Chapter 3 - The Manifestation of Dogs.

   All hours of the night I'd been roused from my slumber. Wrestling in-between the darkness and light as every time sleep tried taking me, one by one their game would start again...leaving me restless...and cold.

   It's deliberate. A series of devious stratagems, preventing me from journeying into the far deep of normality as I could do nothing but toss and turn whilst they banged and kicked and scraped. Spewing out mad profanities, the hinges on my door of the hollow would let loose their fury from such a menacing assault.

   I had wanted to challenge one of their own in front of them. Unacceptable! And neither would it go unscathed. This was their warning, and they knew the Wolfskin cared nought for it. Wanting to strike an acute terror deep within my heart they'd succeeded, to which—I'd screamed my frustrations out into the thick woollen down comforter.

   A heckle here. A muffled chuckle and chortle there...they're all rotten.

   Thankfully, towards the dawn approaching the castle, they'd finally settled down, leaving me to wallow in my misery. It was a habit, unfortunately, from years of being conditioned to know when the first glimmer of light would hit.

   Rubbing my dry, tired eyes with the inside of my palms I threw off the comforter; rising only to stop abruptly by the sight of a serving tray on the floor. Giving the hollow a quick turnabout, I note the door slightly ajar. Except for him, no one is permitted entrance; for he sees himself as an exception. Still—I should've heard something. Or more so, why couldn't I? The hollow is moderate in its size yet, not huge enough to let unwanted visitors go unknown.

   Like the outer cavity, the walls bare jagged rocks and cobblestones, making it very vulnerable to noise. Footsteps reverberated easily onto the floor and for all the hollow's size—it's practically void. Filled only with a divan made of copper and iron, a washstand, a traditional wood-rimmed tub, and a trunk full of all black leathers; it's not meant for providing great comfort. Just the basic necessities one would need in life.

   My stomach growling of its knowing hunger had me moving towards the serving tray, forgetting of how it came to be in here. Picking it up with caution, I make my way back to the divan.

   Uncovering the dishes, I'm greeted with a salted flavoured porridge, a platter of three hard-boiled eggs and something resembling of a broth, all still simmering hot. I'd rarely eat from them, but ongoing starvation does nothing in quelling my qualms and bettering my situation. Reluctantly, I clasped my fingers around the wooden utensil before taking a bite.

   Involuntarily, my lips creeped upward in delight. Food had never tasted so exquisite and within minutes—I've devoured the eggs and porridge. The meal may have seemed simple, scarcely comparable to an extravagant one, nevertheless—I was grateful. Still rather ravenous, I fixed my sights onto the broth.

   The broth was a beef stew. Rich and aromatic, with spicy herbs and large cut vegetables; how fresh and ripe they were as crunch after crunch came from every bite. Swiftly it had done its job of removing the cold that was invading my bones in a death, chilling grip.

   Each mouthful saw the stew becoming tastier and tastier, lesser and lesser. However, biting into one chunk of meat brought forth a chain reaction of incessant coughing. The taste was different. As was the smell. Like waste remains the texture felt too firm and smooth for this kind of meat...this one was wrong.

   Spitting out the contents into the tray, something dark and grey, seemingly coiled together with minimal bite marks caught my eye. Slowly, the anger and disgust started to ascend as I rolled the object out completely.

   A tail. A bloody tail was embedded between. These beasts bear no tails whatsoever and had they—such a size it would not have been. This one was too small and the only other living things apart from the human matches residing down here are...rodents. The tray went flying along with the platters on it as urgently I made haste to the washstand.

   It felt like a purge brought on forcefully. Racking my body in uncontrollable tremors; vile and congealed as it heaved its way up my stomach and out of my mouth before the next batch came shooting. I should have been more careful in not letting the food touch my lips, but hunger overruled all delusions. Lunging for the ewer, I'm grateful that it's left untouched. The water is like a blessing, cold and clean. Cleansing me of such foulness and quenching my thirst; as if knowing that somehow it would've been needed.

   Sinking onto the floor, memories of 2 years afore flashed through my mind; bringing about a fluttering rush of overwhelming emotions. The day I'd argued with Old-woman Grand-Mère. Her warning I'd thought doltish of heeding...And when he lied to me.

   "Savages...

   "Filthy...

   "Disgustingly rotten...

   "Sick and twisted...

   "Barbaric...

   "You're all a bunch of filthy rotten SAVAGES!" It's thundered fervidly throughout the hollow. I know they heard it. I want them too. And in all honesty...I care nothing for the consequences.

   My throat felt numbingly sore as the stench of vomit made my stomach contract violently. It's with a great purpose as I staggered onto my feet, wanting to get away from it. Calling on the Collector is a must as soon as possible. I need to see a friendly face. Or more so—one that's more welcoming than most.

   Several minutes later and a change of clothing, I'm exiting the hollow, and like a hunter: on the prowl.

