Margaret knelt beside the casket, her fingers running gently through Orion’s fur. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t resist. Whatever he had seen—if he had seen anything at all—was gone now.
But the feeling in the chapel, that strange, indescribable shift in the air, lingered. No one dared to speak of it.
The Final Command
The chaplain cleared his throat, breaking the silence. His voice was steady, though his eyes glistened with unshed tears.
“Orion’s job was to protect Elijah,” he said softly. “And now, he’s making sure he gets home safely.”
Margaret bit her lip, nodding. Her heart clenched at the truth in those words. Orion had been at Elijah’s side through war, through danger, through every impossible moment. And now, he refused to leave him, even in death.
The officer who had brought Orion hesitated, then took a deep breath. Slowly, gently, he reached for the dog’s collar.
“Come on, buddy,” he whispered. “It’s time.”
For a moment, it seemed Orion wouldn’t move. He stayed there, pressed against Elijah, his body frozen as if he could somehow hold on just a little longer.
Then, as if sensing the inevitable, he let out a slow, deep sigh. His ears twitched, his tail gave a weak flick, and finally, finally, he shifted.
Margaret felt her breath hitch as Orion lifted his head. His eyes lingered on Elijah’s face, searching, remembering. Then, with one last nuzzle against his soldier’s chest, he stepped back.
