That's what he heard as he put his foot down; every time he put his foot down. What passed for road on this planet would be considered a backwoods trail elsewhere. At least the downpour had stopped. Now it was just raining. A whine at his side reminded him of his company. He reached down and scratched the dog behind the ears. There were worse planets on which to crash. At least this one had an atmosphere and gravity. It was just too bloody bad that it had rain too. He hoped nobody found the ship soon. That would be inconvenient, especially since the crew died of gunshot wounds and not from fire or collision. He made a resolution never to go near an interstellar war again. He studied the sky. It seemed that the grey light was even dimmer. It was time to find a dry place to sleep, or even just a place to sleep.
"What would you say to a warm bed, mutt?"
He headed off the road and into the woods with the dog following. The two stopped under a fair sized tree and sat down. He opened up the survival kit he had appropriated and took out a tiny stove and lit it. After pulling out some foil packets, a canteen, and a sierra cup, he made, well, gruel.
"Want some?," he asked hopefully.
The dog sniffed at the steaming concoction and backed away, growling.
"Oh, but it's so good and nutritious, it says so right on the package."
So he ignored the dog and tried to ignore the taste. This stuff was awful. He finished it anyway because it was warmer than he felt. He washed the cup out sparingly with water from the canteen and shut off the stove. He pulled the collar of his jacket up higher and leaned back against the tree. As he closed his eyes, he heard a pleading whine. He opened one eye and saw the dog staring at him mournfully. He sighed and patted his lap. The dog came and set his forepaws and head on the man's lap. He scratched the dog's ears and fell asleep.
The man awoke suddenly, stiff and still wet from the rain. Then he heard the low and menacing growl from the dog. He opened his eyes slightly. It was broad daylight and the dog was in front of him facing away towards the deep woods. He saw nothing else, but he heard something in the woods, something BIG. He reached slowly for the assault rifle next to him, another appropriation from the ship. He switched off the safety and loaded a round into the chamber. He did this without taking his eyes off the woods. As quietly as he could, which was very quiet, he moved into a crouch and slipped the survival pack over one shoulder. The dog was still growling. Crack! A branch was shattered. The sound of wet leaves being stepped on heavily came nearer. He could make out a dim shape in the distance. It was easily twice as tall as he was, with a vaguely familiar shape. It got close enough for him to see the dark mottled hide and to hear its heavy breathing. It paused, then moved rapidly towards them. The dog was barking loudly now. He dropped the pack and shouldered the rifle, aiming where the head should be at. The creature was now near enough for him to see it clearly. As he saw what was bearing down on them, the man nearly ran away. Loping towards them was the nearest thing to a dragon he had ever seen. It stood 3.5 meters tall, was reptillian, and had quite a few large, yellow teeth. The man fired at full auto into the roof of the gaping mouth, and then jumped aside as it kept running past him. It slammed into the tree, cracking many branches, and screaming in pain. It fell back onto the forest floor, thrashing wildly and making quite a pool of blood and gore. He fired several bursts at the body and head, but the beast was just moving in a rather energetic death reflex. It was completely still in less than a minute. As the echoes died away, he heard the dog barking. Not another one. Then he saw the dog running around the body and barking furiously at the dragon.
"I think it's dead."
The dog gave him a dirty look.
He walked around the dragon, studying it. He was very glad it was dead. It appeared to be 6 meters long, from snout to tail. It had an elongated snout, like a crocodile, but with consideably larger teeth. Beginning at its head, and running the length of its back, all the way to the tip of its tail, was a series of flexible spines. Poisonous? Or maybe a heat exchanger? Better not touch them either way. Although it had run on its hind legs, its fore legs seemed strong and well developed. It probably used them for holding prey while those teeth ripped the poor creature apart. He shook himself at the thought. The blood seemed thick and blue-green in color. Interesting, maybe there was very little iron on this world. He looked at those teeth again. Nobody would believe his tale, but if he had one of those teeth to show? Besides, maybe he could carve on it. He approached the head cautiously and inspected the mouth. Not a lot of intact teeth after his shooting. Wait, one of the largest was in pretty good shape. Drawing his knife, he began working the tooth out of its socket. It was surprisingly easy, especially since the roots appeared to be rotting. A little work with the knife chipped those pieces away. The result was still a fair sized tooth, maybe 15 centimeters in length. Quite a piece for show and tell if he ever reached home again. He wrapped it in the foil coverings of last nights dinner, placed it in the pack, and whistled to the dog.
"Come on, mutt, we're leaving."
The dog gave the corpse one last bark to put it in its place, and then followed the man out of the forest. Again they marched down that muddy road, but it was much drier now. Although, if he wasn't careful where he put his feet, he still heard that infernal noise. Splash.