The intense sensations caused his mind to revert back momentarily to its more primal form.
Wrong…bad…no!
He shook his head hard, trying to fling the stuff off his face, but the only result was clumps of sodden fur slapping wetly against his ears. Panic sparked through him.
Get it off. Get it off. Get it OFF.
He stumbled toward Kiera, wanting her—needing her—because she was safe and familiar and she would know what to do. His paws squelched. The algae dripped in strings from his ruff and belly. He tried to lick it, but it tasted foul—bitter and metallic and yet oddly sweet, like spoiled fruit.
He gagged and spat, feeling his stomach roll. Everything was wrong, wrong, wrong.
Kiera stood a few paces away, staring at him with her hands braced on her hips. When she saw him coming, she held out her hands, palms up.
“Now hold on a second! Just wait…don’t–”
But it was too late–Brux was already shaking himself vigorously all over.
He couldn’t help it. The urge to shake was primal—automatic—wired into every cell of his body. The horrible algae clung and pulled at his fur, weighing him down, chilling his skin beneath. He shook harder–the way he would shake off rain or snow.
At last his shaking had an effect–purple algae went flying, getting everywhere–including all over Kiera.
It spattered across her sweater, dotted her braids, and painted her cheeks and forearms with glittery violet streaks. A fat blob even slapped onto her shoulder and slowly slid down leaving a shimmering trail of slime.
Brux froze mid—shake, suddenly aware of what he had done.
Oh, no! I got her dirty! I ruined her clothes–got dirt in her hair! What’s wrong with me? Why did I do that? Now, she’ll hate me!
He lowered his head, ears flattening in shame. He tucked his tail between his hind legs and whined miserably, waiting for her angry reaction. Would she take him back to the cage now? Would she abandon him–lock him up and never return, leaving him there to slowly lose his mind and die?
The thought of losing her hit him like a blow. He was still too fragile. Too newly restored. Her touch had been bringing his mind back, piece by piece—if she withdrew all that would change. He could feel the darkness waiting at the edges again…that creeping fog of feral emptiness he dreaded.
He wished desperately he could speak to her.
I didn’t mean to. I couldn’t stop. It was instinct. I just wanted it off me. Please don’t be mad. Please don’t send me away.
But Kiera didn’t smell angry. At least, he didn’t think she did.
He took a hesitant step toward her, nose twitching anxiously, trying to read her scent—was she angry? Upset? Would she push him away? Would she regret bringing him home?
Brux inhaled again. She smelled…startled, yes. A little exasperated. And then, to his surprise, he scented amusement.
Kiera looked down at the purple splattered across her front, then up at Brux’s wide, guilty eyes, and let out a long sigh that turned into another laugh.
"It's all right—those foosters do look scary, don't they? And I stumbled into several of the camo—lakes when I first got here too. Come on—I'll spray us both off and then I think it's bath time—for both of us."
Brux’s ears lifted slowly. Relief washed through him so strongly his legs nearly gave out.
She wasn’t angry…she wasn’t going to send him away. She was even making happy sounds and faces–laughing.
But not the cruel kind of laughter you hear when someone wants to hurt or make fun of you. No, he could tell that Kiera was laughing with him–not at him. It was the kind of laughter that meant you are safe. The kind of laughter that made a place feel like a home.
He chuffed softly—apology and gratitude tangled together in his emotions—and stepped closer, pressing his purple—slick shoulder against her side in a tentative nuzzle.
Kiera made a soft sound and put an arm around his neck again, despite the algae.
“It’s all right, boy–you know I can’t be mad at you,” she said, smiling.
Brux wanted to memorize that moment in time. The weight of her arm…the warm press of her body against his. The scent of her—clean skin and braided hair and the faint sweetness of her shampoo, now mixed with the sharp, minty tang of the sanctuary air and the weird metallic stink of the algae.
