Dog

Previously

…The gap widened. The cold light rose. The maze held its breath, and I held mine, and the roots around my ankles tightened like hands, and I understood that descending meant becoming something I didn't have a name for yet. Sirijus. I said it again, into the crack, into the light. The word fell like a stone dropped into water. Ripples spread through the roots. The walls shook. From somewhere far below — far, far below, deeper than levels, deeper than architecture, deeper than any metaphor I've constructed to survive — something answered. Not in words. In warmth. In the specific, unmistakable warmth of a dog pressing its side against yours in the dark.