Battle Arena- Challenge 1 - Dagger Dog

A/N: This is a real dog but not a real story. He is the most docile animal I've ever met and his only flaw is being too defensive of my two youngest cousins. I have changed all names and places however.

Battle Arena - Challenge One:

In a sweltering hot caravan - that's threatening to dissolve my insides and leave me a puddle of flesh on the carpet - I have my right arm thrown across my face and my left hanging limply off the side of the couch. The pool's all the way round the back of the site. Besides, my swimsuit is in the room all the way round the back of the caravan. It's not supposed to be this hot in Scotland.

Suddenly there's a glorious wetness: a cool moisture on my left hand. I painstakingly drag my other arm away from my eyes and manage to crack a smile.

"It's okay, Buster," I murmur.

Buster's my cousin's dog. He's licking my hand because he thought I was dead. He's got shiny black fur, a lean frame and a split personality. He's a Lab-Collie cross so one minute he's a frantically energetic sheepdog, the next he's a lazy, content Labrador. Right now the sheer humidity of day is forcing him towards the latter.

I whisper, "I may as well be for all the work I've got done today, Puppy."

I'm supposed to be reading for English but my Kindle got hot in my hand and now it's sitting in the sun. I let my eyes drift soporifically around the living room. My gaze drifts left to the empty end of the couch. God knows where my family are. Maybe up the pool. I'd shrug if I had the energy.

I feel the odd mixture of soft paw and sharp claw on my forearm and face Buster again to see that he's got one paw on my arm and is in the business of swapping it with the other. Then back again. He's giving me paw. He wants a treat. And he saw my Aunt show me where that are yesterday.

"Why do dogs have to be so smart?" I grumble.

I shake him off with the last of my strength and sink helplessly into a heavy doze.

I'm not aware of much as I sleep. There are a few yelps from Buster but then it all goes quiet. My dreams vary between lying flat on my back in the middle of the rainforest and being cooked alive in a caravan-sized oven.

A frantic bark from Buster yanks me sharply from my dozing and I sit bolt upright on the couch. He never barks. That dog whines and whimpers and moans and groans but he never, ever barks. He's darting back and forth from the veranda to me, urging me to follow. I figure I owe him for not giving him a treat and if he's barking it must be urgent so I drag myself into a standing position and stumble out after him into the beaming heat of the sun.

I'm met with the sight of my wee cousin James upside down in the arms of Jimmy Pellan from the Ocean View area of the site. He's holding James by the ankles and swinging him back and forth. He's obviously not enjoying it though so I call out to Jimmy to stop.

"Would you mind not doing that outside?" I ask, "He might hit his head on the concrete."

Jimmy glances up at me and says, "Ach, it's just a wee bit ae fun, hen!"

"It's okay, Lisa," James calls, "I'm okay."

Jimmy seems to be being careful and I don't have any sun tan lotion on so with one final hesitation I turn to go back inside the caravan.

My way is blocked by the lean figure of Buster the dog. Buster, whom I refused to give a treat even though he's been excellent all day; Buster who got me out here to save his young master and just saw me shrug off the incident and do nothing; Buster who knows I'm doubtless about to go back inside and fall asleep again.

"It's okay, Pup," I start.

But he's snarling and his legs are tense. He jumps at me and knocks me to the ground with my head just missing the fence around the edge of the veranda. His paws aren't soft and he's clawing at me like he's trying to unwrap a birthday gift. All I can see are splashes of red blood and blue sky the colour of the purest sapphires.

"Buster!" I hear James shout, "Stop!"

But he's not stopping and he's snarling again. He's got his teeth out and before I can scramble even an inch away he has them sunk into my upper arm. For a moment the real pain is the anger in the dog's eyes. Buster who never barks is now barking and clawing and biting me. He's biting me because I was lazy and didn't reward him and didn't stick up for his master.

Then the pain, like his teeth, sinks in and each tooth feels like a miniature dagger piercing my flesh. The pain is sharp and clear at first then dull and throbbing for a second then my blood pulses around and it's as if his teeth are stabbing in afresh.

I don't know whether it's from the pain or the terror but I feel myself drowning in something much heavier and deeper than any doze I'd taken all day.

------

When I regain consciousness, there's a vet and a policeman in the caravan. Buster's in a cage and he's calm and cool and collected. His Lab side's showing through once more. My family are crowding round me but all I care about is Buster and what's going to happen to him.

It wasn't his fault, I want to say, I let him down.

But he's lost all sense of superiority and he's staring up at the vet with no idea where he's going or what'll happen to him.The vet lifts his cage brusquely off the ground and in a panic he looks round and catches my eye. His gaze is sharper than any daggers of his mouth that sank into my flesh today.