Reddit writing prompt: Cuddles is a good boy

She had left that morning in search of food. “Stay put,” she had commanded sternly, but she smiled anyway. The fur hood fringed her face, tickling her cheeks. “I’ll be back soon.” She booped his black nose, scratched his ears, and walked out to greet the rising sun.

He sat, patient, like he always did. He stared outside the window, watching. He was motionless, except for the twitching of his eyes as he scanned the horizon for her return.

It was October, but this far north, winter was already fierce. Snow drifts accumulated rapidly and pressed against the cabin’s exterior walls. The scrubby brush shuddered violently in the wind. Temperatures plunged during the day, and were nearly immeasurable at night. The thermometer hanging over the porch had long since frozen and cracked.

It had been a hard year.

They found the cabin after they left the city. She was covered in bruises then, and rarely washed her hair. Her golden locks were more like straw, wild and dry, sticking every which way from under her beanie. She would hide her body in an oversized coat and locked the good boy in the other room when the other human yelled so terribly. The good boy tried his best to rescue her, but he could not open the door. Instead, he chewed and clawed it until he made a hole. That made the other human very mad.

One night, he woke up from the sound of her tears. He found her on the floor in the bathroom. He offered his tongue to clean her face and his strong neck to hold onto. That next morning, she hurriedly packed him and a couple of boxes in the back of her rusted Subaru.

She wasn’t prepared. She had no idea how to survive the winter in a drafty, uninsulated cabin. The good boy curled up with her at night, holding his furry body close to her while she shivered. Even though he was cold, he knew she was colder. Together, they snuggled under the pile of blankets, his tail curled around her waist and his paw over her ear.

She ran out of kibble a few days ago. “I’ll find you something tasty, I promise.” Her clumsy fingers had tried to make a noose of sorts, to trap some ptarmigan or other bird she had seen. “I’ll build us a fire and roast us a little snow chicken. You can have the legs, too. I know that’s your favorite!” But until then, she spooned him some peanut butter on a stale piece of bread. It tasted good no matter what, since she was there with him.

The hours ticked by and the sun disappeared quickly. This far north, the sun hardly peeked its face but for a few hours. The good boy grew worried. There was no sign of her, and even though she gave him a command, he nosed the door open and ran out into the night.

The cold was biting and his paws immediately grew icy and numb once they hit the ground. The sharp wind whipped through his fur. He squinted his eyes against the snow flurries. He sniffed the air, vainly. All he could detect was coldness and pain. But he persisted and went in the direction he saw her walk. He trudged through the snow, sinking deep with each step.

Then, he smelled it. Blood. Hers. He snarled, his ferocity taking over. He felt cold no more, only boiling rage. Something hurt her. He galloped through the snow, through the spiny brush, and over frozen streams, until her scent was overwhelming. He found her on a mound of snow, illuminated by the full moon’s light.

A lone wolf was standing over her. He was thin and small, no doubt a young pup abandoned by his pack and struggling to survive. He nervously nibbled at her side where an ugly red splotch stained her blue coat. He eyed his surroundings, probably awaiting his former pack to find him, when he spotted the good boy.

The good boy grew large and bristly. He bared his sharp teeth and spread out his claws. That’s all it took for the wolf to turn tail and race away from his prize catch.

The good boy hurried to the girl. Her eyes were closed and her cheeks were red. Whimpering, he nudged her face and tenderly licked her ear. She roused a bit and reached a gloved hand out.

“Oh, boy, you found me,” she murmured. “Maybe a little too late. I caught us a birdie, you see. But then the wolf..” she groaned in pain, clutching her right side. “He wanted some, too.”

He cried out, tugging at her sleeve. He couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t get up.

“Come, come,” she said. She rolled onto her side and screamed out in pain. The snow under her turned red. “I’m cold, sweet pupper. Come warm me up.” He recognized those words. Flopping down in the snow, he nuzzled up next to her.

“Good boy,” she whispered, curling her shaking body against his. “Stay with me, will you?” She buried her face in his fur. “Don’t leave me alone.”

They laid there through the night. Her breathing slowed and slowed until he could not feel it tickling his ear. The winter sun began its lazy journey in the sky. Her arm, tucked under his, fell limp. The cold crept from under him and began to chill his bones. He did not leave. He could feel his limbs stiffen and he grew so very tired. He could return to the cabin and snuffle around for some more food or hunt the ptarmigan that eluded her. But she asked him to stay. So he would. He was, after all, her good boy.