The Hard Road by D.A.Sanford - HTML preview

Dreams are nightmares

We now have been fighting for almost a year. That is the time that I have not even had a glimpse of my wonderful Ziva. Around three months ago, I passed Tartan but could not talk because he was running out at full speed and we were coming in. That was the last I saw him. I do not think he saw me.

By now, the humans have gotten used to our traps. There is now more combat exchanges. The panic of the traps is not there. The humans now are slower because they now sweep for them. We must bring the fight to them. We now are having more casualties. Most times it is one of ours to two of them. Those are not acceptable odds. These are my friends. They are the closest thing I have to family. That is why I always fight harder and from the front. This latest battle has been raging for most of the day. Towards the end of the afternoon, their leader ran for his life and we let the few left chase after him. Let them kill him. Now I must deal with our dead.

They all know that it is not feasible for us to bring them back to the hide or bury them. Luckily the area we fight in is mostly hilly and rocky. Most of the time, we can find caves. I don’t know what other packs do but we carry our dead to a cave. They get laid out as if they are sleeping. Wrapped in their blanket, we leave some food for them. We say a prayer for them then we collapse the cave entrance. After that we have a small celebration of life. Then we move on. When needed, I send a runner back to the hide with an order for so many replacements. While waiting at the spot I sent the runner, I do a decadent thing, I order my pack to dig in and we rest. We hunt and when scouts report no one near, we have hot meat.. At other times, while patrolling, it is not uncommon for us to eat raw meat. All share the fat. It is protein. Raw wild vegetables when we find them. When we can afford a fire. The hot meal brightens the spirits.

Encounter after encounter. Day after day. Until we reach the time for us to return to the hide. We fight and try to kill more of them than they us. Return to the hide, get drunk and hunt for food for the children. None of us really celebrate. What for? There is not one here that does not have someone out on patrol. No one knows who is alive or in the final life. That is why we all say that we are dead.. Drunk does not erase that fact. It only dulls it for that moment. In the morning that feeling is still there but also is the hang over.

Now we are back out on patrol. I no longer look for either of mine. I had my nightmare of the table. Ziva is cooking. Tartan and my others are seated. Again, one by one, they get up and leave. That night, that dream, Ziva came over and sadly looked at me. She picked up Tartan and cradled him in her arms and left me there alone at the table. I woke up to my fellows covering my mouth as I scream. It is a common thing to cover someone’s dream scream. There is not one of us that hasn’t had them. You just put your hands over the mouth and wait.

We do have our fun times. Finding a stream without any enemy in the area, we strip down and play in the water or just soak. A luxury if you happen upon a hot spring. Mostly we did not wash otherwise.

The replacements arrive. They all are too young. I have them do some training one on one. Most prove adequate. A few are going to be our observers for a few encounters. I will train them but I know that their first combat will be their last unless the gods step in. I hate myself for this attitude I have but I remember all those I could not save. As long as I do not treat them differently I guess there will be more at my table to leave. I have started to go to sleep with a gag. My fellows are grateful and have copied me. Too long. Too many lives. The next time in, we need to meet with the elders. There are unexplored areas of this world. We need to send some out to those areas and see if we could migrate there, claim all that area as our country and move there. Let the humans kill each other until there are none left.

We have to stop our march towards extinction. Too many have died. Too many. The war goes on. People die. I must kill and watch mine die. Time to go back to the hide. Get drunk and cry.

Ziva, my beautiful Ziva, please stop haunting me in my dreams. I want to see you in the final life but the way the gods are acting, they probably will have me do another life. The way I feel, I want to charge the enemy without a weapon but that would jeopardize our meeting. Please help me my darling. Forgive me and leave me alone or take my hand and lead me to the final life.

We trudge this path to the hide.

The hide is always the same. We are supposed to rest but with what this place needs, there is no rest, Food, helping with things, always busy. For me it is always the briefings on how wonderful the war is going. How it cannot be much longer.

I am at war with myself. This war was inevitable. That is why my father told me to leave and fade into the background. I should have grabbed her and ran to that unexplored country. Stayed in the background. Made areas for the ones that had enough but I did not understand his message.

Far from being in the background, I am now looked to as the standard bearer. What has it gotten me. Nothing but heart ache.

I heard it best, from an old farmer. I was young and having the usual problems of the youth. I had just had a disaster of the lifetime. One of those teen age boy’s disasters. That old farmer looked me in the eyes and imparted something I still remember. “Sometimes, my son, you have to grab the horse by the tail and face the situation.” He is right. I let the moment erase the solid advice I was given. Fade into the background. Now I will lift the horse’s tail and see what I really am. Should have! There is no changing the past.