_Fenrir has a minion!

Minion the Maliss

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Whining, he watched his master with wide eyes full of confusion. What was he doing? Why were there cold iron bars between him and his beloved human? He attempted to stick his nose between the bars to reach him, but yelped with pain as a sharp shock tore through his body. He edged backwards until his back hit a cold stone wall.

His questioning eyes reached the unfamiliar, cold, shadowed ones of his human. He sniffed hopefully, tail wagging despite the pain, believing in his hearts that his friend would rescue him from this unusual predicament. After all, he had never let Fenrir down before.

Watching his master turn his back on him and walking through that old wooden door instilled a slight feeling of hurt and betrayal.

An unfamilar, stinking, dirty man opened his cage twice a day, put his food out, then always looked at Fenrir with sad, sympathetic eyes. He would then attempt to pat Fenrir, before Fenrir let out a throaty snarl, hackles raised and warning him away. Fenrir knew the expressions of human very well, and he didn't understand why this stinker always wore THAT particular one.

His master would be back, he was certain of it, even if he was taking a longer time than usual. His only comfort until then would be a ragged Zoid, once Fenrir decided it was not edible, and besides, lonely beings should stick together. (wait- he wasn't lonely, was he?)

For 3 months Fenrir had not moved from his position near those cold iron bars, except for the basic needs. He knew his human would be back, but he couldn't bear the time alone until then. Sometimes, he had little thoughts of how maybe, just maybe his master had left him on purpose, for good. Whenever Fenrir caught himself at these thoughts, he would fling himself upon those electrified cages and howl and scream with agony, then tear and bite at his own fur and legs until tufts of bloody fur lay on the ground. He was betraying his beloved human by these poisonous thoughts.

Fenrir grew boney and his fur was scruffy and matted with grime, a world apart from his once regal look. He didn't realise his heart was also getting more twisted and blacker with every day, with every slamming of those iron bars. The seeds of doubt had been planted, and now the deadly thoughts filled his mind every waking second, choking out all else.

Eventually, Fenrir started to forget what he was waiting for. He spent his days laying on the stone floor, not hardly noticing when the smelly man reached out to pat him. All he had in his mind was an image of another man, a man with dark, shadowed eyes. He wasn't quite sure how this man was important, expect it was crucial that this person's throat was torn and his blood soaked through his paws.