「 ❈ the empty city 」「 dog rp 」「 invite 」

[deftonesly]

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( five ) ( stray ) ( located city edge, river ) ( tagged lexie ) ( words 2707 )


indent she was scared of him, and he had no idea why. he knew fear when he smelled it, despite the fact that he was not very familiar with the feeling himself. it had a . . . bitter, vile tang to it that made his blood boil and hocks twitch uncomfortably. the odor was quite copious on the dog before him, and if the fragrance of it was not enough to gauge, then the tremors that made their way down her spine spoke for themselves. the very idea that she was scared of him put him off, threatened to make his stoical façade crumble . . because he simply could not understand why the retriever looked up at him with such horror, such tension in her muscles. it irritated gunther, just a bit. she had taken him down - something hardly any dog could accomplish - with a swift bite to the shoulder just a few days ago, so what had changed? what had taken away her confidence, her rage with him? no, no, he corrected himself as he leaned forward just a whisker-length to get a good look at her and her ocean-blue eyes. he moved forward without any self-consciousness or nerves about him; he exuded a calm and cool confidence with every little thing he did. that familiar, striking ire - the one that draws me in, somehow, yet also makes me want to lower an invisible tail - is still ever-present in her eyes. it is just covered up by . . oh. oh. is that what i think it is, glistening in those orbs of hers? the german shorthaired pointer leaned away again after sniffing and examining the retriever. he let out a snort at the scent of fear that continued to rise from her, and the wind from his nostrils sent the canine's long fur fluttering. gun straightened his posture over the fae, resuming his stance of laid-backness; he was starting to grow concerned, but not for the retriever. gunther was in actuality concerned for the raw, fresh grief that was buried beneath the countless emotions that swam in the pack dog's eyes. and the odor of death and blood that clung to her like a plague. he remembered feeling grief, once - right when his longpaws had left him and dodger, before he had taken charge over the pup - and in that moment he wondered who the female was grieving for. for a fleeting, horrifying moment, his thoughts went right to his younger, adopted sibling. was the grief and sadness in the nova scotia duck tolling retriever's eyes for dodger? impossible. even if she does know anything about him and his whereabouts, there is no way that the two of them could have grown so close within the past few days. the grief in her eyes is for someone close. i can recognize that much, because i remember gazing at my own reflection after the humans left and seeing that same expression on my face. so . . if it's not dodger that is in trouble or - dogs of the earth, sky, and wind forbid - dead, then who is it? did . . did i have something to do with it? is that why she looks like she's about to lose it with me?

indent a moment of silence ensued between the dogs and he broke off the thought. gunther refused to dwell on what he hoped had not occurred; maybe if he pushed his suspicions away, they would not prove to be true? he did not have to end up doing much pushing, thank goodness, because suddenly he was drowning in the retriever's watery blue gaze. it was so . . complex. angry and saddened and filled with such anguish and hate that it made his heart speed up in its beating and his paws want to shuffle. the way she was looking at him . . like he was a detestable young child . . made him want to curl in on himself. was this how dodger so often felt around him? if so, he felt a rush of guilt; perhaps he would go easier on the pup from here on out, once he found him. but those orbs! they were so blue . . so fixating . . and so wonderful to see after so long that he could not say or do anything. he could not turn tail and just . . walk off, abandon this uncomfortable situation. he could not speak. he could scarcely even make his tail wag nervously, something that it longed to do. she was in utter control of him, and simply with her stare. he couldn't help but wonder how much power her words ( or, almost wistfully, he thought: her actions ) would have over him. if he was in such a deep trance just at the sight of her and her long, narrow muzzle . . flowing, red-brown fur and leg feathers . . white-splattered chest . . petite, angelic build . . then what could she do to him when she opened her mouth? this, he would later find out. the mature, stoic male questioned himself too much when he was with her. doubted himself more than he ever had before in his life. he was a hunting dog, for crying out loud! were they not supposed to be self-assured . . confident in themselves? yes, of course they are! he thought as he continued to gaze into her eyes and drink them in almost hungrily. but she takes everything that i know and believe and turns it upside down. it is . . sickening. maddening. i hate it. i am a male that has never before been controlled. the only time that i ever properly have been is when i was under the care of my longpaws. back when i was leashed, and only let off the hook to hunt for trophies and sport. now i am leashed not by man, but by a fellow candid. and i do not like that at all. the fact that she can have such power over me just by one stern glance in my direction is boggling to me. this dog makes me feel so many different things, and yet i have not even acquired her name. he curled his lip slightly. not at her, but at himself and how quickly he was being lured in. he reminded himself that this was a pack mutt . . . and one he could not trust, at that, considering what she had done to his shoulder. the fae was someone that would gladly turn him over to her leader for some praise and an extra helping of food. someone who viewed him as an enemy. gunther could not forget that. no matter . . whatever in the world he felt.

