CC Round Three Pg.6

Rust lashed out at Zasha.

Zasha fell.

She lay still, a gnarled lump of metal jammed into her breastbone. A second spike cut a deep gash into her throat, but seemed to have carved around her veins. In the dim light, she appeared to meld with the rusty steel of an overturned steel table.

Erx shuddered and picked his way through the wreckage, fighting off growing nausea as blood's salty scent swiftly saturated the air. The rust had performed its encore, bowed gracefully, and exited stage left. A thousand terrible emotions clouded his mind as he reached Zasha's motionless form. He placed a paw on her chest.

Life beat from within. The encore was flawed. The finale had failed.

"Zasha?" whispered Erx. "Zasha," he called again, louder. "Zasha!"

She stirred weakly.

"ZASHA!"

Her eyes flickered open, her pupils narrowed like a those of snake's. She stirred again, more forcefully this time, and made a faint gurgling sound. This repeated for several seconds before she managed to form a coherent phrase.

"I- I asked you-"
"What?"
"You- you didn't- didn't listen. Didn't help."

A dreadful growl escaped from the depths of her lungs. She squirmed against the metal spars which held her fast. They dug savagely into her flesh, only worsening her struggle.

"Zasha!" cried Erx for the umpteenth time.
"I don't- don't want to do this!" growled Zasha. She convulsed again, clearly oblivious to her dire situation.
"What are you- why are you-"

He edged back as she thrashed about wildly.

"ZASHA!" he screamed. "Stop! You'reh- you're tearing yourself apart!"

No response. She whimpered in pain, yet refused to acknowledge its presence.

"ZASHA!" he cried once more. "Let me HELP YOU!"

Something about his words rung through the air as the sound of lead crystal does. Fear, sorrow, and grief all laced his speech. Yet, something greater than all of these emotions flooded through the darkness.

Pure, unbridled truth.

To Zasha's terrified mind, the words were the first truth told to her in years. This dog, she realized, truly cared. He was not the Rottweiler who taunted her with terrible names. He was not the black-and-white dog who preyed upon the weak. He was not the tender-ear who hunted her down. He was not a foe. He was her.

Zasha's thrashes began to subside as she fought off the rage. Her searing pain peaked before fading away into a weighty throbbing. Her eyes widened, washing the look of indecipherable anger from her face. She gazed up at Erx, whose sky-blue eyes watched her with grave concern.

"Help me," she whispered.

Erx nodded urgently and circled about, trying to evaluate her wounds through the haze of poor light. Beyond the dreadful gashes opened by the steel, old wounds from her encounter with Rakta-Pa had torn open, oozing crimson blood that soaked her mangy fur. Fortunately, the tendrils of rust had loosened their grip on the poor cur. Erx recalled her studded collar and crept around to her neck. He bit down on the leather strap, which held firmly as he began to pull. It was of no avail, however, for his meager strength could not drag her weight, nevermind free her. All seemed lost. Zasha whimpered and raised her head, struggling bravely against her grievous pain. She understood Erx's silent admittance of failure as he backed away and whined faintly.

Silence reigned.

No, he snapped. I will hang on by the tip of my claw.

Before he could rise up to try once more, the distant sound of paws on stone caught his ear. Panic rose within him, for few dogs of Pripyat responded to death rattles with good intentions. He became aware of a solitary yellow glow in the storefront below, which loped along with a highly familiar gait.

It was Avi.