Slow death is best

The dog seemed to think over the offer that was made and this was a good thing. Had he simply agreed, Chimera would have thought less of him. An eager beaver, ready to jump into whatever path opened up first. Instead, he asked what title Chimera would have preferred. The giant raised an amused brow. The dog would not be a slave. He would be a member of the pack, and so the full title wasn't necessary. "Chimera will suffice," he responded. Though if the dog wished to call him King or Sir, Chimera wouldn't have opposed.

The topic shifted and again the dog asked good questions. Wise questions. Status was an important thing to consider in all things and especially so when pledging fealty to a pack. "Status is earned by hard work and skill, not by species. If you work hard, you'll be rewarded for your efforts. If you don't," The man shrugged and made a 'get out' motion with one paw. "We're somewhat of a family oriented pack," he added. "We have wolves and many dogs like Gem and Meg here." The sisters, having done their duty of skinning the cat, were waiting patiently beside one another, watching the interaction between the two men.

"A decision needn't be made now if you'd like to mull it over. I've told you of the island. Ring for the ferry if you wish to join." Chimera nodded to the man and rose, motioning for the dogs to go on ahead. If the small man had nothing else to say, then Chimera would follow them.

Chimera Klein