War Dog awoke

in a dark, rumbling

box.

She remembered

she had been captured

by Skullatroid’s henchmen,

and when

she moved,

she remembered that

the tree man

had chained her twice

to the floor as well.

Anxiety pounded in her body.

She had to escape.

The two chains wrapped around her neck

were connected

to a single hook on the floor.

The hook was big enough

for War Dog to grab

with her teeth.

She bit down on it

and then bit down harder.

War Dog kept her jaw clamped

and pulled at the hook.

It was fastened tightly

to the floor.

Slowly,

she started pushing back at the floor

with her paws,

as she tugged at the hook.

It did not give.

She twisted her head

back and forth,

but still it did not move.

War Dog bit down harder

and focused her strength

into her neck and shoulders.

She put all the force she could

into twisting at the hook

with her teeth.

It was as solid as stone.

But War Dog could not

comprehend

abdicating to failure.

She pulled, and pulled,

and pulled.

In the space of a moment,

War Dog went

from slowly pulling at the hook,

to whipping her body

back and forth,

throwing her weight

from one side to another

in a circular, coiling rage.

She pulled. She pulled.

She stopped.

War Dog took deep, rapid breaths

through her mouth

as her jaw remained clamped

on the hook.

She began again,

whipping this way,

whipping that way,

the metal scraping

across her teeth,

but then —

a looseness,

a wiggle,

the hook

moved!

War Dog increased her fury,

her body like a flailing snake,

there was a squeak,

she twisted faster, faster,

she gripped harder,

her nails dug into the floor

of the truck.

The hook began to wiggle more

and more

in the floor.

War Dog did not relent,

willing

and able

to continue as she was doing

until the end of the Omniverse.

The hook became loose,

tenuous upon its screws,

ripped from its moorings,

and in a wild shock,

it gave away,

tearing from the floor,

dead in her mouth.

War Dog

dropped the hook from her mouth

with a clunk.

The chains still hung from her neck,

but she was free.

She looked around

and sniffed the corners

of the box.

She looked up —

there was a skylight vent

big enough for her

to fit through —

if she forced her way through.

The truck continued to rumble noisily

down the road.

War Dog peered

at the vent for a long moment.

She leaped,

taking the vent’s handle

into her teeth,

and tearing the cheap skylight

down.

Air rushed into

the dark, rumbling box.

War Dog leaped again,

clawing and scrambling

up through the hole in the ceiling,

dragging the dangling chains behind her.

Air rushed in her face

as the rumbletruck plummeted

down the road.

She pulled her back legs

up and out

of the vent,

and she stood unsteadily

on the bouncing, careening

rumbletruck,

the wind thunderous.

Above her, the sky was a misty lavender;

the moon was just rising,

greeting the stars,

and spilling its heat

down to the world.

The rumbletruck drove

at tremendous speed.

War Dog,

a Fearwolf of only the most distinguished

lineage,

leaped for a third,

and final time,

her wild velocity instantly

becoming clear to her

as the rumbletruck

vanished behind her,

and she floated —

flew —

above the earth,

the ground racing at her,

the world spooling around her;

she hit the ground,

her momentum rolling her

through the ash in powdery clouds,

until she crashed to a stop.

The rumbletruck continued down the road.

She was free!

Free!

to be continued...