Mosaic - Jeri Taylor [99]
She proceeded at that brisk pace for some minutes, head down, not knowing or caring in what direction she walked. Finally, she stopped, breathing deeply, and watched her breath crystallize in the air in front of her. She turned slowly in a circle, staring into a void of snow-whirled blackness. If she lay down, the snow would form a blanket for her, gradually piling up like goose down, enfolding her in gentle sanctuary and shielding her from visions of icebergs and hungry fish.
It was easy. She could bend her knees and sink to earth. It would be so natural it hardly required a decision.
And yet she remained upright. She was losing body heat, she realized. If she wasn't going to lie down, she should keep moving. And suddenly there was a decision to be made and the ease went out of everything. It was at that point that she heard the noise. The first time, she discounted it, thinking it was a variant of the wind. But the second time, she knew it had an entirely different quality, a plaintive whine tinged with desperation.
She hadn't yet snapped on her wrist beacon, but did so now, throwing the beam in a circle as she tried to determine where the sound was coming from, but the beam scarcely penetrated the snow cloud. She began moving in the general direction of the soft whine, straining to hear it more clearly. From the corner of her eye, she saw something moving on the ground, and she turned to throw the beam of light on it.
At first, it seemed to be a short, light brown snake, but it didn't move like a snake; it was actually hobbling on stubby legs. It took a moment for her to register that it was a hairless puppy, no more than a few weeks old, trying to scrabble along the snowy ground on legs that were too weak to lift its pitifully thin body off the ground. The pup was mewling forlornly, a miserable bundle of cold and hunger. It found her boot and promptly collapsed on top of it, as though realizing it had found safe harbor.
Kathryn scooped it up, feeling the frail bones through the puppy's skin. It had lost a lot of body heat, and had clearly given its last measure of effort to make the trek to her boot.
She tucked it inside her parka and felt the little thing's tiny heart beating wildly. For a moment she was afraid it was going to die under her coat, its life's last energy spent on the journey to haven. But gradually it calmed, and she even thought she felt it growing warmer. She had to get home. The puppy needed food, and warmth, and medical attention. If it had the grit to survive this long in such wretched conditions, she wasn't going to let it die on her watch. She turned in the still swirling whiteout, trying to get her bearings. She had no idea how long she'd walked, or in what direction. Making the wrong choice could take her deep into frozen fields of farmland, kilometers from her house.
But purpose honed her instincts. Without quite understanding how, she knew where home was. She set off, walking briskly, unerring, determined to save the fragile life of the tiny being she held to her bosom.
"Petunia, heel! Heel, Petunia!" Kathryn used her most authoritative tone of voice, but the four-month-old pup paid no attention. Now a healthy, silky bundle of fur-and from appearances a generic black retriever-Petunia had become a sassy, irrepressible being with unlimited energy, insatiable curiosity, and endless tenacity.
Of course, it was that very life spirit that had helped Kathryn to heal. For days she had nursed the starved, dehydrated puppy back to health, and in doing so, found a reason to connect again with the world. She had reported for duty at Starfleet Headquarters and announced her intention to pursue command; Admiral Paris arranged for a postgraduate training program, which allowed her to remain on Earth for six months before being assigned to a space mission.
Six months, she figured,