Free DogForge by Casey Calouette Page B

Almost plodding. His claws fought for grip and he stopped every few steps to slam down the heavy snow. He looked almost like a supplicant praying to some strange god every time he leaned over to pummel the snow. The others were all like him. None stopped.
    “Move faster,” she growled.
    “Where are we going?” Samson stopped.
    “Up there,” Denali said and climbed past him. She wanted to trust him with the cylinder, her jaw ached and the cold was drying out her throat.
    “What then?”
    She stopped and looked down at him. “There is no what then , we’re saving the pack.”
    “What!” he barked and leaped closer. He collapsed on his lame paw and scrambled to catch his grip. The snow seemed to wrap him up and he came to a tense rest.
    “Get up. We’re going over the pass.” Denali turned and left him on his back.
    Samson hobbled higher and stumbled next to Denali. The pair pushed past boulders and lines of rock that was like the layers of the earth shown to the heavens. The rock changed from a dull gray cut with lichens to a harsh black, gritty and old.
    “Slow down,” Samson growled and leaned against the stone.
    Denali stopped and gently set the cylinder down. Her chest burned now. Every breath was a labored ordeal, and she just couldn’t seem to slow her breathing.
    The cold hit her hard. A wind off the top side of the slope sang down. The air was moist and it told of snow and rain. She worried about more snow.
    “We need to go,” Denali said.
    “Look at them.” Samson smiled down the mountain.
    The skelebots struggled even more on the steep slope. A single skelebot clambered on top of a lichen stained boulder. It paused, shifted on the slick surface as if to take in the view, and tumbled off. The clatter rang up and Samson laughed.
    “We’ll just wait.”
    “No.” Denali picked up the canister and stared up, looking for the best route.
    Samson rolled onto his side and licked his paw. Sinew and flesh was a harsh red in the thin mountain air. “They can’t get up here.”
    “Yes.” Denali nodded down below. “They can.”
    Samson snapped his head to the side.
    A pair of the skelebots scaled the boulder, one acting as a ladder while the other found a crevice and locked himself in. The next skelebot went higher and higher.
    “Karoc never told us that they’d do this,” Samson groaned as he stood.
    Denali shook herself. “Let’s move.”
    The higher they went the smaller the rocks became and the slope peaked up before them. The grain of the mountain changed. The black edges, almost raw below, were now smooth and worn, like pebbles on a beach. With every meter they gained, the footing became more difficult. There was barely a paw’s width to work with at every step.
    Denali fell first. The rock slapped her stomach as it broke loose and she rolled. She gritted her eyes tight and stopped, hard, against a flat stone. The wind howled over her and she waited until there was a drop in the gust. It felt like she could tumble off at the slightest nudge.
    She opened her eyes, Samson was moving higher. She clamped tighter on the cylinder, and fought to scramble higher.
    Samson paused, turned to look below, and his back legs shot out. He slid with his stomach against the rock. His front legs scrambled but did little to slow his descent. “Help!”
    Denali picked a path, leaped across one shelf to the next, and braced herself. She tucked the cylinder into a gap in the rocks.
    Samson slid through a gap between two dark rocks. The moment he slid next to her, she clamped down on his furry neck.
    Her back legs came off the ground and she dropped her chest onto the cool stone. And then, to her relief, Samson stopped. 
    He looked up at her with eyes that were in a feral place. Denali could smell his fear. The sparkle in his eyes faded and he looked away. Denali helped him up onto the shelf and snatched up the cylinder.
    A cracking sound roared out from the stone. The sound grew louder, and the intensity