indent in the end, the retriever saved him from having to force out anything. she broke the awkward silence with a voice ringed with anger and a flash of her blue eyes. "is that all you have to say for yourself?" was that all he had to say for himself? what ever was she going on about? at the scathing question, the german shorthaired pointer just stared. he could do nothing else. it took a while for the words to sink in, and by the time they had, the pack dog was moving on in her heated tirade, her voice rising with every word she barked at him. "i never knew a dog could be so cruel . . . over a rabbit." it at last clicked in that moment; the massive, hard-muscled brute jerked back as if he had been popped on the muzzle. gunther's fear - a great one that had been lurking around in the back of his mind since he'd heard the collie's leg snap - had come to life, judging by her tone. he could no longer deny it . . could no longer put off his musings about the fate of her black-and-white comrade. he was the one that she was getting so fired up about. the collie was dead - had to be. "you killed him. i hope you know that. you killed an innocent dog." there it was. the words, cracked and garbled due to the female's sorrow, hit him hard, and the fact that they did frightened him immensely. he had already suspected . . so, why, now that she had revealed to him what the rabbit and the skirmish and all the blood had led to, did he feel so guilty? gun could not understand it. could not understand why he jerked back again and ducked his head for a dog he did not know and now never would. was it because she was chastising him about the death of her friend? was it because of the emotion in her eyes and the passion with which she spoke to him? he could not function under her icy glare and harsh words; he was completely and utterly shaken by the guilt that he felt. but . . he wondered as he stared down at his mud-caked, webbed paws and the forest floor. but do i feel guilty for what i did? do i feel guilt for "killing" the poor male? or do i simply feel this way because this fae is angry with me, and because i care about what she thinks of me? unfortunately, he had to admit that it was a mix of both. mostly the latter, but still, both. oddly enough, he did not want the pack dog to see him as what she surely perceived him to be now: a heartless, stone-cold dog-killer. the murderer of her friend. he had no idea what he wanted her to see him as . . just . . not that. but as for the collie, he really did feel sorrowful for him. he had been a young dog, much younger than him . . and he had taken away his ability to run, jump, play, and even live. however, he did happen to be annoyed by the fact that the retriever was blaming this all on him. the pointer had just broken a leg! he had not slit the collie's throat before her very eyes!

