Left Behind

‘I am so bored!’
A young female husky tapped her pencil eraser against the paper with her name Fleida Gustavis written at the top in her non-native dialect of American English. The classroom was filled with males and females her age, with a few being older students from a higher grade. At the front of the classroom, stood an American bulldog bitch with a superior air about her as she returned from walking down the aisles created by rows of desks.
Closing her blue eyes, she let out a sigh of frustration while flipping her pencil around in her fingers. ‘Why do I care about the differences between an adverb and an adjective?’ Writing out the term adverb on one, and adjective on another, she blinked and shook her head, spinning the pencil around and erasing the two words for the third time. ”This is so boring~!” the words were out of her mouth before Fleida realized she’d muttered them.
”I know the lesson is boring,” the voice of the female bulldog perked her ears up and caused the young girl to look up “but keep at it - it’s meant to give you a better understanding of diction for writing.” The bulldog’s words were soft, almost motherly in tone, causing her to see the woman in a whole new light.
The woman wasn’t tall, barely two heads over Fleida herself, but she was Siberian grandmother stocky with a robust body, and a face only another bulldog could love, her hair had turned gray and white, but it was the presence of the canine that had changed in the young girl’s eyes. What had been mistaken for superiority had instead transformed into authority. ”I just - don’t see the reason for learning it if I already know how to speak English.”
A small smile appeared on the bulldog woman’s face as she gave the young girl a pat on the head. “Again, it’s mostly to help you learn proper diction and understanding while writing-”
Fleida sighed “- it’s still boring.”
“No debate there,” the older woman stated with a smile ”but it will get easier with time, patience, and determination.” 
“My mom said something similar to me just before leaving home.” Fleida gave a small smile at the memory of her mother working a bulbous green object in and out of her tail-hole’s entrance, the head already slick with a sweet smelling lubricant, getting her body used to the foreign invader. 
”American boys are very persistent, and always horny,” her mother warned in Russian, “so train yourself to take them in here until you find a nice Russian boy to marry.”
Fleida nodded to her mother, taking the instruction to heart, while her sphincter muscles expanded to accept the device ‘It’s a butt-plug, Fleida! Get used to the term!’
She came out of the internal flashback when the bell rang, signalling the end of her class. The slightest movement of her mustard brown skirt clad hips sent a sensation up her body to the pleasure center of her brain as her sphincter muscles practically massaged the thick head of her butt-plug. Warmth spread throughout her body from that one point, causing her heart to pound against her ribs with all the need of a young girl desperate to use the bathroom. A moment later, she perked her head up while everyone else was grabbing their paperwork and getting ready to leave. “Please excuse me-!” she managed to say, dashing off to the nearest girls restroom.
Fleida sat on the toilet, having sent everything in her bowels into the bowl with a liberal addition of soiled paper, flushing the toilet she let out a sigh of relief. Blinking, she decided to take a good look at the plug that had been inside of her. ‘I’m still amazed this thing fits!’ She didn’t question her mother’s statement that she needed the plug until she was ready for being with American boys, but putting the thing back inside intimidated her in ways nothing else could.
Picking it up, she heard footsteps at the entrance of the restroom “Fleida?”
“One second-!” She carefully maneuvered the plug to her tail-hole, her legs spread open to offer the best possible angle. Touching the tip to her anal entrance caused the husky to give an involuntary exhale, before she pushed. Amazingly, the head slid right in, her ass almost sucking the butt-plug into her body, as if longing for the bulbous head once more. She heard the bulldog woman take another step into the restroom, and she quickly sat up, pulling her pink panties over her left foot and up both legs until the top was around her waist.
“Are you alright?”
Resituating her brown skirt down her thighs, she made sure her mustard yellow top was also straight before unlatching the stall door and poking her head out. “Sorry about that, I had to clean myself up a little.” 
That was when she saw the bulldog only a few feet from the door. “It’s alright, dear, but running off like that and leaving all your stuff can give very bad people an opportunity to take what you own.”
“Oh.” Walking over to the nearest sink, she set about washing her hands and following the teacher back to the classroom. “Sorry about that, it kind of felt like an emergency-.” Upon entering, she saw everything was still in its place, so she started packing up everything she needed for school into her satchel bag. While she was slipping the papers into her folder and her book into the canvas satchel bag, she never noticed the silent flashing message indicator on her flip phone. 
