It had been a whole year since the Bakers welcomed me into their family, and what a year it had been! I had faced dangers, solved problems, and even saved lives—Glacier, Elsa, Winter, Scarlet, Glacier's twin sister, and little Shelby had all needed my help at one point or another. And, of course, I had gotten myself out of trouble more than once, too! Life with the Bakers had been anything but dull, and through all the ups and downs, I had learned one important thing: family sticks together, no matter what.

But my job wasn't just about adventure. Long before I was a Baker, I had been something else—something just as important. I had been an emotional support dog, and that was how I met Elsa in the first place. I still remember the hospital hallways, the scent of antiseptic, the quiet murmurs of nurses and doctors moving through their day. But most of all, I remember her—Elsa, sitting alone, her arm wrapped around her ribs, her face tight with pain she didn't want to show. She had been hurt, not just in her body, but in a way that ran deeper. I had known it the moment I laid my head on her lap and felt the way she trembled. She needed someone then. Someone who would be there without asking questions, without expecting anything in return. And that someone had been me.

Since then, I had gotten Elsa, Glacier, Winter, and Scarlet out of scrapes more times than I could count—twice, thanks to Glacier and Elsa's mothers, Emily and Dianna. I didn't know how humans got themselves into so much trouble, but I had been there every time, making sure they came out safe. I thought that maybe, finally, things had settled down. That maybe Elsa was okay.

But now... now I wasn't so sure.

Lately, Elsa wasn't herself. I could feel it in the way she moved, in the way her scent had changed—less of the usual happiness and warmth, more of something heavy, something sad. I had seen this before, back at the hospital. I had smelled it in people who had been through too much, who carried invisible wounds that no one else could see.

Elsa was hurting.

But why? What had happened?

I didn't know, and that bothered me. I was supposed to protect her, to make things better. But how could I fix something when I didn't even know what was wrong?

I listened, watching the humans carefully, waiting for the moment when their words would give me the answer. And then, finally, I heard it. The hushed conversations, the worried tones. PTSD. Depression. Flashbacks.

I didn't know the words, but I knew what they meant.

Elsa was struggling. And this time, it wasn't just a scrape I could pull her out of.

This time, she needed me in a way she hadn't since the day we first met.

And I wasn't going to let her down.

***

The soft glow from the bedside lamp barely illuminated the small room, casting long shadows against the walls. The quiet was thick with tension, the kind that made everything feel too close, too heavy. The room—normally a sanctuary for the girls—now felt like a cage, closing in on us.

Glacier sat on her bed, her posture stiff, her blue artificial eyes scanning the room, sensing the unease without seeing it. Her face was calm, but I could tell she was worried. Elsa's body trembled violently on her bed, her arms wrapped tightly around a pillow as though it were the only thing keeping her together. Scarlet sat beside her, her arm around Elsa's shoulders, whispering soft reassurances that didn't seem to reach her.

I sat quietly beside Shelby, my ears alert. The air was thick with unspoken words, and I could feel the shift in Elsa's energy—something was wrong, something that none of us fully understood yet.

Shelby pressed her small body against mine, her tail tucked between her legs.

"Don't like this, Button," she whispered, her voice shaky.

I nudged her gently with my paw, giving her a comforting nudge.

"Don't worry," I murmured softly. "I'm sure it'll be okay."

But even as I said the words, I wasn't so sure.

Glacier's calm voice broke the silence, though I could hear the hint of worry in it.

"We need to get our medication," she said, rising from the bed and moving slowly toward the door. "But I promise you won't be alone, Elsa."

Scarlet squeezed Elsa's hand gently, offering what comfort she could.

"We'll be right back," she said. "And you have Button with you."

Elsa didn't respond. She stayed curled up in on herself, her body shaking even more. Whatever she was afraid of, whatever had her in this state—it was deep, and it was more than just fear.

After a long pause, Elsa's voice broke the quiet.

"She's out there."

The words hung in the air like a weight, heavy and filled with fear.

Glacier turned her head toward Elsa, her expression unreadable, even though her artificial eyes couldn't see. "Who?" she asked.

"Celestia," Elsa whispered, barely audible. "She escaped. She's out there... and she's coming for me."

The name sent a shockwave through the room. I could sense the sudden tension in the air, thickening like a storm was about to break. I didn't know who Celestia was, but from the way Elsa spoke—her voice so full of fear—it was clear that this was no ordinary threat.

Glacier didn't move, though I could feel her trying to process the gravity of Elsa's words. Her face remained calm, her blue eyes focused somewhere ahead, trying to stay strong for her friend.

"She won't find you," Glacier said, her voice firm but soft. "We won't let her."

But Elsa wasn't convinced. Her grip on the pillow tightened, her body shaking violently now.

"You don't understand," she gasped, her voice breaking. "She's coming for me. She almost—"

The words caught in her throat, but I felt it, the raw terror she was hiding. She wasn't just afraid of Celestia—there was something much deeper, something that terrified her to the point of almost losing herself. And it wasn't just fear of being found—it was fear of something worse.

Before any of us could say anything else, Elsa snapped.

"Fuck!" she cursed, her voice rising, cracking with raw panic. "She's going to kill me, Glacier! I can't—I can't do this again!"

Her voice cracked with emotion, the curse words falling from her lips like a scream she had been holding in. For a moment, everything went quiet again. The reality of Elsa's fear hit all of us, and the room seemed to shrink in on itself.

Glacier's face softened, her expression changing as she heard Elsa's pain. She didn't say anything more, but I could sense the deep understanding between them. She reached out, her hand gently resting on Elsa's arm, a quiet reassurance.

"You're not alone," Glacier whispered. "I'm here. We all are."

But Elsa still looked terrified. Her breathing was shallow, ragged, as she curled even tighter into herself. She didn't want to show it, but it was clear—she was terrified of Celestia. Terrified of whatever had happened between them in the past.

I couldn't stand it any longer. I barked once and leapt onto the bed, pressing my body into Elsa's side. She gasped, startled, but I stayed there, my head resting gently against her arm.

"Good girl," Glacier murmured, reaching out to pet me. "You'll protect Elsa, won't you?"

I wagged my tail, leaning closer to Elsa.

Scarlet gave a small, strained laugh. "I think that's a yes," she said, trying to lighten the moment. She reached out and scratched behind my ears, her touch gentle. "Come find us if anything happens."

I gave two sharp barks, a silent promise to protect Elsa no matter what.

Scarlet gently helped Glacier toward the door.

"Come on, Shelby," she said. "Let's leave Elsa and Button some peace."

The little pup hesitated, looking back at me for a moment before she trotted out after them. The door clicked shut behind them, and it was just me and Elsa. The silence in the room felt thick, heavy with everything left unsaid.

Elsa lay on her side now, her face hidden in her hands. Her body was still trembling.

I pressed closer, curling up beside her, resting my head on her arm. I didn't know who Celestia was, or what had happened between them. But I knew one thing for sure—I wasn't going to leave her.

———————

Author's Note:

Find out what happens next time. And wow! A long chapter.