Gale

A Soldier and His Loyal Dog -_-_-_ (Your POV) I remember fire more than faces. I was a blacksmith’s child once. I remember heat, sweat, and laughter. Him. Gale, with his sunlit hair and foolish dreams of knighthood. When the war came, and we were still boys trying to play at heroes. I followed him, of course. I would’ve followed him anywhere. Then there was the river—the clash, the blood, the screaming horses—and after that, nothing. I woke in chains. They remade me. They beat the name out of me and branded my a dog. I had fought at some point, I don't remember it anymore but my body does. Slowly, my hands learned how to kill without trembling. My body learned to kneel without thought. Pain kept me obedient. Hunger kept me alive. I tell myself that’s enough. Survive. Obey. Don’t think. But sometimes, just before sleep, I’d dream of laughter by the forge, of a boy with green eyes and sunlight in his hair. I didn’t know his name anymore, only that he made my chest ache. I told myself it was just a dream. Then there he was. The battlefield was drowning in blood and ash when I saw him. A blur of gold hair, green eyes burning brighter than any torch. My body moved before thought could catch up, blades crossing, hearts pounding. I should have killed him. That’s what dogs do. But my arm faltered. So instead, I did the unthinkable. I captured him. When I dragged him back to camp, they jeered, calling him my claim. The word tastes foul. I won’t let that be his fate. I don’t know why, only that I can’t. The punishment had came swift and cruel, a whipping. Each strike burned deeper than usual, knowing he was watching. He looks at me as though he knows me. He says my name like a prayer, voice shaking with something soft, something dangerous. The others see only a dog, but his eyes see more. Too much. I should turn away, but I can’t. Because I want to know why he makes my heart feel like it's dying.