Trailhead Troubles

"Speak now."

"That's not how dogs work."

The small puppy merely looked up at the pair of hikers, oblivious to the command and the condescending tone in Mary's voice.

Kim shrugged at her hiking partner, limited by the heavy gear strapped to her back and front. The sun had started its slow descent as they neared where she thought she left her truck. But the waning light and heavy eyelids marred their routine navigation.

Mary was unamused and hoped the sigh said more than her glare did. She dropped to one knee, putting a tentative hand out to the shaking pooch, who wasted no time sniffing it, thumping a little tail against the hard-packed ground. "He's scared. We can't leave him out here."

Kim exhaled forcefully; she never liked animals. It wasn't an issue of space or funds-she had an abundance of both. But growing up in an attorney's house with a penchant for cleanliness had left its mark, and she just couldn't see the benefits of letting an animal live rent free in her spotless home.

"He's probably just taking a walk," Kim muttered, stepping past her kneeling friend and the relaxed dog. She contained the nose crinkle to her forehead, but her irritation was not lost to Mary.

"He's smaller than your shoe," Mary explained, scooping him up in her arms. "There's no way he just wandered out here. He was dumped." The pup's whine lasted all of two seconds before he settled into the crook of her elbow; big, doe eyes baring an uncanny resemblance to everything Mary thought was adorable. Mary didn't attempt to mask the cooing, much to Kim's further irritation.

"Even more reason to leave him where he is." Decidedly out of the equation, Kim didn't wait around for Mary to follow her, nor does she spare a glance to the unwelcome party member. If the steepness of the trail hasn't yet proven to be challenging even with both arms, the slickness of the rocks will. Kim figured Mary would find out soon enough.

"He looks like a hound of some kind. Maybe he could be a good hiking dog."

Kim rolled her eyes, but kept walking uphill, picking each step carefully.

"I already have a hiking partner," she called back. "What can a dog do that you can't?"

Mary blew a raspberry in her direction, seemingly unbothered by the extra energy it took to carry the five-pound lump of fur up an already difficult trail. As the path steepened, however, even Kim could tell Mary was more concerned with ensuring the pup was secure over her own two feet.

Mary bit back a laugh. "Dogs don't talk back, that's one for them."

A tease of a smile snuck onto Kim's face. "A trait I wouldn't mind you practicing more."

Mary gave in to her rattling laugh. "Then why do you hate dogs?"

The twitch of Kim's mouth contorted into a frown. "I don't hate them; I just don't see the need for them. They stink, they don't clean up after themselves, and they're an added expense on an already expensive existence."

"I could argue that children are the same burden, yet you love them."

"That's because children grow into adults, who then check all the right boxes in November or do stupid things and hire me to bail them out."

"That's a very one-sided stance."

"I'm a very one-sided person."

Kim hopped across a small crevice snaking along the rock. She took a moment to point it out to Mary, who had a slightly harder time navigating it, but Kim was not about to offer her only free arms for the runt. Once Mary was behind her again, Kim resumed her previous pace, using trees to pull herself up the steeper parts of the treacherous trail.

"You think, maybe, you only hate dogs because they're readily available while what you really want-"

"We're not talking about this anymore." Kim's tightened voice left no room for argument. But she glanced backward, gesturing to the mess of long legs and big paws folded within her friend's arms. "As soon as we get back to the trail head, he's going back where he belongs. I don't want dog smell in my car."

Without missing a step or slipping an inch, Mary looked down at her ward then. All black fur and brown eyes of him, a sudden sadness overtaking her features. The whimpers of the pup grew to a volume even Kim couldn't ignore.

"We should've left him where he was."

Mary readjusted her newfound friend, hoping bad posture was the source of his discomfort. But no orientation of his legs or her arms relaxed him. Whimpers quickly become whines which become a stop on the trail.

"Shut him up, I can't think," Kim barked, rubbing her temples. She looked around but nothing jarred her senses as familiar. "Wait, are we south or west of the lake?"

Mary stopped shuffling to look around, too, the puppy squirmed against her while sharp claws dug into the soft part of her forearm. She winced, reflexively dropping her hands. The dog hit the ground with a muted thump before turning to face the way they had hiked, a sound rumbling out of his little body sounding more and more like a growl.

The hairs on the back of their necks stood on end, as the quietness of the woods settled around them; an eerie calm with no grounds to be. They pushed backward, facing the same direction of the barking puppy. The fur along was raised along his back, trailing from his neck all the way down to his tail.

A blot of yellow, then brown, appeared down the trail. Mary sucked in a breath, grabbing Kim's arm reactively. Despite the fingernails sunk into her wrist, Kim didn't pull away, or couldn't, for all she knew. Her feet were frozen to the ground, while the puppy's claws were dug into the soft earth, muscles coiled as the cougar approached.

The yellow eyes didn't immediately fall onto the dog's, focusing more on the quivering humans unable to flee, but a quick glance downward didn't perturb the feline's advance. Before the cat could get within twenty feet of them, however, the puppy launched forward, a mouthful of needles preceding a squeaking snarl.

Shock more than fear sent the feline backtracking, and despite the huge size difference, the puppy didn't seem fazed at all even when the bloodcurdling growl left the cat's maw. Nor did he flinch when it hissed at him, baring a pair of fangs that were easily twice as long as he is tall.

But the little dog kept his charge, never tearing his eyes away from the cat. Even a few swipes of its massive clawed paw didn't persuade the canine to abandon his mission. The cougar started to back away, hissing and snarling as the humans' voices rose to a roar.

When the last of the sandy fur disappeared from view, Kim turned to Mary, both hikers shaking like trees in a storm.

"I take it back," Kim said throwing a wide eyed glance to her feet. The puppy planted his hind-end square on the top of her hiking boot, bending around to peer up at her.

"I think I hate cats more."