came, and I was still wide awake. Bran eventually woke up too, thankful he made it through the night, but he immediately stood up and picked a direction to go in. It seemed a little familiar, so I followed, being careful of him swinging that machete around.

    "Lovely, look," Bran said, lifting up a branch that was in front of him. It was cut in half. "This branch as already been cut. I think we're going the right way!" I barked, excited that we were finally getting out of there. We quickened our pace, eventually seeing a bright light ahead of us, which was a sign of hope. Bran urged me to go faster, and he didn't have to ask twice. I felt so much energy, thinking that finally we were able to leave this place.

    When we finally made it to the edge of the forest, our hearts sank. We came across, not a way to leave, but just a small treeless area of the jungle that seemed brighter than the rest of it. Bran growled in frustration, and was about to take a step forward, but then stopped himself. I looked at where he stopped and right before him was quicksand. He gasped slightly and took a few steps back and headed in the other direction. I followed, feeling a bit hopeless that we'd never find our way out of here.

    Another day passed, and both of us were feeling fatigue. We hadn't had anything to drink in two days, and nothing to eat. There were no little animals around to feast on, and there wasn't any vegetation Bran could eat. We were moving slower and slower with each step, getting hotter and hotter each time. The night helped little. I did my best to help us get out of there, at least with my sense of smell, but nothing smelled familiar to me. I also did my best to encourage Bran to keep going, because he looked like he was about to collapse any minute. His body was shaking vigorously whether he moved or not, and his clothes were wet with sweat. His beard adding more perspiration to his face.

    Bran stopped, and I did the same. He looked back at me, desperation in his eyes. His shaking was making the sweat drip from his face faster. He slowly turned his whole body around.

    "I'm...sorry...Lovely."

    "It's okay." I said, tho he couldn't understand me. I stared at his face, trying to make him feel better, telling him I was there for him. I told him we were getting out and going back to Nome, to the cold. That we were leaving this cursed place, this prison; this hell. As I was telling him this, none of it seemed to be reaching him. But he was reaching for his machete. I started backing up. He was scaring me. I didn't like him with that thing in his state.

    He raised his hand and brought the thing down on me. I yiped loudly, tho I wasn't hit, and tried scampering away. He grabbed my tail and pulled me back with one hand.

    I yiped again. "No! Please!"

    But he wasn't listening. He raised his weapon again and I raised my head up and bit him. He yelled out, dropping his weapon to grab his face, where I bit, and I took the chance to whip myself out of his grip, and I ran. I stopped a few feet away to look back at him. When he returned his gaze, his eyes were almost pupil-less. He looked insane, like the heat got too close to his mind. He didn't look like Bran anymore. Bran was too far away to come back. He was lost. A tear came to my eye at the thought of leaving him, but if I didn't right there, he would chase me and kill me. So, just like many men do to their dogs, I abandoned him.

    I walked onward for a whole day, tired, hungry, thirsty, hot, and most of all, lonely. I wish there could've been another way. I wish that I didn't have to abandon Bran. He was so good to me. And if he killed me, he probably had a chance to go on longer... I started crying, and threw myself to the ground out of exhaustion, and closed my eyes. I felt myself relax after a bit...and opened my eyes to see two familiar cheetahs. I smiled.


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