Death Strike

It was morning and Livia and her mother were off for breakfast and then shopping at their favorite gold merchant. Ursus trotted along beside their sedan chair.

As they traveled across the city, everyone gave them a wide berth because of the hound. They arrived and were browsing along the street before going in for breakfast, not paying attention to what or who was around them. Worse, they were not paying attention to the man who was paying attention to them. When Peta and Livia moved, he moved. When they stopped, he stopped.

While the women didn’t notice him, Ursus did because the man was watching Livia. So, Ursus was watching him. The smile was gone from the hound’s face. His black eyes followed the ragged man’s movements. As the man got closer and closer to Livia, Ursus became more and more alert.

Two hundred pounds of battle trained Roman killing machine was eyes on, brain fully engaged, knowing only that his mistress was being hunted and that no harm would come to her while he lived. Head lowered, he jogged across the street, moving toward a point between Livia and the ragged man whose name was Geta. Not that the hound cared.

Geta looked around. Good, no one watching. The girl was unaware. Mother dickering over a trifle.

Ursus came closer; and closer.

Geta reached for Livia’s golden necklace.

Ursus leapt.

Livia, seeing something big and black fly by, screamed.

Peta was about to scream when a hand rudely clapped over her mouth and a voice croaked, “Quiet, Peta. He’ll kill us all.”

Ursus flattened Geta. His unconscious head in the hound’s jaws.

Livia spoke to him, her voice the only one that could stop him from crushing Geta’s skull. As she talked, she ran her hand along his back only to find her Ursie gone. Under her fingertips was Ursus, a mountain of rock hard bone and muscle.

“He didn’t hurt me, Ursie. Let him go,” Livia said, stroking his ears.

The hound heard her voice. It was far away. Then…it was closer. Then he was back and Livia was safe.

The restaurant owner quietly handed Livia a large bone with plenty of meat on it.

“Look what I’ve got, Ursie,” she said, holding it out for him.

The hound opened his mouth and Geta’s head fell. Ursus growled, a low dangerous snarl, jowls curled back, revealing lethal white teeth.

Livia rubbed his ears. He loved that. He loved Livia.

“C’mon boy. Here’s your bone. Look at all the meat on it,” she said, gently tugging his collar. “Come on, good boy. Come Ursie.”

The restaurant owner was a retired veteran who had seen these hounds in battle. Once they started killing, sometimes they didn’t stop. Better to give away a prime soup bone than be torn to pieces.

Ursus took the bone. And Livia was smiling. He did good. Then Livia hugged him and he smiled when she said, “Thank you, Ursie.”

When they thought to look, Geta was gone. He’d left for the other side of town just as fast as his shaking legs could carry him. The hound’s bite marks took days to go away.

Peta, Livia, and the hound went home. Peta wanted no more shopping.