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Dancing

Written by Amethyst Mare (Arian Mabe)

I had not had the pocket money to afford a new pair of stockings for the dance on Thursday night. Soldiers were home on leave from war - a terrible affair - and all were out for a good time. Inhibitions were cast to the wind and we crept from our homes on light paws, our smiles as wider as our muzzles could stretch.

Luckily, when it came to the stockings, my grey fur took well to a dab of accentuation, let us say, in the form of black eye make-up. Mascara: you little devil, you. My lifetime saviour and my pocket warrior. I would never, ever, ever go anywhere without my best friend.

Janet was such a killjoy, the silly long-eared canine. She didn't want me to go to the dance. A year younger than me, she was all innocence and wide eyes and had not yet learned how to live. Well, she would not hold me back, oh no. Sitting on the sidelines was not for me, never for me. Why stay silent when there is so much to experience?

Dances were such a peculiar affair, even in the hindsight of old age. We danced but never truly took our eyes off the soldiers, bodies moving to a rhythm and pace dictated by the gramophone, if the band was not playing. The soldiers either lined up against the wall or were in the throng themselves, jiving with the ladies that they would so fleetingly have opportunity to court and woo. I flicked my hair, swung my hips and lost myself to the music, paws flying as swiftly as the beat of my heart. His eyes latched on to me and I felt his grip reel me in, pressing me tight to his chest and his army slacks.

I couldn't breathe.

"A pretty wolf should not have to dance alone."

His blue eyes burned, icy fire set in a swathe of golden fur: Golden Retriever.

I spun away, skirt whirling.

"What makes you think I'm alone?"

"I see no one."

I snorted and kicked up my heels, the modest heel easy enough to dance upon and flow across the dance floor without hindrance. I had more important matters on my mind.

"I do not need a male to dance, soldier."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Will you not have me then?"

I considered, a paw cupping my cheek with finely manicured nails teasing across fur.

"If, perhaps, you can keep up."

And so we danced, paws close yet never touching. The navy skirt flipped up as I moved, showing off a daring dash of leg and faux stocking - all intentional, of course. I think the canine liked the look as he danced all the more closely, simply itching to get his paws on me. A wolf, however, is not so easily swayed and trapped.

I am a prize.

There was a darkness to his eyes, shocking in their ferocity. He would have been more suited to a feline, by my call, than a wolf, claws out all the while. He strove to pull me into his body but I danced away with a girlish giggle, sparkling underneath my mascara. He followed my path, ears twitching and tail strangely silent, only moving with the shift of his body. His boots thumped the dance floor clumsily and I blew him a kiss, beautifully playful.

All was calculated. I knew exactly what I was doing.

"Too slow."

Darting away, I shimmied past a blue jay in the crowd - such fine feathers, he had no need of adornment, this fine, young soldier - and vanished. Refreshments beckoned and I turned ny back on my dance partner, treating myself to a sip of some unknown coloured beverage. Fruity and purple, it suited my taste buds to a T and I downed it, eyes half-closed. The room spun, music wavered, and I laughed. So many lights! So many furs that I would never see again! Limits were something of the past when the past would be shipped out on the morror. I was drunk on atmosphere alone. The music thrummed, the band back on our makeshift stage. There was no need to construct a full time stage in the tent when the soldiers would be gone the next day.

Most of them would never return.

"Escaping?"

His paw closed around my arm and I opened my eyes wide. I was innocent, too innocent to be believed. Even a blind fur could see my intent, I made no grand pretence. It was all part of the game and how I adored my steps.

The dog leaned in close, alcohol overpowering on his breath. It was acrid enough to make me wrinkle my muzzle in distaste. That was not part of it: that was not part of the deal. Why did he so spoil my fantasy? When was he going to sweep me off my paws and carry me from the tent?

His lips brushed my cheek and I shuddered. He slobbered! I tried to pull away but he had his paw clasped around my upper arm, yanking out fur as I struggled. The tables had been turned. His eyes held a fresh ferocity to them and in their depths I saw the terrors of war flashing in the course of one breath. And it petrified me.

He licked his lips.

"You're coming with me."