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They used to go outside at night and look up at the stars. Askia could remember the warmth on his paw, the pressure against his lips, the blossoming joy in his heart - all against the chill of night, of the black void staring down upon them. The tall blades of grass would tickle at his back through his fur, and he could spend hours trying to pick out all the little burrs after coming inside. That always went a lot faster when there was a second pair of paws and eyes to help.

Try to steady your breath. That's what he'd been told. Inhale... one, two, three, four..._exhale... _one, two, three, four... inhale... sometimes it worked. Sometimes, it didn't. The thing was, though, he didn't really know what else to do. The final light on the road he walked, it seemed, had gone out, and now he had to feel his own way through the darkness.

It had started out so simply, too. Friends, of course, before anything else - sharing laughter, sharing time, sharing thoughts. Askia could still remember how he had first felt when spending time together, lounging side-by-side at home, or walking through the wooded areas a short distance away.

All it takes is a change in perspective. That's what had always been said. That voice had started to fade from Askia's memory, but still, recalling it brought the same smooth warmth to drift over his heart, just as it always had. Look! Look, Askia. Up at the sky, through the trees - see the clouds? Well, then, look down at your feet, at our feet... the spaces where the sun shines through the leaves, that - mottled, speckled pattern. If all you know was that clouds are these bright, soft, puffy things, and you went outside and first looked at the ground, what would you think?

He could never quite understand that way of thinking, to tell the truth. To Askia, the truth was one thing, and... well, that's about it. "But they're not clouds," he'd said, not for the sake of argument but rather because that was the truth. "The clouds are up above. Ask anyone else, they'll tell you - look, up there. Those are clouds."

He'd expected an attempt at a refutation, to be honest, but instead had just received a slight shrug, raised eyebrows, brightly glittering eyes. At night, those eyes sometimes caught the wan light of the stars and seemed to glow with an energy all their own. Well, there you go. Change of perspective. First you're looking at the ground, and you don't know that you're wrong - until you look up to the sky, look between the trees, see the large bloated marshmallows floating around. Those are clouds. Not the shadows and light on the ground. But you wouldn't know that, unless you changed where you were looking.

Then from friendship came something more. It was a creeping vine climbing up along his heart: beautiful to look at, wonderful if taken care of and cultivated, hell to get rid of, and quite annoying if noticed after it had taken root. Askia liked the touch of this vine, though. He liked the way it squeezed at his emotions, liked how it could make him grin like nobody else, how it made him stop and think and enjoy things that he never thought it would.

Sharing quiet, knowing looks, sharing a little more than comfort, sharing deeper thoughts, deeper desires. At first, Askia didn't really know what to make of the change of emotion he felt when spending time together. He found that his paws itched, his heart picked up a little, and no matter what, he just wanted to get a better look at those eyes, at that face. But that was a little weird, wasn't it? After all, they were just friends. Nothing else. Right?

Askia...

The wild dog's eyes flicked open, the warm weight of blankets resting across his body. He used to think that his bed was too small for just him; now, however, he thought that it was far too large. Even his canid eyes had trouble adjusting to the darkness in his bedroom, the darkness of an autumn night. No moon shone through the window across his bed. Perhaps the clouds covered the sky again.

What do you think of me? Like, what do you REALLY think of me?

His mattress creaked and complained as he shifted his weight, sitting up on the edge of the bed. Warm footpaws, cold floor. Dust had started to settle, and yet, he hadn't been able to get himself to clean. A quiet, distant wind whistled through the trees outside, most of which had dropped their leaves already. Where Askia lived, autumn wasted no time in showing off its colors. Leaves green one day, reddish-brown the next, blanketing the ground on the third. He used to like the way that they crackled under his feet, used to enjoy their little noises. Now, it usually just annoyed him.

What? No! I asked you first! Don't make me wrestle you for it - you know I always win!

He was tired, sure, but with time had come to realize that once sleep slipped away from him, it most likely wouldn't be coming back. Still the wind hummed on, singing its gentle song without a care for whoever heard. The wild dog opened the door to his bedroom and started down the hall, his bare claws tapping on the hard floor as he walked.

