A Pug's Journey (Cultivation Starts with Breathing)

She didn't bother with any greeting. "Are you really a spirit?" she whispered, eyes wide in the dark.

I ignored the question. My stomach growled. "Meat," I said, my voice cutesy-hoarse. "If you want me to talk, I need food. Real food."

She scrambled up at once, scurrying away into the darkness. I listened as she opened and closed things—baskets, a small cabinet. She returned a minute later, holding a wooden plate with a handful of strips: thin, salty, smoked meat.

She set them down in front of me, watching every move I made. I ate. I made no effort to hide my hunger. The food went quickly, and it was enough to take the hunger off my belly.

She sat back on her heels, waiting. "Now you talk."

I wiped my mouth on my paw, fixing her with a steady look. "My name is Ta— Pope." I couldn't risk giving her my real name, and it felt a bit weird to also give my past life's.

She squinted at me, not quite believing. "What are you?"

"A wolf," I replied.

She gave me a flat stare. "You don't look like any wolf I've ever seen."

I didn't bother to argue. "That's what I am. I was born this way."

She looked at my face, my flat snout, my curled tail, my battered body. "Wolves are supposed to be big and scary. You're…" she trailed off, searching for a polite word.

I growled at her. Though I reckon it looked more cute than threatening.

She smiled then asked, "Where did you come from?"

"That's a secret."

She seemed frustrated by my answers but didn't press further. "Were you from the airship? Are you running from something?"

"Too many questions," I said, feeling the exhaustion dragging at my eyelids. "I'm getting sleepy."

She huffed, but didn't protest. I watched her as she shifted back to her makeshift bed of blankets and straw, still stealing glances at me every few seconds.

I lay down, curling myself up as small as I could. My body felt very weak, and the Qi in my chest-core felt like it was miniscule. I think that I subconsciously exhausted my Qi upon impact.

I let my eyes close, sleep coming on fast.

Before I drifted off, I heard her mutter under her breath. "Pope, the talking wolf. They won't believe this…!"

I woke to multiple voices.

It was morning, or close enough.

The slant of sunlight on rotting floorboards told me I'd slept through most of the night. I blinked, my body still quite heavy. The ache in my paw had dulled but not disappeared.

There were three elven children in the room now. I recognized the one from last night, but the other two were new: a smaller girl with her hair cut at the neck, and a boy who looked like he was a little too chubby.

They clustered together, staring at me.

I felt a bit strange. My mind was clear, but there was a certain kind of reckless impulse in me right now. I wanted to play a trick. Just once.

So I barked. Short, sharp, needy.

I let my ears droop and my tail curl. I whimpered, pawed at the empty dish, and looked as pitiful as I could manage.

The new girl snorted. "That's just a dog. Or a puppy or something. Sali, you liar! You said it could talk!"

The boy crossed his arms, looking skeptical. "You're just making things up."

Sali's face turned red. "He did talk! Last night! He said he was a wolf, and his name is Pop—"

"He's not even a wolf," the other girl cut in, rolling her eyes. "He's too small. He just barks like a regular dog."

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I kept up my act, whining and giving them wide, wet eyes. The urge to laugh nearly overtook me. When their backs were turned, I couldn't help it, I snickered, a short chortle that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

Sali, who was looking at me this entire time, caught me mid-snicker. Her eyes went wide, then narrowed in outrage. "Look! Look! He's laughing at me! He can understand!"

The other two turned. I immediately stopped, curling my tongue to lick my bandaged wound, feigning innocence. I met their stares with blank, placid eyes.

"Nothing," the taller girl said. "He's just licking himself. You're seeing things."

"You meanie!" Sali glared at me, cheeks puffed out. She stomped her foot and stormed out of the cottage, slamming the rickety door behind her.

Now it was just me and the other two.

With the morning light coming in stronger, I took a closer look at my surroundings. The cottage was worse than I'd thought last night. The walls leaned at odd angles. Several roof beams had collapsed, and a cold draft moved through cracks in the boards.

Dust covered everything except the patch where I'd slept and the blanket Sali had wrapped around me while I slept.

