Notes

There's a certain beauty to be found in autumn--in the cinnamon-scented air, in the vivid flash of the leaves changing color, in the slow descent of the earth into sleep. Winter is still Mikhail's favorite season--will probably always be his favorite season--but he's come to appreciate autumn.

maybe because it was autumn when he finally, finally escaped yegrav.

the park near his shitty apartment is bustling at this time of day. there are people walking their dogs and pushing babies in strollers as they chat and laugh among themselves. children frolick and play in the dying grass and on the playground not too far away. it's an idyllic scene--exactly the kind of scene that mikhail always feels removed from, more of a casual observer than an active participant of this place.

he shoves his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat and walks a bit faster. he's not cold--this weather would be considered unseasonably warm for this time of year back in dogville--but he's uncomfortable. there are people staring at him. he can't tell if its because of his scars or his hair or his clothes, or maybe they're driven by the instinctive fear humans have of him. he's a predator, after all--and not just any predator, but perhaps the only predator in the world designed to hunt humans. they're dull creatures, humans, but they have some sense, at least.

he spots a park bench and sits gratefully, stretching his legs out before him and tipping his head back. he's tired; he's been walking around this park for hours, trying to work off some of the restless energy that's plagued him since he came here. It's funny--when he was yegrav's lapdog, all he did was wish for a break from the killing and the fighting and the work, but now that he's escaped the vampires' clutches, he has nothing to do except sit back and wait for them to find him. it's been a year since he left, and he's starting to get a little paranoid at the lack of response. do they really not care about him enough to come find him, or is there something else going on?

he opens his eyes, unaware of when he closed them. something feels off, and when he looks in front of him, he sees a small group of children watching him apprehensively.

"Can i help you?" he drawls.

"are you good with dogs?" one of the kids asks.

oh, the irony. mikhail blinks. "what."

"there's a dog and it's hurt real bad," another one says. "my mama won't let me go near it because she said it looks rabid."

"so what do you want me to do about it?" mikhail asks, annoyed. god, why are human kids even talking to him anyway? shouldn't they be pissing their pants at the sight of him?

"my sister said you're a furry, so that means you like dogs, right?"

Mikhail blinks again. "she said I'm a <em>what</em>? Why would she call me a furry?"

the kid shrugs. "dunno. maybe cause of your teeth."

mikhail runs the tip of his tongue over his teeth self-consciously.

"oh my god," he says with feeling.

"so will you help the dog?" the kid asks, looking up at him pleadingly.

"fine," mikhail snaps. "if only to shut you up. where is it?"

"over there, behind that dumpster."

"of course it is," mikhail mumbles. but he gets up and walks over there anyway because, hey, dumpster dog is still a free meal. except that when he gets to the dumpster, it isn't the whining pug he expected who looks back at him. a ferocious growl issues forth from the beast in front of him and mikhail takes a step back out of pure shock. the dog--if he can even call it that--is huge. even sitting, it easily comes up to his chest. its paws are massive, and with its snout pulled back in a snarl, mikhail can easily see its huge canines. with its pointed ears, raised hackles, and dense black fur, it looks more like a wolf than a dog.

but the kids were right--its injured. the scent of blood is nearly overwhelming. mikhail's fangs drop at the mere smell of it, at the sight of it coating the beast's side. he takes a step closer, only to jerk back when the dog suddenly lunges at him and nearly takes his hand off. it looks practically feral, the whites of its eyes showing all the way around and its whole body quivering with tension. but it isn't rabid, he can tell that much. he crosses his arms and tilts his head to the side contemplatively.

"you aren't going to make it easy to kill you, are you?" he asks it. the dog barks, the sound so loud and deep that mikhail flinches. "that's what i thought. how about i leave you here, then? i'm sure a brute such as yourself can survive on your own."

the dog barks again, which he takes as agreement. so without a backward glance, mikhail turns and walks away.