His shock of the contact with the forest maiden suddenly changed into a deep fear, as his heart jumped into his throat. From the gloom a wolf-like hound strode forward. Although the dog wasn't threatening, its size, close proximity and lack of fear gave Don qualms.
As if aware of its impact on the old man, the dog approached him and licked at the back of his hand and sat down before him. Don was tentative but encouraged by the maiden's last comment. He slowly put his hand on the dog's head and lightly rubbed. The hound kept its restraint and let its tongue hang from his relaxed muzzle, giving the appearance of docility. Don mimiced the emotional cue of this seemingly domestic wolf.
As Don relaxed, the dog leaned forward and nudged his knee, stood up and led him on out the glen to a path, barely discernible from the forest surrounding them. Don followed, understanding that the dog was here for his purpose. The dog seemed to know Don's destiny, but Don had no idea what path he had begun this night.
They continued on through the gloom of the forest - moonlight breaking dimly through the canopy above. Don could make out an old, well grown forest with tall trees and a floor of ferns and bracken. It wasn't a long walk before they came upon a pool nestled among a denser growth of trees and bush, a small brook bubbling out from a parting of some grass covered rocks. Don fell at the pool, drinking to ease his cracked lips and feverish state. He lay there for awhile running the cool water through his hair and across his neck, throat and face. Don stripped the hospital gown shroud away, washed off the grime and soothed the cuts, scrapes and bruises of his escape. He limped into the cool, soothing water, drinking away his parch. He felt the water both washing away the years of filth, and replenishing his drug abused body. Once purified he crawled from the bathing pool and despite the chill fell asleep from the exhaustion of his trip. He slept through the last of the night and past the dawn.
He awoke to the call of birds. The dog was watching him carefully. Don was hungry and very awake. For the first time, as long as he could remember, he felt as he did before the melancholy pangs of middle age piled up and dragged him into old age. He could recall that he had been undone and that there was still something left to finish .
The dog roused, sensing his movement to awake and arise. The canine grumbled slightly to attract his attention and stood up from its haunch. Don looked about the glen surrounding the pool. In a nook of the space there was a sculptured bas relief. Don looked around him taking in the forest and pool, the bubbling brook purcolating from the rocks. He went to the little altar space to look at the matron and her dog pictured on the bas relief. Accompanying the seated goddess and her companion was a strange set of characters from another language. Don couldn't make any sense of the prayer, but he took the bread and cheese left by a previous visitor.
Thinking nothing of the intent of the one who left it, or the harm, he wolved down the crust and meal, noting that it was fresh. Replenished, he felt his bony fingers swelled with the replenishment. He could feel his entire body shedding its slack. He could feel his muscles gathering their supple again. He looks about the grotto. A thick forest surrounded it. A stream bent away through a mossy bed. The dog led him to a path within the trees. It was a narrow path between thick undergrowth.
They continued through a bramble of rich growth, the sun warming his shoulders. He felt light on his feet. The effort of the walk was not difficult and gave his legs renewed strength. Occasionally he would come upon a berry bush and eat the black or red berries that the wasps and bees didn’t bother.
In the forest, sunlight mottled the floor. Don's every step was a twitch of his muscles and frame. He was moving purposefully and exercising all of his muscles. He could feel his stomach tighten and his shoulders widen. He breathed steadily and with less effort with every step. He didn’t need to rest or think. The path the dog was taking him on was indiscriminate to him. He was recovering his forgotten physicality.
They walked through the day like this. The forest changed so little that it seemed endless. Don was like an automaton. Walking was its own pleasure. Hours later the light diminished. They had seen only small animals and birds. Hunger had finally appeared. The dog had been paying no heed to him. It was as if they were linked and he was drawn in its wake. Now that his attention wandered, it looked his way and gave a quick snort to bring his attention back. Don wondered if this dog was reading his mind.
He grew frustrated with his growing hunger , though and called out, “Here now, where are you going?” the dog ignored him, not breaking its gait. Don stopped short, “Come on where are we going?”. The dog disappeared into the forest, not stopping or looking back. Don was torn, he wanted to look about and find something to eat. The fruit of the brambles was long ago. His stomach was starting to wish for some of that bread he’d had early in the day. As the gloom deepened, his nakedness became more concerning. He wanted to make some kind of proper bed and find something to keep him warm. The dog had been a kindred spirit and he'd felt safe and purposeful in its company. He stepped haltingly in the direction of where the dog had been. As he looked about and distractedly stepped towards the dog’s path he soon realized there was no path to follow. He looked about and found himself with no place to go. Suddenly he felt very tired. He sat down on a mossy rock and scratched between his legs. Although hungry and now lost, Don felt satisfied with himself. He could feel his skin tightened across newly renewed fitness. He felt like he was ready to race.