                                                                                                           *

   It's ominous. How the lights above flicker against the walls, casting an incandescent like glow throughout the tunnel. A Labyrinth of sorts; giving the conclusion it's never-ending. That gravel path underfoot, mangled and gritty, scrapes against my boots as wisps of cold air drafted into my lungs. The temperature has dropped drastically and signs of life—are of nowhere to be found.

   Similarly, to having loss of sight and relying solely on two crows through the passageway—it's unbearable. Yet, I find comfort in the walls as I trailed my hand onto it. Feeling the grime and teeth of stones biting into my palms I know somewhere about that I am being watched; for eyes and ears are always around.

   Having no smell, it isn't a place that any person in their rightful mind would want to be caught in. But then again, it's not a place you'd want to be caught in at all. Darkness is their biggest companion, complementing their eyes with being able to see finer than they can in the light. My hat goes off to the tomb's creator. This kind of stone: cobblestone, goes back to the 15th Century; properly known as the Late Middle Ages and the year of the so-called witch and werewolf trials.

   The tunnels and even the hollows are also coated in silver and monkshood; affecting them none whatsoever. I've always wondered how it came to be that they can withstand it yet, a simple slice of their silver dagger across their wrists has Lycan Wolfskins unleashing. The Collector always refuses to answer, wishing to remain ignorant.

   Towards the front, light from the outer cavity started reflecting its rays into the tunnel. Usually vacated at this time of day, the closer I got, however, the more it sounded as though it wasn't.

   "Lochna won't be too pleased about this, Kraze." Something resonating of a grunt is heard before another responds icily.

   "She comes willingly. His anger would hold no justification...

"Ah atta girl," a pleasurable sigh followed. "Go head now and takes it all into that lovely likkle mouth of yours."

   The voices coming from the outer cavity were warm, with an agreeable trace of deep baritone. Slightly accentuating on certain words and letters in a sort of sing-song yet—erotic type way...like that of measured cadences. There were only four others that I knew of with distinct accents like that...Command Warriors.

   They'd returned the furniture to their rightful placing as was the norm after 'top dog'. Two settees of the same colour, shape and size, sat diagonally facing away from me. Whilst the chaise lounge in the middle, sat facing towards me and the tunnel I'd just stepped out from. But it was the three warriors on the lounge in the middle that captured my attention.

   Kraze, Nemo...and Tallon.

   Tallon was perching on top of the backrest like an actual dog. Tongue lolling out of his mouth as he salivated. Anticipation at its fullest. The other alongside him—Nemo, kept plunging his hand into his pants without care, openly fondling himself. He looked almost as though he were in harrowing pain, as his free hand came up to place within his mouth, stifling his throaty groans.

   Small-boned, charcoaled hair cascaded about thinly rounded shoulders. Swathed in black leathers and silver from the neck go down...delicate yet—smoky...The Black Forest. 

   Despite her back facing me, it did nothing to distort my recognition of skin from dark ebony. Such tones would be hard to miss and identifiable anywhere. Though looking at her in this form, on her knees, between the splayed-out legs of Kraze as she continued to gobble him into her mouth—had me no longer desiring to taste her. I'd found the display distastefully defiling to her as a woman.

   A moan of satisfaction escaped the warrior she's milking and instantly, I look away. Wanting to not draw any attention to myself I walk on into the direction of the Collector.

   "Now, look what the good ole lady has brought us here, laddies." Kraze, the ringleader I'm assuming said, his member lodged deeply within the Black Forest's mouth. She must not be an expert in fellatio if he's still able to speak so fluidly. Pivoting around, I observe the guffawing trio keenly.

   "Does, she come willingly?" I enunciated each word slowly.

   Immediately, the laughter stopped as Kraze got up, causing his member to dislodge from the mouth of Black Forest; saliva drenching it. "What's it to you if she does or doesn't? How is that any of your concern?" he parried.

   "Oi. Don't be too hard on her, Kraze," Nemo, the fondler murmured sardonically.

   Levelling them each with a scowl, I'm barely able to restrain myself as I look Kraze in the eye. "Answer the fucking question." It's deadly quiet. As the air is charged with a sound challenge, and for a fleeting moment—they too are even astounded by this level of senseless bravado.

   "Eh, I have a better idea," refusing to answer my question, Kraze motioned downward with his eyes towards my private region. "Why don't you give us a likkle look sees?"

   "Yes, let's see that pretty likkle fat kitty," the fondler agreed; their lecherous gazes trailing all up and down the length of my body.

   "Let's see the real reason as to why Lane keeps you all for himself eh?" Tallon, remaining in his 'doggy pose' bounced up and down, head tilting from left to right as he started to pant heavily.

   Staring at them wide-eyed, my bravado starts to dissolve slowly. Tilting his head back slightly, Kraze gives the air a quick sniff before smiling unpleasantly.