Zipping up the bag, she dropped the flap over the top and headed out of the classroom, waving goodbye to the teacher. She set the majority of her stuff into her locker, taking only what she needed for homework, while leaving the rest on the shelf. Reaching for the flip phone in her satchel bag - a small gift from her parents to keep in touch - she glanced up to see a blue Toyota Celica pull up in front of the school, so she slipped the phone into her pocket without looking at the screen. Stepping outside was a vast change, with the cool winds of spring blowing across the young girl’s furred body.The scent of sugar maple wafted on the breeze, causing the young girl to close her eyes for a few seconds to take in the scent before she opened them again and approached the car.
“Hello Henry,” she liked the male German Shepherd behind the wheel, “how was work?” Opening the car door, she slipped into the back seat behind the passenger’s seat, and set her bag down next to her.
The male turned to look at her with a smile “Pretty good, only two jaywalkers this time. How was school?”
“Alright~” she gave a sigh “English was boring, and one of the girls punched a guy because he swatted her butt. Other than that-” Once the door was closed, the car started to pull away from the curb.
“Was this the Valentine girl?” Henry asked without turning to look
She blinked, cocking her head to the right a little. “I - don’t know names yet-”
“Panda and chipmunk hybrid. Red hair and pink eyes, one with a slit going diagonally across the center?”
“Definitely sounds like the girl I saw.” 
“I don’t know why the white tiger adopted her - that kid has a bad attitude.”
Fleida blinked twice before asking “White tiger?”
“Our next door neighbor.” Henry looked to the right as he turned the wheel. “Charles is a good guy; kind, respectful, loved by the community - I think he helps out at Pine Haven Assisted Living, so the nurses love having him visit.”
“What does he do there?” Fleida watched as the car pulled into the driveway at about the same time Charles pulled into his garage with his light blue ‘57 Chevy Bel-air.
“Speak of the devil~” Henry chuckled, turning off the car before he stood up from the driver’s side. “Hey, Charles!” The canine waved to the tiger.
“Hey, Henry!” Charles waved back.
“I heard your daughter hit a kid again today-”
Charles shrugged with a shake of his head “I don’t know why these boys think they can touch someone without their permission. Thankfully, the principal was understanding about what happened.”
“Melissa alright?”
“Yeah.” Charles walked over to place his muscular arms on the fence between their properties. “She wanted to go to a friend’s house, so I dropped her off to start dinner.” Upon seeing the little husky, he smiled at her. “Hello, Fleida.”
“Hello, Mr. Valentine.” she looked up at Henry. “I’ll head up to do my homework, Henry.”
“Okay.”
“Take care-” Charles smiled at the younger girl before Henry turned to look at him. “Did you and Rochelle want to do a joint barbecue tonight?” he asked while she turned and headed for the door “I have a new sauce and want to experiment on a collection of ribs-” the door shut cutting off the tiger, but Fleida’s mouth watered and stomach remarked loudly about its hope for a nice rib dinner.
Homework wasn’t that bad, just a few multiplication problems she needed a calculator for, and a look-up on the computer as to which words were adverbs and adjectives. Fleida had barely managed to close her English book, and lean back in her desk chair, to look at the room she’d been gifted for the student exchange, marveling at the simplistic beauty of the home she found herself enjoying when she heard a knock at the door.
Turning around in the chair, she saw it open to reveal Rochelle “Honey, it’s almost time for the cookout, are you ready?”
“Yes, Miss Rochelle-” she then slid off the chair and walked over, “I finished my homework, and I have everything set out for bed.”
Rochelle gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, but praised her by saying “Good, sweetheart-” and gave her a kiss on top of the head. She had never done anything like that before, so Fleida blinked. It felt natural, almost like when her mother would do the same thing, so she smiled - her tail wagging behind her as they left the room, and went downstairs. 
Once in the backyard, she saw a gate door between the two fenced in properties left open, leading into Charles’ back patio. Everyone was already there, with Henry and Charles standing by the small, round grill, the pair dressed in casual clothes while a veritable feast was laid out on the wooden picnic table. A preteen girl wandered around, her red hair pulled back in a messy bun, held together by what looked like black and gold chopsticks. 