indent the entire time he had been looking down at his paws, brow furrowed with thought, she had been rambling on. "why? was it worth it? do you enjoy the feeling of knowing that you've killed a dog who was a brother and friend to many?" she had switched more-so to the offensive . . for she suddenly stepped forward, forcing him to look at her by bringing her salmon-pink nose even with his own chocolate brown one. he noticed suddenly that her fear scent was ebbing away . . that she was regaining her confidence; she sported the same glint in her eye that she had had when she'd bitten him. gunther reared back to meet her subtle challenge, now a bit enraged that she was invading his personal space, something he loved dearly. he kept his intense amber orbs focused on hers . . kept their noses so close that they nearly touched; her breath cascaded over him in bittersweet waves. one thing that the long-legged animal loved was a challenge, and by stepping forward, she was presenting him with one. the hunting dog stared down his long snout at her as she pressed on: "was it to protect yourself? your brother maybe? i don't see him now nor do i smell his scent on your coat, so was it worth it?" and just like that, the retriever was done. spent. because she shut up and just gazed at him, too, as if she wanted to be engaged in a staring contest with him. although he was confident that he could win that any day, gunther knew that it was time to reply. here goes nothing, he thought as he backed up a pace - almost stepping on the hawthorn bush behind him - so that he could speak. the german shorthaired pointer let everything loose in what he said next: his confusion, his raw fury at the fact that he was being accused, his desperation to find his brother. and yet, though all of that was stored in his sentences, his voice had never been more stoic and dangerously calm. "listen, fae," he grunted, "i am not sure who you think you are, and i am not sure who you think i am, but i can tell you one thing in answer to your questions. i did not kill your friend." he glared like he so often did at dodger, narrowing his amber eyes and allowing them to turn frostier than the grass on a newborn autumn day. "there's a big difference between killing and simply wounding. perhaps if you weren't so upset and were thinking more clearly, you would see that. i may have played a part in the death of your friend, perhaps . . but not directly. maybe, before accusing me and giving me my charges, you should find out all the facts first?" he let a growl formulate in the back of his throat, though his stance and voice remained eerily calm. gun did, however, roll his eyes as he went on. "fae, of course i didn't enjoy breaking that collie's leg. i may be a hunting dog, but we aren't lawless monsters. i harmed him because i wanted to feed my family: my brother and i. it is my duty as his provider and protector to ensure that he eats, and if that means hurting someone, then i won't hesitate to do it." he did not want to admit that, no, all of this drama had not been worth it; he was without dodger, something she had realized and reminded him of. the pointer's pride stood in the way of answering that question, but all that pride was tossed to the wind when a new scent hit his large nose. a familiar one . . a painful one. he stiffened, absentmindedly drawing nearer to the retriever and shamelessly pressing his muzzle into her fur. his own actions shocked him, but he did not withdraw his snuffling nose; he had to be certain that his mind was not playing him for a fool . . that she really did carry the scent of him. dodger. could it be? he thought, abruptly wild with excitement at what he smelled on the dog's pelt: dodger's musk of moor grass and earth. it was faint, but his amazing sniffer had managed to find it hiding beneath the fragrances of the collie and his lifeblood.

indent gunther was filled with a mixture of hope and bemusement the likes of which he had never known. dodger was nearby . . and alive. but where had the retriever encountered him? and how? what had happened in the past few days while he had been out, regaining his strength and sleeping away his worry? i can make an educated guess. the chocolate-and-white brute thought with a huffing growl. he at last pulled away from his sniffing of the female and returned to his former stance. the pack dogs have him. i am sure of it. thank the heavens that samson and iris pointed me in the direction of the river, and did not let me head deeper into the city! i may have found dodger at last! but i need to get answers from this girl-dog first. it's my turn to ask the questions and call the shots. gunther permitted the hints of a small, hard smile to flash across his maw as he barked at the retriever. "you know what? maybe that rabbit and your friend's death was worth it. i can smell dodger on you, over the odors of your fear and the collie. . ." he leaned toward her, and as he did, his nub of a tail began to swish slowly. "and since you and your packmates are likely the ones that took him, guess what you are going to do? you are going to help me get him back."

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( two ) ( stray ) ( located pack dog camp ) ( tagged fluffy ) ( words 1146 )


indent dodger was incredibly aware of the collie laying in the center of the camp - not too far off - and was also aware of the scent of death and blood that was invading the clearing. it nauseated him . . made his fur crawl like a bunch of ants had been placed underneath it. he refused to even glance at the deformed black-and-white shape off to his right, no matter how much he did not want to look into the eyes of the king charles spaniel before him. she was far easier to look at than the collie's gaping maw and splayed legs, even though she was indeed annoying and he was starting to become irked. at the very thought of the collie, he shuddered; dodger hoped that the toy dog he was speaking with thought that the movement was due to the wind. he held the omega's gaze as best he could when she politely smiled up at him. it was hard to do, as he had gone so long without food that focusing on anything was difficult. she had tried to interject - "i apologize dodger, i'll try to get it right ne-" - but he had cut her off with his disdainful words and bad mood. as soon as she heard the snide words that followed the interruption, they had an immediate affect on her. the tiny brown-and-white fae's entire body seemed to tense up, and her dark brown eyes narrowed with anger. to the pointer dog's utter astonishment, she flounced right to her feet - curly, matted fur flowing - and let out the cutest growl he had ever heard in his life. it startled him, so he leaned back, floppy, soft ears flattening; how did such a tiny thing have such gaul? clearly, his attempt to ward off her and her squeaky voice had been in vain, for the little candid was not about to give up on him. she bared her little fangs as she defended herself, and her entire form seemed to quake as she yipped out a lecture at dodger. "now listen here, stray." she snapped, tone containing a fury that even gunther's had never acquired before. dodger blinked, thinking, here it comes . . here comes a rant . . and from a dog half my size, no less! the young dog braced himself. "i may not look like much at all, but you are not yet a part of the pack. therefore, i am not your omega. there are many dogs that i will let boss me around, but you are certainly not one of them! if i wanted to come give a sour dog company, i would have met with a packmate. now, if you don't mind, i'd like to rest with someone who doesn't treat others like scum! or are you not going to act that way? i am the only dog that has been nice enough to talk to you, after all!" not true, he thought, cheekily. there was the retriever, but she has turned her back on me, too, like this dog surely will if i keep my act up.

