DogForge by Casey Calouette

increased. Both of the dogs looked around curiously. The sound wasn’t close, but nearby. Then they saw it.
    A boulder the size of a dog thundered down the slope. With it sailed more rocks, plates of stone, and tiny rains of dust. Snow exploded with every impact. And more rocks rained out and more stones added to the fray.
    The first few clanged loudly against the skelebots. Then the full brunt of the rockslide came. Denali sat up and watched in awe as nearly half of the mountainside floated away and dropped onto the skelebots. What had been a solid surface just minutes before was now a river of stone.
    The rock shuddered beneath Denali.
    “We need to go!”
    Samson didn’t argue.
    The pair clambered higher. The thunder of the rockslide echoed in the distance, they were too high to hear the amazing roar that lashed out into the valley. They felt it in their paws and snatched glances back down, in case they were followed. The mountain, once solid and safe, now threatened to swallow them up at any moment.
    And still the heights rose up above them.
    Denali led them higher. The fear of the slope falling away drove her faster. Her paws were torn and shredded and every step was a frigid reminder that there was only death below and the unknown above. At every pause she stared down at Samson. She snarled in disgust but always found herself waiting.
    Samson hunched down. “Stop,” he growled, his voice worn like the stone he rested on.
    “We’ll freeze up here,” Denali snapped. She picked her way to the next rock.
    Samson didn’t follow.
    “Move!” Denali barked. The chill seeped into her and it was relentless. She felt hollow inside as the wind whipped chips of ice and stone.
    She hopped across from one rock to the next and gritted her teeth on the icy canister. Every step seared into her paws.
    The canister was becoming like a leaden weight. A frozen leaden weight that her tongue would stick to if she slowed her breathing. But it was her dowry to the future. Nothing was going to pry it out of her mouth.
    “Get up! You lazy cat! Get up!” Denali barked again. She stood next to Samson and looked down at his closed eyes. “I’ll leave you,” she said in a lower growl.
    He opened his eyes slowly. In them was etched pain tinted with the color of despair. A moment later he closed them.
    Denali growled louder. She found a crevice in the rock and jammed the canister in tight. Her eyes dropped down to the glowing steel and she thought of Cicero. The sorrow in his voice made her shiver again.
    The wind slammed once again. Night was coming, the sun was shrouded in clouds of gray. In another hour it would droop below the peak. Then the real cold would set in.
    She hopped over to Samson and braced herself. “Get up!”
    Samson didn’t move. His fur rippled in the wind.
    I’m going to regret this. Denali opened her mouth and snapped her teeth down onto Samson’s ears.
    Samson rolled his head lazily and pulled away from Denali’s teeth.
    Denali wrinkled her lips and rolled her tongue out. A clump of fur dropped onto the ground. A quick hop and Samson’s tail was right before her. “Get up!” she barked again, louder.
    The wind ruffled Samson’s coat.
    She nodded to herself, grinned, and sunk her teeth into Samson like a needle into soft leather.
    Samson roared and snapped his head around. Denali was already a step away with a smile on her eyes. “Help me,” Samson growled. He stepped and crumbled onto the stone.
    He could hardly stand and went closer. Denali was wary that he’d snap back but he accepted her nudge and the two worked up the slope.
    They struggled higher until the sun was on the horizon. Then abruptly they were on the knife edge of the ridge line. Peaks rose up on either side and were bathed in red sunlight. The sun appeared from the clouds as a smear of red on the horizon. They didn’t stop to take it in but continued down the gentler slope until finally a wall of stone provided some cover.
    Samson