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Weekly Contest #230
I watched as the wolf—or dog—held my brother’s neck clamped in its jaws, its teeth piercing the skin just above his left collarbone. He still fought, weak but desperate. Dying. His left shoulder and arm were useless, bright red shining through the shreds of his dark jacket and seeping past the cuff of his sleeve to his mangled hand. His chest was peppered with tiny wounds, blood blooming across his shirt like a bright red flower. He was frantic, an animal caught in a trap. His body convulsed as he angled towards the wolfdog’s grip, his right...
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