Okay, okay! Fine, you got me. I can try to say no to you, but - I can't ever really mean it... you want to know, then?

Sometimes he couldn't stand silence. That's why, now, he felt thankful for the midnight wind, for whatever feral creature just ran by outside, causing leaves and sticks to crunch and snap beneath its feet. It reminded him that, no matter how lonely he might feel, there was no such thing as true solitude. That was another change in perspective he'd been guided through.

You really want to know?

Even when he lay in bed at night, looking up not at a field of stars but rather at the flat ceiling above him, he was never really alone. The weight of the pendant he'd been given always hung against his chest, sometimes caught in his fur, sometimes pulled on his neck if he moved too quickly. Such an odd thing: solid metal, so he felt that it should be cold to the touch, just like the knobs of all his doors, just like his unused silverware, just like his window latches. However, whenever Askia brought his paw up, if only to make sure that it was still there, the pendant felt as warm as another living person.

...Well, Askia... someone I used to love gave me this necklace. Back then, it was a promise, but... well, as you can clearly see by me being here, that promise didn't work out. What do I always say, though? Change of perspective? No longer a promise; now it's a reminder.

He could remember what he'd said in reply to that, probably the expected and desired response: _"A reminder of what?"_And he'd watched that pair of paws do so many things throughout their friendship: wash a plate, sew a sock back together; skip a stone across the river, dance over the strings of an instrument; press against his own chest and bellyfur, work at the fastenings of his pants - and, yet, never before had he seen them move so carefully, so tenderly, as when they reached up to undo the clasp of the necklace.

It's a reminder that, no matter what, there is always someone out there who loves me.

The pendant twisted slowly on its chain, held out in one extended paw. It glittered in the light of the sun shining down from above. Askia had spent several nights with his muzzle resting close to that pendant, eyes tracing up the intricate patterns, the smooth lines of the metal, the way it rose and fell, rose and fell with slow breathing.

So, now, it's a reminder to you, that there will always be someone who loves you. Can you guess who it is, Askia?

The wild dog raised himself up from where he leaned over the kitchen table. First there had been four chairs around it; then one; then two; and now one again. His eyes had adjusted somewhat to the darkness of night, but still he had to reach a paw out against the wall as he made his way across the room towards the back door. He'd been feeling so lost lately.

Well? Go on. Guess! I already know what you're thinking, though. You're blushing...

The door creaked open on unoiled hinges, and the chill of autumn night quickly dug its icy fingers into the wild dog's fur. He hadn't bothered putting on any clothes before coming outside; not only was there nobody around to see him, but some part of him liked feeling the bite of the wind on his bare skin through his fur. It kept him awake, it brought him to the present, it reminded him that he was still here.

Still here.

...Of course! See? That wasn't so bad, was it? You guessed right.

He padded through the tall, unkempt grass, ignoring the burrs that dug into the pads of his feet, the tickling of the blades of grass against his ankles. Once he had stepped outside, the night seemed much less quiet and lonely: bugs chirped and buzzed all around the grass, the bushes, the trees; he could just barely hear the far-off murmuring of the river, rolling over the same smooth stones that it had for the past countless years; though the wind through the empty branches had not ceased, it sounded less ominous, less haunting. The wild dog went a certain distance from the house, back to where the hill on which it sat started to curve downwards. Sometimes on bright summer days, if he stood right here and looked down, he could see all the flat of the valley below, the bend of the river, and the lip of the distant mountain, rising up above the treeline.

It's me. I love you, Askia.

Tonight there was no warm paw squeezing his as he lowered himself down into a sitting position, no body weight leaning against his side, no arm around his shoulders. There was just the inquisitive touch of the grass under his rear, a slight tickling that might have been a little bug wandering up his leg, and the ever-present chill of night. Askia briefly sat with his knees pulled up to his chest and arms around his legs... and then lay back, pointing his muzzle up to the sky. It took a few seconds, but soon he could see all the little speckles of the stars, indeterminately bluish or yellowish, though the color always seemed to change with each movement of his gaze. It was too hard to tell. Like a swathe of a brushy tail, streaking across the blue-black sky...

And I will always love you. I know you have trouble with believing things sometimes - so that's what that necklace is for. It'll always be there, always around your neck, close to your heart. My love for you.

