Moors

In an instant, he was gone.

Collapsing beside a fallen column, I rested my cheek against the crumbling stone and closed my eyes, trying to hold in the tears. The shade had fled as the first ray of the sun came over the ruins and through the fallen roof. Was he still here, somewhere, invisible? Did he know the pain, the loss? Why would God give us this little moment just to steal it away?

Was he here beside me, and I insensible to his airy form?

My shoulders rocked with the sobs that I tried to contain until I felt a hand upon my shoulder.

I shrieked, leaping from the floor, and then in hope I turned around, believing for an instant that Sam was there. I turned, but my smile faded. The tears remained.

“M’lady,” whispered the girl. I began wiping the tears from my eyes, suddenly able to pull myself together now that someone could see me.

“Winnie,” I croaked. Swallowing, I started again, “Winnie, what are you…”

“The dogs, ma’am,” she ejaculated. “The hounds. They’re wailing something awful.”

It seemed then that I could hear the howls, had heard them, perhaps, but not noticed.

“It’s a terrible noise, ma’am. Puts the shivers in me.” She held herself, crossing her arms tight.

“What…” I began, but my voice faded away as an idea took form in the back of my mind.

As if understanding the unasked question, Winnie answered:

“Nothing, ma’am. Least, nothing I know. Dogs, sometimes they know more than we do, M’lady. So ol’ granny says.”

“Yes,” I said distractedly. The howls, I could hear now, had turned into barking.

“Let’s see,” I said, more to myself than her, “what they do know.”

We left the old chapel to find the boys, Old Rob and the new pup Ed, with their snouts in the air and mournfully crying up to the clear, morning sky. Ed had never known his master, but Rob, she was sure he would remember.

Taking his leash in hand I turned to Winnie.

“Grab Ed and follow me,” I said. Whispering, I added, “Do you see him, Rob?” He looked up at me with a familiar eagerness I had not seen in the old dog’s eyes for a year or more. “What’s he want?” Rob looked away toward the moors and whined. “Okay,” I gulped. “Lead on, old boy.”

I dropped the leash, and with that, the bony hound began to trot, and then, to run. Running to my horse, I threw myself onto the saddle.

“Yah,” I cried, and followed, as Winnie, shouting something I couldn’t hear, began running after us on foot, Ed’s leash held tight in her fist.