The Messenger.

The pale winter sun sliced through the mist which hung over the desolate, pockmarked battlefield. The frost covered expanse, glittering in the weak dawn light, was deserted, not a man or a beast in sight. There was nothing, no trees for birds to sit and sing in, no grass for cattle to graze at, nothing except miles and miles of barren wasteland ridden with holes as far as the eye could see.

Slowly as the sun rose higher, a small silhouette crept through the mist along the muddy, potholed terrain. It stopped, stood still with its head held high smelling the air then suddenly sprinted away, through the fog. The shadow ran faster than any man could and leapt , as light as a deer over the bomb craters in the ground. A little dog ran for its life through the uninhabited waste of “no-mans land”, its prize strapped tightly to its collar. The little black and white border collie was the last hope to the men in the trenches of the Western Front, all other means of communication to their headquarters had failed. The roads were a muddy pulp and the wasteland too far and dangerous for a man to cross. It was a long way over very difficult ground but all of the men in the trenches had faith in their little dog. Not only did she now carry the message that would save them, she also gave great comfort and boosted morale when times were bad. Her soft warmth and gentle understanding eyes soothed even the most terrified of men, a reminder of home.

Now the little mother figure was running faster than it had ever done before, eyes shining bright, pink tongue lolling from the mud-flecked nose with the effort. She had only one thing in mind, to reach HQ.

The little dog took the chance to run as far as she could, as fast as she could before the guns started, running, running head down watching for holes.

In just over an hour the little dog came in sight of HQ. Howling with joy, the little dog raced to the peeling door of the ramshackle building. Men turned as the dog approached and stood in surprise. She finally slowed and padded up to the nearest soldier, her job complete.

That evening, there was a small shape curled in front of the fire, dreaming. She had run 40 miles and saved many lives, and in return she had been rewarded with a good meal, a warm bed and lots of love.