The Circle of the Paw

Chapter 8

Though she had been in the role for several years, she still took immense pride knowing her place as one of the Gibborim charged with leading and protecting the celebrated underground den. If the rumors were true, only the Pedigreed Council's headquarters in Carnassus was a larger and more storied refuge. Misha breathed in and stood up a little straighter as she recalled the day Commander Lupo had told her she had earned the post.

The Wissahickon schist stones that were used to build the Rittenhouse burrow were expertly laid generations ago by the moles of the Federation of Burrowers, back when the Rittenhouse area was being developed by wealthy humans. The den was big enough to house dozens of animals, if the need arose, and had numerous tunnels leading to hidden entrances throughout the neighborhood, including an exit leading to the sewers.

Upon Misha's promotion, the other Gibborim had helped to dig a new branch of the expansive tunnel network directly leading to her backyard. Naturally, they hired some professional moles for some of the trickier parts of the tunnel project. This newer portion had rough dirt walls, rather than the handsome stone that made up the rest of the burrow. Like most of the newer passages, it could be purposefully caved in, for secrecy's sake, upon her eventual retirement or, Canidae-forbid, her death.

Her canine shadow elongated in the flickering of the candle light emanating from the walls. She stopped by the armory door before peering inside. The weapons, armor, and climbing gear hung from hooks on the walls. Misha made sure they lay undisturbed since her last inspection. All of the bronze and iron equipment had been crafted generations ago, when coal-fired forges were common in human cities and it was not suspicious for a few ingots of metal to vanish from a blacksmith's stockpile overnight.

The burrow's cache was almost entirely suited for dogs, as canines had made up most of the Circle's previous membership. There were numerous helmets, leather armor, shields that would strap to a canine's front leg, spike collars, and even bronze fangs. To Misha, the most curious item lay in the darkest corner of the room, resting inside a wooden chest that she had only opened once, when she had first been promoted to Burrowmaster. Inside the chest lay a set of claws, crafted from a silvery metal that gave off a golden tinge and could attach to the wearer's paw by way of a leather strap. Misha remembered learning from Commander Lupo that these claws were significantly older than the rest of the items in the room, but like most of the gear, they sat unused in the small, dark room.

Confident that the armory had not been disturbed, she continued down the hallway.

On her way, she passed by a small collection of flowers, sticks, teeth, and bones, piled up around a single candle and a paw drawn portrait of a wolf. It was a small shrine to Great Canidae, the deity that many dogs worshiped.

She arrived at the large meeting room and took a look around. The walls were plastered with strategic maps showing the addresses of the twenty current Gibborim in the city, problem areas where recent attacks had occurred, as well as the location of robberies that had been committed by the notorious gang, the Legion of Mischief. The corners of the room were cluttered with wooden chests filled with gear provided by the Circle's Pedigreed Council or captured in the line of duty. There were leather satchels, drinking gourds, a box of biscuits, and the occasional cloak. I hope Commander Lupo doesn't notice how messy this place has gotten when he gets here, Misha thought to herself with a frown.

She waited for several hundred tailwags before hearing pawsteps echo from one of the other darkened tunnels. She frowned as she could make out whispered conversation and the sounds of eight pawsteps, not just the four of Commander Lupo's. He must have messaged that fleabag, Hilo, to come as well, she thought bitterly.

Misha did not get along well with the pitbull captain for North Philadelphia. She viewed him as overly strict and hated that he oftentimes belittled other Gibborim in front of their comrades. Once, Hilo had even criticized Fannie, another phalanx captain, in front of their subordinates. It was a gross display of disrespect for an equal ranked Gibbor that Misha had loudly put a stop to. Hilo apparently relished the role of disciplinarian that his station afforded him.