WolfBound *RE WRITE*

My Name Is Skyla... ✓

My name is Skyla... and I am one of the very few that survived those cruel and harsh days... the days and nights when we had to fight to death, the days left alone to lay in that hard cold ground kennel... the days when I thought I might give up on trying to escape all together.

Humans... they ruined my life... they took me away from my mother at a young age, a mother that I didn't even know all that well to begin with. Then... then, out of all things that I would have thought that humans would do... They threw me into a caged room, there were no windows and the walls, painted completely white, the paint itself was peeling off in corners and blood was stained into some corners where one would lean against the wall waiting to die or recieved special treatment. I couldn't say that I knew exactly where I was but, I often heard the other mutts say it was a testing lab although, what I already knew was that it was also connected to a group of dog fighters. Hearing the rumors of such always made my stomach feel sick, because I knew myself that it was true...

They would barely ever give me food, and when they did, it wasn't the best tasting; I guess it was better than nothing. The water- too, was musty. And the little of food we did receive was very stale. I would say, the only reason that they would take me out was when they wanted something. Either to fight other dogs, mutts or half breeds... there was very few of canine anything that I hadn't fought. Only once a week I and all the other canines were let out into a large pen. There was never any way out, the humans had it all closed off, and no mutt was ever able to escape. I remember the last time a dog tried to escape... he was a very smart Husky. Or so they said... because after he was caught trying to escape, he wasn't seen again for months, and when he was seen back in the small enclosed area he had become very quiet, he would no longer talk to anyone else. His paw was sprawled as if he had broken it, which caused much hurt and made it very difficult to fight the other dogs off during the let out stage.
The let out stage was... as soon as the pen was opened most dogs would whimper with ears back and tails between their legs and remain close to the door trying to get back in. Others would go towards the small "play areas" most of these dogs were ignored because they were in groups. The smaller more unfortunate that didn't have groups were almost always picked off by the bigger groups of large dogs, it was a show of dominance. Sometimes the humans would put us against each other if they needed the money... Which meant most didn't bother to become friends in the fear that they would have to harm or kill a loved one.

The larger dogs, who were almost always the ones who would normally win fights were the ones that thought they were top dog and would bully others until put in their place.
I wasn't any of these dogs. I never bothered to play, never bothered to get attached to anyone and I certainly didn't find myself strong to pick on smaller mutts.
However because I refused to fight, unless forced to I was often picked on myself. Three or four dogs would team up on me and tear into me, snarling threats and insults that my ears. Id stand, silent, and collapse when they were done. It didn't matter anyway. My mother was a wolf, which the humans thought made me tougher, smarter, faster. They would use their medicine in needles to restore my health. The pain eventually became a thing of the past, a thing of my mind. Sometimes I'd lay beat half to death and contemplate life. I'd wonder how long it'd be until they'd inject me with their medicine and force me to fight short moments later...

I remember the day that husky who escaped. The poor soul was put back into a kennel next to mine. He never spoke, although he would stare at me through the glass wall. He barely would eat and at times would often refuse to eat at all. He was very lanky, muscles you could easily see and he had this wild look in his eye. Wild like he would do anything to kill everyone who has imprisoned him. Due to his extreme strength and stamina, he won almost every time, I couldn't begin to imagine what happened to him to cause him to be in the state he was. However, I do know one day he won a fight over a big bull looking half breed...- no one saw that poor dog again. I can't imagine the state he was in after that fight...

The people in charge were always harsh and cruel to me, relentless despite their obvious need for me in their disgusting fights. I assume it had something to do with the Wolf in me, but of course, I'll never know.
Now, some of them weren't too bad... Some of them would speak kind gentle words to me while injecting their special medicine or feeding me their stale food with pity. But none of them could compare to the one boy that would bring me food every day.

He smelled like fresh fruit almost every time I saw him even though the place he worked at, the placed I stayed at... A dog fighting, boarding area and arena which smelled of crimson blood and stale air. The very thought of it makes me wince. I could recall that every day he would bring me a plate of bread or treat and some sort of meat along with some lukewarm water. Of course, the water here wasn't the best, but he tried.

Which wasn't too bad either, considering the water I was usually given was musty and too warm to calm or cool me down. Whenever the people who I assume were in charge weren't paying attention he would take me out to the chained off-field and throw a toy or two for me. Out of all humans, I had ever met, I think he had to be the nicest.

The boy would compare me to the other mutts of the arena, and then with a chuckle, he would always tell me I was the nicest or prettiest one. He always noted that I was the one with the least cuts, bruises and scars. Although, I don't think he knew that it was due to my wolf side. Then again, you could barely tell considering I was quite small and my fur was a pure black. The other percent was German Shepard, which I think was my father. I never really knew myself; I only heard bits and pieces of what the humans would speak of. All I knew was that I was one of the only few who would get "special treatment" as most of the other dogs would put it.

It wasn't before long that a new dog was thrown into the cage next to me to replace the husky that was once there. He was snarling and snapping at the people who held him by the scruff. His fur was slightly muddy and his pelt white with splotches of brown. Or so I thought at first, with further inspection I noticed that it was just dirt or mud... he also had small specks of blood across his pelt, it seemed to stain his fur in several areas. His eyes almost seemed to draw you in yet they weren't very bright at all... they were a light blue but mixed with a vivid green. Even then, eyes seemed almost dull compared to my bright gold colored eyes and pure black fur. His attitude towards the humans frightened me. I hated them but it never crossed my mind to even attempt to fight back as he did because the consequences wouldn't be worth it. Anyone who attacked the humans had been dubbed to be maddog. As soon as they left he turned and faced me with a very suddenly calm expression, although you could still see the anger in his eyes. I cannot explain it properly but he just seemed to draw in my soul. He stared into my eyes and let out a low bark as he grinned, "Lets escape this horrid place..."