;i don't know how it gets better than this [open]

[Cristie Stjerna]

"Slow down, brat!" Cris called, grinning at the excited dog nearly fifty yards ahead of her. It was a sunny day, but the ground was soggy and full of exciting smells and oozing mud puddles. The pit bull was in heaven.

Cris stuck her heads in the pockets of her slim fitting jeans. With the thin beige sweater she wore and the warmth of the sun, it was the perfect temperature out. She walked on for several more minutes quietly, just thinking. She'd started at the top of the park. Tended gardens on rock shelfs, a nice fountain. The concrete path she followed wound through the lush park, easing out into a more worn and somewhat soggy gravel path. Cris had passed Vimy nearly a minute ago, and glanced over her shoulder, tucking a wave of blonde hair behind her ear. The fawn and white dog still had her head and shoulders shoved inside a stand of cedar shrubs. Cristie rounded her lips and gave a short whistle. Instantly the pit bull lifted her head and started a mad sprint to catch up to her mistress, tongue lolling every which way. Her legs and chest were splattered with dirty water and she looked to be in the epitomy of doggy happiness.

Smiling as the pale blur streaked past her, bouncing ahead excitedly, Cris thought back to a couple of nights ago. It had been weird, just weird, bumping into Kyler again. Now, Cristie was not a believer in fate, and this was no exception, but she did have to admit it was a wonderful coincidence. Trying to hide a small smile from herself, she thought about that night for what had to be the millionth time, playing it over again and again in her head, every little thing he'd said. She was broken from her thoughts by an eager whine, and looked up. They were out in the vast green now. There were two rusty goalposts a hundred yards or so to their right, but the field clearly wasn't in use this time of year. The gravel track ran in a wide loop around the entire field. Overgrown patches broke up the field here and there, and there seemed to be plenty of trees. To their right was a forested ravine. A swift stream was running now, but she'd heard during summer it was usually just a trickle.

Vimy was pawing at a rather chewed up, rotten-looking tennis ball that had definitely seen better days. "Did you find treasure, chub?" The dog stopped her pawing at the ball, staring at Cris in open-mouthed excitement. Striding up to the sodden ball, Cristie gave it a sharp kick with the toe of her sneaker, sending it spinning quickly away. The pit bull bolted after it, her powerful haunches and shoulders propelling her forward with each stride. Cris looked about again. The park wasn't particularly busy, which was nice. She saw two other dog walkers on their own like her, one several hundred yards across the field and one down in the ravine, beside the creek. Somebody was jogging... not much was going on, which was nice. She wouldn't have to worry about keeping a close eye on Vimy. Obviously the dog wouldn't hurt anybody, but Cris had come to realise that people where quick to judge appearances. And not everybody, no matter how hard she tried to convince them, was fond of pit bulls. "Don't go too far, Vim." The swede called absentmindedly to the dog, who was proceeding to fling the ball across the soggy ground and pounce after it. Damn, she was gonna need a good blast with the hose when they got home.

{Click 'bio' in my siggy for more background on these two losers. =)}