Fleida had seen something like that before, but could not for the life of her remember where. Her ears perked up a moment later at what the patron of the other family was talking about. “I finally got that Bushcraft gear stored away for our next camping excursion.” Charles remarked as he slathered the ribs in a homemade barbecue sauce, the heat from the grill causing the meat and sauce to sizzle, sending out an aroma that had the little pup practically drooling from hunger.
Henry stood by the grill with a dark green bottle in his hand. Fleida’s sensitive nose - having already told her the bottle held alcohol - wrinkled her nose as she helped Melissa set out the paper plates and plastic cutlery. “Looking forward to it, Charles. Aren’t we, honey?”
“Absolutely! Have you ever been camping, Fleida?” Rochelle remarked, looking at the small husky.
“Yes.” Fleida remarked, smiling at the collie. “Daddy would take us out every summer so we could look up at the stars and he would tell us all about the constellations until I fell asleep.” She then looked back at Melissa “Do you ever-” the question died in her throat as the girl gave her a glare that turned her blood to ice.
Melissa’s right eye glimmered in the fading sunlight, outlining the damaged pupil. “No.”
That one word ended the conversation between the two girls. “Dinner’s ready.” Charles announced.
Dinner’s fare was nothing short of exceptional, the meat was perfectly infused with the barbecue sauce, which added a flavorful tang to Fleida’s tongue that urged her to eat more and more, at times making the little pup chew on the bones themselves just to get the extra flavor out. Six ribs, potato salad, coleslaw, a scoop of corn, and some cran-raspberry juice and she was ready for a food coma. She followed the conversation well enough with Charles and Henry talking about past times out in the woods, and being part of a survivalist group. “- so where did you put all of our Bushcraft supplies?” her sponsor asked.
“In the garage.” Charles glanced at Melissa. “She’s tired of me talking about camping, so I keep it outside of the house-”
“There is no reason to leave a perfectly good home empty while you try to reinvent the wheel.” Melissa groused, picking up the plates and plastic cutlery. “Give me a fridge, couch, and soft bed, and that’s all the camping I need in my life.”
“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Henry asked her.
Fleida watched as Melissa turned toward the canine “In the same place as my parents - dead and buried.” Silence reigned for several seconds as she walked away, carrying everything to the trash.
“Sorry about that. It’s still a sore spot for her-”
“You have nothing to apologize for, Charles.” Rochelle gave the white tiger a hug before the trio of canines went back to their home. Fleida went upstairs while Henry and his wife stood in the kitchen, the latter giving her husband a look that said ‘don’t go anywhere’.
Fleida stepped out of the bathroom across the hallway from her bedroom, dressed in a knee length blue nightgown, the fan in the bathroom droning on in a valid attempt to clear out the steam. Rubbing the water out of her hair, she glanced at her coat, and the small antenna that poked out of her pocket. Walking over, she pulled the device out, holding the palm sized phone in her hand. ‘I need to call mom and dad, and give them an update on my-’ she blinked at the flashing message indicator on the front of the flip phone. Opening it, she set it to the voicemail, and pressed the connection button.
“Fleida!” she heard her mother say into the phone. “The government is calling us traitors, saying that your father is a spy! Do not come home! Run! They’ve already killed him, and they will stop at nothing to silence all of us-” the sound of a door being impacted reached her before she heard “Don’t come home! Run! Survive!” Her mother barely got out the word “NO!” before she heard gunfire and the line went dead.
The phone dropped from her hand, tears streaming down her face. Shaking her head at the change in her life, she nearly went dizzy from everything, and had to take a hold of the bed to steady herself ‘Rochelle! Henry! They’ll know what to-’ she managed to stagger out of her prepared room only to hear talking downstairs.
“- apparently they’re cancelling the program?” Rochelle commented, the border collie mentioned while washing dishes. “I was told that Rebecca will be on the first flight back, and that we need to return Fleida.” She pressed her back against the wall, listening.
“Did the Russian government give a reason?”
“Only the cursory ‘the parents miss Fleida and want her back’. No emergency, no indication of problems.” the sound of dishes being moved around in water, and washed added to the conversation.
“Are you really going to send her back?”
There wasn’t a pause before she heard “We have to, or it will be an international incident and potential kidnapping.”
