Danarius had spent a good deal of time and money on the pup. He'd trained it to heel, to be quiet. Trained it to be timid and pliant and obedient in his company and with others he had trained it to raise its hackles, to bare its teeth.
He had not trained it to kill—it already knew how to kill. Danarius nurtured the pup's innate knowledge into a conditioned gluttony, a driving need to feel someone's life slip out between its jaws. The need to see eyes turn dull.
You shouldn't waste time creating something that is already present, Danarius would explain to his cohorts. You should instead work to enhance it. Work to turn a tendency into a defining trait.
This resulted in long hours of effort—but also long hours of enjoyment. Danarius could see it in the pup's eyes: that growing and insatiable hunger for blood, for death. Danarius would sometimes throw lives at the pup just to watch them end, just to feed the pup's need.
Danarius knew what hunger was; he knew that empty hands were bitten. He'd smile as his compatriots would draw back from the pup in fear, jeweled fingers swirling full wine glasses—the pup's large eyes catching each quaver, each shiver. The things you see, Danarius would tell the pup, are the things I want you to see. You're smarter than the others. You're the head of a culled pack, the only one worthy of survival.
But then the pup was stranded, left behind with no one to feed it, no one to tend to the wellness of its mind. It ran wild for more time than its mind could take, and though for a fleeting moment Danarius thought the pup back in hand it snapped at him, fled from him, and went wild once more.
Danarius kept up the search even as the pup grew fat on the hunters. It was a rare breed, after all, with lots of money spent in training. Its behavior could be explained: the pup was angry in its fear, lashing out at a world it did not comprehend. It needed to come home. It needed to feel safe again.
A different master picked up the stray and trained it anew. Taught it compassion and patience—even taught it to read. None of that mattered. Even in the end, neck in the pup's jaws, Danarius could see that none of those new lessons had made a lasting change. He could still spot the hunger in its eyes, the thirsty result of years of training. He gave himself into triumphant fear, thought to speak to the new master one last time. Look at it, he would say. You can never teach an old dog new tri—
