Something barrels into the backs of my legs. I hear a strange, labored sort of panting; I turn around. It’s a dog. A tired, starving dog, so thin and frail it looks like it could be knocked over by the wind. But it’s staring at me. Unafraid. Mouth open. Tongue lolling. I want to laugh out loud. I glance around quickly before scooping the dog into my arms. I don’t need to give my father any more reasons to castrate me, and I don’t trust my soldiers not to report something like this. That I would play with a dog.
