He could feel a tight collar restraint around his neck and soon began to bark violently in tune with the other hound. He glanced down at his powerful front legs and paws, pulling forwards at the restraint so much that the front part of his body lifted off the ground upwards, straining against the leash which pulled his head backwards and up leaving him half upright on his rear legs. Meanwhile the man with the boots moved over towards a fine horse, dark brown all over with a strange white patch underneath a pristine red leather saddle. Steam oozed from the animal as the metallic hooves on his jet black legs scraped at the stone floor, its tail dancing from side to side excitedly as the individual scrambled up and into the saddle.
He looked ridiculous on the animal, his effeminate red jacket, white stockings and dainty looking black soup bowl hat clashing with the beauty and elegance of the beast.
Ed glanced to his left and watched as the other hound was let free by a young boy in tweeds. He raced off like a firework, shooting from the restraint as soon as it was released, catching the boy’s hand slightly in the process.
“I’ve told you a dozen times how to do that, you stupid fool. You only have two dogs to release today and you even get that wrong,” shouted the man angrily from the horse, his face red with overreaction.
“Sorry, Pop,” replied the boy timidly as he reached around and released Ed into an equally jet propelled departure, hastily followed by the mounted clown.
I thought I had a strong sense of smell when I was a cat but this is incredible, thought Ed, realising the sense was so strong he could actually see a red mist trail of the hound that raced in front. Soon a faint yellow trail accompanied it in the distance, gradually getting stronger and stronger, luring both dogs in that direction. Ed was well aware that the powerful muscular legs that propelled him with such haste were the strongest he had experienced so far, even stronger than the spring coiled power of the cat’s hind legs. His feet tore at the ground, tossing up small clumps of dirt and grass as he sped violently across the countryside, steam coming off his body like a boiling kettle covered in a tea towel.
Behind him he could hear the loud, but pathetic horn of the huntsman. Ahead he could see the distinct red trail of the other hound and ahead of that, the less fervent yellow trail of what he assumed was a fox. He tried to power himself forward with determination, faster and faster and catch up with the other dog. It felt sensational to be so strong and move at such speed so close to the ground. He was urgently aware that he had no desire to kill a fox though. He liked foxes, their big brushes, soft brown fur and fine chiselled looks. They represented elegance to him and as he got closer to the second hound he couldn’t help but attribute only negative features to it.
I feel like I’ve got Stalin as a mate and we’re out hunting together. It’s very strange and I wish I’d at least had a few hours to adjust. It’s a very confusing instant transition,” thought Ed, as the other hound tired slightly, pulling back the pace a tad. With the slight relaxation he began to take more note of the countryside around. It was very English, with flowing open fields dotted with trees and hedgerows. One thing that struck him more than anything was how everything had a coloured aura equating to its smell. Ed could see this around trees, bushes, mounds of earth and virtually everything. It was like having a clever smart phone app for smells, one that could be held up for a snapshot of the environment to reveal street names, famous buildings and directions. The only difference was that his displayed smells and trails of odour. It was overpowering and incredibly rich, like being in the barrel room of a fine vineyard.
Soon he had caught up with the other hound and was side by side. They galloped, raced, jumped and sped through the countryside following the scent of the fox. The strong yellow trail indicated they were catching up with the animal fast.
Ed was not happy with the fox hunting scenario at all. His bond with Sam sat heavily on his conscience. He recalled how his friend had eaten pate in preference to killing a chicken, advocating abstinence from slaughter whenever possible. It made the current predicament seem even more immoral. How could he overcome these new instincts and if so, how could he find a way to get the other hound off the scent to avoid killing the fox?
Behind him, the mounted hunter followed, eagerly blowing on his inadequate toy trumpet. The dogs ploughed on relentlessly in pursuit of the terrified victim who most certainly would have been in a state of intense panic.
Quickly, Ed shot off to the right, away from the prominent trail, hoping to lure them in the wrong direction and give the fox a little more time to escape. However, they had none of it. After pausing for thought and looking at Ed’s alternative route, the other dog simply turned tail and carried on in the right direction. The scent was so strong that it would be virtually impossible to deceive in this way so he changed his tack and veered back onto the original path, catching up with the second hound and rapidly running through possible scenarios.