Cold. Cold, cold, cold.
A strong instinct. He shook himself, droplets flinging out like shrapnel. Some of it hit the colourful fabric that The Woman was wearing. The room was bright.
His eyes were starting to uncloud. They felt slow, like The Woman’s hand on his back in the evenings, when the room is warm and his body is warm. Not like he is now. So cold.
He felt himself shaking excitedly. He had a strong desire to be held by the woman. But he wasn’t feeling excited— the cold had warmed into pain. Two pains actually. Like the jelly that the wet meat floats in, one pain soaked softly into his muscles. The other was a sharper pain, a spatial cold sting throughout his veins. He’d never known where his veins were before now.
The Woman also seemed excited. Her skin was darker than last time he had seen her, and she smelled different, like sweat, like others, like strange foods. But it was definitely her. The Woman, his woman, bent down on her hind legs and he put his feet on her thighs. He heard little cracks and pops. Felt them too. He was concerned, but he knew, in the deep way that we know things in dreams, new dream-knowledge which we feel we have always known, that he mustn't show it.
She was acting like she hadn’t heard his muscles strain. This was a habit of hers. When she turned the volume on the television up so high he couldn’t stand it… she never seemed to notice. Perhaps she was mocking him. She must be able to hear. She always came when he called to her.
She rubbed a little feeling back into his face. She was smiling at him, cooing, showing her canines. He was grateful, although a little confused. She was acting like she hadn’t seen him for some time, like she had after the small eternity she left him with that other Woman, the one who’s children plucked at him and shouted. He stuck out his tongue.
Well… he tried. His mouth was locked shut. It reminded him of the bright white room when those strange people had tied something around his jaw and jabbed and poked at him. He remembered being submerged, drowsy, into a freezing bath. He shivered at the thought. When was that? Maybe recently, maybe long ago. He felt her hands on both his cheeks and he could tell that there wasn’t anything obstructing him. His jaw was locked, but nothing was causing it. His anxiety rose. He made a low noise through his teeth, unbidden, before he could control himself.
The Woman started a little, stood up. She was made some noises to an Other to her side. The tones of the Other were reassuring.
Watching this, he felt useless. He knew that she was defenceless, that it was his to defend her. But now— he couldn’t even open his mouth. Worse, he’d scared her a little with his growling. The pain was dulling. Now he was anxious and shameful. His face hung a little. He trailed on the floor.
She was moving now, and he knew he had to move with her. It was a strange effort. Each leg was shifting slower than his mind intended. He stumbled over the gap between his projected footfall and the real one, almost falling onto his nose. The Woman didn’t notice. She was striding towards the car, tugging him along. The fact that he had hidden his stumble relieved him. She cannot think he is weak.
She held open the door, and gestured to him to jump up onto the seat. He hesitated. His legs were burning now from the effort. The leap might be too much. The shame was rising again, a sinking feeling bubbling up from his stomach, driving his face to the floor. She saw this in him, reading it as miscomprehension. He sulked as she lifted him onto the blanketed car seat, her whining with frustration.
The wool was warm against his body, and he was full of relief. The door slammed behind him. The car had been sitting in the sun for a while. After a few moments he defrosted enough to feel the dampness of his fur. The woman was seated in front of him, he faced towards her left thigh, watching her. She impatiently pushed his snout away from the gear stick.
As they drove away he allowed himself to feel restful. In the warmth, in the rumble of the car over gravel, even in his shame. His eyes were heavy, his limbs still humming from the effort. His mind was slowing down. But something was very active. It felt like his guts, his stomach.
With a great, involuntary effort, his stomach clenched, his oesophagus pumped, and he deposited a quantity of blueish green liquid into the cupholder. The relief was immediate. A flush of health passed through his body. He looked up at her, expectant and proud, his mouth now hanging open. The woman saw him. Her mouth sprung open too, to shout. His ears hurt and he flinched. She must not know how loud she is.