Sunshine, lollipops, and snuggling into a nice pair of human thighs…

…thick ones…

…my tongue lolling out…my butt looking cute…my fur warm and soft to the touch…

I don’t even need to look up at this human’s face. Their hands are all I need. A soft, tender touch. Gentle, gentle. Yeah. That’s the stuff…

“Oh, Raziel,” the human says. “You’re just adorable. Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?”

I bristle.

I am. I mean – I guess – I am. It’s me, right? I’m the good boy, right?

“You are, yes you are!”

Knew it.

“But you’ve got a job to do, little lazy Raziel, don’t you?”

Job…to do?

No. That doesn’t sound like me.

“Come on, up you get,” the detached human voice says as their hands begin to disappear, replaced by the thick, black strokes of the letters from the big box in my head…

“It’s time! Time to wake up! Time to get to work! Time to FINISH THE FIGHT.”

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

“Awaken, little one.”

I do as I’m told, only now realizing that the command is delivered not by a human, but by something far more noble.

I open my eyes and am staring up at the Elder wolf – the most treasured visitor of my once-cage.

I saw nothing for a few moments. What can I say? My tongue lolls out my mouth expecting the old one to speak first. That’s only manners, right?

But then – yes! – I remember: the forest. The goblins. The evil plants and…

…the sword in my teeth.

My gaze shifts to the ground I am lying on and, sure enough, there it is: the goblin’s viscious scimitar beside me, mere inches from my madly twitching snout.

I shiver in the cold and look back up at the Elder one. He cocks his head at me in a way that shows me he’s just as confused as I am, right now.

“Swiftrunner,” he says over his grizzled shoulder. “You are sure of this claim?”

“Not a doubt in my mind, Witherfang,” another wolf barks dutifully. “I saw this hound cut down a possessed minion of the Darkseed, and watched yet more fall before him – trembling, they were!”

I shuffle round to get up on my paws, groaning at that word, ‘Darkseed’ again. It was as instantly distasteful as it was familiar.

“Woe betide us if this is to be our savior!” another wolf – the haughty female from before – snarls down at me, forcing me to roll away. I feel my back hit a wall and only now notice that I am in the mouth of a small cave carved into the mountains high above the forest floor – a place of escape that I had looked at with wonder on so many nights of my imprisonment.

“Peace, Snappingjaw,” the Elder – Witherfang – cautions.

Apparently Snappingjaw was not to be cowed, this time. She pushes her snout into my face and snorts a clump of grimy snot at me that covers my entire nose. I reel back, dropping my ears, trying to show I’m a good boy.

Because I am! That’s what my dream-human told me!

“Quiet, you!” she barks back at me. “Eugh. Look at him, Brothers! He has the shape of a loaf of crusty, moldy bread, not that of a hero!”

I blink my beady eyes at her.

A…hero?

“Who are we to speak for the Paw of Fate?” Witherfang says, stepping between she and I with massive authority, staring at the female’s defeated face with his scarred eyes. “We are naught more than players on the stage of this dying earth.”

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

He turns back to me as the female relents, crossing to stroke the mane of the other wolf, Swiftrunner?

I never was good with names.

Come to think of it, I don’t even think ‘Raziel’ is my own…

“Little one,” the Elder breathes down at me, touching my wet nose gently with his own. “It is good to see you well.”

I nose him back, being overcome suddenly by the smell of his damp, matted fur. I realize I must smell exactly the same. The stench of this ‘freedom’ is hardly complementary.

Thank you! I bark. Thank you for helping me.

The Elder steps back, considering my little squeaks.

“Ah,” he murmurs. “Perhaps there is one way we can verify our Brother’s claim. Swiftrunner, Snappingjaw, stand back.”

He creeps towards me with eyes so focused on my face that I instantly fall back and feel the cold wall of their cave kiss the shaking hairs on my spine.

Wh-what are- what are you – AH!

He presses his nose close to mine and rubs it against me roughly. And, with my tiny eyes as my witnesses, I feel a something switch on in the back of my brain.

-You have earned the title: Wolftouched-

You gain the following [Core Skills]:

Comprehend Languages (PASSIVE): Common Wolf

He edges back and gives a grunt of satisfaction, as though the Eskimo-kiss had been to his liking…

“Speak, Little one!” he commands. “If you can.”

“I – I – uh – hello?”

And all three of them regard me with absolute shock as their ears perk up to hear me, this time. And that’s when I realized I had just been given the gift of conversing properly with the most feral, noble beings of my species. My ancestors.

“You can…understand me?”

