Mad Dogs and Amestrians
The war dog lay on a pallet made of straw and an old blanket in the corner of the mobile hospital's office. Marcoh tried to ignore it, but he could still sense it there.
It wasn't that chimerÓ• were uncommon. The war dogs were part of the reason Amestris did so well on the battlefield. Created by transmuting human and animals into one form, they were an effective part of the Amestrian ground forces. They had been in military use for at least two generations, helped win wars against Drachma's and Aerugo's encroachments into Amestris. Because of this dog, most of the unit it had been assigned to came back alive from a skirmish. It didn't mean Marcoh thought that making chimerÓ• was right. Humans and animals, transmuted into one being, the idea made his stomach roil.
Trying to keep from shuddering, Marcoh forced his attention back on his paperwork. If he had his way, the dog wouldn't be in the office. He'd never spent much time around a chimera before. Usually, when one came through the surgery, it was taken away to continue its convalescence. This dog should've been exterminated, as it had lost its front leg from its shoulder, and most of its back leg. Winry insisted it deserved a chance, and refused to allow Marcoh to send it into a permanent sleep.
Now, it took up room on the office floor, watching every move he made. Marcoh could feel it watching him, especially now, while he worked. Did it consider him to be prey? Couldd it feel pain like a human any more? Could it think or reason? He shook his head, driving those thoughts away. Military policy was to consider them animals, like the war horses or the mules that hauled the artillery before automobiles were invented. Property.
Winry came into the office, and the dog turned toward her. Her bright smile flashed Marcoh's way, but she continued across the office to the dog. "Hi, Fullmetal," she said, kneeling next to it. "I brought you something to eat."
"Careful, Winry!" Marcoh barked. "It's not a pet!"
"No, he's not." Winry set the tray in front of the dog. "But he's not a killing machine, either." Wrapping her arms around her knees, she sat next to the dog as it hesitantly picked up a piece of bacon, sniffing it before taking a bite.
Marcoh swallowed hard, focusing his attention on the papers on his desk. Still, he couldn't get it out of his mind; not with the way the war dog had looked at Winry when she'd walked through the door. From the expression in Fullmetal's eyes at the sight of her, it was going to be harder to keep thinking of it as an animal. But there was no other choice, not in the middle of a war. Maybe not even in a time of peace. War dogs were animals, nothing more, and if he kept repeating it to himself, maybe he'd eventually believe it, too.