Fleida shook her head clasping at her muzzle while crying ‘They’re going to send me back! They’re going to send me back and I’m going to be killed! No! I can’t-!’ Turning toward the top of the stairs, she ran up as silently as possible, her mind a storm of possible horrible outcomes. ‘I have to escape! I have to run!’ Once inside her room, she stripped off her pajamas and pulled on her clothes. ‘I have to leave - I. Have. To-’
Downstairs, the conversation continued unabated. “Something about this seems wrong. Is there any way to get a hold of Fleida’s parents?”
“The number I tried didn’t pick up - so I don’t know what to think or do-”
“Until we hear from her parents,” Henry shook his head, “I’m not going to send her back. She’s safe here, and if something happens, we have an entire police force just itching to practice on moving targets.”
Rochelle blinked, looking at her husband “That was dark-”
“Honey, the worst we have to deal with is some petty vandalism, and maybe an overly entitled person making a nuisance of themselves, so my fellow officers make up stories about getting overrun by some sort of criminal element-”
“- it’s still dark.”
Henry walked up behind her, kissing her cheek. “Just means I’m willing to protect her with my life-”
“Oh, now you want to be all sexy,” she turned her head, kissing him on the lips, “so, if you’ll protect her with your life, what would you do to me?”
“I could show you in the bedroom-” he nuzzled his nose against hers, pressing her round rump against his hips, “how about we leave the rest for later? I’ll even clean up while you take your shower.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, sweetheart.” The two started kissing in the kitchen with Rochelle pulling away, and leading her husband into the bedroom.
When she arrived back in the kitchen, there were still dishes in the hot, soapy water, and sounds coming from the first floor bedroom. Ignoring them both, she opened the pantry door to see dozens of cans of food, bread, peanut butter, jelly, and a bunch of dry pasta. She didn’t care what she grabbed, as long as it was edible, and stuffed it into her satchel bag. Unfortunately, the bag was way too heavy when she tried to lift it up, and wound up looking through the cans to see what she should put back.
‘Ravioli. Spaghetti-O’s. Carrots?’ Fleida stuck out her tongue and put the can back before returning to the bag and sorting out into vegetables and food she would actually eat, which cut the amount of cans down by more than half. It definitely helped with the weight, but not a daily allotment of protein. Once more, she stuffed the cans into her satchel bag, her ears perked at the sounds coming from the bedroom.
Finishing up, she took a pen and paper, and wrote out what happened with a message about not trying to find her, and she wouldn’t be staying in New Hampshire. The now heavy satchel bag hurt her shoulder as Fleida made her way across the kitchen, and through the back door into the yard. Having checked out “bushcrafting” on the internet, and seeing several videos of people making everything from campsites to whole cabins.
Memories of her father taking the family out to Siberia during the spring and summer, camping over the course of a week and watching the stars all night caused the young girl to reminisce on her past - now it would be her saving grace. Looking back at the house, she felt a tear well up in her eye before turning away and going through the gate that linked the two properties together. Slipping into the back patio, she closed the gate door as softly as she could, the wood scraping against each other with a soft whine of disapproval.
The house’s upstairs window glowed, the light flickering ever so slightly to indicate a possible television or computer screen - she figured the latter, just because of the lack of constant action. ‘Melissa must be doing homework-’ Fleida surmised before making her way to the back of the garage. Finding the door unlocked, she turned the handle and heard the squeal of the wood complaining. Putting her finger to her lips, the husky hushed the door before finally opening the portal, and slinking inside.
Inside of the garage was a tight fit, especially with the light blue ‘57 Chevy Belair taking up most of the room. She stopped to marvel at the car for only a brief time before starting her search. ‘If I were a pack of bushcraft gear, where would I be?’ she started sifting through the various items; paint cans, most full of blue and pink, with one almost empty of eggshell white, a collection of tools, clearly for the car, a collection of boxes with odds and ends inside, but nothing that screamed “camping” to her.
She was still bent over, her tail in the air when she heard “Fleida?” behind her, her tail puffing out a little and going still. Turning her head ever so slightly, she blinked at the sight of the white tiger standing there in a pair of pajama bottoms, his toned, muscular body slightly silhouetted against the hallway light. Her first instinct was to run, but then he asked “Is everything alright?” his tone of voice caused her to blink and turn around.
‘How could I think of stealing from him?!’ standing up, she looked down and rocked back and forth on her feet. “I-I’m sorry - I was just - my mama, and papa, I got a phone call-” tears started to fall from her chin. ‘How can I tell him what happened?! Will he tell Henry and Rochelle?! What will become of me if he does?!’ her mind was a jumble of fear and chaotic potentiality, until she felt herself get scoop up into a pair of strong arms, and the back of her head being petted.
