The Way
Big dog basked in the shade of a tree, listening to leaves rustle and a distant stream burbling over rocks. In the heat of the day he felt content, as if he’d eaten well, with no need to seek or hunt or grasp for prey. Let the world flow by. He would go along in his own time, his own way.
He opened an eye to watch the driver of an ox cart as it rumbled past but the man’s stare was fixed on the narrow, rutted track and he didn’t see Big Dog, never knew, or suspected, he was there.