I squint, hissing. My senses are disoriented, my eyesight blurred, and I feel like I am rocking: which rears an unwanted sting from my wounds. I try to stretch my arms, realizing that my legs are being held by another. My eyes dart open, anxiety overwhelming me, noticing my arms are cuffed over the blonde wolf's hair..."what the hell happened?!"
I look at my surroundings, seeing the famed blue grasslands that lead to Illandra. The grass smells like an ocean breeze, as its beauty caries for mile. At the edge of the sea of grass, surrounded by lustrous pines, is the brilliant stronghold that I've only heard of in tales. A pearl-white empire strays towards the heavens, lined with statues of Illandra's previous rulers. These giant beings gleam of gold like that of the sun as its beauty is surrounded by it fortified gates that stands a mile-high.
Yet the most stunning feature of this kingdom is the enormous beast which crouches on the steepest-point of the castle. It is a slender grey creature with wings outstretched: shading the kingdom. It cries a piercing tone, making the hairs on my the back of my neck stand on end. It bellows as its nostrils fill with fire. The Marcuse Dragon, the Governments guardian and the sole being that they revere instead of enslave. Even as we near, I can feel its blood red eyes leach onto us.
Watching...
Waiting...
"Finally up I see," the blonde wolf states.
"How long was I out?" I ask, shifting in my spot.
"Five hours, you took a rather brutal beating for that wolf."
I say nothing more of that. It was a horror I wish to forget.
"Thank you for carrying me."
"Its no worries. Hell they would have left you if no one volunteered."
I laugh at that, catching his attention.
"What is so funny?"
"You mean kill me." I correct.
The blonde wolf nods as I remove my cuffed hands from around his neck and jump off of his back: releasing his hold on me. I land lightly on the ground, relaxing my muscles as I march in line behind the others. Even though my pain increases, it feels good to walk again.
"What's your name?" I ask.
"Caspa," he says, looking back at me. "Nice to make your acquaintance."
I nod back at him.
"I think what you gained a bit of respect among us."
I couldn't hide my surprise, turning to the rest of the pack: even Anton steals a glance without being distasteful. It is a pleasant surprise, but this was merely a stepping stone.
I was only doing what was right. I didn't like seeing the wolf suffer or die at the hands of the Government's soldiers. This was something I wish to change, something our clan has strived for: equality. Many brave wolves have fought and died for this right, and to this day our hope of a united Eloisa remains.
My thoughts fade as my feet drag to a white road which lead to the castle gates. As I look up at Illandra, I suddenly feel small and insignificant. The walls of the castle tower above me, making me feel like an art compared to a lion, as they begin to part open. The bright light from the city shines on the wolf guards that line the road. They have brilliant bodies, muscular and tone: each with amazing postures and elegant dress. I gaze at the white and blue embroidered pants and shirts they wore, along with the snug boots on their feet. Their brilliant gauntlets and wolf-like helmets that envelope their faces make them look menacing, but inspiring none the less.
"Raise your heads for the crowd dogs!" I hear Philis call, as I tilt my head only to see a line of elves within the cities gates.
They are pale, but beautiful. Most elves have umbrellas in order to preserve their appearances, and wear elegant clothing of white and greys to match the kingdom's décor. Every Illandra royals eyes are blue, as inviting as the sea itself. Their ears are pointed like mini spears, and their hair ranges from a brilliant blonde to a breathtaking black. Women and girls are tall and slim with full faces and unworldly splendor, while men, with rather feminine features, are dashing none the less.
They all shout at us and wave as if we are their entertainment. Many of them fan large maple leaves in our direction, a symbol of luck. I scowl at that. This is not a prize, it is our sentence…something they surely wouldn't understand.
I feel the crowd close in behind me as we are separated and escorted to several large wooden stages, each with its own crowd and presiding Rienten: chief official. As our group stops on our platform, a Rienten approaches. He wears a brilliant white military style shirt that is embroidered with grey spears, and a pair of fitting grey pants. His black hair is a contrast to his brazen blue eyes, and his cold but radiant face leaches onto me.
