ONiON: So, who's going to fill me in on what's happened?
It is only as night falls and darkness blankets the city that they finally stop their pursuit.
Pickles: Whuh, woof. <We still haven't found him yet.>
"Doggie": The puppy feels disappointed.
ONiON: Alright, no need for disappointment. Don't panic. There's bound to be setbacks on the way to success, friends.
ONiON: But it's getting pretty late. Do you guys have any idea where you'll be staying for the night?
The crowded voices of the city seep through the canvas of a familiar tent, rising then falling as the night progresses.
In the hushed moments before slumber, Mercuria notices that Pickles hasn't yet closed his eyes.
Mercuria: You've brought a book along.
The little dog glances up from the pages.
Pickles: Woof, woof, whuh. <I hope to finish this work, Understanding Media, in the next few days.>
Pickles: Grrr ... grrr ... <I've observed how drastically media in human society has changed, and this book will help me grapple with the core reasons for this shift.>
Mercuria: You're exploring some very complex ideas.
Mercuria: I won't make the best philosophical companion for you, I'm sorry to say.
Pickles: Woof, woof. <That's alright.>
"Doggie": The puppy is not bothered.
Pickles: Woof-woof, woof, woof, woof, woof. <"The medium is the message"—any interaction between individuals in itself carries philosophical meaning.>
Staring at the book under Pickles's paws, Mercuria appears to fall into a moment of thought.
Mercuria: I can see you prefer the world of literature to traveling our own.
Pickles: Woof, woof.
Mercuria: Hmm ...
Mercuria: If the journey starts to wear us down, we can always decide to keep going or turn back.
Mercuria: The truth is, the further we go, the more I feel that this task may be more than what I had envisioned.
Mercuria: Not every journey needs to reach its original destination.
Pickles raises his head and wags his tail.
Pickles: Whuh ... whuh-woof ... <Ah, I believe I understand your point.>
Pickles: Woof, woof? <And what about you? What's your opinion on the matter?>
"Doggie": The puppy would like to know your thoughts.
Mercuria gazes off into the distance.
Mercuria: It was a sandwich.
Mercuria: Fingers was the first person to share a bite of food with me; I was twelve, and it was my first time on the streets.
Mercuria: It wasn't easy, not at first. Food was always the first thing to run out.
Mercuria: That's why I'll always be grateful to him.
The little dog blinks his eyes.
Pickles: Whuh ...
Pickles: Woof, woof, woof, woof. <You repay favors and stick by your friends—a wonderful trait, one common among dogs.>
Pickles: Woof, woof, hrrr—woof. <As I said at the beginning, I'm more than willing to continue this journey with you.>
"Doggie": The puppy is with you.
Pickles: Grrr, woof, grrr ...
Mercuria extends her hand to hold Pickles's paw.
ONiON: 5 a.m. local time, the city lay fast asleep, including the two protagonists of our story, nestled in their cozy little tent.
ONiON: It was then that a shadowy figure carrying a gun crept into their tent, and after only a moment, stealthily emerged, clutching a dog.
ONiON: The full account was pieced together following an interview by your humble journalist, ONiON, with the reports from two parties involved.
ONiON: And now, dear viewer, we present to you the full story.
Pickles: Aroo-roo ... woo-roo-roo ...
Mercuria: Zzz ... zzz ...
???: Shh!
Pickles: Aroo? Aroo! Whuh-whuh-whuh!
???: Tch, hey!
Pickles: Whuh-whuh-whuh. Whuh-whuh-whuh-whuh! Whuh ... whuh ...
Pickles: Aroo ...
ONiON: The Border Collie may be one of the smartest dog breeds in the world, but wits are no match for the power of a tranquilizer gun.
ONiON: ...
ONiON: Now, back to the story at hand.
Mercuria: Right.
Mercuria slowly opens her eyes, waking from her sleep.
Mercuria: Huh?
Mercuria: Pickles?
Silence. The spot beside her is vacant.
Mercuria: gasp
Mercuria: Huff, huff ... huff, huff!
Mercuria: Where are you?
Mercuria: Pickles ...
Mercuria: Pick—
All at once, a faint radiance enters her field of perception.
Silently, she follows the trail to its origin.
With the crisp sound of long grass snapping underfoot, she brushes aside the dead leaves beside a rock.
Mercuria: Hey—there you are.
Hidden in the darkness, two small cunning eyes glint, peering at Mercuria through the crack in the rock.
