Work Text:
Meeko had been the most loyal companion. His friend had told him so. It made sense for him, then, to sit by his side in the dim cabin.
The lantern had been lit hours ago. He'd lost track, night animals' scents disappearing into daylight birds and rabbits, sniffing through the snow for any hope of green. Funny, to Meeko. This cabin was cold, and the snow was thick. To find any greenery out there to eat was a funny idea. Still, he watched out the window as rabbits scurried over a worn road his friend had taken him down many times.
He'd found Meeko when he was a mere pup, a little thing. Scraggly and matted, his meals whatever he could scrounge up in the wake of wolf attacks. The man had taken Meeko in, given him a warm place to sleep, and food when he had plenty to spare. Sometimes, Meeko still hunted rabbits, or foxes, or ate of wolf kills. But this was during hard times, and most times were not as hard. He'd come home to a warm hearth in the tiny shack, and sleep at his friend's side.
This was for many years. Meeko grew larger, and stronger. His fur, clipped to get out the mats back then, was tidier than it had once been, and thick against the cold. He pawed at the snow, maybe hoping for scraps of something his friend had not eaten, but not wanting to leave the cabin for long. He was tending his friend now, after all, bringing him bits of whatever he could find. Sticks, or meat, or bones. The food in the bowls Meeko couldn't reach had gone bad, but rot didn't come. The cold kept that at bay.
Meeko would nudge his face into the palm of his friend, many years of this, curled up under the bed and licking the human's fingers. He'd laugh and pet Meeko's muzzle and tell him to go to bed. Meeko would whine, not wanting to sleep yet, but close his eyes nonetheless. The hearth would crackle as the wind blew against the thin shelter. The warmth kept them both safe, and comfortable, and the dreams of chasing rabbits and birds carried him off to sleep many of those nights.
The hearth had not been lit for several days, and Meeko was unsure of when it would be, again. His friend had slept in too long. He was usually up and moving, doddling about, or complaining about something, based on the tone as he pressed a hand over his knee, bent in pain. The whines leaving him were dog-like in their nature, and Meeko understood, and would nuzzle his face on the aching limb and his friend would pause, and pet the dog, and tell him something. He did not understand entirely. Something of rocks. He understood a rock. He'd had them thrown at him when he was a young thing, scrounging in the garden of a farmer far away. But he didn't understand what that had to do with anything else the man said.
Meeko was still loyal to the sleeping form. He would hunt for his food, bring it back, as the man had done for him so many times. Take care of each other. That is what they always did. So Meeko brought rabbits, and when his friend did not eat them for a day, he would, instead. And he would bring fox meat, and when that went uneaten, then he would finish it up for his friend. Hunger was a strange beast, and Meeko knew it to be fickle at times. This must be one of those. For days, he brought back skeevers and rodents and the occasional shrew. And ate them, later, too.
He licked his friends hand. His skin was cold, and turning blue, and beginning to smell. The cold had kept most things at bay, but time was inevitable. Meeko licked the skin again, and whimpered. He'd known something was off. His friend had never been one for laying in bed, even when in immense pain. He'd gone to towns and brought Meeko with him. Dawnstar was his favorite, the crescent shape of the city and the sea, he could find many fish there, and he'd developed a like for fish. His friend liked fish, too, and they would spend hours at a warm fire on the coast, his friend roasting the salmon he caught and tossing Meeko some.
He sniffed the air. Something was coming. A person, by the stench of clothes well-worn and the sweat. Meeko looked at his friend. He'd always been loyal. He'd never thought to stray, but his friend needed help. If Meeko could help him like the man had once helped Meeko...
He sprinted into the direction of the scent, sniffing the ground, following the trail. Barking and calling out to see who would answer, or what. The sight of someone on the road came into view, their body tall and covered in armor. He barked, again, and when the person drew a weapon, Meeko skidded to a stop in the snow, whimpering. His ears went back, and he hunkered down, tilting his head. He knew people could be nervous around things which ran and were covered in fur and barked for their attention. He knew what wolves were, after all.
When the person sheathed their weapon, he barked again. The person looked confused, and made noises like they were. Meeko barked, and turned, rushing in the direction of his cabin. He had to hope that this person would follow, and the footsteps behind him and smell of them told him that they were. He could get help to his friend, things could be alright again, he just had to make it back.
When he spotted the threshold of the cabin, Meeko again came to a stop, and slowly stepped through the doorway. His paws were cold with the frost. The person followed, and looked inside, hands covering their mouth. He tilted his head, he had never seen that gesture before, not like that. The person picked up his friends journal, and after skimming it, looked to him.
"Do you want to come with me?"
Meeko barked, looking to his friend. The person took the chair his friend so often did, and pet Meeko's head. Their hands were warm beneath the leather covering their palms, and they scratched behind his ears like his friend so often did. The person gave a shove to his friends body, just to see, and when his friend did not move, Meeko understood. It had been too late for help. Meeko had done all he could, and even though he whined at the sight and buried his face against his friends hand one last time, there was nothing to do.
"Come on, Meeko, let's go home." The person rose as they said the words, and they were words he knew and understood a thousand times. His friend had said the same. This was home, though, but he knew that it was not. Not anymore. He looked again to his friend, and licked at his hand one more time, and knew by the taste now that his friend had gone away a long time ago.
Meeko turned, and he followed. Meeko was a loyal dog, his friend had told him so. Maybe this would be another one he could be loyal to.