The wild dog brought a paw up to his chest and closed it around the pendant, resting across his sternum. Even with the cold wind of night ceaselessly ruffling his fur and tickling his whiskers, the metal of the necklace still retained all the heat that his body had given it.

...You know, Askia... A squeeze around his paw, as the two of them lay underneath the canvas of the sky. 'Twinkling' wasn't exactly the right word for some of the stars. They more... shifted in color or brightness just a little bit, slightly enough that if he hadn't been looking at it, he wouldn't have even noticed. Just like a shooting star, streaking a short distance across the sky in a fraction of a second and then disappearing. Blink, and he'd miss it.

Do you ever think it's kind of funny how we always say that we look 'up' at the stars?

"I've never really thought about it."

Well, what if we're actually looking 'down' at the stars? The grass that we're lying on is the vaulted ceiling, and we're stuck to it, looking down at the expanse of everything in the room underneath us. What if there's someone else out there, someone looking up at their stars, and our sun is one of them, and we're both looking up - or down - at each other? Which one of us is right?

"I... don't think it really matters."

But which perspective do you prefer?

Askia crossed one leg over the other as he lay there, eyes lazily tracing across the endless vault of the sky. Sometimes they used to put together shapes out of the stars and glowing clouds of dust between them, but... the wild dog found that this was harder to do on his own. He looked up, and all he could make out was the lines, the skeletons of old figures that had already been traced out. There was nothing new.

...But, then, his eyes widened. If he looked _between_the stars, at the little spaces of black void between them, coursing along and intertwining endlessly...

Askia remembered an early morning, a morning before the sun lifted itself above the horizon. Just a hint of yellowish-pink hung at the edge of earth, and yet the field of stars could still be seen across the sky.

...No, no, you silly dog... here, look at it this way...

It wasn't as easy as following the bright guide points of the stars, but still, the lines were all laid out for him already. He actually almost turned his head to the right and opened his mouth to speak - but then remembered that he was alone. He had been for a while now.

...Askia... hey! Pay attention to me, dummy! Yes, I'm - who else would I be talking to? Huge ears like yours, and you still don't listen... no, of course I'm not actually mad; how could I be mad at you? I'm just saying - just asking you to think about it a little differently.

A thin streak of light that hadn't been there a second before caught his attention - but, when he shifted his eyes to focus on it, it had disappeared again. A ghost of its image came back up each time he blinked, and if not for that, he might have figured that he'd imagined it. Until he'd been persuaded to start coming out here - it's one way I keep a hold on my mind when it wants to run away from me. I go outside, I lie down, I look up at the stars, and just let the thoughts take their course through my head, and before I know it - like children, like puppies, they've exhausted themselves, and they go away. It's that, and breathing. You always have to remember to breathe. Remember what I told you? Remember, Askia? Inhale - one, two, three, four - exhale - one, two, three, four... - Askia had never seen a shooting star before, had never realized that the stars burned slightly different colors, had never realized that, if he watched for long enough, he could see that they had moved in the sky above him.

Or, maybe, in the sky below him.

Yes! Yes, now you're getting it, dear. Say there's a ball, and one perfect half of it is black, and the other perfect half is white. You are standing on one side, and I'm on the other. All you can see is black, so you say the ball is black; all I can see is white, so of course I say the ball is white. But if we were to... take even one step to the side, if we just take that first small step outside of our initial impression...

Askia's large ears perked up, rustling along the grass beneath his head. He felt acutely aware of the way his breathing made his chest rise and fall, how he could feel the stretching of his skin, the filling-out of his body, and - perhaps most of all - the weight of the metal pendant, after he had released it from his paw.

I love you.

I will always love you, Askia.

You know what that necklace means?

He flicked his tongue out over his lips. "This necklace means that, no matter what, there's always someone out there that loves me." His breath puffed out in the dark air in front of him, wisped upwards, and disappeared.

I love you. Never forget that. Never doubt it if I say it. And, you know what? If I ever say I don't love you? Well, you'd better not believe me!

Look. Look at me. Askia, c'mon, puppy! Look at me!

