I feel the heavy body pressing down on top of my matted fur. The collar
around my neck is heavy and that of a chilling feel. I do not doubt it is
made of metal. The mass on top of me is light; I could easily get away if I
wanted to. I must attempt if I want to become free again. I must attempt if
I surely do not want to become what my companions have become. A slave.
The anger is building up inside of me. I feel my muscles tensing, my claws gripping the wet, dew-strewn ground beneath me. My lips pull back, my fangs bared; I feel the snarl exiting my throat carelessly. I must get out of here. I must become free. The violet hackles on my back rise.
The red-clad men in front of me aren't scared. They are never scared. The lead one points his gun at me, and I know resistance is futile. I hear them talking; I don't understand what they are saying, but their voices are harsh. Cruel. Evil. The one on top of my body, pinning me down to this forsaken ground, pets my head, as if to comfort me. I don't feel comfort. I feel cold fury, anger. Rage.
The other one, the one fastening the metal collar around my neck, is quickening his pace. He knows I am lethal. He knows I will kill him if I ever break free of my bonds. But I will not break free. With each clasp of the metal choker 'round my neck being closed, I feel my freedom departing me. Leaving me like grains of sand slipping from my very claws. With each closing, I am getting closer and closer to slavery. Labor Force.
The life of a Lurker is not a fair one.
Will this cruelty ever end?
The anger is building up inside of me. I feel my muscles tensing, my claws gripping the wet, dew-strewn ground beneath me. My lips pull back, my fangs bared; I feel the snarl exiting my throat carelessly. I must get out of here. I must become free. The violet hackles on my back rise.
The red-clad men in front of me aren't scared. They are never scared. The lead one points his gun at me, and I know resistance is futile. I hear them talking; I don't understand what they are saying, but their voices are harsh. Cruel. Evil. The one on top of my body, pinning me down to this forsaken ground, pets my head, as if to comfort me. I don't feel comfort. I feel cold fury, anger. Rage.
The other one, the one fastening the metal collar around my neck, is quickening his pace. He knows I am lethal. He knows I will kill him if I ever break free of my bonds. But I will not break free. With each clasp of the metal choker 'round my neck being closed, I feel my freedom departing me. Leaving me like grains of sand slipping from my very claws. With each closing, I am getting closer and closer to slavery. Labor Force.
The life of a Lurker is not a fair one.
Will this cruelty ever end?