indent all in all, he had to say that he was impressed by the spaniel's nerve and her bold statements. if he had been facing off against a much bigger brute such as himself, he surely ( in the least ) would have stuttered and avoided eye contact. but this little female was stunning him by keeping her gaze locked on him and her voice firm; by the stars, he actually felt inclined to not meet her ferocious gaze! as dodger processed what she had yapped at him, he began to feel guiltier and guiltier. his head lowered, his ears flattened, and his small bob of a tail did its best to shove itself against his flank. what is wrong with me? all of that is so true. i have been an entirely different dog - a bad one - since i came here. i have treated no one with courtesy, and have shoved away everyone that is kind enough to even sit beside me or potentially offer me help to get out of here. this is not the dodger that i truly am! and i know that, despite what he says and thinks, this is not the dodger that gun would want me to be. a cold, hard, emotionless one. i must change! it is either that, or i will get nowhere. a sly idea came to his mind, flashing like a light bulb gone off in his brain. perhaps if i clean up my act, i can get help? from any friends that i make here? maybe there is hope of freedom after all! he had to admit that he truly and deeply felt sorrowful and angry with himself. how could he backtrack and try to apologize? would that not look shifty and strange, suddenly morphing from a defensive attitude to an apologetic one? it's going to be a struggle saying i'm sorry to an omega. but i have to make amends, and, anyway, i'm lower than even her. whatever pride i still have left in me ( after being dragged here and beaten ) must be sucked up if i am to leave this place.

indent the king charles spaniel made his head lift whenever she added the next two sentences. "i believe i've made it clear? i can leave if you want, though, i don't have to stay." she settled back down onto her haunches, wrapping her curly-haired tail across her dainty paws. she seemed to be leaving him with no option; the way she innocently sat and the way she was looking at him implied that she did not want him to send her away. how can she still stand me after all that i said to her? how could she not want to leave? the german shorthaired pointer pondered, lifting his head higher and tilting it in mild wonder. he then cleared his throat and spoke, voice less a croak than it had been when he had last spoken and more of a mutter, "i am sorry." he blinked down at her, exhaustion in his pale hazel orbs, yet also a real desire for acceptance and repentance. "i . . . i didn't mean what i said, and i most certainly wasn't trying to offend you. i haven't . ." he hung his head, scoffing lightly at himself under his breath and at how foolish he sounded. "i haven't been the same since i was separated from my brother, gunther, and taken prisoner here. i hope you can understand." he snapped up his head again and shook it when all the apologizing was done and he could focus on her last statements. "and, no! no. you . . you are one of the first dogs to make an effort to communicate with me, and for that i am grateful. please, stay a bit longer. the company is, uh, nice?"

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( four ) ( killer ) ( located killer fence, forest ) ( tagged caleb ) ( words 3102 )


