Savage?

Two

It was not long before my voice joined the never-ending ruckus of barking, growling, and howling that made anyone new to the environment cringe. In the beginning I would lay and gnaw on the metal bars to vent my anger and anxiety, but a swift bludgeon to the nose stopped that. It came from a short, bald man with a terrible smile on his face. His goal, it seemed, was not to stop me from chewing but to cause me pain. He achieved the goal, leaving my nose throbbing for what seemed like hours. It was then I took to making as much noise as possible, releasing everything pent up inside. I was beyond frustrated with my living conditions. I could scarcely turn around, and I often laid in my own excrement. There was no one here who cared about any of us. We were pawns, playing a fatal game for their entertainment. Not a man passed that did not hold a long walking stick, used not for walking but for prodding and irritating us in any way possible. They would smack the bars, making a large noise and causing me to lunge forward snarling, trying to take a chunk out of anything I could. If I made my body very small then there was an inch of space at any given place between my body and the crate sides, but even this wasn't safe. The sticks would poke through, roughly stabbing at me from any angle. The worst part was their laughter. It was cruel and cold, demeaning and disinterested. It let us know just how meaningless we were to them.

Despite our shared circumstances, I felt no sense of connection or kinship to any of the dogs around me. Never once did I receive a friendly tail wag or welcoming bark. They had all been here longer than I; their anger was even stronger than mine.

Most of the dogs who passed through ignored us, but the rest antagonized us. They came snarling up to the front of the cages, barking and slinging spit until they were yanked backwards by their handler. Those who did ignore me were the most tantalizing. I would rush up the front of my cage and growl, begging them to come take a piece of me. It was almost amusing to watch them snatched back in line.

When Master approached my cage, bearing a chain-style rope, suspicion filled me. I had not interacted with him since he had stuck me in here, months before. He slipped the collar end through the top bars, sneaking it over my head in a practiced style. I growled and retreated to the back, but he snatched the rope with such force that my head hit the top and the chain tightened unbearably around my throat. He used my pained confusion to thread the rope down past the top and directly into his hands. I felt like I was choking, the air barely reaching my lungs. I shook my head vehemently, desperately trying to loosen the strap crushing my windpipe. My vision was starting to go dark. Without warning, oxygen flooded into my lungs and I collapsed in relief, panting on the ground. Master retracted his hand quickly and tugged on the rope. I felt like I couldn't move, my head still fuzzy. He pulled on the rope harder, the chain starting to squeeze on my neck. I bit back a whimper and crawled forward, shaking with anger.

He led me down the hallway to a dirt circle in the middle of a small arena. The sides were high and concrete with a fence around the top. Behind the fence were two levels of seating and standing room, empty now except for the bald man. He hung over the fence, leering down with an unsettling smirk. I hesitated again, but I was pulled forward.

In the middle of the ring was a shrimp of a dog, the whites of his eyes the only contrast to his black nose and fur. He backed away at the sight of me, whimpering when his backside hit the wall of the enclosure. Master handed my lead to the bald man and approached the black dog. He growled feebly, but he quickly gave way and allowed Master to grab him, letting his bottom half dangle. I looked over my shoulder at the man holding me, wondering if I was going to be fed soon. Although I have no way of knowing for sure, it often felt like days between feeding times.

I cried out and stumbled backwards as the black dog attacked my face. As the realization sank in, a growl escaped my throat and I snapped, getting nothing but a mouthful of fur. The black dog retreated, running to the far side by Master. In a flash he had scooped up the dog again and this time I saw. He threw the mutt at me. He crashed into my face again, and this time I was able to draw blood. I could feel the anger surging through me. The unfairness of it all, the way I had no control over anything, it all converted straight into rage. Finally I had something living and breathing to take it all out on. It never even crossed my mind to offer mercy to the poor dog, who had probably done nothing at all to deserve this. I flew to him, failing to notice than the my chain had been dropped.

Master laughed victoriously and hopped up to the side of the ring, propelling himself to the other side of the fence. That laughter, the harsh, echoing laughter, boiled my blood even more. My teeth had no problem finding purchase, the majority of his neck fit right inside my jaws. Whether it was the predatory instinct of primordial wolves, or the more recent fighting instincts of my breeding, I knew how to kill. With nothing but my body and enough anger, they had created a monster. I lifted him off the ground, shaking him like a chew toy. As his hot blood leaked into my mouth, I realized just how hungry I was. His cries rang in my ear, feeding my growing bloodlust. I crushed down harder, enjoying the feeling of his bones shattering at my command. After several minutes of the death grip, he went slack in my jaws. I spit the body out, looking at it with a clearing mind. I killed a dog. I took something that held life and forced it out. I had never felt stronger, never felt more confident than I did at that moment. I wondered briefly what his meat would taste like, but my mind rejected the idea.

If left there, hungry and bored, I might have eventually resorted to that savage act, but my performance had earned a reward. Master set down a heaping plate of ground meat and edged around me to the body I had left mangled. He needed not fear me then. I was too entranced in the food set out before me. I closed my eyes as I mauled it, choking it down without even tasting it. I licked the plate clean within a minute.

Even though I was not content, I was satisfied enough to not struggle as I was lead back to my cage. As all the aggravations and taunting commenced, I wished to be back in the pen, ripping the face of another victim. 

Author's Note: Here is the updated Chapter 2! It took me long enough, right? I know it doesn't technically count as new material, but I think it is an okay holdover. Hopefully I can use my middle of the night inspiration to keep cranking chapters out. Shout out to my buddy totallycoolstuffs for prodding me into working on this some more.