memoir of a warrior - Part two
from writewrong@literature.cafe to shortstories@literature.cafe on 27 Aug 13:19
https://literature.cafe/post/23434779

The light began as a pinprick through the blackout curtains that had been forced over me. Like a lead blanket being gradually removed, the weight holding me down began to lift. The light, at first far and dim, became closer and more brilliant. I became aware of the dryness in my mouth, and how hard it was to breathe and to swallow. The light had now completely surrounded me, a cold, white light. I began to shiver. I could smell the smell of chemicals and medicine, and yes, the smell of blood, though it was now much more subdued. There was also the smell of a man. It was a familiar smell, I recognized it, but couldn’t place where I knew it from. There were sounds, though unintelligible.

I found I could move my head. As I lolled it from side to side, I could feel that I was on a cold, flat, hard thing. It smelled of metal and chemicals. I heard a muffled voice and felt a gentle caress on my head. I shivered. My heart began to race. My breathing quickened. The hand quickly left and there was suddenly the smell of some dried meat just before my nose. I reached out with my mouth to take it and found a treat to chew. The muffled voice came again, and I could feel, suddenly, a pain on my side, and the feeling of a hand on my hip.

I dropped the treat I had been chewing and yelped and lashed out, biting at the pain. I could not see the cause, for the white light was still blinding all around. But I could smell the smells of latex, of man and of medicine. Then there was another hand, on my neck, holding my head down. I struggled against it, kicked my feet and pawed at the attacker, but I was still too weak. I relaxed when I had no more energy to fight, but each time the hold loosened, I would again struggle against the oppressing hands, trying in vain to get free, to fight or to flee in my blindness and pain. I again smelled the smell of dried meat before my nose, but this time refused to grab it. Instead, I had tried to bite the hand which placed it there, though my bite found no mark.

I could smell another familiar scent, in my moment of fear and rage, faint as it was: the smell of dogs and of blood. The musty smell of the autumn forest, the foul smell of burned gunpowder, of boar. The smell of man. My man. I could smell it for only an instant. I lifted my head to smell the air, but received only the clinical scents of my surroundings, and of the familiar scents of these yet to be identified men around me. I relented in my struggle and the pain in my side subsided. The man’s hands left my neck and my hip. There was another muffled voice, and another dried meat in front of my nose. The muffled voices of the men retreated from the room. Then the light became dim. The brilliant white which blinded me at all sides, had become a soft grey. A soft thud, and there was silence. Shapes appeared in the shadows then, a cupboard here. A chair there. A window with dim light streaming through. I found that I was exhausted in that moment. I had used all of my energy trying in vain to escape, and I dozed.

The door opened after a while. The smells at once hit me: My pack, the hunt, the forest. My blood mixed with the blood of the boar. My man with his muddy boots and his burned gunpowder. My tail slapped the metal I was laying on. I heard the muffled sound of his footsteps approach, could see his vague figure standing before me. I lifted my head, to search for his hand. I yearned for the caress of his rough hand on my head. I yearned for his love, for his acceptance. I yearned for him to tell me it would be okay, that we were going home. That I am a good girl. In my yearning, though, I feared. I feared the smell of that gunpowder. I feared the smell of that boar. I could hear her shrieks and yells again. I could see her charging me. I could again feel the immense hurt in my side as her tusks found their mark, and as her hooves stamped upon me. I felt myself shiver.

My head was still up when I heard a harsh, muffled voice, and the receding footsteps and the door opening and shutting. The scent of my man wafted out of my life, and never again did return.

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