Chapter-8: Willy Wells Knows Best
An hour later, Cana stood facing a moss-covered cliff side. He considered his options again, trying his best to delay his advance. But nothing new came to mind. There was only one path forward. He flexed each of his four paws, shook his tail of goose bumps and forced himself to move.
He whined and rubbed his nose several times and braced his stomach. Slow steps forward, he gnashed his teeth and headed directly into the solid rock. The green moss shimmered around him, and he disappeared in three breaths.
The hell hound stepped through the hidden entrance and gagged and vomited to his left side. His eyes twitched and burned, even though he closed them before stepping through. Tears flowed in copious amounts and streaked down his neck, while snot dropped and slinked from his snout. But most unbearable, his nose and stomach suffered with the razor putrid scent. The odor made his head and entire body tremble with pounding sickness.
The cave smelled horrendous. The rotten stench clung in the air with dense thickness, ten times stronger than any Skunk, wolverine and corpse flower combined. Quickly, Cana used some of his energy to filter each breath and to create a protective barrier around his eyes and snout. He rubbed his nose a few times and wiped his tears away. And after a few filtered breaths, he moved deeper into the cave.
Cana reached the main dwelling area feeling queasy and haggard. He sat at the entrance to the domed space and continued his search. In the middle of the living area, orca roasted on a large grill, while cherry and mesquite wood embers glowed beneath the meat. And, very faint through his protective air filter, he smelled yams baking, buried beneath the fire pit.
More tension knotted up his back, and Cana stretched his neck and sensed for his target. He wiggled his nose this way and that way and inhaled a concentrated muggy disgust. His face contorted into a silent-disappointed vomited look. There, by the fire, he sensed him, fast asleep.
Cana stepped back and exhaled into a sigh and growled. The big oaf lay tucked away within his own invisible separate bubble of space, snoring and huddling into a massive oily hair ball.
Retreat flexed in each of his legs, and Cana glanced back at the exit and considered leaving. Again, he decided against it. Instead, he closed his eyes and barked three times and braced his stomach into a hard knot.
The big oaf stretched and reached and curled each toe on his massive feet. He yawned and opened his eyes. And he appeared out of nowhere behind the fire pit. The large creature double blinked at Cana and grinned. Several skin folds on his forehead furled up as his smile grew wider.
The smelly oaf stood three meters tall, covered in long thick strands of nut-brown hair, from his head to the insteps of his big feet. He scratched his arm pits and lower back, and chuckled. An amused grunt echoed in the cave and the hairy beast rushed forward, reaching for the hell hound.
Cana growled and barked twice and immediately entered his phantom shadow form within a tenth of a wink. He stared at the large creature with his ruby glowing eyes and barked and snarled.
The big footed oaf stopped, and blushed.
“Sorries, Cana, Willy glad see you,” said Willy Wells. “Willy not see you in ‘bout twenty fibe years. How Luz?”
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