At least twice a day (and sometimes three or four times), Naomi made the fifteen minute descend down the stairs to the CN tower, and twenty-five minute climb back to the top. Always at sunrise and sunset, to allow her guide dog, Sasha, to do her business. Often she would even walk around the area a little, and thatâs what she had been doing this evening. The cool air felt remarkable on her skin, and it reminded her of working evenings on the farm, moving hay bails, and turning horses in and out.
The tower wasnât ideal in some ways â there was limited space, and communal living meant things were always going to be moved around; and people had far better things to do than be careful where they sat their bag, or if they moved a piece of furniture over a few inches. The white king shepherd was only about five feet away, sniffing at some grass to do her business on, when Naomi tripped over something that definitely hadnât been there that afternoon.
âThatâs new..â She groaned to herself, as she lay there, taking inventory of herself. She chuckled softly when she felt a cold nose to her face, and reached up to give Sasha a small pat. âI think Iâm alright, Sash.â However, her heart began to race when she heard the dog growl; Sasha only growled when there was a walker nearby. Listening closely, Naomi couldnât hear grunts or shuffling of one, herself, which was somewhat of a relief, because it meant it wasnât close enough for her to hear it. She did, however, hear footsteps of the living, and wrapping one hand around the pliable (leather loop handle, and not a hard metal one) grip on Sashaâs harness, her left hand reaching for the knife she kept on her â and she stood up slowly. âHello?â
