The Dark at the End

He opened his eyes again and saw the light. And once again he reassembled his scattered thoughts into a semi-coherent assessment of his situation.

He had washed up on an unknown shore. He lay upon snow-covered sand. A light shone somewhere ahead. He had been trying to reach it, crawling toward it. But every time he progressed a few feet, he passed out. And each attempt yielded less progress and briefer consciousness. But now something new.

Somewhere a dog barked.

The light went out ...

... and came back on again. And something else. A vocal rumble nearby.

A dog, sniffing, panting, and growling. Would it attack? He could not defend himself against a sick kitten, let along a hungry dog. Never, not even during his darkest days trapped in the depths of the keep, had he felt this helpless.

And then a voice ... one of the cattle ... a cow ... far away ... or perhaps it only seemed far away.

"Rocky? Rocky, come back here this instant!"

He clung to the sound like a sailor to flotsam. He tried to speak but had no voice. He managed to raise his remaining hand, and that set the dog to barking again.

"What have you got out there, you dumb mutt?" the cow said. He sensed age in the voice. "Whatever it is, leave it alone and come inside before you catch your death."

No! Do not go in! Stay!

"Don't make me come out there!"

Yes! Come out! I beg you, come out! I will give you anything! I will seat you at my right hand after the Change if you will only bring me into your house!

He moved his hand again, precipitating a new round of near hysterical barking.

"I declare, you are the dumbest creature on Earth!" The voice ... growing louder. "And I'm even dumber for coming out in this to get you. I should leave you out here, but you're so dumb you'd forget how to find the door! You'll probably - Mother of God! Is that - ?"

He felt something nudge him. A toe? He raised his hand as he had before.

"Dear God, he's alive!"

He felt something tighten on his left arm. He assumed it was the cow's hands but he was too numb to feel anything beyond deep pressure.

"You're going to have to help me, mister," she said. "I'm assuming you don't know I'm on in years and don't see so well. You're dead weight and I can't move you on my own."

He pushed against the ground with his right hand while she tugged on his left arm. Suddenly she released him and he dropped again.

"Dear God! Your hand! Did you lose your hand?"

He wanted to scream, Isn't that obvious, you old idiot?

Fortunately for him, he still had no voice. He could only grunt.

She grabbed him again, pulling on his truncated left arm while he dug his right hand into the semi-frozen snow and pushed toward the light.