put down just from fear of what these men had made them. He, on the other hand, didn’t mind their aggression, not anymore, and with his new life in the Pit, the pain of their bites barely fazed him.
Pain had finally grounded him. It made him more alert to his surroundings.
“Move,” Valon barked at them, giving a few a slight push when they wouldn’t move quick enough. Bushtër , a particularly vicious one, clamped down on his hand when it came too close to the bone she was gnawing on. He registered the feel of it, as Bushtër’s teeth broke his skin, but he only made a sound of frustration, using his free hand to grip her by the muzzle until she released him.
Finally, he made it to the back of the cage, crouching down in front of the three puppies. They were wary of him, scuttling back, though one was bolder than his companions were.
It came forward, small steps, its nose up as it sniffed the air, trying to scent him. It had ears that pointed straight up, a mixture of gray and white fur on its head, spreading down its back, with snow-white fur covering its belly.
Its eyes, though, were as pale as Valon’s. And just as sharp.
Valon took an instant liking to that one.
He could definitely see the Siberian husky in it, but he doubted it was purebred. It was far too big.
Not wanting to frighten it off, he waited a few moments before stretching out his hand, palm side up. He knew how best to act with them, and how he didn’t need to be violent to show his dominance. There was no need to force it to come, the moment his hand was out, the little hybrid came forward, nudging his hand with its nose.
The other two—both German Shepherds—though still wary, followed in its footsteps. Now he had three pups at his heels, all looking at him with tails wagging.
In the time it had taken him to enter the cage and get across it, the dogs were now done with their food, now looking for a way to take out their aggression. Not in the mood to play chew toy—despite his predilections—Valon scooped up the three pups, making his way back to his own sleeping place.
He deposited them onto the floor as he reached for his tattered book bag, scrounging through it for what little food he had hoarded over the last two weeks. There wasn’t much, but it was enough to start.
Smelling his offering, they nearly tripped over each other trying to get to him, and as they each took a bite of what he offered from his hand, Valon didn’t fight the smile forming.
This was the closest to happiness he had felt in a while.
____
“Nope, eyes on me.”
Valon stood tall, his hands outstretched, making sure that his new companions were watching his every move. Training them to follow his commands had been surprisingly easy in the last two weeks that he’d had them, but that might have just been because he had a lot of time on his hands.
When he wasn’t fighting, he was left to his own devices until Gjarper came to him for training. During those visits, he would hide the three of them away. There was no rule that he could not keep them, but Bastian was growing more frustrated with his lack of effort in the Pit, and his agitation was beginning to show. Valon didn’t want to risk anything happening to them should Bastian happen upon them.
No one had yet to learn his secret, and he hoped to keep it that way. He hoped that he’d train them long enough that by the time anyone noticed, they would be as big as the others.
Timber and Rusk, the two German Shepherds, had taken a while to catch on to Valon’s commands, but that was because the pair had a tendency to fight amongst each other whenever the mood struck, but they were fun, and often tried to bring Valon into their battles—which was mostly him on his back and them climbing over him.
Loki, aptly named after one of Valon’s favorite villains, was far easier to control, and since the moment Valon had started feeding and taking care of him, Valon found that he was far more affectionate
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley