A Locked Up Wild Animal
Kira obediently walks into his vast enclosure and looks up at his alpha and the human cub, like many times before when the sun falls and all go to rest. In the large circle of the motion sensor’s light, his unnaturally bright golden eyes stare up at them.
“Say g’night to Kira, Layla!” Dave happily says to the toddler at his side. He shuts the heavy door and locks all of the keypads running down the side.
“G’night, Kira!” Layla wiggles her tiny fingers through the fenced door. Giggling when Kira licks them tail wagging.
The door is securely locked and Kira is safely inside, Dave hoists her up on his hip. Layla lets out a squeal of delight at her short flight. She wraps her tiny arms around his neck.
“Alright, princess, now it’s time for your bath.”
The two-legged, furless creatures walk back up to the house arguing. Once they’re safely inside, and Kira’s sensitive ears hear the audible click of the door, he walks into his large wooden doghouse, which stands double his height and is at the far end of his cage. His disproportionally massive paws pull at the fleece blanket inside. Satisfied with the blanket’s position, he lays down in a perfect fluffy circle. The light turns off after a few more moments and Kira is shrouded in darkness – a mere outline of a sleeping beast.
Kira’s sleep is light, so that he remains aware of his surroundings, but deep enough that he may dream of chasing things. His short and ever alert ears twitch at the distant sounds of squirrels scurrying about, cats yowling, and the herds of deer going across asphalt. He can hear the close-by sound of splashing water and Layla’s happy giggles. When they stop and he hears “sweet dreams” the house falls in relative silence. Dave watches the TV on a quiet volume.
The mid-autumn breeze shifts, bringing various smells with it. Kira doesn’t lift his head anymore like he used to when he was a cub. He’s grown used to all the outdoor smells: animals, their scat and piss, rutting, crisp pine, and so much more. A greater part of him does want to go and sniff. He just knows he can’t leave this place.
Suddenly, his ears stop their twitching; standing alert atop his head. Freshly fallen leaves crunch noisily under heavy footfalls. The echo of a snapping twig causes him to jerk his head up. His eyes briefly reflect in the minimum amount of light covering the wooded area. The muscles under his thickening black coat relax and contract fluidly as he stands and walks. The motion sensory light does not turn on; he’s not as tall as his alphas.
A low warning growl vibrates in the back of Kira’s throat. He slowly, cautiously walks the circumference of the tall pen. He sees outlines of trees, bushes, and the occasional flying bat. No small rodent makes a twig snap like that. A deer is unlikely, too, with their ballerina-like feet. However, they have the weight to break it. The rustling leaves unsettle him now. They grow closer and closer to the back of his pack’s den. All wildlife young and old know that they must stay out of his territory if they value their lives.
Kira circles back to where he hears the rustling leaves, sniffing at the wind. Again he lets out a growl, more vicious and bone-chilling than the last. The long hairs along his spine rise up meeting into a tuff on his thick, furry neck. His long, furred tail bristles, too. He lets out a snarl, longer than the last two, with his lips peeling back to reveal large pointed fangs.
Though what he smells is human by nature, it smells bad. Not the bad like when his alphas come home from the gym or when Logan is stressing about his job or when Layla fails to make it to the toilet in time. This smells bad as in the untrustworthy, evil sense. Much like the old man who constantly smiled at the young kids or the woman who hit her son.
A frumpily dressed silhouette catches his eye and he feints at it. The bad smelling person stops; Kira can smell the delicious scent of fear radiating off this person. The bad person takes a tentative step forward. Again, Kira snarls and feints. Seeing the boxy outline of the kennel, the bad person continues forward. The fear slowly evaporates to malicious glee.
Fangs meet strong metal bars after a deep throated bark rips past his lips. He attacks the wall, barking again and again. Warning those inside the den. The person stops short, freezing, when the outside light floods the area around enclosure.
“Kira! Shut-up! ” Dave harshly yells, from the second floor of his house, the sensory light flickering on too, trying not to disturb his neighbors anymore than his four-legged companion has done.
The large canine jumps back and forth between the open window and the bad person. Growing more irritable when his alpha fails to understand him.
“Screw it.” He sighs, slamming the window shut and turning off the outside light. Still, Kira barks and jumps back and forth.
The bad smelling person dashes towards the back of Kira’s house once Dave’s back is turned, hiding behind the dwelling and shielding from the light. Kira lurches forward; ramming into the back of the doghouse.
“Here, boy,” sounds a womanly voice when the motion sensory light flicks off.
Snarling, Kira spins out of his dwelling and rips apart a rolled up piece of cheese. Ignoring how good it tastes and smells, he bites down on the bars where the hand was only moments before.
Ever so slowly, staying crouched, the bad woman moves in front of him. Kira watches her, eyes hard and blazing, snarling with hackles twitching.
“I need you be quiet, okay?” she whispers, feeding a rolled up piece of ham through the fence. It flops to the ground with a dull slap. Of course he wants to eat it, what canine wouldn’t? But, he needs to keep his eyes on her. She lost her fear for him – no stranger has ever lost it that quickly before.
While staying her crouched position, she slowly walks up to the back door on the second floor. She’s radiating an intense malevolent merriment; a sickening scent. Her hands are shaking and Kira can hear her irregular breathing. He threatens her in ways he knows and warns everyone in the house, growing more violent as she closes in towards the back door.
Glass shatters, Kira howls, she enters, and Kira chews on the long linear bars.
Kira doesn’t stop barking, growling, and howling. His vocalizations roll over the earth and past the tree lines to the neighboring dogs, which all wake-up to bark in return and their masters’ to turn on the lights and complain.
Stopping short, Kira digs at the ground near the wall. The loose earth yields to his frantic motions. He digs until his thick, well-curved nails bleed from the cement underneath the ground and surrounding the kennel. Kicking himself on his hind legs, he stands just a few inches over six feet, whining. Urgent to find a way out – even if it means jumping out. His paws roughly meet the upturned dirt. Blood drips from his nails.
The scent of terror is nearly suffocating even though it’s so far up. Layla is crying somewhere from inside and Dave is shakingly talking to someone. Three loud pops cause Kira to jump and whimper; fearing for his own life in a flickering moment. A mix of people’s blood waft down to meet Kira’s sensitive nose.
“DADDY!” Layla screams from somewhere in the house – hiding like her dad told her to when the threat entered the house.
Something primal, something deeply buried in his subconscious, breaks inside of Kira. His powerful maw opens and his strong teeth begin to work at the metal bars, growling viciously as he tugs and pulls. Golden eyes look ominously like a not-so distant ancestor of his. A strong pack mentality urges him onward.
Finally, after a series of tugs, Kira is able to squeeze through a hole in the bars. He practically flies up the steps to the second floor. His snarls are a knife in the darkness.
“Danielle, please, think about what you’re doing.” Dave weakly says from the entrance.
Kira’s eyes are wide and menacing, his fur stands up stiff, tail held high and rigid, and his hackles raised. He doesn’t waste time on thinking about the closed door. He speedily walks a few steps away, he lines himself up to jump through the glass squared into the upper half of the door.
“I am,” says the bad smelling woman with no emotion in her voice.
Kira seems to be just a large blur in the night as he runs toward the door. He doesn’t feel any pain when the glass shatters when he breaks through. The alignment is perfect. Still flying through the air, Kira’s teeth bury themselves in Danielle’s arm and wretches it free from her body. The arm wetly thuds on the hard ground, companied by a metallic clank, when he drops it.
Danielle is screaming clutching what is left of her arm. She’s too preoccupied with the pain to notice the hybrid slowly turning around to face her.
With a final lunge, Kira attacks her. Relishing in her frightened screams and futile attempts to rid him off of her. Like all wild dogs, Kira pays special attention to her exposed throat.
Dave stares in horror from his spot on the floor, clutching his wounded leg and bloodied knife. He watches the outline of his and his husband’s wolf-dog attacking his (crazy) ex-girlfriend. He jumps when something wet washes across his face. Absentmindedly he pats the side of Kira’s face, not feeling the blood on his cheek and not seeing Kira’s tail wag happily at his finished deed.
Gloria R. 