Chapter Text
There's something howling out in the sands, but it doesn't sound like any dingo Furiosa has ever heard.
“It's someone's dog,” Toast says as the girls crowd around an open window, listening to the eerie noises float to the top of the Citadel's tower.
“Dogs don't exist anymore,” Capable replies with a frown.
“Their song sounds sad,” The Dag puts in.
“It sounds creepy to me,” counters Cheedo, “I'm glad we're up here and whatever it is is down there.”
“It's just a couple of dingos,” Furiosa says in hopes of quelling the discussion, “They probably smell the water and are checking the place out. When they realize how many people there are they'll move on.”
“It's dogs, I'm telling you,” Toast replies. “Bet someone has them trained to hunt, lure people away from their camps and bam!” She lunges with arms extended like claws at Cheedo, who shrieks and skitters away.
The howls continue the next night but fall silent after that, to Furiosa's relief. Whether dingos or dogs or some other creature, noises in the night rarely herald pleasant things to come.
Furiosa is out on an overnight scouting assignment a few weeks later when she hears the howling again, rising and falling with the wind. The light of the full moon is enough to let her see across the sand dunes and she takes advantage of this to search in the direction she thinks the howls are coming from.
They sound much closer than they had in the tower, and she reflexively checks that her pistol is strapped to her waist. Wild animals larger than lizards are uncommon, but no less of a threat for their scarcity. One or two dingos- or dogs- she could handle on her own, thanks to the light provided by the cloudless sky, but she's not counting on it being an easy fight.
Movement over one of the dunes catches her eyes and she raises her gun, waiting for the shadowy shape to become clearer. It's moving towards her slowly, but doesn't seem to be predatory. Maybe Toast was right and it is someone's dog, trained to approach humans without fear.
The creature resolves itself into the largest animal she has ever seen, a great shaggy beast with dark fur and eyes that almost seem to glow blue in the moonlight. Furiosa keeps the gun aimed at it steadily, ready to shoot if it seems the least bit aggressive.
More movement behind the beast reveals a second creature, this one lankier with brighter fur and the same strange eyes. Both of them pause with several dozen meters between them and her, seeming content to stay at a distance.
The lighter one cocks its head at an angle and wags its tail slowly from side to side, the picture of innocence. The darker one hasn't moved its eyes off her face, or off her gun perhaps, and is whining lowly in its throat.
Taking the risk that the two animals won't attack immediately Furiosa lifts her eyes from them to scan the horizon for more movement, but all is still. She debates addressing the hypothetical owner of the creatures, for they seem far too used to humans to be wild, but decides against making noise and prompting an attack. Slowly she steps towards her bike, wishing she had the security of a car's steel body to put between the beasts and her, not once lowering her gun.
The animals don't move closer, though the pale one's tail stops wagging and it looks almost dejected, matching the generally miserable air of the darker one.
She has to lower her gun to get the bike started and it makes her vulnerable, but still no attack comes. Instead the creatures remain where they're standing and watch with their eerie eyes as she makes her escape.
Mournful howls follow her as she speeds away from the beasts, but if they trail her they stay well out of sight.
“It's dogs,” Furiosa tells the girls the next night when the howling starts up again, “I saw them.”
“I knew it! Was there a man with a gun lurking behind them?” Toast asks.
“What did they look like?” Capable asks at almost the same time.
“No men,” Furiosa replies to the far too excited seeming Toast, “And they were like a dingo but big, covered in long fur. They came close to where I was but didn't attack, so I don't know if they're feral or not.”
“We should befriend them,” The Dag suggests, “You have a way with wild creatures.”
“Don't!” Cheedo interjects, “Bad enough that she even got close enough to see them. We should just wait for them to leave, like you said earlier.”
“I wish I'd seen them,” Capable says, “I saw a dog once but it was small, and then we had to eat it.”
“No wonder you think dogs are extinct, if your response to seeing one is to eat it,” Toast says teasingly, and the conversation devolves into joking and laughter.
Furiosa ponders the Dag's suggestion, considers what the cost of taming the beasts would be versus the benefits gained by having such imposing animals at her beck and call. But the howls stop before she's made a decision, and she instead determines to put it out of her mind.
When the first night of the full moon come around again it brings with it the unearthly noise of howling carried on the wind. It sounds almost as close as it had the night she encountered the beasts and Furiosa impulsively make a decision. She'll take her bike out and see if she can either entice them within roping distance or chase them away for good. Thus resolved, she grabs a coil of rope and a small pouch of dried lizard meat on her way out to the vehicle bay where her ride is kept.
Midnight rides aren't technically forbidden but they're not exactly encouraged either, and since she doesn't want to answer questions about her motives she takes care to stay quiet, walking her bike out past the groups of Wretched huddled near the towers. Riding at night is a wholly different experience than navigating the road during the day. Even with the light of the moon and a headlamp it's far more treacherous, and she can't help but move slowly.