indent even though brunhilda sensed that she had displayed her one and only weakness - her family - right to the stranger, she could not care less. after all, she, too, had gotten to the massive creature beyond the fence. she just knew it. her large ears picked up on the noises that he made - the growls, the huffs - and she felt her tail begin to wag behind her in satisfaction and enjoyment at the tantrum he looked about to throw. the long, bushy appendage smacked against the overgrown weeds that had invaded the killers' territory, sending the pesky plants waving and dancing in indignation. doing her best not to point out the fact that he was openly snarling and growling at her, the former bomb-sniffer sat on her side of the fence. she was completely unintimidated by the male and his dark chocolate-brown stare, glistening teeth, and lifted fur. and she showed it with her languid, easygoing posture and the slight pant that was working up in the back of her throat; her tongue even had the nerve to loll out! brun was content to read the male's reaction and to wait for a reply, so sit and contemplate was all she did for the next long moments. the female was definitely the staring type, so she was delighted that the brute had obeyed her last utterance and was staying put. he in fact was standing in a circle of light that drifted down between the crisscrossed branches of the trees; it was a perfect place for her amber-brown orbs to fully take in the masterpiece that was him. the beautiful . . scary . . intriguing . . and overall vexing masterpiece that she could stare at and wonder about all day. when the canine took a few furious steps forward, she just tilted her head and yawned; he looked like he wanted to tear her apart or fling some horrid insults at her, so it was insane that she did not look fazed. but something was nagging at brunhilda, telling her that he wouldn't do anything to harm her. maybe emotionally wound her with some more sharp jabs, but never harm her. she didn't know why she believed that, but she did. a . . tingling sensation was pricking the back of her neck, and it whispered to her, informing her that he would restrain himself. she could only hope that her presumptions were correct and sound. because, much as the german shepherd had poked fun at the brute's fangs, she secretly did not want them buried in her neck. ( perhaps in other places, though? )

indent she patiently waited for his reply, more than happy to sit and watch him war with himself. it was almost as if she could see his thoughts and feelings crossing his face. should i hop this fence and tear her throat out? should i fight fire with fire and match her insults with my own? i won't be displaying any weakness! she scoffed under her breath, something that she didn't care if he overheard. brun was finding this entire ordeal to be quite humorous; she prided herself in the fact that she had bested the male, and that he was obviously having a hard time controlling himself. she did have the tendency to be very . . nervy and terribly annoying, and it seemed to her that the dog was figuring that out. that he was also figuring out that she was unlike the other members of the killer family, and would not back away from his challenges. the dark-furred fae tilted her head some more and yawned again, this time less out of mockery and more out of boredom. as the silence stretched on between them and they gazed at one another, she continued to survey him up and down, unabashedly. before me is a dog that is used to getting his orders followed and duties fulfilled for him. one that laughs at fear, afraid of nothing. one that is respected and feared, and is far more used to having dogs flop to their bellies at the sheer sight of him versus a female like me standing up to him. no wonder handsome boy is so confused and is at a loss for words! it's like i've rocked his entire world! at the notion, she had to stop herself from letting out a crow of amusement. it was a good thing that she kept her broad muzzle shut, for the black-and-brown beast began to speak in that moment. "you are the one who called me over, weren't you? if you didn't want to hear me 'pride' myself about my land, then why call me over?" she watched as he cocked his head, his ears doing a quite adorable flop to the side as he moved his great, shaggily-furred cranium. for some reason, she thought that the motion was awkward for him. like he wasn't used to asking questions, or like he hadn't tilted his head for a long time. like . . he was more comfortable with answering questions - in that deep, sultry voice of his - instead of being the one to bark them out. she thought it peculiar that he had adopted a more - what was the word brun was looking for? - innocent edge to his voice. she decided to be wary of this, just in case his questions started to veer towards the more personal, family-related side. nonetheless, she woofed out an easy response, making up her mind that the inquiry was genuine. "you make me curious. that's why i heralded you. plus, you aren't exactly subtle with your stalking around the fence line every so often, and i figured i should address you at last." there was a lot more to it than that, especially when it came to the first sentence. but she was vague on purpose. simply for extra effect and because she was stupidly bold, brunhilda slyly added, "i just didn't expect you to be such a grump about your territory. well, grump in general." she grinned from ear to ear impishly at him and thumped her tail along the ground.

