Disclaimer: I don not own Wolf's Rain...I do own my own characters such as Argus and all the other dogs or wolves not found in the anime.
She was fleeing sprinting through the darkened foliage at a swift pace. Harried by the eats wind, unforgiven by the west; Cardinal directions had failed her. All had lust the luster of life, and so why not her soul as well. The fleeting hope of battle shifted desperately through her mind, a natural instinct. Fight or Flight. She had attempted to run from her pursuing foe, but now war revealed itself as a rational and logical means of escape.
So the beast turned, hackles digging into the air, and faced the optics of lemon before her. Wolf. Lupus eyes. Dropping to her belly and curling her haunches into a grasshopper position she crouched; cat-like, waiting, caught within the moment that cannot exist to those observing. The expanse between life and death, right and easy, strength and weakness. Those eyes moved up and down lazily, but not missing the intent of all preying animals, bobbing to and fro in the darkness with the footfalls cast by the sorry lycus. She sighted, within her vermillion headlights, the neck veining plumes of white fur and sprang.
The male grasped the air with his muzzle, the bitch caught only his ear…But that one ear was enough for her advantage. A yelp quavered in the celestial zephyr's of time and the stars paused from their ancient chanting to the Creator to frown upon the act of violence. The alabaster wolf struggled as she swung him by his ear into the earth, but rebounded from the blow too suddenly for her reflexes. Trees flinched as their favored, the hound of man, was dragged to the earth by the fire's wolf. And the stars smiled.
The dog gazed fondly into the moon, anything to escape the custard eyes of tawny corn crop gold, but the emotion was not returned by the night or any other governing body in that ink blot sky. The darkness love's not the dog, and the light fondles only the wolf. His fangs were unsheathed and fell pray to her flesh, her blood, the earth flinched at the scents of Reaper's working, and the hound fell dead in the dust; asking 'Why' to the heaven's, but the night would not answer and only silence reigned over the moonscaped plains.
She had run from that lupo because the night seduces only the wolf.
Argus sighed fixedly as the romping street cars motored past in their usual routes. It was almost the time of feeding, but the prospect of a meal could not be won over the dilemma of pushy machines that would run a dog flat in a bird's breath. Every time he mustered the courage to race over the fowl smelling asphalt another angry automobile would stampede by and threaten, with a high honk, that the road was car's territory alone.
How can humans manage to get over the accursed street then?
He mused absent-mindedly as he strolled further up the sidewalk, closer to the heartbeat of the city slums. The padding paws echoed faintly down the maze alleyways, but always went unnoticed city dwellers. Just another stray dog. Just another starving canine ready to eat us out of house and home. None provided for the stubborn bums in the doorways and so the habit of ignoring the dogs also seemed only logical.
The scrawny tail swished hypnotically through the air, stroking it as a prostitute her buyer (the sick man who cares none for life), and her matted mange rode up and down steadily with his trot. Before him there was the usual sleet walls of town, and to his right the cars speckled street. The left held only confusing passages through the rectangle fashion buildings that scraped the raveled fleeces of the cumulous from the sky.
Speaking of the sky.
He glanced up at the summer's trademark heavens: pure cyan with a cruel solar body shipping shafts of arrowed light towards the earth like little ovens so hot. Being a snow dog could not always be an advantage he supposed.
His rear was followed only with the suburbs of the agora absent town, and what little people foolish enough to live in well manicured houses, that were as identical as cotton balls, had long since retreated from steaks and grills of concrete patios and into the dungeons of their own homes. Children would be pasted in front of televisions and house dogs would lie forgotten in the corner, dreaming of when they were played with and loved.
By now Argus had reached the wall in the city that seemed to serve as ever dog's lavatory and he scented the many marks with care. The two poodles two blocks south of the park were getting groomed and an unfortunate akita had been informed of his owners decision to buy a cat. Nothing important… except… He hesitated. The odd scent was wild, musky like a polecat's breath. Dare he look into the life of a strange wandering hound, for that was her breed, and thus involve himself in business not his own?
Yes.
He was bored, hungry, and tired. Ergo, the option was like a breath of fresh air, though the smell would have been detested by a human. Argus read over the Morse code meanings of each scent in mind. She was a bitch, a feral dog, and was in the pursuit of someone. He withdrew at the next unscripted wafting for the idea was suicidal. A wolf.
What dog in their right mind would chase a devil dog?
If he had been sensible he might have backed away, swiftly if he had been quick, but his curiosity was at a zenith which could not be climbed out of or leapt from.
A wolf?
The scent of her trail was still clinging to the earth, and a nearby tree pointed the way with it's lofty branches. The wind whistled through the rotten leaves and the pin pricked ears of Argus heard the warning of the plant clearly,
"Careful, young dog, the hound was chasing the wolf for answers and it is not wise for the domesticated wolf to set out for Paradise."
Argus shifted uneasily and wound steadily through the stream of humans fighting to get to their furnaces and homes like obese cats, but the bouvier hybrid christened Argus could not lay about like a feline, but neither could he run like a wolf.
As all dogs, he settled for a trot and followed his nose into the horizon.