Oh, he would if he could. He closed his eyes, tried to bring up the memory of the muzzle, of the face that he'd come to recognize and love so well, and found - that it was fading from him. That was okay, though. There were some memories that would fade away, and some that would always remain. He was sure of that. Whenever his mind strayed to the past-

-inhale... one, two, three, four - exhale... one, two, three, four-

-there used to be this belligerent icy dread that closed its fist around his heart, but now, that had weakened, too. The wind that steadily dragged through his fur felt a lot colder, now; the beating of his heart, the warmth of his pendant, of his thoughts, easily overcame that.

Come on. I like it when you say it.

"I love you."

"I love you," the wild dog murmured, no louder than the wind in the trees. Again his breath arced up in front of his muzzle, spread out into a lazy cloud, and dissipated. "I love you so much."

Remember those words, okay? Remember how it feels when you say that to me. That's something I want you to never forget. You may forget my face, you may forget my voice, but - as long as you have that necklace, you know what you'll never forget?

"I'll never forget that you always love me."

Never for as long as I live. Actually, scratch that - never for as long as either of us still draws breath.

Inhale... one, two, three, four... exhale... one, two, three, four. Chest rising and falling, rising and falling in slow, steady rhythm. Fur shifting and ruffling a little, necklace lifting up, falling back down.

All it takes...

"...is a change in perspective..." Askia swallowed. "Maybe... maybe you didn't leave early. Maybe I'm just lagging behind a little."

As long as this necklace hangs around your chest, I'll always be alive. My heart close to yours, Askia. Like when we sleep, face-to-face, your arms around me and mine around you. Haven't you noticed? Our heartbeats and breathing almost perfectly synchronize.

Another shooting star, here and gone. There was no moon tonight; even without its extra light, Askia still felt a little warmer, a little safer.

Look up - or down; whichever you prefer - at the stars, and I'll be there. We traced out the hunters, the beasts, the gods, a hundred other things, more beautiful in our imaginations than nature could even attempt.

Go down to the river, hang your little toes in the water, and I'll be there, trying to get a rock to skip to the other side. You were the one that taught me how to do it, remember?

He decided that once he got back to the house, he'd get around to cleaning the place up. Dust the shelves, the floor, the table, get everything nice and clean...

Lie down in your bed, and remember how it creaked when I lay in it next to you for the first time. Remember how you'd always complain that I'd roll up in all the blankets, but that'd be okay, because I gave off more than enough heat to make up for it.

Walk through the woods, look down at the light speckling through the trees, look up at the clouds between the leaves. Some of the crackling of leaves and snapping of branches off in the distance - that's me, always walking beside you.

"I'll miss you."

The wild dog brought his paw up and closed it around his pendant one more time, just as had been done for him on that day. That one evening, in the time between when the sun dipped below the horizon and the first of the stars twinkled their way through the sky.

The two of us can get through anything, Askia. That's what we've learned. Isn't it? Hey - look at me, puppy...

Tonight, though, there was no pressure of tears at the corners of his eyes, no sinking dread tugging on his heart, like there had been back then.

I won't be there in body, sure. And I know that's a large part of it. But you have to believe me. You can do that, can't you? I've watched you change.

"I can't live without you, though! I don't-"

No, no, Look at it this way: you've never tried. Not since you met me, at least. So... can you try, Askia? For me?

And promise me one thing?

The wild dog pulled himself up into a sitting position, remained on the hill for a few moments longer, and then stood up. His heart no longer beat in his chest; his lungs no longer felt like they only allowed him to draw half a full breath. The cold autumn night no longer bit into his skin.

Smile.

The edges of his lips lifted up.

Can you do that for me, too, dear? You deserve it. You of anyone else. Do that one thing, every day, like I always made you do. Even on accident. I have one more thing to tell you...

Askia rested his paw on the knob of the door and tugged it open. His familiar home silently greeted him.

But you know what it is, don't you?

"Come on. I like it when you say it."

After brushing the grass and bugs out of his fur, the wild dog lay down on his bed again, rolled onto his side, and pulled the blankets up to his shoulder. They still carried a faint ghost of a scent. He licked his lips.

I love you.

"I love you too."