Free The Dog by Kerstin Ekman

smoke.
    The fire burned on the shore of the lake between two
    rocks. The man just sat idle, but he kept making sounds.
    After a while the water in the sooty aluminum coffee pot
    began to hum.
    The dog lying under the windfallen tree listened without
    understanding. Many of the sounds were familiar from the
    fishing spots. They had reached him on the wind on bright
    nights and he had not forgotten them. They were frightening.
    He wanted to get away.
    The unfamiliar male dog sat completely still beside the
    man's backpack. His short coat gleamed. His eyelids were
    heavy in the warmth of the fire but his ears were pricked as
    if he were listening to something at a great distance.
    The grey dog heard the sounds too. Other people were
    coming down. Soon voices could be heard from the pasture.
    He crept as far in towards the tumble of upturned roots as he
    could.
    He couldn't attempt an escape without moving in the
    direction of the approaching men. There were too many of
    them and he didn't know exactly where each one was. Deep
    voices could be heard from all directions, the clang of metal
    and the flick of matches. Stiff fabric swished against straps.
    They had other dogs with them. When they came closer
    they growled. The black one lying by the fire leapt up, his
    ragged ears rising. He rushed off towards the other dogs,
    then stopped in his tracks halfway and put his nose to the
    ground. He'd caught the scent of the grey dog.
    Running excitedly, he took up the trail. When he came
    dangerously close the grey one rushed up and fled out
    towards the far end of the point. He heard the black dog in
    pursuit. Behind them the men were shouting and tying up
    the other loudly barking dogs.
    He zigzagged through the undergrowth on the point. His
    heart was pounding; bursting with fear. There were no steep
    hills to hide in here, no endless marshes, no mountain
    forests. At the end of the point there were just cliffs on either
    side. More than once he ran down to the edge of the water
    and turned back. Finally he stopped. The black dog stopped
    too. They weren't far apart. The grey one lowered his head,
    ears pulled back, baring his teeth with a fierce expression.
    That was too much for the other dog. He attacked.
    They fought, growling deeply all the time. The black
    dog's body was heavier and his legs shorter. He wasn't easily
    thrown off balance. He bit wherever he could reach, vicious
    warnings, while continuing to growl, urging his opponent to
    bare his neck and give up.
    The grey one was still young, and emaciated. He'd never
    been in a fight before. But now he was fighting for his life.
    He bit back, wherever he could reach, and his bites were
    sharper than the black dog's. They didn't hear the voices
    shouting all around them. The men and the other dogs, on
    leashes, were there now, too. One man grabbed the hind legs
    of the black dog and pulled at him. He lost his balance and
    his jaws released their grip. Another man aimed a kick at the
    THE DOG
    chest of the grey dog. They were separated. Someone managed
    to get the black foxhound on a leash, pressing a glove
    over the bleeding wound on his cheek.
    The grey dog stood all alone on the lakeshore, facing the
    men and three dogs. His body was rigid. When one of the
    men began to approach he didn't flee, but pulled back his
    upper lip and lunged.
    So many voices and bodies. He had to keep each individual
    in the crowd in sharp focus while he was looking for a
    hole to escape through. Then something happened that confused
    him.
    All but one of the men withdrew. They left, taking the
    other dogs with them. He could still hear them among the
    trees. Only one man stayed behind, alone. But he didn't
    come closer. He went down on his knees. Then he lowered
    his head so neither his eyes nor his teeth were visible. A
    voice came out. It wasn't like the others. It murmured and
    clucked. It was a gentle stream of soft talking that awakened
    a strong urge in the young grey dog, in the midst of