[sub][h3][center]Oleander[/center][/h3][/sub][hr]
There were stories upon stories about dogs being heroes. It was why he had taken this form.

A Golden Retriever pulls a baby from a burning house. A German Shepard taking a bullet for their handler. A Labrador calling neighbors when their owner has fallen and cant get up. A Dachshund standing up to bear to defend their home. Stories that were essentially modern legends singing of their feats of loyalty or sacrifice- Hachikō waited for his master for years at the train station. Balto transported the Diphtheria antitoxin six hundred miles through sleet and hail and snow to Nome. It was for this reason what he had assumed this state. A Familiar's job, their whole purpose, was to protect their masters. What better than man's best friend?

Some of his kin followed different philosophies than he did. He understood their choice, sometimes. Depending on their master's place in this world it would be appropriate to assume the form of a bear, or a lion. However, these creatures elicited fear in the societies they ventured into. They were met with resistance, and what good was strength if one could not apply it? Similarly, some preferred to be nimble, and oversee from above. Birds of all shapes and sizes, bats, insects... He could understand this philosophy as well. Being small made one hard to spot, and the power of flight? Being able to see for miles was a powerful warning system. As with the mighty beasts, though, it had its drawbacks. Namely the distance they had to maintain to play to such strengths. What good was an early warning if none were there to hear it?

Being a dog was an easy middle ground, Oleander felt. His methods and mentality were tried and true. He was an old familiar, with dozens of generations under his belt. His experience had lent itself to his shape, for there was no better state than a dog. People didn't question his appearance indoors or outdoors, or the fact that he followed his master wherever she went. That's just what dogs did. They were walked, and run regularly. They were loyal to their keepers and guardians of the hearth. All things considered, they were the familiars of the mundane world. It was a no brainer- the mundane world was the world they were trying to blend into, after all. There [i]were[/i] some caveats though. He was a fairly sizable dog, so in some places it was more difficult to hide. There was not perfect solution to that without their disadvantages. There were also many places that did not allow mundane familiars- or 'pets' as they called them. This school was one of them.

The ever nearing date that Kayla had marked as 'first day of school' on her calendar had been approaching for some time now. He dreaded these days ever since the end of the industrial revolution, when education began to take hold. Pets were not allowed on school grounds, and his job became [i]that much[/i] more difficult. Much like his master, he spent every moment waiting for their release, the weekends, the breaks, the long weekends, and the time designated to tend to fields that had been rebranded to summer vacation. It was not his job to judge his master for she had [i]many[/i] redeeming qualities to her person, but she spent very little time ever tending the fields of the farm. Even less than any of his masters before her. He had mixed feelings on this. At least she was easier to track.

Getting in and out of the school for Kayla was a song and dance Oleander had done many times before. Two-thousand-two-hundred-eighty-one times now, if his memory served correct. Since she had begun kindergarten twelve years ago. He was good at it, by this point. He knew exactly when to get in, and when to leave. He often simply hitched a ride in the back of the beaten truck that had been clinging to life for what he swore was almost as long as he had, and left the flatbed around half an hour after her classes began. It had no roof, but he never minded the sleet or the rain. She oftentimes lectured him half heartedly when he stole her class schedule and memorized it, but it was his own form of homework. The floor plan of the school had been more difficult to obtain, so he had settled to memorizing the floor plan through trial and error. He had long since learned which bathrooms were closest to which classes. Some were a bit further than others then he'd like, but Oleander knew that being physically next to her at all times was not realistic. However he would not give up. He would never give up. Protecting her was his duty. He would not fail.

Oleander had taken to bringing a small bag with a chessboard and the pieces with him to the school with him. It was a tad more difficult to get in, but it was worth the extra heartache, he felt. It passed the time. He had left the truck, and scaled the fence along the school, paced through the halls quickly, and locked himself in one of the men's bathroom stalls by using his mouth on the latch. He found that they were less likely to be used than those in the women's bathrooms. He played against himself often, but never became [i]too[/i] distracted. He had to move often. With every bell he remained, moving only after the footsteps had ended and the doors had all shut to the restroom closest to his master. Kayla was [i]always[/i] within earshot, and he would [i]always[/i] be listening. Danger loomed darkest when suspicion was low. He would not allow a surprise attack. He would not fail.

Oleander's gaze rose to a window as a shadow passed and obscured the light. A great grey owl landed, on what was likely the roof of the building and gazed down at the dog. A small black cat joined it shortly, likely having scaled the building to join its companion. They were like him. He could tell by the way the light hit their eyes. His gaze shifted between the two of them, and the owl eyes off of him as well. The cat seemed dreary.

[i]Tell me, little one, why do you want to be free?[/i]

The cat met his gaze and the owl shifted uncomfortably, finally averting her eyes.

[i]You tell me.[/i]

The bell rings again, and the two are gone. He waits a while, and then moves himself. Duty calls. He finds himself in the last bathroom of the day, but the smell of a certain blood caught his attention. The fur on his back stands on end. [i]Hunter[/i], he thinks. His mind races, and then so does he. Oleander tears through the halls to Kayla's location- it's a room that he had not been to before. This worries him. He would not fail. He would not fail. He would not fail.

The husky skids to a halt, and readies himself to turn the door handle with his paws and defend her. To the death he would [i]always[/i] defend her. But he stops- the scent is not strong enough to be a blood hunter. He rears and places his paws against the door and peers through the window. There she is, his Kayla. She is safe and sound, and he [i]feels[/i] his body sag with relief at that. The coppery, iron scent in his nose directs him to an older man. He is not one of them. He will not harm her. Kayla's gaze shifts-ever attentive she is, when she hears his weight fall against the door. Her face breaks out into a grin and she marches to the door. Oleander pushes himself off just before she pulls the door open to let him in.

"Oleander!" She says, joy in her voice. He rushes her, but does not jump. He rubs along her legs as he circles her, marking her with his scent to ward off any would be attackers and to check her over for injuries. He would not fail her. 

"What are you doing here?" She says as she kneels down and runs her hand down the back of his head and neck several times. He leans into her hand, welcoming the affection. "Sorry everyone!" she says, turning back to the others. They smell different than her, but similar all the same. They were like her. He would watch them, too, until their guardians returned. "He must've missed me. You know how huskies are. Probably should've expected this on the first day back." she laughs, and returns to her seat. He follows after her, sitting next to her diligently and quietly. It occurred to him that he'd have to acquire his chess set once again- he had left it in the bathroom when he had run to her. No matter, that could be replaced. He would not leave her side for something so trivial as his hobby.

For he would [i]never fail her.[/i]