From birth Elvira had been notably wrong. Her bad blood appeared to be at blame, inflicting her with an unnatural darkness right from the start. She was a predator, with the eyes of a feral wolf, rather than a domesticated dog. Selfishness fueled her actions. Outwardly, she seemed to think and feel nothing. There was only a wicked animal, observing without saying a word. Intelligence gleamed behind her sharp eyes, despite her primal aggression. Eventually, there were no more insects for them to murder. The flurry of movement had sent the remainder fluttering away, out of their reach.
Elvira sat down, watching as the other canine assumed a play pose. Normally, she was the one in control in such situations. Cruelty was her game of play. She’d viciously provoke and harass her siblings until they squealed. But this creature was far larger than she was. The child was unsure how to handle the situation. She’d never learned how to properly play with another. Thus far, she’d never practiced making friends. Remaining seated, she cocked her head slightly, perking both of her folded ears forward in an inquisitive manner.