CHAPTER ONE
THE NEW ARRIVAL
It was on the longest night, the winter solstice, when a great black dog staggered towards the farm. Heavy rain lashed, thumping on rooftops and ricocheting from windowpanes.
The black dog stumbled across the yard, casting terrible shadows across cattle barns and sheds. She padded through puddles, breathless and shaking. Crouching under the corrugated iron of the haybarn, she struggled as thick mud slid about her paws. It took what little strength she had to climb the bales and find a safe, dry space. Finally, she settled amongst the straw. Panting and whimpering, she collapsed onto her side, straining to keep both eyes open.
The rain stopped and the clouds began to part. Under the arch of the barn the night sky was just made visible. A fine, bright splinter of moon shone low with a buffed-stained halo. Stars disappeared and reappeared against the pallid sky; dancing and flickering through thin wisps of cloud.
There, under a waxing crescent moon, with the stars in full attendance and the world now still, she gave birth.
Licking and nudging she washed her new arrival: a tiny bundle of black. Wet pelt, eyes closed, body curved, tail tucked. Faint whispers of white fur dappled its chest and paws. She sat, watching and waiting. A faint rhythm- a gentle flicker of life began with a breath. The puppy stirred, it mewed, eyes tightly shut. The mother settled the puppy close to her to feed. She closed her eyes. Then, resting her head, her panting stopped. As the sun emerged from behind the field, the great black dog began to fade. Her form dispersed and flowed out, across, and into the night sky- chased away by the sun.
The farmer awoke with a start. An uneasy sensation rushed through his body, shaking him awake. He hurried downstairs, pulling on his boots and coat. As he opened the front door, he could hear, from the far borders of his land, the hedgerows and coppice erupt. Chirrups, crows, shrieks, and howls- an uncanny chorus filled the air. The farmer checked the sties, the cow shed, the tool shed and the barns. As he reached the haybarn the sound stopped. Every animal hushed, every tree stood stoic, every whisper of a breeze departed. The only sound now heard was a faint, gentle squeak, barely audible. Farmer Hagstone strained to hear. He peeked into gaps and climbed onto haybales, searching and listening then searching again. There, in a corner, up high, nestled in the straw, a black puppy lay, wriggling and mewing.
After the farmer had waited far back and no mother had come, he placed the puppy into the corner of his coat. In the house he found a milk feeder used for the motherless lambs. After a good ten minutes the puppy finished nursing and drifted off to sleep. He settled it into a cardboard box with an old blanket, nestled and content by the warmth of the fire.
“Where did you come from little one and what is to become of you, I wonder.”
