Steve's head was pounding as he woke. He didn't feel any inclination to move. Pain wracked his whole body, flaring from a point in one of his front legs. It spidered its way up to his equally throbbing brain and they seemed to be competing to see which could hurt more than the other.
It was dark.
How long had he been out for? How much time had passed? He could still feel the strange new sensations that came with being a dog. Would he change back? He couldn't even think so Steve just lay still.
"Yeah it is a puppy." A voice said. "Damn small one though."
"I don't care! So can we?" A younger voice asked excitedly.
A sparking note of danger went off in Steve's mind. They sounded all fine and dandy but there was something wrong. Something off… danger.
These people just had that kind of scent.
"Well." The older voice continued. "That really depends if it's dead or not."
"Why?" The younger whined. "We're going to do that anyways."
That caught the puppy's attention.
"Well if it is dead then it depends on how long." The older man took on a lecturing tone. "You don't want to eat dead things that 'ave been dead for more than a few days. They turn rotty and maggoty inside."
"Oh." The little person replied, his tone suggesting that he was thinking about the subject. "But if he's alive we can eat him!"
The pair laughed and Steve twitched his side. What kind of people are these? In New York? Eating puppies?
He did not want to be on anyone's menu.
'Move. Move. Come on you tiny furred body, move. Move!'
"It might be alive, looky there."
Steve finally got something to move. His shoulder rolled off the ground and he got himself to be laying on his stomach. A wooden baseball bat hit the ground inches from his head, startling him.
"It's alive! Git 'im! Git 'im!" The young boy shouted.
The old man swung again and Steve rolled. He forced his back legs to move. They pushed off and sent him sprawling on his face.
Thankfully just out of the firing line.
"This 'un would 'ave died anyway." The old guy said picking up his bat for another swing.
The puppy mustered up all its power and used only one front leg. He shot off down the alleyway, away from the light of the street lamps.
"Dumb dog!" The boy laughed cruelly.
Steve found out what he was talking about when he plowed head first into a wall. The path led to a dead end. He swerved but the old man was right behind him. There was the click of a flashlight and Steve was blinded. He yelped then howled as the bat came crashing down on the sidewalk right next to him. Luckily or unluckily, the old man didn't have a very good aim.
This could hurt, a lot, especially if he took a blow to his broken leg.
"Hold yo'self still then you stupid dog. It'll be over in seconds."
The bat came down.
Steve closed his eyes tight, bracing himself for the impact.
There was a snapping sound and a curse as heavy footsteps reeled back. A low rumbling growl called to the pup to open his eyes.
All he could see were four thin, brown, muscle bound legs. The light shone on them and Steve looked up to the brown and black body. A huge German Shepard had a hold of the bat that had almost killed him.
"Damn." The boy swore. "That same freaking dog."
The old man holding the flashlight examined the huge dog. "I don' fought this bastard before an' …" He trailed off in thought for a second. The dog growled loudly, taking a step forward. "We're outta here." The man said with his hands up in fearful surrender. " Sorry mah boy."
The kid made a sound of disappointment. The light went away as they left. The German Shepard kept growling in a menacing way around the weapon. It turned around still snarling. Steve swallowed hard. Were dogs cannibalistic in New York? The sense of threat left its eye quickly and it settle the staff down in the corner.
"You all right pup?" The dog asked.
It had a worn voice, like he had seen many a time and place. Now that his eyes were adjusting, the puppy could even see the extensive greying around the muzzle of the dog. He held a highly masculine scent, rather like an old sailor who had been out at sea for far too long, and held no scent of danger.
Safety.
The stress melted off Steve and left him exhausted. Had he been human he was fairly sure he would be on his knees crying.
Steve jolted, remembering he had been asked a question. "Yes sir. Thank you sir."
The big muzzle dropped down to his level. "Well aren't you a polite one? Most a' pups ain't taught that way no more. You makin' yo' mama proud, but you're lying to me cub. I can smell the blood matted on you from 'mile away."
Steve tiredly looked over his back. He already knew what he would see there. Twisting wounds reached down his back, dying the top of his blonde body, red.
"Lick that up pup." The German Shepard sat himself down then stretched to his stomach. "Infection ain't done no dog any good."
The little golden puppy twisted and licked at the blood as commanded. It stung but felt pretty natural and when the pain eased off, the wound felt soothed. He didn't get far though. His broken front leg wouldn't let him bend anymore so he settle for half of his back and lay down tiredly.
"T'ain't no good." The old dog leaned over.
A warm tongue ran down his spine, soothing the pain and the crusted blood lifted away easily under the gentle ministrations. Steve put his muzzle to the ground and drooled contentedly.
"You been busted up good, little one." The tongue flicked his ear. "Just sleep an' we'll figgur out what ta do wit' ya in the mornin'. You just sleep I say."
"Thank you sir." Steve mumbled. He was so tired but he would never forget his manners.
There was a shift in his surroundings. Steve was suddenly warm when before had been only freezing cold. He buried his icy nose into the fur of the old dog. The hot tongue continued trailing over his tiny body again and again, settling in a steady rocking motion.
"Jus' you sleep now, pup. Old Joe gotcha now." The German Shepard soothed.
The soothing stimulation quickly shut Steve's brain down.
"Sleep. Just sleep."
It was the last thing Steve heard.