Philis pushes past me, making his way towards the Rienten in front of us. He bows.
"Lord Elys, these are the dogs that have turned 18 this year. We lost several along the way, yet the total is ripe at eight five."
Lord Elys looks over towards us, smiling in a slightly cynical manner. "Uoy kanht (Well, let us begin)."
With that, Philis straightens and walks off of the stage. This is the first time I heard the Government's language. Beautiful it sounds, yes, but it bothers me that they must speak in secret. The Government has never once allowed a wolf utter the elven language.
"Children of Eloisa, emoclew (welcome)!" Lord Elys speaks. "Before you are this year's healthy crop. We give them to your bidding. First, why not start with our new guards and soldiers."
The crowd before us quiets as a rather large wolf walks up our stage. I, along with the sixteen other wolves on the platform, am shocked to see one of our own participating in this activity. The power he must have...the possibilities that I could gain if I were to be chosen.
He takes off his helmet, revealing a dark-skinned wolf with short black hair and hazel eyes. He then turns to Lord Elys, bows, and regains his posture.
"This is General 22, a great specimen. He outlasted all the other dogs at training, and gained quite a respectable title. He now trains new wolves under the Government's accord. This year, he will choose the next lot to enter the ranks. Whichever of these fine specimen to survive, will be given a spot in our front lines."
The crowd cheers upon Lord Elys' words, yet I can tell that "General 22" is disgusted by his remarks. To be stripped of your name and given a number, to watch your kind die for mere sport…it's sickening. No matter the title he has achieved, he is still treated like property.
"General 22" begins to look us over. He points to the wolves that would fit his ranks, as the elven soldiers quickly unshackle and inspect them. One by one, he begins to make his way down the line. "General 22" comes near me, passing me by but stopping at Anton.
"You, what is your name," he says in a low unwavering tone.
"Anton."
"General 22" nods in Anton's direction as a soldier remove his chains. Anton rubs his wrists, glad to be free of his bonds, as he walks over towards him. "General 22" looks him over, asking him to take off his shirt. Anton did as he said, showing his muscular body. He is rather muscular and defined: a rather good pick to join the wolf ranks. Just looking at Anton makes me jealous, for I know I look nothing like that. Even the crowd awes in pleasure as some girls eye him lustfully.
"Now, reveal your form." "General 22" commands the wolves he's chosen.
Anton and the others hesitate, looking at "General 22" for confirmation. They know very well that being in our birth form removes the clothes from our bodies. It is for pure humiliation, something to make us realize that we are nothing more than chattel.
"General, is there a problem?" Lord Elys asks, rather forcefully.
"No, there isn't," he says, locking his eyes with Anton.
Anton nods, knowing he cannot resist. A deep growl resonates from within him and the others, as fur begins to encase their bodies. Anton falls on all fours, his limbs growing and stretching, shredding the pants he wore. His mouth elongates into a snout, his teeth sharpen, and a tail erupts from his behind. Anton contorts and molds into a large grey wolf, standing around 7 feet tall, as he bares his teeth towards the crowd. The other wolves stare and growl at the elves before them.
Lord Elys seems pleased as he walks by Anton, who did not change his demeanor. "I think this one will fit our ranks, don't you General?"
"General 22" nods, as Anton eyes him closely. "Yes, he is rather mature for his age. I will take him."
Lord Elys gracefully dips his head and arm towards Anton. "He is yours."
The crowd cheers at the verdict, as "General 22" commands Anton to change back into his human form. He complies, shifting back into his boyish figure and standing up straight: naked before the crowd. Lord Elys throws a brown blanket in Anton's direction, which he uses to cover up, as "General 22" marches him and the rest of the pickings off the stage.
I see Anton's eyes swollen with grief as he passes me by as I ball my fists.
He has been stripped of his pride.