyed Weskar with concern. “Just take it easy there,” he said, as he attached a third harness and joined the others pulling. Weskar watched him with a thoughtful gaze. There was something familiar about Misha, but he couldn't place it.

Weskar felt like luggage on the back of the sled (the ride was quite understandable for Syenna, but he was young and fit, or so he thought). He had to admit that his legs weren’t keeping up, though. He couldn't see much of the dark landscape through which they passed, but Red showed no hesitation as he led them on.

After a couple more changes in the sled team, and a lot less time than Weskar had taken, they arrived at the side of the ravine. An ancient bridge jutted out across the gulf, just as Red had said. Unlike the rickety ruins inside the mine, this was a bridge built to last. An elegant arch of solid concrete, it looked like it would still carry heavy vehicles despite the moss growing on its sides.

Weskar and Syenna climbed off the sled and walked for a while as they crossed it, giving the harness dogs a rest. At the far side, Red led them up a ridge. The snowfall had covered Weskar's tracks, but the ridge looked familiar.

Sure enough, they soon came to the tumbled remains of ancient concrete structures, strewn amongst the trees, overgrown by the forest and split by roots. Here and there, sections of broken wall stuck up out of the snow.

Weskar sniffed the air, and his nose detected paint and electrical circuits and even a whiff of Sam and Alenna, which brought a wag of excitement to his tail. We're actually going to make it! He led the others off the side of the ridge a short distance, and there was the concrete alcove leading into the hill. Light shone out from the open door.

Syenna collected her supplies, and they stepped into the tunnel. Weskar heard little gasps of awe and excitement from the others as they looked around at the electric lights and the smooth concrete walls. They were already some distance up the passage when he looked back and noticed that Misha still sat quietly on the sled, looking back down the mountainside. He appeared to be keeping guard, although Weskar couldn't see any need.

Near the control room, a huge white shape rushed to meet them and almost knocked Weskar over: Sam had heard them coming. He swept his smaller friend up in a tight hug,and a giant tongue swept over the Shepherd's face.

“Wesk! I knew we could count on you! You found some new friends, I see!”

Quick introductions followed, and then Sam escorted them to Alenna. The Ridgeback lay on the floor where Weskar had last seen her. Syenna knelt beside her and got straight to work, checking her pulse and her temperature. Alenna stirred and mumbled, and finally awoke, but she struggled to sit up.

Syenna went about her examinations with brisk professionalism, including a thorough inspection of Alenna’s injured leg. She dressed the wound with a bitter-smelling salve, then mixed up a tonic which she had the young bitch drink. Alenna's deterioration was obvious, and it worried Weskar. Fever chills wracked her body, and her nose looked dry and cracked. But Syenna's skill and experience inspired some confidence despite her rudimentary medical supplies.

The villagers had been examining the control room and the memorial with great interest. That done, they brought the stretcher in and helped Alenna on to it. Her protests fell on deaf ears, for she could hardly stand, let alone walk. Her stubbornness finally met its match in Syenna, so she allowed herself to be wrapped in a thick blanket.

Sam touched a few icons on the control panel, and the hum of the ventilation system wound down to silence as the power cut off. The big dog insisted that he be on a front corner of the stretcher as they carried Alenna outside.

While Syenna and Ruby got Alenna settled on the stretcher, Sam hunted around on the walls by the door. Weskar joined him. They found the control panel hidden behind a mat of roots and soil. Sam levered open the rusted metal lid with a stick, and turned a handle inside. The door into the mountainside rumbled slowly across and clanged shut.

A surge of elation coursed through Weskar as he realised their immediate worries were over. He looked up into Sam's face, and the wide Saint Bernard features smiled back. Sam's breath made a cloud in the crisp night air as his tail swung slowly back and forth, and suddenly the Saint looked perfectly at home. The big goofy dog might be messy and ungainly in the city crowds, but out here, standing beside the sled bearing its injured patient, with snow all around and bright stars overhead – here he was in his element, as if he had been made for this night.

Weskar caressed the fluffy white chest fur which poked from Sam's bedraggled shirt. “We did it!”

“I know!” The giant paw which returned his pat almost knocked Weskar over, as Sam's eyes rolled to take in the scene around them. “We're Outside! I can hardly believe it!”

Tiredness replaced the ebbing elation as they set off for the village, and Weskar tried to hide a wide yawn. A thick blanket covered Alenna so that only her eyes and muzzle showed, while a couple of leather straps kept her from bouncing off the sled. Syenna perched beside her patient, bracing herself as they swayed and bumped over the uneven ground.

Weskar trudged in silence beside Sam, too tired to do more than put one foot in front of another. A strong arm steadied him when he stumbled into a deeper drift of powdery snow. The old trail made for easier walking after they crossed the ancient bridge, and the young Shepherd walked on in a daze. Then the reassuring bulk beside him disappeared as Sam took a turn on the sled harness.

An intriguing new canine aroma came to Weskar's nose – it was funny, he thought, how smells could catch his attention more than anything else in his half-asleep state. Even as he raised his head, he remembered that the smell belonged to Misha. The mysterious tan dog didn’t say anything, but a little burst of excitement lifted some of the Shepherd's fatigue. Something about Misha fascinated him, and he was glad to have the lanky dog beside him. Does he find me interesting as well? Weskar was too tired to speculate further. However, by the time they reached the village, he'd managed to stumble several times, and the second time might not have been an accident after he found Misha's arms around him.

Alenna was carried into the medical bay and lifted onto a bed, and then the rescue party bid them goodnight. Weskar and Sam lingered a while to make sure their friend was settled, until Syenna shooed them out.

“I hope you can manage these boys for tonight, Sophie! Bring them back tomorrow – there will be much to discuss!”

Sophie grinned and assured Syenna that she could manage, and they set off into the night once more.

Sam stopped, and Weskar looked up to see a wide mouth sporting a full compliment of big white teeth as the Saint yawned expansively, making no attempt to hide it. Then he looked back at the Shepherd, a satisfied smile in his eyes. He gave the smaller dog a friendly pat on the head.

“Well done! You and your excellent nose have got us out of trouble again, Wesk!”

Back at Sophie’s cottage, Sam was soon tucking into a bowl of stew and a pile of bread thickly spread with butter. He ate with great enthusiasm, much to Sophie’s amusement. The late supper was followed by a mug of Sophie's “secret” spicy tea – well fortified with some kind of liqueur – then the golden furred retriever led them to her spare room. Here they found a very inviting bed, complete with thick pillows and a warm eiderdown.

Weskar saw a shadow of concern in the retriever's face as she looked from them to the bed. “I hope you don't mind sharing!”

Weskar saw the Saint glance his way. Was there a look of mischief in his big eyes? I certainly wouldn't mind, he thought.

“I think we can manage!” said Sam, echoing his thoughts.

They bid goodnight to Sophie, and stripped off their clothes. Despite the need for sleep which tugged at Weskar's mind and body, the sight of his friend's naked fur gave him a strange thrill.

The bed was exquisite luxury after the caves, and Weskar wriggled to the far side to allow room for the Saint. His familiar smell filled the Shepherd's nose as the bed creaked and sagged a bit under his weight. Sam's furry bulk felt wonderful next to him, and he allowed his paw to stroke the big dog's fluffy shoulder.

This is amazing, he thought. But the fatigue of the long day overwhelmed his excitement, and he fell asleep with his paw on the Saint's shoulder.