one

it were a nice grey mist. like that thickened dust one'd find in some spots; warm, and still. tranquil. muffling.

h e y

not muffling near enough, it'd seem.

obedience got it twitching - flick of ear, flex of paw - but not much beside. that calming grey wished to blanket the mind, 'till little skull thought its last.

it was pressure that got a stronger reaction. a tremor went the length of the slaveling - tip to tail - and proper black began to take hold of the space within the eyelids.

still it remained vigorless and weak. good will were never panacea for an emaciated body, and lungs full of brine.