You know what’s worse than being hungry?

Being food.

“Oi, Grekk! Sling another bit of that chicken wing over here!”

“You got it, Boss. Chicken taste good tonight.”

Those are the delightful voices of my green-skinned, pointy-eared captors as they munch on the other dead animal carcasses that surround my rusty cage.

“Dis one’s git wood in it!”

“Ah, shut it ya vlech. Eat up afore the Greys come back through here.”

Above, rainfall trickles through the dark leaves of the Deshaan forest and settles on my twitching ears. My tail, tucked between my legs, provides me with little warmth. Through all my fur I still shiver away, and my doggie instincts kick in – forcing me to mewl for attention. Making me beg for just a scrap of –

OW!

A stout kick is all I receive in return.

“Shut it, ya git!” the one called ‘Boss’ roars in my face, sending his putrid spittle flying into my eyes. I whimper and move back, seeking the farthest corner away from him while he pokes his big knife through the cage door and jabs at my hide.

“Pot’s gonna be boilin’ soon,” the green man giggles viciously. “You ready to be served up, little furry rat?”

I risk my life in barking back at him. Listen, buddy. I am a dog! I am a CORGI! C-O-R-G-I! I am no rat! No sewer crawler, me. I am-

A thrust of his blade nicks my leg and I am pushed back against the bars, quivering as I try to lick my new wound.

“Pathetic,” the creature says as he spits at me. “Stupid and useless. Good fer nothin’ but waving your dumb furry ass in our faces. That’s what pissed me off about ya the most, don’t’cha know?”

He leans in close and smiles, showing his rotted teeth. All my senses are filled by nothing but his foul-smelling breath.

“Don’t worry – you’ll be a good meal for me and the boys. You’ll finally be put ta good use, sittin’ in our bellies, keeping us strong. That’s all yer really good for, innit? Meat.”

I set to licking the wound he’s inflicted on my leg till I finally fall asleep, shivering in the cold, unprotected by the flimsy bars when thunder cracks above and more cold, uncaring tears start to fall from the sky.

Gentlefolk, gentlebeasts, and all things in between, I ask you: is this the life a dog should live?

Well, it's mine. And it's ending one hour at a time.

----------------------------------------

Crack.

My ears perk up.

Movement.

My eyes adjust to the darkness of night and the starlight that now drapes itself through the treetops. One such beam of illumination lights on the rustling bushes beside my cage, and I suppress a desire to bark in excitement as I see three wolves emerge like ghostly visions before me.

I eagerly watch them approach, my tail wagging happily from within my rusty cage, barely feeling the cold dampness of the forest gnaw at my tiny bones now.

They whisper among themselves before they sniff at my sad little face. Then one of them – a raggedy, scruffy looking female - snorts at my tiny form.

“This little runt cannot be the one,” she spits. “Look at him. He is nothing like us.”

I don't disagree. I'm a fraction of their size, my hairs are comfy but thick, my eyes are canine yet beady, and my butt is round and obtrusive. I lack their superior limbs and regal, straight-backed air, but at least we share a common ancestor. That counts for something, right?

But, hang on, what's all this about 'the one'?

The leader looks at the female and growls. He's an old one. One eyed and sharp fanged. Tough looking fella, and I'm not ashamed to admit I'm a little frightened as he approaches me and sniffs my curious snout, smiling strangely.

“All those who travel upon four paws are our Brothers and Sisters, Snappingjaw,” he says to the female. “This one is small. But he has not given in to despair. His eyes tell me there is strength within him.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

I wag my tail happily. This guy gets it.

“Bleh!” the female spits back. “The goblins will taste of that strength when they stew him and chew on his innards tonight! Look at him, Elder Witherfang – he has the same shape and color as a loaf of freshly baked bread. Pathetic.”

The Elder looks to the third companion who merely shrugs as though he's apologizing for the female's words.

I won't say she's wrong. But I will say, for the record, that I am certainly not a loaf of bread.

“How came you to be trapped here, little one?” the Elder asks.

I bark wildly at him, trying to tell him that I have no idea - that, as a matter of fact, I don't even remember my own name. All I know is that these goblins are heart set on gobbling my tiny bones and I'm glad they haven't quite learned how to cook me yet.

The three wolves simply stare back at me like I'm some broken wind-up toy. Should've known they wouldn't understand me. My wolfspeak's a little rusty.

"He has lost his sense of kinship," the old one grunts sadly. "He is a Brother without a voice. But still, if there is a mind that lives behind those large ears of yours, little one, then heed my warning: to the East, a great battle has been lost. Heroes have fallen. This world teeters on the brink of collapse. And soon, one of the dying shall come to rest here. He may be your only chance of escape. He may be your best chance of freedom.”

That word...freedom...