“Shh, it’s alright.” he soothed, a soft purr rumbling through his body, causing a slight vibration to fill hers with a quiet contentment. “You don’t have to tell me if it’s too painful, but I would like to know what I can do to help.”
‘Help?!’ The idea that anyone would want to help another after knowing them for less than a month shocked the girl. ‘He wants to help me?!’ Fleida leaned back a little to look at him, and saw no deception in the white tiger’s emerald gaze. She chewed on her lower lip for a second before saying “I-I need to borrow your bushcraft gear.” He only blinked at her causing the girl to continue. “My mama and papa are dead, and she called to tell me never to come home - but Henry and Rochelle have to send me back or it’s going to be bad for them! I have to leave! They can’t know or they will be in trouble! I have to go away! Far away where nobody will find me!”
Charles stopped Fleida from starting to ramble by putting a finger on her lips, making the little husky blink, and blush slightly. “Okay.” he then hoisted her up, and placed her onto his shoulders so that she was facing the same way as him.
“Eek!” she clutched onto his head as he stood up, for no little girl should ever be that tall that quickly without warning.
“Do you see the black backpack?” he asked, causing Fleida to open her eyes. There, on a top shelf lay a black military-style backpack. “Go ahead and grab it-” reaching out a shaky hand, she pulled the pack off of the shelf only to feel something inside shift. It surprised her, but she managed to keep hold of the pack, only for it to smack Charles in the chest.
“S-Sorry-”
“It’s alright.” Pulling her up, he then crouched, and set Fleida on the ground, her legs feeling like gelatine for a brief moment before she regained her footing. Charles then let go so she could turn around on her own, which the young husky did. “Inside is all of my bushcraft gear. With that you should be able to do anything camping wise, but you’re also going to need food.”
Fleida smiled “I have that covered-” and showed him her satchel bag full of cans.
“That’s going to be heavy - are you sure you can carry it all?” Charles asked, only for the young pup to rub at her shoulder.
“I - should be alright.”
Standing up, he shook his head. “Come with me-” he then walked into his house. The young girl blinked, unsure of whether or not to follow, her mind going over possible outcomes with the white tiger before she timidly entered the back of the home. There was a small washroom with a stacked washer and dryer, a small shelf for folding clothes, and a deep sink before she exited the opposite doorway to find him at a large pantry. “I’ll trade you some of those heavy cans for lighter options.” Fleida watched as he picked up small cans of Vienna Sausages and Smoked Meat, dropping them into the black backpack, with packages of ramen noodles of various flavors. Her eyes boggled at the sheer volume of food, and how much lighter the pack was in comparison.
“- but, why?” Fleida blinked, looking up at him.
Charles, after nearly filling the entire pack with food, crouched down and placed his hand on her shoulder. “I know what it’s like to have to run - to escape a situation you feel powerless to control. Unlike you, though, I didn’t have someone to help me. I had to live, and run, on my own with no money, no supplies, and usually starving from day to day.” Charles gave her a small smile. “After that, I made a promise to myself, if I were ever in a situation where I could help someone in a similar problem, I would do everything in my power to help.”
Fleida dropped the pack, and lunged, hugging the white tiger around the neck, while he did the same around her entire body. “Thank you-” she breathed out repeatedly, with tears sliding down her cheeks. “You have no idea what this means to me.”
“I have a good idea though.” he then kissed the top of her head once she let go of him, and stood up, escorting her back to the garage. “Oh, and take this. It belongs to Melissa, but she complains so much about fishing, she won’t miss it being gone.” He then pulled down a foot long rod with several others slid inside. She’d seen this type of thing before, it was an extendable fishing pole with a small spool of fishing line. He also added a small tackle box, barely the same size as her pencil case to one of the external pouches on the pack.
“Thank you again, Mr. Valentine.” Fleida smiled at him as she set about leaving his garage. “I’ll never forget your kindness.”
“You take care of yourself, Fleida. Okay?”
“I will.” With that, she turned around and started on her journey, first past his front yard, then down the street, and finally into the forests surrounding Pinevale. Her future unknown, and her path shaky, but her determination unquestioning. Neither of them even noticed the small satchel bag she’d left at the rear wheel of his ‘57 Chevy Belair.