Fiction: Group 4
emerged from the shadows. I couldn’t tell what or who it was, but its sharp eyes seemed to glow in night.
They searched until they found my window, cutting through the glass, until finally locking their sight on
me. I froze.
Someone, or something was watching me. My heart was thumping in my ears. Its eyes didn’t move away
from my face, and I was forced to stare back. I braced myself, expecting to see a menacing reaction, but it
never came. Instead, I found myself staring into crystal blue, a deep but soft gaze. I exhaled. It was the stray
dog I had seen earlier that evening. She must have followed me home. I don’t know why I felt a sudden
sigh of relief. Street dogs could also be dangerous, if not handled properly. But this one was different. I
could feel it. My regular village room, like many others, was road-level, and so left me exposed. Somehow
I wasn’t worried. The wooden floor felt cold under my bare feet as I walked towards the window. This was
crazy and I knew it. Cautiously, I pushed the window open. Wind blew strands of hair into my face, but I
didn’t care. I stared at the stray, and she stared back, neither one of us moving. Above our heads, the
brilliant white moon shone, its light reflecting against the dog’s flawless coat, just as it did on Pearl River
Delta. She looked almost ghostly. Her eyes were wide and insistent. Beautiful.
In that moment, she got her name. Named in honour of
the bright, breath-taking moon and the great Pearl River of China; Yue.
Winning a stray animal’s trust is never an easy task, but I was patient. We worked together for hours, days. I
tempted her with food. Sometimes we would get close, but still never touched. My window was the barrier
between us, protecting me, protecting her. Something that surprised me was that, through it all, she chose to
stay. Yue never roamed far, usually only wandering off to a nearby fountain or stream for water. She slept
under my window and ate on my lawn. I was careful to keep her out of my grandparents’ sight. Their
scolding and punishments for me if they found out were something I was less prepared for than Yue’s
training. Grandmother would never approve. She despises animals, saying they were filthy and wild. Luckily,
she and grandfather were out in the market that day. Yue improved fast, and I was glad she seemed to like
me. She was still wary, but came when I called and seemed happy to see me in the morning. Maybe it was
time she learned she didn’t have to fear me. For the first time, I reached outside the glass wall that split us
apart and called to her. Hesitantly, she approached me. For a while, we just stared at each other, like we
always did. I spoke softly to her, not knowing if she understood my words. “I won’t hurt you,” I told her
gently. Instead of coming closer, she took a few steps back. I sighed and drew my hand back in. Without
warning, I saw a flash of white fly through my window. I stumbled back, shocked and horrified. Yue
scanned my room with her blue eyes. She didn’t look afraid anymore, but happy and well in control. A part
of me was stunned and speechless, but another part felt a surge of excitement and pride. A huge grin broke
onto my face. I let myself laugh, because it’s been too long.
Yue nudged me with her shoulder, pushing me back, towards my bookshelf. She looked annoyed, as if she
was trying to shove herself into a space that was too small for her. My regular village room was not made for
a giant dog to play in. “Yue,” I grumbled. “Cut it out.” But she didn’t stop. She pushed me again, and I
finally lost my balance. I tried to grab the bookshelf for support but my hand landed on an old book instead,
pulling it down with me. A pile of books came tumbling down after that, old novels and hardbacks that I
haven’t touched in years, all covered in dust and grime. “Now look what you’ve done,” I said angrily,
dusting myself off. Yue stared at me calmly before touching one of the books with her nose. Curiously, I
bent down to pick it up. As I did, something fell out of it. It was an old photo. I grabbed it and sat on my
bed. My eyes closed, I didn’t have to look at it to know what it was. A warm tear slid down my cheek. I
didn’t let myself remember the day my family took that photo. It was the last photo I ever took with my
parents. My eyes opened. Yue sat beside me. “How did you know?” I whispered. She watched me with
soft, understanding eyes. Then, a question formed in my mind; so obvious I couldn’t believe I hadn’t
thought of it earlier. I reached over to pet Yue’s head, and she leaned into my palm. “Where did you come
from?” I asked her softly, though I knew the answer. She had no family, no house, no place to call home. As
if she knew, she stared at me gently, her eyes wide and aware. Maybe her parents died too. Maybe she knew
about mine. I smiled. We could be each other’s family. We understood each other. We were the same.
Since that day, Yue and I stayed close. I built her a small shed behind our house so she could keep warm on
windy days, but covered it when she wasn’t using it. Our relationship stayed secret, because I knew that it
grandmother ever found out she would never let me keep her. Each day, I would wake early to see Yue and
feed her. One morning, grandfather caught me before I bolted out the door. “Where are you going in such
a hurry?” he asked in his husky voice.
“I-uh got something to do,” I stuttered.
