Come Out, Come Out, Wherever You Are

That little bitch. How she'd managed to get away from him, he had no idea. But it made the hybrid's blood boil. Time had passed, and he'd lost her scent at the shore. He wasn't one for swimming, and while he was determined, he knew there were more fish to fry; an odd term his mother had often said - apparently something passed down through generations from dogs who had been paw in hand with creatures called 'humans' - which didn't come close to what he wanted to do to those 'fish'. He wanted his fish to scream and beg for mercy. Mercy that would come only when he got tired of his games and either killed them, or left them like the trash they were.

His narrow head was held regally high, blood red eyes surveying his surroundings. He'd taken the time to travel and get more familiar with the continent. Thus far, he was aware of the packs that lorded over the lands. One in the north, three in the south - one of which looked like they might be the most powerful through and through -, two in the west, two in the east; and one of those eastern packs carried his lost prize's scent. He'd have to pay attention to that.

For now, he was resting in the shade of a stone wall that had probably been long ago left behind by the 'humans'. He'd eaten, drank his fill at a nearby lake, and now was considering what to do next. To put it frankly, he was bored as fuck, and everyone knows that when a canine gets bored, he becomes destructive. A toothy grin, far removed from the goofy grins of his mother's breed, crossed the hybrid's long muzzle, canines glinting wickedly as he gazed out, hoping some morsel might cross his path. He could use a new toy.