I spun around abruptly, half expecting to confront some lurking shadow or a face from a forgotten corner of my memory. Instead, my gaze landed on Henri and Lois. The camp, which had been a hive of disruption and tension, had quieted down, and in this newfound stillness, these two seemed almost forgotten. Henri and Lois stood there, their eyes lifting to meet mine, a mix of confusion and hope mirrored in their gaze.
Crouching down to their level, a wave of empathy washed over me. Henri, who often maintained a reserved distance from physical affection, edged closer in a surprising gesture of trust. His small body trembled slightly under my touch, a testament to the undercurrents of fear and uncertainty that had gripped him. As I wrapped my arms around him, he let out a series of tiny yaps, each one a mix of trepidation and relief. This display of vulnerability from Henri was rare and poignant, a clear sign of how deeply recent events had affected even the smallest of us. I could feel his heartbeat against my palm, rapid and fragile, like the fluttering wings of a trapped bird.
Lois, on the other hand, remained stoic, her gaze unwavering and intense. Yet, beneath that gaze, I sensed a yearning for reassurance, for something solid to cling to in a world that had suddenly become unmoored. It was a look that spoke of loyalty and a willingness to stand by us, come what may.
After ensuring they both had their fill of food, I ushered them into the tent. The act felt almost like a ritual, a small but significant gesture of care in a world that had turned unpredictably harsh. Henri, visibly exhausted, nestled into his bed, finding solace in its familiar confines. It was a small bed, worn at the edges, carrying the scent of countless comforting naps. Lois, typically a whirlwind of energy, now seemed subdued, her usual vivacity dimmed by the morning’s upheaval. She settled near Henri, resting her head against the edge of the bed, her soft whine a tender statement to their shared weariness.
In a moment that felt almost sacred, Henri cautiously sniffed at Lois, who responded with gentle, affectionate licks. Their interaction was a quiet dance of compassion and reassurance, a simple language of love that needed no words. A few contented snorts from Henri followed, marking a brief interlude of peace in the midst of the chaotic world. It was a small, precious bubble of comfort that seemed to defy the turmoil outside.
Watching this tender interaction, my mind wandered to Duke, and a pang of sorrow mixed with affection stirred in my chest. Duke, with his boundless energy and fearless spirit, had left an indelible mark on all of us. The memory of him was a bittersweet reminder of what we had lost.
Henri had endured so much loss—his brother, his father—gone in the span of a single, devastating day. The weight of such loss on his small shoulders was more than any creature should bear. I couldn't help but hope, perhaps a bit naively, that his simple mind was shielded from the full impact of our grim reality. That in his dreams, he roamed free and unburdened, chasing the shadows of his lost loved brother in fields where the sun never set.