indent "ah, yes. the laws are quite idiotic, aren't they?" the ebony, brown-splattered canine barked, for the first time tearing his gaze away from brun to gaze out into the forest. the killer watched him and the way he stared at his realm; she saw how he immediately seemed to calm. and it was then that she became a bit jealous of him and his connection with the wood; she wanted to look at the forest like that, feel the dark soil beneath her feet, hear the birds chirping in the trees and the brooks babbling. how she wanted that as opposed to the tough, weed-filled grass that dominated the killers' space . . the dank old house with its drab porch . . the dwindling supply of kibble when there was plenty to be caught out there. all of her life, she had been either confined in here or the city, and, not for the first time, she was filled with a sense of longing. brunhilda wanted to be free. especially if that meant seeing more of the creature in front of her. but then she snapped out of it. that's silly talk! i cannot go running around the woods with some stranger! my place is here, with my family . . with my brothers. my loyalties are with them. aren't they? aren't they?! when the brute turned his dark gaze back to her, all of a sudden the fae was not certain anymore of her own allegiances. "i agree. it would be much, much easier if dogs could learn to listen without them, but unfortunately that's not the case." the former police dog frowned at him, not understanding what he was getting at. he spoke as if he truly believed in his statements . . like he was some sort of leader. it occurred to her that he probably was, somewhere out there in the forest. perhaps that was why he seemed so sour, so angry and unable to control his ire? perhaps that was why he was always alone? it made sense. brunhilda was not sure how to respond to that, and her desire to bark out some witty remark was vanquished when the dog flashed a smile at her. even through the chain-link fence, it was beautiful, charming . . daring and dangerous. she tensed at the sight of it, felt her amber-brown eyes go wide and her fur heat up. she tried telling herself that the latter was because of the afternoon heat, but there was a breeze in the air, so there was no fooling herself. brun was positively blushing, something she had not done since charles had come along. he followed up the smile with a graceful settling on his haunches and with two questions that she knew she would never forget: "what's a pretty thing like you doing out here anyways? didn't your mother ever warn you about the big bad wolf that roams these woods?" first, she focused on the fact that he had just called her pretty. once that had sunk in, her thoughts were all wolf, wolf, wolf, wolf. "big bad wolf"? he sure doesn't look like a wolf to me. if anything, he looks like a german shepherd with those big ears and long, blunt muzzle. then again, it's not like i've ever been deep enough into the forest or outside long enough to glimpse one. is that why he's so huge? so much bigger than any killer that dwells behind this fence? if he has wolf blood in him, then why am i not scared right now? i should be pissing myself! but i'm . . . not. brunhilda stopped her thought process right there. she inwardly shook her head, knowing that she was reading far too into this. the statement had been elusive, meant to charm her . . or something. she hadn't received confirmation that he was a wolf, right? until she did, she wouldn't address the issue of what she was in the company of. the dark-furred female purred right back at him with another toss of her head and a just-as-dashing, much more sweeter, grin. "why, yes, of course she did. i just didn't listen. i never do. would i be talking with you otherwise?"

indent the german shepherd felt heat rise to her cheeks again whenever he rolled his chocolate-brown eyes, a deep, very lovely guffaw leaping from his maw. she couldn't help but notice that he was using a lot more flirty nicknames than even she, and she was both surprised and excited by this. the king of the forest said to her, "unfortunately, sweetheart, i am no model. so if you have nothing better to do than sit around and stare at strangers, then i will be on my way." oh, now he was really testing her. she could see it. he wanted her to slide under the fence, to romp around the wood with him . . or perhaps do more scandalous things, more illicit things that went against both of their better judgments. there was a challenge in his voice, almost a taunting one . . and it quickly made her heart race and her blood begin to sing. yes, it sang to her, saying that she should leave, just for a little while, to be with him and learn more about him. but how could she when she knew that it was wrong? how could she go against what the killers surely wanted her to do - stay? how could she turn her back on everything that beck had taught her, and all of the promises she had made in order to better herself? how could she possibly disobey again and forget her loyalties? brunhilda was so perplexed; she had no idea what to do next. hold her ground and remain caged here, forever tied to her family? or fly out from beneath the fence and finally get a good look at the mysterious brute without the chain-link in the way? surely . . surely my family won't miss me for just a bit? it's not like i'm taken much notice of, anyway, considering the fact that they spit on me and taunt me at every chance they get. especially my brothers . . and especially about the bombing and beck's death. besides! she reassured herself as she coaxed herself to her feet and continued to keep her amber-brown orbs on the "wolf". i will not be doing anything terribly wrong. all i will be doing is investigating and inquiring no one of any great importance . . just some suspicious scallywag that has been patrolling our borders for some time. the other killers will not see a thing wrong with this, and i know that rocky and tank won't, with their nut-sized brains. even so, as she tried to make up excuses for a reason to sneak out and head into the real world - a world she had not been into since the big growl - she felt distraught. brunhilda knew that this was all wrong - everything. everything she felt and everything that she was doing, and planned on doing. so she was very indecisive; she pawed the weed-choked earth beneath her, still standing and now gazing forlornly at the small hole in the fence. it was so close, just a muzzle-length away . . and yet so far. it led to another realm, one that she was not sure she could enter. the wood . . it calls me. beckons me. and this male. this dark figure that haunts my dreams and slinks about the shadows like he is one of them - i want to uncover everything about him. not just because i am physically attracted to him ( which i am ) but because he intrigues me. confuses me. even scares me, deep down - at least, his wildness does. since there is no harm in doing so, i will leave. something tells me that i won't even be missed.

