Creative Writing: The Wild Wolf

Tired eyes could not contemplate the barren surroundings.

They blinked once. Twice. Three times. And still, the gray walls did not metamorphose into the equally unfamiliar golden blades of grass. Memories dotted her consciousness. Rough hands, heaving her on cold tables. Sharp pricks of pain embedding themselves in her legs, her sides, and her soft belly. All at once, something brought the lumbering wolf to her unsteady paws with a start. The voices flooded her ears, blanketing all of her senses and sending every fur shooting up along her spine. They were here, in this cage. Sure enough, when she breathed in, it was them she smelled. The sickening odor coated her lungs. It was heaved back out immediately, the wild wolf gagging at its taste. Something of acid and stone and blood. As she looked around, however, she found no sign of them in the flesh. Just the evidence they left behind.

Another voice caused her to start again, this time a growl bubbling up from her unused vocal cords. She snapped uselessly at the air, as if any moment fingers would come snaking through the holes that gave her air. It was followed by a sharp stab. Lark instantly realized there was a device around her neck, its fingers settling on her throat while it did its
What was this new cruelty? Stuffed in a box and made to live for an amount of time that was unknown to her. At that moment, she realized a fellow canine was along for the ride. Though they were separated by steel walls, they could see, smell, and hear one another, even if neither wanted such a thing. The dog was another oddity. Lark had never been so close to a pet, vying to keep her distance, as the slavering beasts seemed intent on warning their masters of her presence. Well, she had no master, besides nature itself. What did this dog know of the world, viewed from her own warped