𝐏𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐤 | 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐔𝐬

17. Croak.

S E V E N T E E N
Croak.

Two weeks later...

"But look how cute it is," I frown, showing the adorable dog's face to the grumpy man. He just glares at it as if it shat on his pillow.

"No." He shakes his head.

"But he's so good! Plus, we could train him to be a guard dog." I try and bargain. Ellie smirks, standing next to Joel. I thought she'd be on my side.

"He hasn't got a dick," Ellie points out.

I glance down, "Gender isn't solely based on having or not having a dick, Ellie. Don't worry about her, Clancy, she's always mean."

"You named it!" She laughs.

I scratch the space between the dark brown dog's ears. He looks very happy with my affection. "He deserves a name."

"Bobbie, let's go, leave the dog." He says, glaring at me.

"He's going to die if we don't take him," I fight tooth and nail to bring Clancy with us. Sure, he stinks and is very fat and would definitely slow us down, but it's good for morale.

"The fucker is fat, he's doing fine," Ellie fat-shames Clancy.

"Do you not want a dog?" I try and get the girl on my side.

"It doesn't matter, we're leaving." Joel turns around.

"Well, have a good life, Clancy. I'll miss you, little dude." I pat his head briefly before standing up and walking away. He looks unbothered by me leaving. Dick. I didn't like him anyway.

Three weeks later...

It should be against the laws of nature for it to get this cold, my toes feel like they're rock solid. I'm dressed up like a marshmallow, no one else seems that cold. I think I have an issue. Perhaps I need to take a note from seals and get myself a layer of blubber.

Sitting on the porch of a little abandoned cabin my legs are tucked into my chest.

Staring at the dying grass I notice something falling from the sky, landing gently on the ground. No. Please, no. I watch the ground, and my fears come true, more and more white flakes fall from the sky and rest on the ground.

"You've got me to fucking with me!" I groan, getting up from the wooden steps I walk out, looking up at the sky.

More and more white flakes fall onto my face, melting on contact with my skin.

"What're you complaining about?" Ellie asks, walking out from the tiny cabin we've stayed in for a few days.

I point to the sky, "That fucker."

"The sky?" She questions.

"The snow, really, but the sky is where it comes from," I explain. The flakes come down a little faster, I feel them clinging to my eyelashes and wetting the top of my head. When they hit the area I part my hair for my braids I cringe, it feels so cold there.

I walk out from the open and underneath the cover of the verandah, wiping my face and hair to get any moisture off.

"Your nose is bright pink," she smirks.

"Yeah, I don't think my body was built for the cold. I swear my toes are frozen solid." I complain, tugging my jacket closer to my skin. I've got more layers on than an onion.

"I'd agree with you there, but you've survived a fuck ton of winters, so you'll be fine." She slaps my back condescendingly.

"A fuck ton makes me feel old," I grumble.