InsaneJournal

Sirocco: Don't Be A Hero
[RP between Brynn's Ricochet and my Sirocco.]

Sirocco lifted his nose to drink in the warm breeze, and his eyes closed as he sighed with considerable satisfaction. It was another beautiful summer's day, and he was here in the pasture again with his flock, and Ricochet.

Normally he took this opportunity for a well-deserved nap. The big dog had become practically nocturnal, spending his nights patrolling the borders of the flock's pen, making sure that there were no intruders. There had been no hide nor hair of any for a long time now, but one could never be too careful. He was always on the watch, and even when he slept he always had one ear open. He was lying on the grass now, quite restful.

But these days he was kept on his toes by the spring lambs, growing larger and more rambunctious by the day. It took the concerted efforts of the group of farmhands and the two dogs to keep them all together. Sirocco huffed softly to himself as he surveyed the woolly throng as they milled and grazed. Belle, the lead ewe, was on guard as always, and the lambs were darting here and there, playing and pawing and bleating merrily at each other. The farmhands were sitting beneath a tree, in the shade.

And Ricochet...

Sirocco turned his head around, trying to catch sight of the collie.

The young Collie was rounding up a spring lamb, that had proven as a problem. Rhonno, the young farmhand had dubbed him; strictly after the bully from Bambi. She nipped at the rebelling lamb's heels and guided him back to Belle with care. He was bleating and carrying on, but Belle just nudged him back in with the herd. Ricochet smiled and panted lightly. That run up the hill was quite a jog, but she didn't mind. She was only returning Rhonno. The small bitch smiled though, as she saw Sirocco. Her feathered tail waved behind her as she looked to him. The smaller Border carried herself over to the larger male and nuzzled him affectionately. They had grown close over the time they had both spent here together. They had watched the young master grow, and they were both very content. She let her maw splay open and her rosy pink tongue lolled out in a lazy yawn. With that she retired herself under the porch, where memories still haunted her. It was her spot though. Cool from the rich moistened soil of the summer. She didn't close her eyes, but kept watch over all her lands.

Sirocco let Ricochet greet and nuzzle him as always before the returned to her favourite spot under the porch. As restful as she looked, the Maremma knew that she - like him - was keeping one ear open, always would. The flock was surely never far from her thoughts as it was from his. At least the lead ewe in this case was a tough and intelligent creature, quite unlike the silly bleaters that kept Pepper and Sandy constantly busy keeping them in line. Not that they hadn't been good at it.

He realised he was thinking less and less of his old collie mentors, and indeed of the old farm. This was his place now, it had accepted him as easily as if he had meant to be here. The farmer and the farmhands, though wary of the big dog initially, had soon discovered what a goldmine they had inadvertently come across in the already-trained flock-dog, and now everyone treated him with the greatest respect and care. Ricochet herself, though comparatively inexperienced, was a worthy colleague, and friend. Surely the Flockherds had guided him to this place so sweet and pleasant. It was perfect for him.

Sirocco relaxed on the grass, feeling somewhat sorry for the headstrong Rhonno's dam, Suzy. The small ewe was bleating vainly in reproach at her lamb, but the little rebel took no notice of her and gallivanted away again, butting at some of the other sheep and elliciting angry baas. That lamb would be trouble, he always had been - at his birth he had been too large and had proven a tricky job to get out, almost killing his mother in the process. Sirocco had stood guard while each of the lambs were birthed, and he knew them all, adding them to the mental list he kept of all the flockmembers.

"Sheep-Wolf, Sheep-Wolf!"

A small group of the lambs was running towards him, maa-ing happily. Sirocco's tail twitched and he lowered his head to let them touch noses with him. This group was the bunch that had not grown distant from him as they grew up, and even now they enjoyed coming to visit him, to spend time in his company. They snuggled up to him and then frisked around him, making leaps over his back, wiggling their little woolly tails in delight. Sirocco let them play, a contented smile playing about his muzzle.

Ricochet lifted her head from the dirt and watched as Siro nosed the small sheep. She smiled and let her tail thump about on the ground. She sighed happily and closed her eyes again, just listening to the various sounds of farm life. A yawn escaped the Border's muzzle and she folded her ears back as she inhaled softly. She stretched her forepaws out as best she could, digging into the ground. Her eyes not leaving the flock. She’d smile once again and wuff quietly to Siro.

The young dog had had so many wrong turns in life, and she sighed thinking about them. Her ears folded back and she stood up. Shaking the dirt from her coat. She looked up to the sky, as the wind blew softly through her pelt. Her eyes glossed over as the sky that was above her seemed to magically change from the light blue of day to the pinks and oranges of dusk.

