Honor Bound: The story of an Alaska dog's journey home, how he fulfilled his honor-bond to his girl, and became a true dog, a great dog.

By Amanda Kirsch

Robby was sent tumbling over the side of his family's pickup and hitting the pavement and tire--hard. He finds himself battered and broken hiding out in a storm outside Palmer, Alaska. He's three-hundred miles from home and his only compass is the tug of his heart and memory of his girl. His nose points south and he dares to face the cold grip of Alaska's edge of winter and the cold city that ain't no place for a dog." Over mountain and city streets he journeys at the edge of his endurance. The hungry empty-bellied wolves and killing-frost his constant fears. Wounded and sick--nearly drowned, his iron-will and courage urges him on. For he knows in his heart that only a true dog--a great dog, stops at nothing to get home to his human. Robby knows he's honor bound to be by his Miss's side--or die trying.eys and find her true voice? "

• Language: English
• Publisher: Publication Consultants
• Release date: Aug 25, 2014
• ISBN: 9781594333767

Amanda Kirsch

Amanda Kirsch's love of writing started at an early age of 5 with the movie White Fang--She wrote her own version with full colored pictures! It was a childhood past time that turned into a dream way before it was made reality. It did not come easy, but hard work, long hours, and an annoying best friend/husband got her there. Amanda began Honor Bound at a young age after the death of Robby, a dog worthy of being remembered for all times. The setting for Honor Bound was the best part of writing it. Amanda loves Alaska. She was born and raised in her wild abandon and added all the zest she could from memory of lands she combed. Amanda spent a large chunk of her life on the highway between her summer home in Chicken, Alaska in a gold mining camp, and her winter home in Nikiski, Alaska where she went to school.

Book preview

there.

one

Lightning cracked, brightening the dreary black night. The rumble rolled through the hills, distant mountains, and wide river valley lined with a great wall of steel-gray granite. The rain came down in a sudden burst, but the warmed summer breeze making the whole of the storm not as horrible as it could have been. The storm clung to the dreary outskirts of Sutton, Alaska, around mile 64 of the highway to be correct.

The rain tossed down by the storm dripped from ferns and leaves making the grass lay close to the ground. The misty sweet smell of rain clung to the rich smell of warm pine trees as it pounded on a hollow log. The chaos above disturbed the animal that had crawled into the log to take refuge. Despite darkness, the animal’s bright golden fur was gleaming, lighting the dreary shadow of the hollow space. Its black nose was stuck down between muddy paws, muffling its sorrowful whines as it shivered.

It wasn’t but five hours ago that Robby had been standing in the back of his family’s blue Ford pickup truck. He had stood catching some air as he had leaned out, tongue sailing in the wind as they cruised down the twisting highway. Robby remembered what happened, and was angry with himself. He was standing on the edge of the truck bed leaning out too far tugging at the very end of the leash that was meant to keep him down. But he had tugged and pulled on it until it no longer served its purpose to protect him.

He had fallen through the air for what seemed like forever until he had hit the hard, unforgiving blacktop. His collar slipped off with a hard jerk wrenching his neck; his shoulder hit the tire; his back hit the pavement. Over and over he had tumbled; pain, horrible pain, flared in his body.

He had heard the truck screech to a halt, its rubber tires crying out on the death-black pavement. Three of its four doors had flown open, but it was too late. Robby ran and ran, never looking back. He was so frightened and so hurt he could not stop himself. Shrubs and willows smacked his bloodied nose. He heard a faint cry that he knew to be dear to his heart; it was his girl calling him back. But he couldn’t stop himself; he ran on; he left her. She sounded so scared and so sad, but he ran on until not even the rumble of the big blue Ford pickup could be heard.

He had left her.

Darkness surrounded him now as he stumbled over the roots and squirrel holes. He had blacked out, waking to his current misery. He could taste the rain mingling with the blood off the tip of his nose. Why had he run? Why? He asked himself the question over and over again, thinking of the heartbreak he had brought upon his girl.

He could barely lift his head from the pain it caused him. His hip was skinned up, burning with bits of gravel and pavement in it. He was cold. Lying on his side he could feel a broken rib tugging at the skin it tried to cut through. He could not fall asleep all that night in the moldy log that he managed to find in the darkness. His head ached too much and his stiff neck made him cough.

Before long, night had become day, as was normal in the summer time in Alaska, but still he lay as the rain came down. He watched it drizzle off of the plants and trees. A moose he normally would have jumped at the chance to chase, walked by lazily before catching the scent of Robby and his blood. It raced in fear through the wood like a spring windstorm, tearing a path through the damp plants. Robby took comfort in knowing that he wasn’t the only one frightened and alone at the moment.

two

By the next morning he was stiffer and weak. Bracing himself, he dragged his body out of the hole in the cottonwood log and stood. He was dizzy with pain and hunger, but he moved on with determination. He lifted his abused nose to the wind finding a game trail that had been used regularly by a male dog. He followed it for a long while at a slow, painful pace before finding a cabin with a chicken coop and a stocky horse in a corral being followed by a potbellied pigmy goat.

He lay just beyond the yard to watch. He looked for a garbage can to dump over in the night or a bag of hanging meat. The smell of fresh meat drifted to him. Tender, aging caribou meat hung in the shed, but his nose drew him to another source. He drooled, feeling hunger wrench his stomach and loudly tell him it needed food.

He suddenly caught the scent of the male dog that commonly used the trail he had come in on. He was in no shape to fight, but he had to eat, just a scrap to get him moving. He crept forward, his golden red coat as obvious as a black bear in spring snow. From behind him came a low angry growl.

Robby’s heart skipped a beat. He slid to the ground, submissively showing his belly. Robby looked at the dog he