There was barely any furniture. I saw a low table with a cracked surface, a stool that looked ready to give way, and a pile of faded clothing in the corner.

Why was a child living here? Where were the adults? No sign of anyone else; no tools, no food on the shelves except for what she'd given me. It was obvious that this place had been abandoned for years.

The two new elven children, after their initial disappointment, seemed determined to make themselves useful. Before I could do anything, they started fussing over my wounds, talking in fast, bright voices that barely gave me time to respond.

I tolerated it.

They used some kind of ground-up green herb, the scent sharp and earthy, and pressed it into the wound before tying it off with a strip of cloth that looked torn from an old shirt. I whimpered but let them finish.

"Don't move, okay?" one of them whispered. "This'll help it heal faster."

They were decent children. Too eager to please a random injured beast.

But then my stomach growled again, louder than before. The elven boy smiled, digging around in a basket and pulling out a handful of berries and a wooden cup of milk. He tried to hold it out to me, hopeful.

I stared at it. Then at him. My patience was thin.

Before I could say anything, the cottage door banged open. Sali, the first girl, reappeared, face flushed and victorious, holding a strip of something red and steaming.

She waved it under my nose. "If you don't talk, I'll eat this myself!"

The other two glared at her. "Don't torture the puppy! He's hurt. Just give him the food."

She smirked. "No! He acted all high and mighty yesterday. He's just stubborn."

I was more annoyed than amused. But hunger was stronger than pride. I reached for the meat, my teeth clamping down before she could pull it away.

I chewed, swallowed, and fixed her with a look. "Fine. I'll answer one question each from all of you after I eat."

That got their attention. The boy dropped his cup. The other girl's mouth fell open.

She grinned, triumphant. "See! I didn't lie!"

They crowded close, introducing themselves as Sali, Myra, and Ennor, also about to burst with more new questions, but I lifted a paw.

"After I eat," I said. "Not until then."

I finished the meat, tearing off chunks and swallowing without ceremony.

I sat up straighter, licking my paw, and stared at them. "One question each. Make it good."

The three of them huddled together near the crooked table, whispering furiously in a tangle of overlapping voices. I watched them, amused.

Each determined to be first but unwilling to say the wrong thing. It took longer than it should have. Children always overcomplicate what should be simple.

I could hear fragments of their plotting.

"No, you ask that! Mine is better—"

"But what if he won't answer it?"

"He won't. He said one question each!"

I rolled my eyes. My hunger was gone, but my patience had limits. I flexed my claws against the floorboards, waiting for them to stop bickering and act. It scratched the wood, though.

Eventually, Sali broke off and turned to me, looking determined. Myra followed, Ennor close behind. They had their questions ready. Sali opened her mouth to speak.

But then a woman's voice rang out from outside, clear and commanding, echoing through the thin walls.

"Sali! Myra! Ennor!"

I stiffened. The three children froze. For a moment, no one moved. The voice came again, firmer. "It's time for breakfast! Hurry up!"

Panic spread through their faces. Ennor scrambled for the blanket in the corner, throwing it over me with hurried, clumsy hands. Myra pushed the empty bowl and scraps of meat under the table. Sali leaned close and hissed, "Stay quiet. If anyone finds you, we'll be in trouble."

I gave her a silent nod. There was no sense arguing.

They looked at each other, then scampered for the door, squeezing out into the morning light. I could hear their footsteps fade as they ran, shouting to cover their lateness.

I lay perfectly still under the blanket, feeling the dust settle on my nose. The old wool was scratchy and smelled faintly of grass and smoke. I listened as the woman's voice drifted farther away, joined by laughter.

So this was their secret base. Were the three of them relatives or neighbors?

It sort of explained everything—the mess, the dust, and the way the kids acted. Just a hiding place for them, not a real home. Kids always wanted somewhere the adults didn't care about.

I stayed under the blanket, not moving. My body still hurt, but the herbs made it easier to breathe and move. I could hear distant laughter fading away. The cottage was quiet now, and I liked it that way.

I yawned, let my head fall against the boards, and shut my eyes. I'd deal with the questions later. For now, I just wanted to sleep.