A vision of the present, or was it the past?
Bella curled up next to Ange, her dearest and first friend. He appeared to be an enormous St. Bernard dog easily twice the size of an adult man with large, angelic dove wings sprouting from his back, which was why she called him Ange, for angel.
She hugged into his great, bushy cream white and brown fur, finding warmth against the rapidly approaching cold of the night. Ange huffed as he craned his tawny head to her, giving her face one big, sloppy lick.
"Oh, stop it, you big oaf," said Bella with a giggle.
Ange smiled at her, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth, and she pet him, her pale, bony white hand sifting through the fur on his head. Her eyes traced the length of her skinny arm, finding distorted patches all around her ivory white skin from the bad times, when the priests and village headman got so mad at her and then got everyone else so very mad at her too, even her parents.
