Moments

Moment of Rebirth

"It's a squash, chief."

"So you squash it then?" Bull laughed, then proceeded to do just that. Yellow flesh and seeds dripping down his face he asked where the hell the meat was.

Thom surprised me the most, lapping up every bean we had and asking if he could take a few dried bags with him. Apparently, vegetables were hard to come by on the road and he missed it. To think, the once proud dalish hunter turned Herald, then Inquisitor, found peace in the dirt, in settling down and tending to the land. It's the last thing I'd have ever expected, but everything I wanted.

A yelp echoed from deeper down the hill, drawing my attention. I rose from my tomato plants, dusting off the dirt on my knees and spotted the wood axe sitting forlornly beside the empty pile someone claimed he was filling. Hefting it up in my hand, I leaned the head against my shoulder - the warm metal burning through my light shift - and began the walk down the slope.

More yelping punctuated the air and, after a few careful sliding steps, I spotted the source. Cullen lay stretched out upon the grass, one arm thrown over his face to shield his eyes while four of the pups squirmed on top. Little nails dug into his shirt, their entire backsides wagging in joy, as they tried to climb onto him. Silently, he'd drop a hand down and lift one up until it sat upon his chest, the tiny, pink tongue lapping across his chin. But the joy was too much, the little body unable to adjust for the wag's force, and the pup would slide off Cullen's chest, plopping onto the ground to give another one a chance.

At his shoes, the two tan pups wrestled for dominance over a loose shoestring. Snarling and yipping as if facing down their own archdemon, the runt snatched the lace up in her jaws and tried to run for it - only to have the slack catch, yanking her back into Cullen's shoes. She was dazed for a moment before one of her brothers rolled on top, the game begun anew.

The last pup sat in the grass, facing down a mighty butterfly demon. She squared up her tiny shoulders, twisted her legs to face it, and barked out a pathetic squeak. Her prey only flitted to the next flower, giving her a chance to try again.

"So," I said, wiping the smile off my face, "this is chopping wood."

Cullen struggled to sit up, catching one of the pups in his hand as he rose. His hair was a complete mess, flayed at the edges and wadded with grass, his shirt pocked with tiny muddy paw prints, while a ruddiness from the sun or being caught burned his cheeks. I'd never seen him so handsome.

Hauling the axe off my shoulder, the head smashed to the ground, "You forgot this."

"Ah, we were doing a little training exercise on this fine morning," Cullen said, rising off the ground. Having lost their toy, the pups took to chewing on each other - their newly grown knife-like teeth shredding through their siblings.

"They're only five weeks old," I said, watching limbs that just mastered walking a week ago forget that fact and splay out. Our runt picked up speed, chasing after her kin, but misjudged the distance and splattered against him, both tumbling in the grass.

"You can teach a mabarai as young as four weeks," Cullen said. He clapped his hands once, gaining the curious stare of a few sloe back eyes. Mastering the power he once wielded across armies of men, he commanded the puppies attention. "Sit!"

Four butts slapped to the ground, their heads tilting from concentrating so hard. Cullen shifted to the holdouts, his amber eyes narrowing until they too stopped playing, their own backsides plopping to the dirt. He turned to me, a grin stretching his cheeks as if he'd once again commanded our forces to save Thedas. The proud papa of the puppy army wandered out of the creek, the fur streaked in mud and clay - a stick jammed in his mouth. For a moment, he paused beside his master, the tongue lolling below his stick. "Don't..." Cullen started, but it was too late. The dog twisted his skin, splattering Cullen and all the pups with the dredges of the river.