And the Dog Spoke of Home

A rustle. A dog comes through the grass, looks at her. It has blue within blue eyes.

The snake bit her on the ankle two hours ago, and she has been walking ever since, hopped on painkiller, uncertain how much longer she has.

The grass is golden, dry, and as tall as her hips. The sky is pale blue. The sun leaves her skin beaded with sweat.

A rustle. A dog comes through the grass, looks at her. It has blue within blue eyes.

“Where do I go?” she asks.

“Do you need a guide?” asks the dog.

She must be hallucinating. But she nods. “Home?”

“Come on,” the dog says. “Follow me, I’ll get you there.”

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