   "Woof-woof...

   "Woof-woof." Not caring for the fact that his member hung in the air, looking more engorged than ever, the 'ringleader' began to stalk my way. Nodding to Nemo and signalling his turn, he followed suit.

   "Ruff-ruff...

   "Ruff-ruff...

   "Ruff-ruff."

   I was waiting for when one of their little games would begin. This one being: the game of imitation. An iteration of hiccups moving from one to the other; embracing the dog and seeing how they can break me. All is such a blasted game to them...Nothing is of importance.

   Insulting to a man's best friend they are the parasites of dogs...A manifestation. Cold and numb, I stared, straight ahead, mouth thinned in agitation.

   "Did you enjoy breaking your fast, lovvie?" Like an elastic band, that question has my spine straightening up a bit. I can feel my blood beginning to run cold as the 'three mother-fucking Musketeers' cackled in delight.

   Of course, they'd be enjoying this and it's without a doubt that they can hear my heart reaching its limits of consternation. Rat-a-tatting all-round the cavity and God knows where else. Their hearing is just as efficient. I looked to the Black Forest, reminding me very much of oval face; on her knees, stone stiff yet—her hair cascading about has me unable to tell whether she's emotionless. Is that the norm with these women, match or not to always be on their knees? If that is of the case, then it just solidifies my wanting to leave much pressingly.

   "We made—especially sure to have Cook and Santos prepare the morn's meals. You...do remember who Cook is now, don't yuh lovvie?" Nemo prompted. Bemused, I shake my head no as he laughed callously.

   "Cook," he began, lowering his chin, "is the lad you tried preventing from taking what's rightfully his the night afore."

   Blanching, I felt the insides of my stomach beginning to clench painfully again; churning about violently. My eyes were probably large and wild with mass panic. Was all this my supposed comeuppance then? I'm tempted to ask.

   I thought, rather ruefully that, because I was unable to help that one, then at least I could try for helping this one...the Black Forest. However, looking very much the capable woman, neither had she seemed to have been exhibiting signs of distress in the first place...

   A true bitch.

   Eyes still fixed on my person; Tallon removed himself from off the headrest to join his comrades in rotation. "Yes lovvie, we look after our own. You're either with us...or against us."

   "Gentlemen," they snorted in disgust, "I wish only to know whether the Blac—" Inwardly, I groaned. Unable to have stopped the slip-up, the ribald of laughter has me wanting to clap my hands over my ears. So much for me having thought that I could diffuse the situation.

   "Yes, yes. We know she's black and thus-she knows perfectly well as to where she belongs...On her knees. We're from a different era, lovvie. One—we intend not changing," Nemo stated firmly, lips curling as his tone took on an icy menace. "So, either you fall into line, as in, get with tradition and show us that fat likkle kitty...or run."

   Breaking away from their formed rotation, they each retreated some steps back. Crouching, their eyes flickered to that of pitch black; apparent of the fact they wished no longer to play their game of imitation. They looked delirious and I could tell that the situation was growing more hostile and threatening by the minute.

   I saw flashes of silver. The lights from the outer cavity twinkled all around its sharp edges and unable to comprehend what was happening fully...instinct told me to run. With lightning speed, I pivoted around, heading into the direction of the Collector. My fear: propelled me to ignore the thudding noises and monstrous growls of what I'm now sure was of Lycan Wolfskins entering the tunnel, burned my vision.

   The tunnels were wide enough to bear their weights on all fours as they made chase. One on either side of the tunnel walls and the other: on par with me. Pitch black eyes...pitch black furs and talons—heavier looking and more agile than most, was branded with the pack's sigil on their foreheads.

   Traits of a Command Warrior.

   Every muscle strained to reach the door of the Collector's workroom as it came into my peripheral. Gasping wildly, a scream nearly choked its way out of my mouth as I lunged into the room; internally muttering a silent prayer that the door wasn't as customary: locked.

   They aren't allowed within metres of the Collector's workroom and muttering another silent prayer, I'm hastening to get to the washstand as once more, flushing waves of vomit escaped me.

   Through the hazy cloud of sickness, an all too familiarly, gravelly voice seeped its way in. "What is there to be in lessons of manners, when one does not know how to simply knock?"

ALRIGHT GUYS SO I'M SO EXCITED ABOUT THIS CHAPPIE FOR MY COMMAND WARRIORS TRIO WERE INSPIRED BY THE SECOND SONS FROM GOT. I SO LOVED THAT SCENE WHEN THEY WERE WITH DANI DESPITE NOT BEING IN THE SHOW FOR LONG....SIGHS. AND SORRY FOR THE WAIT, MY LAPTOP IS A BUGGER WITH TRYING TO UPDATE MY STORIES AS IT'S STARTING TO GO. LONG LIVE ITS DAYS.

AGAIN I'LL BE EDITING SOON.