king and lionheart. {Deux}

Close to four inches of snow blanketed the ground as Hades padded through the abandoned city streets. Shop windows lay shattered and cars, doors still open, left standing in the streets. The sun was low in the sky and cast a medley of orange and pink hues across the scene. Hades cast his eyes upwards, towards the clouded sky and let his mind wander.

How strange it was for him that, suddenly, he had a pack on his hands. He'd always been a solitary dog, caring for none but himself. Then, one day a little group of, what Hades would call runts, approached him. Look at you, they said, we can tell you know your way around. We can see you're strong and powerful. We can see how well you're doing. Please, protect us and we will make you our King. We will obey your every command. Maybe it was arrogance that made him accept their proposition. Maybe it was the clockwork of his mind ticking away, after all, living in a group has it's advantages but oh, oh, leading that group had so many more. But maybe, just maybe, it was that little tingle in the very fiber of his being. The primal instincts of all canines, to form a pack, bring young into this world and carry on one's legacy were finally catching up on the beast. As much as he'd deny it to anyone who'd ask, Hades was similar to others in that way. He, too, craves a family, a home. Ah, but he'd laugh to himself, perhaps my mind has simply softened with age. So yes, he'd accepted. He'd take these dogs under his wing, he'd turn them into the ruthless beast he was. Some of them, he'd admit, showed potential. In his mind, he'd already picked favourites. Not that he'd ever let them know. Time will tell which dogs showed promise.

His new-found little family still played on his mind when his nose caught an interesting scent. It had been a while since he had eaten and without realizing, he was hungry. He cast his head towards the direction of the scent. A run-down and long abandoned bakery lay to his right. Yes, he knew that there are no such things as freshly baked bread or even leftovers in the bins outside but for the clever canine, one who knew that time had rusted the tins of food on the shelf and a dog like Hades had learned how to knock them off the shelf and apply pressure to the weakest point of rust and thus crack open the can. Today's meal consisted of a tin of baked beans. Although he had no conception of what this meal was or how it was made, he recognized it. Not-so fond memories of scavenging with his mother as a young pup came to mind. He's glad, for the most part, that he has left that life behind. It was a dark place which has left permanent scars on his mind. He'll admit, though, that it made him a stronger dog.

So engrossed was he with his meal that he didn't notice the other canine enter. His head snapped up in an instant, mouth still full and tongue exposed to lap at the red sauce at his lips. My god, he thought, what a sight I must look.