Flying Lorises {a modern day leviathan fic}

part xi

written by maddie, beta read by cat

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“Barking spiders!” Deryn swears and Alek rushes to help her, eyes wide. 

Where the bloody hell did a dog fall from? Looking up, he can see the scratch marks on the tree branch where the dog had clung. Alek has no idea how he could have gotten up there.

“Blisters, Alek, help me get the bloody dog off, will you?” She groans, with the furry creature splayed out over her back.

It’s a golden retriever, with big innocent eyes and a wagging tongue and a tail to match. Alek spots a collar around its throat, but the letters on the tag have faded somewhat. 

“I can’t read the name,” he says, squinting. “Belongs to someone who starts with a C…and an H…”

“That’s all fine and dandy,” says Deryn, pushing herself to a sitting position, rubbing her head. Alek can’t help but notice the way her hair is tousled messily; he bets its as soft as it looks, and what he would give to find out. “But can we not focus on the fact that it just fell on my bloody head?”

Alek almost laughs out loud at her scowling expression, and now it’s his turn to hide a smile. “I have no idea where he came from,” he says truthfully. He ruffles the dog behind his ears, and his tails wags happily. “He’s kind of cute, though.”

Snorting, Deryn watches the creature warily. “Cute? It’s a little bum-rag. Actually, it’s not very little.”

“What should we name it?”

“Oh, no. Don’t you dare name the beastie. You’ll get attached.”

“I would have thought you would be the one who got along with him; look, you even have the same hair!” he laughs and Deryn grumbles. “I think I’m going to name him Bovril.”

“Bovril? Isn’t that a kind of tea? That is a bit cruel, Alek. Besides, we can’t keep him.” Alek knows she’s right, but he defends his new friend. 

“I know. It doesn’t mean we can’t take care of him until we find his owners.”

He watches as Deryn eyes the dog distrustfully, sighing in what he has come to recognize as an expression of surrender. 

“Alright,” she says resignedly, scratching his fluffy head. “We can take care of Bovril.” Deryn points at the golden-haired dog, straight between his eyes so that he almost goes cross-eyed. “But I’ve got my eye on you, beastie.”