She walked over to Siro and perked her ears, watching him watch the flock. She offered a slow tail wag to him and then moved to the flock. Rhonno was running about with the other lambs. Ric smiled and walked up to Belle, sitting and chatting with her for a moment. They talked about many things, and as they went on as old friend’s, the sky only grew darker. The Border Collie’s eyes softened as she met the old Ewe’s.

Under the now purple sky, that was turning midnight blue, the two ended their conversation. Ric stood up and yawned, stretching. She was then going to do a head count before retiring back under the porch and letting Siro do what he was there for. She counted them all, and was ready to leave the pen when she stopped dead in her tracks. Where is Rhonno? Her heart sank and she leapt out of the pen, her back legs pushing powerfully for her to get over the fence. Her foot barely missed the wire set there for other predators and she hit the ground gracefully.

Her ears flew back and she called out to Siro. She wasn’t thinking clear. Digging into the ground hard she clamped her teeth down and closed her eyes tightly, memories flooding back. Her heart was pulsing fast, and she was hurting, bad. Her head throbbed as the attack hit her again. That coyote. His teeth ripping into her, claws slashing. She winced and cried out loud, howling. Ric lowered her nose to the ground, picking up his scent and then flew down the hill, into the woods where she was lead.

This could prove to be very dangerous indeed.

At Ricochet's first panicked cry, the big Maremma had cocked a triangular white ear towards the noise, but had been too concerned in double-checking the flock numbers to take notice just then. Ricochet had sounded somewhat panicked, but the flock was always his top priority, and she was an excitable dog. He'd go over to her to see what was wrong after he had finished over here, and he huffed in her direction to let her know that he had heard.

He moved amongst the sheep, touching noses with each one in turn by way of a headcount. It was only after he was snuffling in some consternation, noticing that there was one less lamb than there should be, that realisation hit him.

No.

First and foremost, there was the lost lamb to search for. But now there was a lost border collie to find too. Why on earth hadn't she reported this to him the second she had noticed something amiss? Well, he guessed that her job was to keep the flock together... but his was to keep it safe.

Sirocco darted a quick glance towards the farmhouse. The shepherds were closing the gate now and making sure the flock settled down for the night. There was nobody else missing, of that he was sure. Right. First things first.

Removing himself from the pen, Sirocco circled the perimeter of it, reinforcing his marks and making new ones as an open threat to any wild dogs or coyotes. They would think twice about a midnight meal now. Then he cast about, searching for any trail that might be of some use to him.

The lamb Rhonno's was nowhere to be found, but he picked up Ricochet's spoor within minutes. She was headed away into the dark with great flying strides, tearing up the grass in her wake. But at least he had picked her up. Perhaps she might lead him to the woolly little rebel. Head lowered but gazing straight ahead, Sirocco headed along the trail with his long, purposeful trot.

Ricochet’s feet had never carried her faster. Galloping across the rolling hills she searched where she could see. Stopping every once in a while, to sniff the moist ground to pick up a scent. Growling with frustration the bitch continued on her journey. Her tail was low, and her ears were alert for any sounds that the lamb would make. Stopping again for a moment, Ricochet looked back. The Border Collie was concerned. Not only for the lamb, but herself. Siro had not followed her, or at least not that she could see. Furrowing her brow she shot off again, shooting down the hill like a falling star.

Fainting bleats could be heard from the hills, echoing out in pain. Rico’s heart was racing, and her mind was clouded. She was confused, and was beating herself up about the whole ordeal. She should have been watching them. She should have kept count. She could have done things so differently. But it was too late for could have’s. She needed to face the present. Thundering paws still carried the small dog far away from the farm, and she dared not look back once again. If she were to find Rhonno alive, she would need to hurry. And be quick.

The small Border Collie’s ears hugged the back of her head as she quickly gained ground, tongue lolling out of her mouth as she did so. A stinging scent filled the air, and it slammed the Border’s nose like a door to the face. Blood. After the run in with the Coyote, Ricochet knew that scent all too well. At first it caused the small bitch to halt in her tracks, but after a moment of realization she snarled her lips and took off again, her hackles raised high. A deep, hurtful feeling filled her heart and she hoped she was not too late. Her eyes searched the fields and she spotted something in the distance. Where the blood scent was coming from. Without hesitation she darted to it, only to notice, Rhonno there on the ground, dead and covered in blood. Hovering above him, a large mutt. Fury filled the dog and she slammed into the other’s side.

