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CONTESSA DOESN’T UNDERSTAND PETS
🕑 Added 2025-02-11 05:40:58 +0000 UTCThe sidewalk was uneven. Contessa noted this as she walked, her pace unhurried but careful. The cracks in the pavement were a potential tripping hazard. Inefficient.
But this was not new information.
She had finished her shift at the diner an hour ago, yet instead of heading straight home, she chose to walk. It was an experiment. Without the Path, her choices were her own.
She was still… adjusting.
A rustling noise caught her attention. She turned her head slightly, eyes narrowing as she pinpointed the source—an alleyway up ahead. Something small moved near an overturned trash can. As she approached, she saw a dog.
No. A puppy.
It was thin, its fur matted and dirty. It sniffed at an empty food wrapper, ears flicking at every distant sound.
Contessa stopped. Considered.
“Are you lost?” she asked.
The puppy startled, lifting its head to stare at her with wide, wary eyes. It hesitated, then took an uncertain step back.
She crouched. “I will not harm you.”
The puppy didn’t move. Not unexpected. Canines did not fully comprehend speech, but they recognized tone, intent. She adjusted accordingly, keeping her voice calm, her posture non-threatening.
The puppy sniffed the air, weighing its options.
A choice.
After a moment, it took a cautious step forward. Then another.
It stopped just out of reach, studying her.
Contessa remained still.
The puppy lowered its head and licked at a puddle near the curb. The water was stagnant.
Unacceptable.
She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small, unopened bottle of water—a remnant from her shift. Twisting the cap off, she poured a small amount into her cupped palm and extended it.
The puppy hesitated again. Then, slowly, it stepped forward and lapped up the water.
Contessa watched carefully. Its ribs were visible. Malnourished. It was unlikely to survive long in this environment.
She could leave it. That would be the simplest option.
She did not.
Instead, she reached out, intentionally slow, brushing her fingers against its fur. The puppy flinched but didn’t pull away.
She picked it up.
It squirmed briefly, then went still, exhausted. Its small body was warm against her chest.
A problem had presented itself. A solution had been enacted.
Contessa adjusted her grip and resumed walking.
Her apartment was not far.
