a falling through

forward-dating this a few days, and keeping the circumstances vague @Junkyard Dog

As the days revolved, their faction had changed -- and many of the dogs had fallen ill in the inhospitable climate or found their end by unknown jaws. Dogmeat, bigger than most, was fatefully yet to discover his own termination -- though the ravenousness that hounded his belly oft reminded him his dissolution was near.

He and the svelte comrade he had come to learn was titled Junkyard Dog had delved from the group, surveying the land that stretched well to the west. They avoided wolves where they could, though the glen was bepopulate with them. When they came to a sodden slough where a dark estuary spread deep and caliginous their progress was halted. Dogmeat turned to his comrade, his expression taut -- he did not possibly wish to conceive what depraved or profane creatures called this interminable wasteland their home.