This scene was all too familiar to Ricochet and her heart was beating quickly as she tore into the mutt’s flesh. He was much smaller than the coyote, but much more successful. The Border Collie was now in for the fight of her life. She was scared to death she would be killed, only she did not want to allow it. The headstrongness of the Collie was probably the only thing that kept her from running. The mutt’s jaw ripped into her shoulder, causing her to yelp in a sharp pain. Claws slashed her skin and teeth were constantly snapping, and ripping at her fur. Not allowing herself to give up, Ricochet dug her claws deep into the mutt’s back, and tried her best to make her way to his throat. Roaring in pain the large dog threw Rico to the ground, and snapped ferociously at her face, only to have her jaws meet his muzzle and latch onto it. At that very moment she took the opportunity to slash at his throat, throwing him from her, and regaining her feet. Hackles still raised and teeth bared, she charged at him, head butting him hard and sending him rolling.

A low growl was the only other thing offered to him before he loped off to lick his wounds. Rico puffed out her chest and lowered her head, watching the sad excuse of a dog wander off into the woods. She was shaking from the pain of her wounds, a gash on her shoulder and a slit on her neck. She was once more beaten and battered. But it was her job. Turning from the other dog she looked to the lamb that lay still in the crimson liquid. Her heart had never hurt so bad. The small dog’s ears fell back and she slowly walked to the lifeless body. She took in a deep breath. And nuzzled the cotton like fur of the baby. She furrowed her brow and lay next the Rhonno. Her heart was hurting bad. And she nuzzled him once more, she swore if dogs could cry she would have shed what her humans called tears.

Swallowing hard, Rico stood and howled loudly, and long. It was searching. Searching for Siro. It was simply one of the most heart-wrenching things one could witness. Think of a mother losing her child. Rico nuzzled the body once more, and pressed her nose to his coat once more, his own blood smearing her muzzle. The watered eyes of the sheepdog fell to ground, and then wandered to the sheep, her heart low and cold. She would take the blame for it. But she never wished for it. Positioning herself to wrap around the young lamb, Rico laid her head over his lifeless body, licking his ears, and waiting.

---

Sirocco thundered across the turf. Ricochet was far swifter than he was and outstripped him easily, but the Maremma's rolling, tireless gait could carry him for miles at a stretch, and eventually he had to catch up with her. His own scent, the farmhands and the watchful Belle would all keep the flock safe he knew, but still his skin prickled and the dense white fur along his hackles and the nape of his neck began to stand on end.

He didn't like being away from them. It felt wrong, so completely wrong. A flock-guardian's place was with his flock, and he couldn't stop the feeling of uneasiness that spread throughout his body. He wished he could turn back, but this was impossible. There was no way he could explain this particular thing to the humans; they were too slow, and there was no time to be lost. Ricochet and Rhonno could be in very real danger. Suzy herself had been maa-ing forlornly when he left her, and the echoes of her lonesome cry still hung in the air. At least the weather was still relatively warm with the final traces of summer, otherwise he'd be really worried. With winter came desperate predators.

He had to stop a couple of times to relocate her scent, and go more slowly. She had come through so fast, leaping and bounding and zigzagging up hills and down, that her trail was frenzied and broken in many places. Sirocco whuffed cautiously as her scent grew stronger, and suddenly, as that familiar voice rose in a terrible howl of pain that tore right through his chest, Sirocco broke once more into a gallop, barrelling straight for the sound.

Sirocco was more worried than he had ever been, even that first time. Rusty and Pepper had been with him then, and they were older than he, faster, and smarter. They knew what to do; he just followed in their wake and did as he was meant to. But this time, this was just him and Ricochet. She was so young still, not so much younger than he himself had been at the time. And this time, he was the one in charge -- though at first he had taken on the responsibility with great pride and the rightness of filling a position that had been meant for him, he now felt it weigh on him like a stone around his neck, heavy in the pit of his belly.

He was alone now, and he didn't know what to do.

Finally, finally, he saw her, illumined in a beam of moonlight, the white of her coat seeming to glow in the darkness. She was curled around... what was it? A small, white woolly form, very still, so very still... no. No.

Feeling a great numbing horror grip him, Sirocco froze for a while, and then moved forward, his slow, purposeful movements not betraying the turmoil within him. At last he was standing over them. They both stank with the foul smell of a dog he did not know, and the sharp scent of blood. The horror and confusion deepened as he saw the young collie's muzzle, stained dark with blood.

