Dungeon Runner
The Tiger Writes
sciencefiction
sciencefiction
31K5
Tibs survived by picking pockets; until he's caught.
Instead of losing a hand, he's sent away and told he must now survive a dungeon.
How is a kid who knew nothing more than his ...Bottom Rung, Chapter 62
Barking wasn't a sound Tibs heard often. The few dogs in town didn't so much bark as whine. It had been more common on his street, where dogs from the wealthier areas came and played with the urchins; until they didn't come anymore.
When younger, Tibs had thought the people they lived with had found out where they went, and forbidden them to return. Not even dogs belonged on his street. Older, he'd noticed that on the day after they vanished, one tavern always had fresher meat for sale. Whoever the dogs lived with would never know what happened to them.
Tibs followed the sound, walking between people, expecting a crowd to be paying attention to it, and surprised to find the dog sitting by the side of an armorer, barking at the people. Some looked at it, but its size kept them from approaching. Sitting, it was only slightly shorter than Tibs was standing.
It had bright blue eyes, almost the blue of Runners with water as their essence, and gray fur on its face, with a patch of charcoal over the left eye moving along its muzzle; as if it had leaked down. The right ear had a rip in it, but Tibs saw no other signs this dog had been in fights. The dogs in town were always fighting over scraps. Its body was covered in fur that was a mix of gray, white, and charcoal.
It barked at him once as he approached, then canted its head. Tibs crouched and offered it his hand, sensing for the essence coursing through it. Like anyone without an element, it was faint, but it flowed well, indicating it was in good health.
It sniffed along his hand, then licked it and panted. Tibs rubbed the side of its head and looked around. A dog this healthy had to be with someone.
"How did you get here?" It licked his face, and he pushed it away, chuckling. "They're probably inside, aren't they? The shop owner probably didn't want you in. They can be difficult. A lot of them didn't want me to get close to their stuff just because I'm a rogue." He stood and rubbed the top of the dog's head. "If I see you again, I'll make sure to have some jerky for you."
He headed to the inn, where his team waited. They were going to discuss how they'd deal with the bunnylings on their next run while they ate lunch. He waved at Kroseph, who was arguing with a noble at a table. The noble looked exasperated, while Kroseph was amused. After a few months of being here, the nobles still weren't used to not getting their every command obeyed.
"Guys," Tibs called, "sorry I'm—"
Jackal was on his feet. "Where did you get that thing?" He pointed in Tibs's direction.
Tibs turned, and the dog came next to him before sitting. He looked at the entrance. If the person with it came looking, would he get in trouble?
"It was outside. I didn't know it followed me. I just petted it."
"Take it back," Jackal ordered, and the dog barked. The fighter took a step back.
Tibs looked from the dog, tongue lolling out the side of its muzzle, to Jackal, who looked pale and ready to bolt.
"It's just a dog," Carina said. "A big one, but it looks safe enough. It hasn't eaten Tibs. You'd probably scare it if you got too close."
"I'm not getting close to that thing. Tibs, it can't be in here. It's probably full of diseases."
"It looks healthy enough," Mez said.
Khumdar was studying the dog with an interest that had Tibs place a hand on its head.
"Mez, no dog's healthy. They're nothing more than moving diseases. There's no way Kro's dad is going to want that thing in here."
"The dog's fine," Kroseph said, walking by. "Dad draws the line at horses."