They filled his nose, his eyes, clung to his fur: the fumes, the stench, an impermeable blanked that seeped around, nay, into everything.
He hadn't left this place in days.
He loved it; the metallic clanks and screeches of the junction clattered around inside his ears, and the steel platform produced a gentle hum and vibrated against his paws. Every few minutes, monsters, titanic constructs, hurtled into and out of the station with a great squeal as they ground to a stop.
He wondered how the two-legs tamed their beasts. The monsters were always so close to dashing themselves against the rocks, the barriers and buildings, as they halted their onslaught.
He wondered if it hurt. Sparks flew when the monsters' claws gripped the rails, their bodies groaning under the strain, howls so great errupting from them that it turned their breath to steam.
How, he pondered, had the monsters let themselves be subject to such cruelty? The two-legs, tiny and inconspicuous compared to the behemoths, despite their being only pawsteps from obliteration. How could they give up their sovereignty, become chained to these rails, be controlled? Freedom, the right to self-control, to free will, is the most vital of all natural rights, and he staunchly refused to believe otherwise.
He couldn't let himself live any longer if he were to sacrifice it.
He didn't understand how the monsters could.
Rome rose from the platform. The frost-bitten air cut blew through his legs, cutting into his underbelly. He had been lying here for a good hour, maybe two.
But it was getting late.
The two-legs would be changing watch soon. Every sundown, a new pack would arrive to replace the old.
And they would bring food.
He gave himself a good shake, a thin layer of coal dust and grit dislodging itself from his fur in a cloud of grime. He would look just as grungy as the rest of them.
His belly moaned with anticipation as he moved to the gate.
A bell.
And then they came.
The two-legs streamed out, faces and clothes blackened with soot (the escapable, impermeable blanket carried with it many particles from the cargo). Many held lunch pails, some, he could smell, still with leftovers.
He stood tall, head raised, eyes wide and sparkling. He let his tongue loll out the side of his mouth, let himself pant lightly, and his tail swished through the air behind him.
The two-legs loved it.
He would rear up on his hind legs and snatch bits of meat as they flew in his general direction; the ones that soared overhead he may or may not retrieve later, depending on if he was still hungry (Those were always coated in a fine layer of grit. It was an unpleasant experience). The two-legs huddled together on the platform, the sinking sun quickly being replaced by the harsh, artificial suns rising from all around.
He could hear the purr of the monster quickly approaching. Soon, they could too.
The two-legs pressed against each other, exhaustion quickly setting over them as their salvation neared.
The food became less and less.
Before long, the monster was squealing and howling, huffing and puffing, as it screeched to a halt at the platform.
The pack exchange was over in seconds, both parties eager to switch stations.
The new two-legs never looked down as they filed into their stations.
To Rome, this was most always the most anticipated part of his day. The monster was only pawsteps away from him; he could reach out and lick it if he wanted to. He dared not move, fearing that it might swallow him if the beast knew of his presence. It radiated heat, waves rippling off it's steely sides. It hissed, eve hotter air being expelled from deep within the titan.
It was so powerful. Dangerous. But it was helpless.
Soon it was gone again, backing out of the junction, having to fulfil a new quest.
He still could never comprehend it.
He could breath again. Nothing was quite so thrilling as standing nearly flank-to-flank with that beast of a monster.
He knealt his head down, scooping up the bits of meat that had missed his jowls the first round. They were coated in crust, but food was food, especially in leaf-bare.
And it was then that he noticed how quickly the temperature had dropped. The moon was now rising in the sky, chasing the day away and ruling over the night. The platform was ice against his pawpads.
It would be too cold to sleep at the junction tonight.
He ran. The station was big, even for a big dog. And it was crowded. He leapt over buckets and litter, scaled crates, wove around the buildings and through the alleyways. He soared over the tracks, his ears filled with the sound of his own panting. He couldn't hear if the monsters were coming. He didn't care.
He would find refuge in the forest.
-TO SHADESBURY PARK-
Subject: The Junction 
Mon Jul 24, 2017 1:43 am