The Elder One smiles. “’He shall know your ways, as though born with the soul of your kin…’”

I blink at him through my increasingly sore head.

“We operated under assumptions,” the Elder says, scratching at his half-chewed ear. “But, for once, our rumor-mongering has paid off. We, the Jagged-Claw clan, have secured the one who shall defeat the Darkseed.”

My gaze passes to each of them before I realize that they’re talking about me.

“Oh no,” I shake my head, ducking my tail between my legs and making to leave. “Nope. I’m not interested in fighting. Thanks for helping me out and all, but I’mma skedaddle now if you don’t mind –“

All three of them rush to block my path, and I realize with a little tired yelp that I had abandoned all hope of ‘choice’ as soon as I picked up that damned blade in the rain.

“Please, little one, you must listen,” the Elder continues. “You hold something special within you, now. The key to stemming the tide of death that is coming. More than that – you represent hope.”

“No,” I squeak back. “Not me. No, sir. I’m just a Corgi looking for a soft couch to nap on. Now, if you’d kindly direct me to-“

“You can do things now, can’t you?” The younger wolf – Swiftrunner - breaks in, drawing an apprehensive look from Witherfang. “Things you couldn’t do before, yes? I saw you down there. I saw you hold that little beast’s sword in your mouth and cut him down. Him – and the blasted vines!”

Suddenly the memory of the grisly wooden goblin comes crashing back to me, and I suppress the urge to vomit.

So, that wasn’t a dream, then. I killed. I’m a killer Corgi. Murderous pooch on the run.

“You struck with the precision of a master!” Swiftrunner continues, stepping forward, tongue salivating, as though he were prospecting some God-challenging wizard or a master conjurer summoning him up a fresh batch of roasted chicken. “You struck them down, and they didn’t grow back! That was when I knew for sure. I knew it was you! I just knew it! Remember, Witherfang? Remember I told you: he’s the one. One of our own, no less!”

“How many times do I have to tell you,” the bristling female snaps. “We aren’t cut from the same cloth as simple house pets.

The young Swiftrunner simply goes on, unperturbed.

“Finally,” he laughs. “Finally, respect for our kind. With a canine Greycloak, maybe they’ll even consider admitting more of us in the future? If we get this Little Brother to put in a good word for us, maybe? By Lyca, what am I saying? He isn’t just any Greycloak. He’s THE Greycloak!”

“Swiftrunner,” the Elder said, his aged paw staying the young one’s advance. “Calm yourself.”

“Calm?! How can I be calm at a time like this? We’ve done it, don’t you see? Your wise council was right, Elder Witherfang. We needed our hero and we’ve got him, right here.”

Witherfang shakes his proud mane.

“He may be the one chosen by fate,” he says. “But he knows nothing of his duty, or our plight. Indeed, it might well be that he knows nothing of our world at all.”

I’ve been listening to all of them for what seems like eons now, their words beginning to drone on and mix with the roar of the thunder still raging outside, but only now does reality start to sink in: they really think I’m some kind of hero.

My tiny legs begin to shake of their own accord.

All these big words. These big ideas…’freedom’, ‘hero’, ‘duty’ and ‘fate’ – these are concepts far beyond the ken of my mind. They aren’t for me. They aren’t…

[Core Skill Increases]

Doggie Dash (LVL 2) Increased Distance (70ft)

Bite (LVL 2) Increased % chance of success (25%)

Wag (LVL 2) Increased max duration (10 seconds)

Snoop (LVL 2) Enemy perception distance increased (150ft)

[Martial Weapons Proficiency Increases]

Martial Weapons {Bladed}

(LVL 2)

Increased max weapon art slots (1 -> 2)

AH!

I drop to the ground, shaking, as the words blast through my head again, filling me with the painful sensation of a sudden migraine.

“Hold, both of you,” I hear Witherfang say above me. “Let him have his space. The Change is still affecting the little one. We must not intervene any more than we already have.”

I risk a glance up at the old grey wolf, his regal form silhouetted by the crack of lightning from outside.

"Wh-what's happening to me?"

“You are changing, Little One,” comes his gruff response, tinged with sympathy. “This world needs its savior, and I am sorry to say that the choice to reject that call ended for you the moment you supped on the dead warrior’s blood.”

My eyes go wild before I start to feel myself black out again, more words shooting needles into my brain. Numbers…letters…thoughts that aren’t my own…can’t be my own.

"But...but I - I'm no hero!"

He smiles down at me before the jaws of unconsciousness close around my eyes once more.

“You shall be, little one,” he says. “I shall be thy guide.”