From her left shapes detach from the shadows, soon resolving into the two beasts from before. The lighter one is yipping as it runs, tail wagging hard and seemingly delighted to see her again. Neither makes a move to attack her, apparently content to run besides her bike. Perhaps they really did use to be someone's pets.
She slows her bike to a stop when they reach a fairly flat stretch of dirt, one hand on her gun at all times. The animals halt with her, keeping a good amount of distance between them as before.
“Good dogs,” she says, feeling a bit foolish as she does so. “I have some food with me. You can probably smell it, but you didn't attack me for any of it so I'm willing to share.”
The animals lick their chops as she says this, and she takes it as a sign that they recognize the word food, making the theory of them being somewhat used to humans more likely. Keeping her movements slow she reaches into the pouch of jerky, tears a piece in two and then throws them in the direction of the animals.
The light colored dog instantly pounces on the piece nearest it, but the darker one whirls around to face its partner, growling and stopping the pale dog before it can take a bite. Furiosa has never been close enough, nor had the inclination, to observe the few dingo packs that range the wastelands so she has no idea what to expect as the darker dog bristles at the other.
The lighter beast backs away with a whine, hunching its shoulders low. The darker one stops growling and whines in return, some strange type of dog communication taking place that she can't decipher. Whatever offense the pale dog gave it seems to be forgiven a moment later, and they sniff at the jerky warily before snapping it up into their jaws.
“See? Good meat, nothing bad in it,” Furiosa says soothingly. She wonders if the dogs can be enticed to come close enough to be in reach of her rope, and throws some more bites of jerky slightly closer to her.
The darker dog steps forward cautiously, sniffing the meat while keeping its strange eyes on her face. The lighter one follows a second later, seemingly more interested in getting the meat without a scolding than in figuring out whatever game she's playing.
“There you go,” she continues to lightly speak nonsense at the animals, tossing shreds of meat towards them while calculating the distance. The darker one seems to be the leader of the two, that much is obvious, and she thinks that if she can get it tied up the other will follow.
As if sensing her motive the dogs pause the second her hand goes for the rope she has coiled on the side of her bike, ears pricked forward and eyes glowing eerily. Their reaction gives her pause in turn, and it becomes a stand off as neither she nor they move for a long stretch of moments.
Finally Furiosa decides to just go for it and picks up the rope, but as soon as she does the dogs turn tail and flee. The darker one looks back at her as they reach the top of a nearby dune, and she thinks she sees something like disappointment in its eyes, which is obviously proof that she's losing her mind.
The next night has Furiosa back on her bike almost the second she hears the howls start up again. She forgoes the rope, deciding that if they're as smart as they seem she should gain their trust first before trying to capture them again.
“Hey there,” she says when she sees the two shaggy animals appear out of the shadows again, having stopped her bike at the same place as the night before. “No rope this time, just more meat.”
The night goes much the same as the last, with the dogs slowly accepting meat tossed closer and closer to herself. They're still a few meters away when she runs out of jerky, but they're close enough now for her to see that they are both male.
“Boys,” Furiosa says with some amusement, “Doesn't that figure. Women take over the Citadel and men roam the wastes.” It's eerie the way the animals seem to actually listen to her, as if they understand what she's saying. Perhaps all animals were once like that, back when they were more than just hunted for food, but there's no way to know.
Again the next night the pattern repeats, her talking to the dogs in low tones and feeding them small bits of meat. She's had to take up hunting for lizards in what little spare time she has to justify the extravagance, but seeing the beasts creep ever closer with neither fear nor aggression in their eyes is somehow rewarding enough repayment.
The fourth night she doesn't hear howling but heads out anyway only to be greeted with empty sands on all sides. The moon is only a trifle dimmer but the night seems colder, indifferent. She didn't realize how much enjoyment she was getting out of watching the animals until they declined to appear.
“I would ask if it's dreams, but I don't think you've been sleeping at all.” the Dag says by way of greeting when Furiosa returns to the Citadel that night, having given up on catching a glimpse of the animals.
“I took your advice about those dogs,” Furiosa replies, “Last few nights I heard them howling so I went out and fed them. Guess they must have had their fill because they're gone again.” She all but throws the satchel containing the meat she was going to feed them, not sure if she's mad at herself for getting caught up in caring for them.
The Dag nods her head as she hears this. “Perhaps they're scared of being tamed,” she offers, and Furiosa can't help but snort in reply.
“They're just animals,” she says, “And if they aren't wild shouldn't they want to be with humans again anyway?”
“Not all humans are kind,” the Dag reminds her, as if that was something any of them could forget.
“Well whatever the reason, they're gone now. So I guess I won't be missing out on my sleep anymore.”
The moon cycles to empty and back to full before Furiosa hears howling again. She's starting to sense a pattern, wonders if the animals are traveling between different areas across the month.
She doesn't even get as far as her bike before seeing them this time. The beasts are lurking in the dunes just past the unofficial town line, easy to reach on foot.
“Hello again,” she says to them as they make their way further from the tower's base, feeling something warm in her chest when they allow her to approach closer than they ever had before. “I wasn't sure you'd be coming back.”