Tell me, old one - what is does it mean?

There's something about that word that strikes me like a hammer banging at the core of my being. My whole body creeps forwards, my paws scrabbling at the bars of my prison to grasp at the answer.

He doesn't reply. Instead, he places his firm, wild paw on mine and utters a final message before he and his pack escape back through the brush:

“When the time comes, do the right thing, little one. Show them we canines still know what freedom means.”

BUT I DON’T! I wail desperately. TELL ME!

“Farewell.”

I poke my head as far as I can out the iron bars that surround me and call out to them, trying to howl as they do at the top of the mountains, crying out to the moon that hangs above us all.

But my voice barely carries. It's not even loud enough to wake the green men.

So I watch them go in wonder, tongue lolling out in confusion, as the word of the wolves keeps repeating itself like an echo sung from their mountain lair.

Freedom...

----------------------------------------

He came when the green men’s fire had burned out.

My ears perk up before my eyes catch the sight of movement in the brush. Not the stealthy steps of the wolves, not the labored shuffling of green men. These steps are heavy. Burdened. Almost more like a limp.

And I fight against the primal desire to growl when I finally see a silver hand grab on to the side of a tree trunk and push the body it's attached to out of the brush.

It's a human.

I search my brain. Humans mean one of two things: trouble, or petting. And by the looks of this guy, I'm gonna go ahead and assume the former.

Clad in an ashen cloak with a hood that hides his face from my sight, he lumbers into the camp and falls to one knee. I see the shining armor he wears on his leg. My nose twitches uncontrollably, taking in the new scents of this being – his musky, sweaty aura and the stench of something else. Something new. Something that was seeping out from under his cloak.

It's red. The same shade of red that spills out of me when I'm wounded by the savage green ones.

A...Are you ok? I bark.

He answers me by coughing up a torrent of the red liquid from his mouth and falling prone on the ground before my cage.

This thud wakes the goblins, and they drowsily begin to rise, slowly realizing that there is an intruder in their midst.

I jump around as much as I can, barking at the man.

You have to help me! I bark. Help! They are going to eat me! I do not want to be eaten!

His eyes are not like eyes I have seen before. The pupils are unfocused. There are thick purple bags beneath them. His hair falls over the rest of his face and I have no idea if he even says anything back to me.

“G-g-g-“ one of the green men stutters. “GREYCLOAK!”

This word seems to frighten the other green men, and they reach for their nasty, spiky weapons.

Come on! I yelp as loud as I can, seeing my chance and taking it despite the pain my tormentors might visit upon me. Get up! Get up!

Then I hear the man’s voice – gravelly and distant, like a fading specter echoing down a hallway:

“Goblins…ngh…not even…worth…my time…”

His words are punctuated by another cough of blood.

“Get ‘im!” the nasty goblin leader who hurt me earlier shouts. “Get ‘im! We gonna eat good tonight, boys!”

I snarl as the green men approach, their weapons drawn, licking their lips.

I – I – I…I stutter.

What do I do?

His eyes begin to close over, and probably would have done nothing more had I not lapped at his face with my tongue, coming away with my mouth covered in his blood.

Look...if I can't do anything else, at least know...I’m sorry, I try to tell him through another bark. I’m sorry I can’t help you.

To my surprise, his eyes have shot open again, and he looks at me as though I've have stabbed him in the gut.

The green men inch forwards.

“Heh,” the dying man says. “A tiny creature…showing kindness…in this world of…despair…”

I watch his eyes closely. For some reason I cannot pinpoint, I find that I cannot look away.

“Is it chance? Or something…more…”

His voice, once tinged with only pain, is suddenly overcome with compassion and warmth.

“You can…have it,” he whispers as a goblin positions the tip of his big knife above the human’s throat. “Carry it…for me…”

The goblin shrieks with glee as its weapon comes down.

“Finish…the…fight…”

Then, before I watch his eyes close shut forever, a wave of fire washes over me.

My cage is blown apart, my paws are lifted off the ground, and I find that I’m looking down upon the green men now from above, flailing around above the inert body of the man, barking, shrieking for dear life as a pillar of bold letters smears itself across my eyes:

---SYSTEM INITIALIZING---

[Creature Designation: CORGI]

Name: RAZIEL

Main Quest: FINISH THE FIGHT

--You have earned the title: Free dog—

[You gain the following Core Skills]

Bite (Level I)

Dig (Level I)

Doggie Dash (Level I)

Snoop (Level I)

Bark (Level I)

Wag (Level I)

Consume (Level I)

Softpaws (Level I)

[You may choose one of the following Martial Proficiencies]

Bladed Weapons

Blunt Weapons

Marksman tools

Magic Staves

--COMBAT MODE: ACTIVATING--