"Ricochet," he rumbled softly, his great voice holding just the tiniest hint of a tremor. "What have you done?"

Ricochet’s ears perked as she could hear the footsteps of the big dog, named Sirocco. She looked to him with sad eyes, pain filling her whole body. Then came the accusation. “Siro…no. You can’t possibly think I would do this. To...one of my own? I would never so much as harm a sheep, surely not a lamb. How……how could you accuse me of such things?” Ricochet slid from beside Rhonno. Her head still low. She looked to Sirocco, a knot in her throat so big she could hardly swallow.

“There was another dog. A medium sized dog, smaller than a coyote...But bigger then I. He came out of no where.” Ric stood very still, not wanting to hurt her shoulder any more than it already was. Looking to Sirocco, her spirit was damaged more than it had ever been. Her ears were flat on her head and she whined quietly. She wasn’t sure what hurt more. The fact that Rhonno had been killed, or the fact that Sirocco, a dog she had spent some time with…could think she would do such a thing. A sigh was released from her muzzle as she looked away, nothing seemed to even touch the male dog. He had not looked away from the collie or the sheep.

A few moments passed by and Ricochet’s ears perked up once more as she could hear another set of paws dancing lightly on the ground. A rumbling grow was given as a warning to who ever it was approaching the two dogs and the blood stained carcass of the lamb. Pure hatred was all Ric felt now, her head lowered and she let her tail fall down her body. Two eyes could be seen peering from the woods. “You…” Ricochet’s voice was low, and growly. Her eyes locked onto the eyes and she began to carry herself closer to the object, still rumbling with growls.

Never saw the backlash, when the tide began to rise. Ricochet snapped, trying to kill the noise in her head she took off like a bullet. All that could be heard was the slamming of the two bodies meeting and an immediate thundering of snarls, growls, barks and yips. The blood that had dried on Ricochet’s muzzle was now re-stained with the wild dogs own blood as she tore into his ear, slicing it roughly.

The hatred grew within the Collie, and she had no regards for her own safety. Within no time the dog was over the top of her, and her back was pinned to the ground. “You bastard!” Ricochet growled. “I’ll kill you if you don’t kill me. Mark my words I’ll rip your cords slap outta your throat!” The bitch snarled and pushed her paws against the wild dog’s face, slicing into his soft flesh. His blood dripped down his coarse fur and ran onto her. Fueled by his own anger and hunger he threw his head, only to slam into Ricochet’s chest, and latched onto her neck.

What now….?

She couldn't have done it. She couldn't. She was Ricochet, his partner of the pastures, who helped him in all matters pertaining to the flock. She and he had come to understand each other so completely that their work was impeccable, and she would certainly never have harmed a sheep. It was impossible. And yet just the sight of her sitting there over the body of the helpless thing, bloodstained and weeping... Her whimpered explanation came but as a distant noise to his inner turmoil. Yet he couldn't do anything but stand there and stare at them both. It was almost as if he didn't know what to think, or what to feel, or how to do either anymore.

Neither of them moved from their positions until Sirocco felt that he could bear it no longer, and he prepared his voice to bark a command at her, to get herself away from the lamb. But in that instant he saw her ears go up, and a growl issued from her throat.

“You…"

Then she was off again, pouncing at something in the woods. Sirocco started forward, then stopped, one paw upraised. His first instinct was to go to the lamb, but his senses told him it was already dead. And Ricochet there, fighting something very much alive...

The stench hit him a second later. That foul smell -- it had been littered all around the clearing and here it was now, in the flesh, and as such to the big dog it seemed even more foul. There was a wild dog here -- must be, had to be the same wild dog that had taken the errant lamb. Sirocco's chest flooded with wild relief as he realised that Ricochet had not been the killer after all -- how could he have suspected her? -- when in the next instant it occurred to him that the collie herself was now fighting for her own life, and his heart seemed to stop.

Time itself seemed to stop, as he reacted without thinking. The brute had her pinned and was going for her throat; Sirocco snapped forward like an arrow from a bow. Roaring his way across the clearing, he hit the dog with such force that it knocked him clear off the collie's prone body and into the bushes beyond. The killer didn't even have time to gasp for breath -- let alone beg for mercy -- before Sirocco's teeth were tight in his neck and the massive white body was pinning him to the ground, and the life thus crushed out of him.

Such was his fury that such a creature would dare to attack his flock, and what was more, to attack his partner, that Sirocco growled and squeezed long after the wild dog was dead.