The light dog yips happily, as nonthreatening as ever, and she takes the huge risk of sitting down in the sand. Without her feet under her she's lost a major advantage, but she does still have her gun if things go south. It takes almost no time at all before the dogs are nearly close enough to touch, and she realizes that she has gravely underestimated their sizes. Furiosa is not a short woman by any stretch, but they tower over her like this.
“Easy, be good now boys,” she finds herself keeping up a steady stream of nonsense as they approach, suddenly unsure if this idea was a good one.
The light colored dog yawns exaggeratedly as he nears, and his white teeth gleam in the moonlight. This close she can see that he has scars all over his face, as if he's accustomed to fighting. It's the dark dog who first takes a piece of meat directly from her outstretched hand, sniffing curiously at her metal prosthesis before delicately taking the jerky. To her surprise he lays down in the sand not a meter away, eyes on her as he worries at the snack.
This seems to be some signal to the white dog because he's in her face the next instant, tongue lolling out of his mouth and tail wagging hard enough to vibrate his entire backside.
“Whoa boy, that breath is dangerous!” Furiosa is unable to contain her grin, pleased to have apparently won the animals over at last. The white dog dances around her exuberantly for a moment before darting off, and returning a minute later with what looks like a chunk of plastic, badly worn down and covered in teeth marks. He drops it at her feet and lowers his front half to the sand, tail waving like a flag above him. The darker dog huffs loudly, and looks like he would be rolling his eyes if he was able.
“For me?” she asks uncertainly, not sure what the significance of the gesture is. The dog yips, picking up the plastic again only to toss it away a short distance. He pounces on the plastic immediately and brings it back to her, dropping it again in front of her folded legs.
“You want me to throw it,” she guesses. Gingerly she picks up the chunk of plastic, wary of what his reaction might be if she seems to disrespect his gift. She mimes throwing it and he barks happily, so she risks giving it a short toss.
The dog bounds away after it, bringing it back just as quickly. It brings a smile to her face and she throws the plastic further out the next time, to his apparent delight.
“You don't play games?” she asks the other dog, who hasn't moved from his spot. He thumps his tail against the sand and whines lowly in his throat but doesn't get up to join in, instead continuing to just take everything in with his uncanny eyes.
Furiosa spends more time than she'll admit to throwing the toy for the lighter dog to fetch, his delight seemingly undiminished until he at last collapsed into the sand next to his partner, panting heavily in surrender.
She returns late to the Citadel with a small smile stuck to her face, uncaring that she's completely missed out on sleep for the night. Toast keeps watching her accusingly throughout the day, finally breaking down and demanding to know if she's got a lover stashed away somewhere.
“You'd tell us if you had a man, right?”
“There's no one,” Furiosa reassures her with badly-concealed mirth. Toast narrows her eyes disbelievingly, but she's cut off by the Dag, who knows close enough to the truth to guess the real reason for her good humor.
“It's just her special time of the month,” she says, which is not at all what Furiosa expected to hear, and then follows up her remark with a short mimicry of the howls they've grown accustomed to hearing. She swats at the girl's shoulder lightly in return while Toast sighs exasperatedly.
“Fine, keep your secrets,” she says, “I'll figure it out eventually.”
To her surprise, that next night the dark dog joins in with the lighter one's play. They race after the piece of plastic together and tussle good-naturedly, never seeming to actually hurt the other though the growling does become fierce at times. As they frolic around in the bright moonlight Furiosa can tell that the darker beast is favoring one of his hind legs, occasionally pausing to lick at the joint with an air of embarrassment. It's obviously not bad enough to hinder him significantly judging by the fact that he's still alive, but she wonders if it causes him pain.
The darker dog curls up before long almost next to her in the sand, apparently having had enough excitement for the night. He seems older than the other who is childish in his lack of restraint; paradoxically more cautious by far but still the first one to make any advances.
Cautiously she reaches out her flesh hand towards the dog who regards her with a steady, almost glowing gaze, prepared to snatch her hand back at the first sign of displeasure.
“You're alright,” she croons, lowering her fingers until they're just barely in contact with the edges of his fur. “Nothing to worry about. Just a little touch.” When he doesn't react she reaches a little further into the fur behind his ears, moving her fingers in small circles as she rubs his skin. It's not like hair at all really, the texture strangely plush and unfamiliar. Slowly his eyes drift closed, head seeming to push the slightest bit into the caress as he relaxes.
The light dog of course chooses that moment to come bounding up with the plastic piece in his jaws, breaking the spell. The darker one snaps his eyes back open, stiffening under her rapidly retreating fingers.
The pattern they've established continues unabated for two more moon cycles, with Furiosa bribing them with more and more meat until they both accept her hand gently stroking their fur. She debates the merits of trying a rope again but never seems to grab it on her way out to the sands.
Toast is completely sure that she has a lover by now, and since she finds herself loathe to divulge the real reason for her midnight treks, Furiosa accepts the ribbing it earns her.