[STM] Home is Where The Heart Is

He wasn’t back yet. Hunched close to the entrance of their small metal den, Whiskey’s auburn nose was the only thing that peeked out, rain trickling over and down her muzzle. Her brown eyes searched through the rain, through the grass, even as far as she could see along the horizon. The rain was a deluge of gray and mist, and her eyes struggled to see deep through it; she couldn’t see him. Where was he. Why wasn’t he back. The rain was getting worse. Where was he?

Her distress was mounting, vicious and fast, and she had to suppress the urge to bolt out of the den to start howling his name. Still, her paws stayed planted, pressed firmly into the cold stone floor… anything to ground herself for just a moment longer. In reality, she hadn’t been waiting long. She’d finished her rounds around their territory, and then began to pick her way back to their home closer to the human settlement; it wasn’t ideal. Living so close to people was nerve wrecking, and sometimes exhausting if she was being honest. Bourbon was far more optimistic about it, but Whiskey had been hesitant from the start; she didn’t like the whirring of their cameras in their den’s area. She didn’t like knowing they were watching them, for whatever reason, from afar - safe somewhere else, while she and Bourbon struggled out in the elements.

… She saw something emerging from the fog and rain, dark fur and something sopping wet in their mouth. She nearly jolted from her position, forward, to embrace them. He was home, her senses screamed, taking in air like she’d forgotten to breathe. 

“Bourbon?!”

“Here!” Her mate responded, even over the howl of the storm. Realistically, she knew that he couldn’t have been far… They knew of other land past their island, but they were confined close to the human building, for better or for worse. He most certainly couldn’t have swam off the island… but where did he get that…? Better yet, what was it…? “Here, Whisk!!!”

She backed away from the entrance, letting him enter and shake his fur off. Although they were trapped, their den was cozy, roomy, and there was little to no danger they had to worry about. Here, they were the top dogs, for better or for worse. Now that Bourbon was inside, she could smell the scent of a fresh meal, a small gopher that he probably flushed out of a den in the chaos from the storm rolling over. With him back in the den, she felt her nerves settle and her fur quit bristling, her tail wagging at the thought of a meal. She’d been a bit hungry, admittedly –

“I’m sorry,” Bourbon went to nuzzle her excitedly, and she was instantly distracted, huffing happily at him in return. “The rain caught me a bit off guard! But look! I found a snack on my way back!”

“You shouldn’t have gone so far anyways,” Whiskey sniffed, trying to calm her heart from her earlier stress. “I was done with my patrol far before you were.”

“The waves were pretty calm today! And then the rain came in and…” Bourbon grinned sheepishly. “No worries though! Nothing to worry about, nothing to report from out there.”

“And! And!” His front legs splayed, play-bowing towards her excitedly. “I found a cool little tide pool area! When the water is low, we can go over there, see if we can find anything fun to decorate the den and nest with?”

“Decorating the den? Again?” Whiskey looked almost tiredly towards the multitude of nests they had, both for them and any future pups. Some were covered in feathers, other in fur and fluff – still other nests were tucked full of moss and leaves from the few trees in their area… “Have you… not done enough of that, hun?”

“Not with stuff from the beaches and shores!” Bourbon’s tail wagged more. She found it difficult to be extremely exasperated with him when he gave her that look. Whiskey found herself smiling fondly at him. “There’s so many pretty shells and we could get some of that green plant that washes up to maybe dry out? Maybe we can see if it gets soft enough for a nest!”

“I don’t think you can do better than some bracken and moss but…” Whiskey sighed. “It’s worth a try, I guess.”

Thunder cracked through the air above them. Bourbon jumped, his fur puffing, and quickly skittered further inside – dragging the gopher closer to his mate, tail wagging littler now. 

Whiskey was admittedly just as spooked by the noise, but with her other half back in the den, everything seemed calmed, slower. Bourbon pressed his wet fur into her flank, making her kick playfully at him, and they settled in together to eat their meal and weather the storm together.

“... When do you think those humans will let the fences down? To let us get outta here, I mean.” Whiskey quietly asked, watching her mate nose around for the best place to start with their meal. Bourbon paused to think, his ears lowering a bit. 

“... Mm… I dunno.” He mumbled, leaning into her side a bit more. “It’s… really hard to say. I’ve tried digging at the fences and posts… they don’t budge.” 

“Yeah,” She quietly agreed, her ears pinning as the sky growled and rumbled overhead a bit more. The rain thrummed along the roof of their den; noisy, but comforting, constant. It was home, as odd as the circumstances were for them. “I’ve tried too.”

“... We’ll find a way,” Bourbon pressed his nose into her forehead for just a moment. “We did before we got placed here. And we always will. Even here.”

Whiskey’s tail wagged despite her reservations and concerns. Leave it to Bourbon to lift her spirits, even if just a little. She let herself lean fully into his side, even though his fur was damp and he smelled like rain and mud. “... Yeah. Even here. Always.”