The sounds of banter and chatter echoed through the air, people incessantly speaking, filling the once quiet streets with busy noise. A cart drawn by a horse drove by, kicking up the paved roads and sending dirt and pebbles behind it. The clouds were starting to gather, there would be rain soon.
In the midst of it all, there walked a man, he looked in his early to mid-twenties. His skin was slightly tanned, and his hair was a curly mop of brown hair. His eyes were green, and he seemed to be covered in freckles. He wore one piece of clothing that seemed to be his trademark at this point. A green plaid hoodie, he always wore it, no matter where he was or what he was doing.
As he passed the people on the street, they all took a few moments to watch him go by, still chattering among themselves, though a few had changed the subject to him now. The never-ending noise was unbearable to him, he never really socialized with anyone, preferring to stay in his own little world. Though he never really spoke, most people in town knew his name, Thistle. The people noticed what he was carrying, a fishing pole, a small box, and a backpack. He must've been going to the forest stream again.
The people shrugged and went back to their daily lives, putting all the oddities of that man into the backs of their minds.
As Thistle walked, he heard the noise of bombarding voices less and less, and instead, began hearing the beautiful sounds of the forest. The paved roads and the sight of houses and farms disappeared, and in their place, there were trees and grass. The sound of the stream began to fill his ears, the calming sound of rushing water, and the sound of fish joyfully jumping and splashing.
Thistle sighed, and began to see the stream coming up, he smiled, as he approached, he saw a fish jump out of the water and back in with a soft splash. Thistle finally came to it, it was a bit deeper than most streams, but was still shallow enough to be considered as such, it ran through the forest and out into the wilderness, what was beyond the veil of discovered land. The only people who knew what was beyond the small red X mark on one of the trees were those who died at the hands of a bear or went missing in the night. Nobody dared to go deeper than that for fear of never coming back to tell the tale.
Thistle took off his backpack and set it aside, along with the box. He sat down, back against the nearest tree, his favorite tree, and began setting up. He opened the box and took out a piece of chicken from the night before, and without hesitation, cast the line. He waited for a fish to bite and took a moment to take in his surroundings for the hundredth time. As he gazed around at the beautiful greenery around him, he felt so calm and content.
As he watched the leaves in the trees, the sound of the water filling his ears, he began to slowly feel himself falling asleep. He jolted up, trying to keep himself awake. "Damn," He muttered, "I knew I shouldn't have stayed up so late last night." He laid back up against the tree and tried keeping his eyes open, focusing on the line in the water. But soon, he began to drift off again, and as much as he tried to keep his eyes open, he eventually succame to his tired mind.
The line pulling woke him up, he didn't know how long he had been asleep, but he jolted himself awake again. He rubbed his eyes for a second, feeling whatever it was on the line pulling hard. As soon as his eyes focused again he got ready to pull back. But stopped when he saw what was on the line. A milk jug? It was in perfect shape, no rust, no dents, no cracks from what he could see, so why would someone throw it out?
Perhaps the milkman just lost it? He must not have been paying attention to how secure the jugs were to his cart. Thistle put down the pole and pulled the line, pulling the jug to shore, it felt like there was something in it. He pulled it up on shore and examined it, and it was in perfect condition like he thought.
As he turned it over to examine the underside, he felt whatever it was inside start moving. There was something alive in there! He took the lid on the top and unlocked the hinge, which had a small hole in it, which was no doubt how this thing was able to breathe. He opened the jug, and carefully peered inside, but before he knew it, the thing already popped its head out of the jug.
Thistle jumped, the first thing he noticed was the human face, a child? Then he realized, those tufts on the sides of its head weren't hair tufts at all, they were ears? His eyes widened, as the little pup's ear flicked, and he yawned. He rubbed his eyes, and then looked up at Thistle. The pup sniffed at him curiously, not sure what to make of the strange human that found him.
Thistle turned and opened his backpack, going through it quickly and pulling out a paper. He looked to it, the picture on it looked so similar to this creature. He looked over to the pup again. Thistle looked back down, and a confused look spread on his face. The picture made these things look a lot eviler than this pup looked. Thistle looked back up, the pup was looking around at his surroundings now. Thistle furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of it. I mean, he thought the officers said they were all extinct now?
He suddenly felt something, he looked back and saw the pup nibbling on his hand, letting out a little playful gurgle that was supposed to be a growl. The up looked back up at Thistle with his big, round, innocent eyes, and just like that, Thistle felt his heart melt.
Thistle looked around quickly, hoping nobody was watching. He got up and took the milk jug under his arm, the little pup sliding back down in it. He closed the lid and hinged the lock back on it. He picked up his belongings and proceeded to start back to town, back home. By this point, it was already starting to rain, but now, he'll have to figure out what to do with this little 'monster'.