Misery Business

Misery wasn’t really a nice wolf and he was a very selfish one.  The tar pits stank and the scenery was cheerless making it a rather abysmal spot to stay.  The small wolf wouldn’t mind coming here for visits though as he saw some uses for it.  However, living here was another matter.  Misery had no interest in running away or making rash decisions, however.  The black and silver wolf figured he’d be a sorry excuse for a spy if he didn’t stay where one would be useful.  Besides, aside from the flaws of the disgusting place, there could be fun found in this.

Misery had never cared for snakes but he certainly knew how to deal with them.  With several in his family having an interest in the wicked things and with Misery having to appreciate their venom he’d learned how to toy with them.  Misery held a rattlesnake by its tail, directly below the rattle itself, dangling the thing above a pit.  The animal was struggling but appeared weak, a close-up look would show where scales had been torn off along with some cuts from some of the stones he’d tossed on its head.  The snake wasn’t dead but Misery expected it wished to be.

Could he have eaten the snake? Sure.  Maybe he still would eat a portion of it but, right now he wanted to cause it pain.  Torturing the snake would make Misery’s day a bit better than it.  He let the snake's head tap against the hot tar without letting it sink in, lifting it back up.  It writhed trying to get away before Misery dipped it a bit more, watching how the tar refused to give up its prize.  He had to pull the snake more to pry its head free from the tar and the struggle was starting to fade.  So soon? Bah, the wolf dropped the snake, seeing only the slightest signs of twitching.  It was dying, damn.

At the sight of more movement his gaze swept over to spot the slave moving amongst them.  Misery didn’t give a damn about the title she’d won herself or what rank that put him in this joke of a pack.  She was a slave and he was far far better than her.  It wasn’t hard to be better than Medusa, all one had to do was talk properly or think rationally.  

That said he greeted the current leader of the pack with a tight thin smile that showed no real warmth.  If anything one could imagine the smile would have grown had she been injured. “Medusa,” the name was said politely despite his personal feelings, “did you come here to torture helpless creatures also?” Picking up the snake he flung the corpse a bit farther away.  She could take the question as she wanted.  Did she come to torture helpless animals like snakes or to the wolves she kept captured here? There was the open-ended offer though to torture things with him.  Misery was actually quite curious about how the foolish alpha would handle this.

"Speech"