Chapter Seven

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Chapter Seven

The shadowy beast stalks closer, low to the ground, padded paws silent over the rubble.  Its sentient feet pick an accurate and incisive path through the debris, snarling in a resounding challenge all the while. 

The Prince’s breath catches haggardly.  Behind his mask, his eyes harden.  Through his suit, I feel his muscles clench.  He may have never seen a Kanine in the flesh before, what with his copious past. 

Nearly four feet in length from nose to tail, the wolflike creature is low and long.  Abnormal muscle developments flex underneath its sparse brindle pelt with every diseased stride.  Defunct adaptations like majestic ruffs of fur had slowly faded away throughout these beasts' evolution, making way for large sensitive paws and round, round eyes. 

The Kanine's muzzle is impractically large for its broad face, jutting from its head disgustingly.  Cracked ivory fangs curl over its black lips.  Hidden from plain sight, furry spores grow atop the roof of its mouth and along the gums, prepared to release thousands of microorganisms into the living flesh of anything its host manages to sink its teeth into.  Its shoulder bones stand high and upright, stretching the skin over the mountain of muscly flesh.  The nostrils of the beast flare.  I know from deleterious experience that their sense of smell is superstitiously keen.  The rancid stench of rotting human flesh draws them to the city streets like moths to a flame during the nighttime, though they always vanish by day.  Large, funneled ears top its scruffy head.  Dark eyes peer from sunken sockets, adapted for a life in the shadows.  Kanines are blinded and ineffective in the day with the sun’s glare with those wide pupils.  The thin layer of fur covering the wolf’s flaky skin is maggoty and ratty, a few fungi growing around a wound in its withers.  It snarls, exposing the white fuzz tufting over its red gums. 

The doglike animal stands on a shattered fragment of concrete, concrete that had most likely originated from the battered barrier.  The moonlight crowns its head in a silver halo of light, accentuating the white and grey blended into its reddish coat.  Another Kanine pads through the fracture in the wall, joining its partner with a menacing snarl.  The bays of the Kanine pack draw closer, coaxed onwards by the scent trails of their leading Alphas.

The Prince swears almost as colorfully as I, casting his pistol aside.  It skitters over the rocks, disappearing into a nook.  His hand massages the hilt of a sword tucked into his belt reverently.  I brace myself against his back.  My own weapons are safely secured against my leg, hidden under the drapes of my skirt.  Nathiel glances at me oddly as I hike up the hem of the silky fabric to my hips.  His eyes dilate at the sight of the narrow dagger strapped to my thigh.  The Prince’s lips part with surprise.  That minor detail is somewhat less prioritized than the savage animals creeping ever closer. 

The rusted silver metal of my dagger reflects the star’s glare.  I hold it in a quiet threat to the Kanines, doubting their frailty in this particular situation.  On most occasions, one or two Genetics can be easily dealt with.  That is, when I have all my weapons.  When I know my surroundings.  When I’m not clad in a party dress and a limiting mask.  When I’m not watching a Prince’s ass. 

“Since when did you have a dagger?” questions Nathiel frostily, eyeing me suspiciously as I let my dress fall back around my feet. 

I nod towards the hilt in his belt.  “Thus far, I’ve noted both a pistol and a sword.  It's not me who's keeping the most secrets.”

Encouraged by the tense undertone of fear in our voices, the Kanines inch closer through the rubble.  Their jaws snap together in apprehension, sending clouds of the spores into the air.  One flanks us, inching around the perimeter of our circular flat spot, while the other continues to approach directly.  A surrounding maneuver.  I adjust accordingly, balancing lightly on the balls of my feet.  Their gnawing dark eyes follow me. 

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