indent brunhilda's mind was fully made up once the brown-flecked canine jeered one last time at her. a challenge was so prominent in his voice that it shook her to her core, and instantly made her competitive spirit spring to life. "well then, princess, what you gonna do?" the german shepherd smiled wickedly at him, and a mischievous glow rose to fill her eyes for a brief second before flickering away. she glanced over one of her rippling, muscular shoulders at her home just one last time. at what could not be her true home. the small, run-down house in the center of the field ( that was pointlessly being guarded by her and her fellow killers ) seemed so insignificant, so much less important than it had been before. its importance - and the purpose of her family, too - paled in comparison to the dog that waited for her just outside. paled in comparison to the free life that she suddenly yearned to live. that he made her want to live. she closed her amber-brown eyes, envisioning the killer family tree with their similar coats, muscle-bound, stocky bodies, and undying loyalty to the humans that seemed to have abandoned them. i will return to all of you tonight. i will not forget this place, or my roots. what's wrong with some exploring? her conscience - the side of her brain that wasn't being irrational - decided to snarl at her, then. if there's nothing wrong with it, then why do you keep questioning yourself? why do you feel such guilt? brunhilda refused to stoop to its level and simply turned away from the house with a thrash of her tail. after glancing about to make sure that no one was watching her, she swiveled her head back around to the brute. still waiting, he was, with sunlight dappling his coat. the former police dog lifted her head and stuck it out haughtily at him, but she didn't say anything and would not until she could talk to him face-to-face.

indent stooping down so that her belly brushed against the earth, the fae wriggled her way toward and then under the hole in the corner of the fence. its metallic, icy-cold claws scraped at her back and yanked out her fur; she shivered at its nasty touch as she proceeded to wedge her large frame through the hole. it was hard work, as no dog had ever attempted to leave the grounds before, but she soon managed to muscle the chain-link out of the way and into a suspiciously shepherd-shaped hole. kicking out one last time with powerful legs, brunhilda suddenly went flying from the gap with a grunt and a yelp of surprise. she landed awkwardly and embarrassingly close to the male, whom stepped back from her. but as soon as she toppled to the ground, she bounced right back up onto paws that were light with her excitement and something she had not felt in a while: adrenaline. she took a moment to wriggle her thick, overgrown claws into the cool soil, which was moist and not cracked like it was in the killers' wide open space. her large ears pushed forward and her nose took in great gusts of forest air; she smelled things that she never had before, heard things that made her insane with wonder. but the most compelling part of the forest of all was the brute, now less than four tail-lengths from her. after gazing around with huge orbs at the wood, her stare at last came to rest on him; she lifted a brow and jerked her tail skyward. brunhilda pranced forward, relishing in the feeling of the lush, long, vibrantly green grass brushing against her legs. her eyes took him in almost hungrily with a blazing fire - no, inferno - in their depths. the black, brown-ringed fur . . the intense eyes that she so often saw twinkling just outside the fence. he was . . right there. in front of her. close enough to touch. close enough to the point that she could smell his feral musk and, like she had figured, the odors of countless other dogs. she brought her snout even with his as she murmured, softly, playfully, with a rock of her haunches, "wowza. even better looking up close. now, here's what we're going to do. you're going to show me around, tell me about yourself . . and i just might do the same." her words were cool, confident, like she was ordering the taller animal around and was demanding things of him. they also were no-nonsense. "but before we get into that, we should probably introduce ourselves. the name's brunhilda. but you can call me brun." she smiled at him, still not stepping away.