When he at last let the limp broken body fall, Sirocco heaved himself to his feet and gazed impassively at the cause of all the trouble. Cause he had been, but he would certainly trouble them no more, and the big dog would thus give him no more thought. Turning around, he sought out Ricochet with his eyes. Where was she? The image of her bloodstained and mourning before the dead lamb was burned into his memory -- had she fought off the dog a first time? Now that he came to think about it, there had been signs of a struggle... And how long had she been here by herself? Had she been as worried as he? He must find her and they must return to the farm. Quickly.

Now anxious to find her, Sirocco continued to search the clearing, a worried whine slipping from his throat.

Ricochet’s eyes fell back on the limp body of the lamb. She was way too small to move the poor thing. She would need to get the farmer’s help. And telling Rhonno’s mother, oh god. The Collie was heart broken. She was lost, and had no idea what to do. She was banged up from the fight, and mad at herself for not getting to the sorry bastard sooner. Looking back to Siro, who had saved her life, she gave a thankful smile. Slowly rising, her shoulder stinging with pain, and her whole body aching, she slowly paced to the large brute. Smiling to him, she slowly slid her head under his thick neck, now stained with blood of the wild dog.

Her brown eyes met with his as she slid from under his neck and looked into his own captivating eyes. The world seemed to disappear as she gazed into them, her body still shaking. Her mind was screaming a million things at her, for the moment that she stared. Looking away all her senses came back, and the reality of everything hit her. She swallowed hard and sighed, blinking momentarily. She looked back to her hero, and nuzzled him once more, opening her muzzle, to speak. “Siro…I……I love you.”

She was here now, and she was coming to nuzzle under him and press close to him, and it occurred to Sirocco that comfort was perhaps what she wanted from him now. Slowly, wordlessly, he bent his great white bear's head down over her small sleek one.

Love? Of course she did, and of course he loved her. She seemed for a moment, Sirocco thought, to be stating the obvious. She was part of his pack, part of his family, along with the sheep and the farmhands and the farmer's family. They were all each a part of the same whole, and of course love and loyalty were the ties that kept them all together. But now, here in the darkness, alone with her, he was beginning to realise what it would have meant to lose her, this bright young spirit that had been such a friend to him and so instrumental in getting him a place at this farm. He thought of the two dead things, and then shuddered, knowing if it hadn't been for him, Ricochet might well be a dead thing herself, and the murderer alive.

A very long time ago, running away after a would-be killer had cost him his place at a farm, and that was why this night he had feared leaving the flock on a wild goose chase would be another mistake. Now he understood that it had absolutely been the right thing to do. The sheep were safe in their pen, and now, because he had come here, Ricochet was safe too.

She meant what she said. She had never felt such a connection with another being. Ever. Her heart raced as she waited for a reply, and she looked off into the distance, not wanting to hear something like Salinger had told her long ago. The tune played in her head, and it matched how she felt. She could remember it well, the song that her mistress played every so often. The song was called “Promise”. It fit her, but she could also match the lyrics of a happy song. Grateful that she was alive. For those dogs who had owners of the right age group, they would know the song. She couldn’t remember the name of the game in which the song had sprung, but it was something about “Silent something.” Silent Hill maybe?

That was nothing to be bothered with at the moment. The small dog looked back to Sirocco and looked deep into his eyes, offering a lick to his muzzle. She cared deeply for him. But after a while of silence, she lowered her head and walked toward the lamb. Nuzzling him once more, she let out another howl, carrying her prayers to the great sheepdogs of the past to watch over her lost flock member. Looking back to Siro, she slowly stood and began to trod the beaten path to the farm.

Watching her as she turned away from him and howled, he wondered at her, realising that all this time how little he really knew about her. He knew her scent, knew her gait, knew her technique, the way that she darted and flashed around the flock like a golden bullet, knew how to coordinate his own movement with hers. He knew her cocksure tone, and her laughter, and her stubbornness. But all that time gone by, and really he knew the sheep better than he did her. It was an epiphany that staggered him, and he trembled slightly as he got to his feet. He comforted himself with the fact that at least she didn't seem badly hurt. But all the same, the best thing they could do was return to the farm and let the humans see to her.

Glancing at the dead lamb, he snuffed tenderly at Rhonno's still face one last time before turning his back on the bloody scene and following after Ricochet. He still wasn't sure of what to say to her, and he had the feeling that if he tried to say anything his words would sound awkward and clumsy and altogether out of place. But he kept close behind her, as if she were a sheep he was to guard, all senses alert for any danger that might threaten them a second time tonight.

As long as he was alive, no harm would come to her. Never.