The sun rose high over a huge expanse of sand, casting a wave of blinding heat over the already scorched land. There were not many that could survive in such harsh conditions. Most of the denizens of the desert were asleep in a moist cave or buried far underneath the sand were it was cool from the last rain. This was not the way of the wild dogs. Here, their kind was King.



A young boy dug in the sand, his thin fingers curling into the steaming grains and tossing them aside with eager abandon. His mouth was wrung up in a strange expression of glee, garnet eyes flashing as he worked. The boy was lean and bony, his fair skin tanned to a golden sheen. He wore only the skin of a dead wild dog draped over his shoulders and tied around his waist. There were spots in which the fur and flesh had worn away, and the peach of his skin showed through. It was no matter… He would get himself a new body, once Jasiri got up the guts to challenge him. That dog was nothing more than a boastful coward. The boy knew full well that his intelligence and superior agility would easily conquer his opponent. Then it would be he who wore Jasiri's skin. The others would smell his scent, they would know that he had won, and their respect for him would double.

Finally, the tip of a green object poked up above the sand. The boy slid his hands under it carefully and lifted it from the small pit. Grains fell away in tiny waterfalls as he brought it upwards. The shell of a poison lizard; they were not common around this part of the territory. It was likely someone had killed it elsewhere and dragged it here to eat, taking the soft meat inside and leaving the shell. The boy grinned, brushing dirty silver hair from his eyes. How stupid they must have been to leave behind such a treasure. Although…what use would it be to a true wild dog? His grin faded rapidly at the thought. He knew he was not one of them. He belonged to the race of hairless pink creatures that walked upright. They were spotted in the desert on occasion, usually astride a tamed beast. The boy groaned and clutched the shell closer, letting loose a mournful howl that echoed across the barren sand. No, they were not his kin. He was a child of the wild dogs and would so prove his ability to run with the strongest of their pack.

Yet, that was for later. Now was the time to satisfy his hunger… Now was the time to hunt.

The shell came in handy, as he had known it would. The shape of the shell fit his small palm with ease, the backbone serving as a grip. With this new weapon, it was simple to kill his prey by stabbing it with the deadly spike on the top. Somehow, he found it more satisfying then strangling the unfortunate creature… Drawing blood became intoxicating to him after each kill, and soon he invented new ways to take his prey's life… Slower ways, quicker ways-- all of which gave him an immense sense of power and perverse delight. The others killed only enough to eat their fill, and so had the boy done in past days. But, on this hunt, he left behind a number of bodies uneaten.

Howls of greeting rang out from the distance. It was not long before pack mates of his age were loping towards him, finished with their hunts as well. They cackled and called his name, tails swinging behind them. The boy's name was 'D', a fragment of a human name he once owned. It was pronounced "Dee" in human tongue, but it sounded more like "Drrr" from their canine mouths.

The other dogs circled him, sniffing and yapping at their fellow victorious hunter. Yasir tackled him playfully, and batted at his hair. D grinned and gave a mock-growl, nudging Yasir's belly with his feet. The other tumbled off of him and into a playful fighting stance. D was glad to comply. He kneeled in the sand on hands and knees, offering another growl. Calluses had grown on his knees over his years of running on them, thick skin protecting them from the rough, hot sand. Yasir jumped forward and snapped at the ear of his fur covering. D bared his teeth in a slack jawed grin in response. Although this was they Wild Dog's way of showing aggression, the other did not react accordingly. Yasir, instead of baring his teeth back at D to compare, merely tilted his head to one side. A jeering laugh came from the spectators of this little scene.

It took D a minute to realize that they were laughing at him. His teeth… His hand flew to his mouth, probing the teeth he already knew to be dull and flat inside. A burning rage came to his eyes and this others continued to mock his lack of sharp canines.

"Shut up! I'll kill you all someday…" he snarled in the tongue of the Wild Dog.

"Not with those teeth," Yasir snickered, as he and his pack mate began to disperse, leaving D alone again.

"Maybe not with my teeth…" D muttered. "Something far more powerful."