King of the Hoard

Sometimes, you have to be the king.

Prologue

''The cacophony buzz of the towering, formidable city rising into the ebony atmosphere barely daunted you as your vermillion, sideways collar's little golden bell echoed in amorous jingles.Your lanky limbs worked together in a heartbeat as your unguis scrabbled against the cold, puddled concrete as you scurried out of numerous headlights, the stench of foul foods lingering hungrily like snakes on your pelage. You had become this desperate several days ago, snooping back behind a restaurant ally to collect thrown out scraps. Your pelt gruelingly clung to your bleached bones as you yipped in courage, pushing your way through the rain like any behemoth alpha male should. You weren't an alpha, no, but moping will never get you anywhere. You had come across some resident's felines and earned several open scratches on the delicate webbed nose embroidering your muzzle, but you counted those as battle scars. If you were going to make it out alive, you were going to make it out tough too. Your family had left you behind about three days ago, and you had to continue the hunt. You smelt the scent of foreign dogs creaking through this city, but no matter, they smelt old and bland. No challenge for Alpha, right? You trudged on, tail wagging slightly at the thought of your little girl, Macy, and the way she used to stroke your head while you rested in her lap devouring scraps from her palm. You closed your eyes, treasuring the memory, but that's when you ran into.... it. Growling pierced through the night, and you felt teeth snap around your scruff. You whined, trying to writhe around to face your adversary, but to no avail, the grip only tightened and you were shook as the large female began to run. She ran faster than you, more graceful than you, but still more fearfully than you. You felt her limbs snap in defined pace as she snaked her way through alleyways and past humans in the shadows, but you noticed the collar around her neck. Spiked. Spiked like the ferocious bulldog on the other side of your fence. Human lettering was engraved in the leather, but it had faded away long ago, now only a rip of leather threatening to totter off her neck. She ran into a dead end, stacked with crates like the father Dan used to deliver, but the dog scent was stronger here, more intimidating. You were thrown down, your head hitting the concrete, and you lowered your stomach in a submissive posture. She only pulled back her lips to expose her teeth before trotting away. She sat by the alleyway, and a nose poked out from the crate. It sniffed around wildly, and finally a muzzle pushed out of the gap. It snarled, and soon its head poked out. It was long and scarred, but still elegant, as if it was once regularly groomed. It shook its head before rising out of the crates, and more and more muzzles snapped out from the tottering stack of crates. You knew no math, but you knew you were outnumbered by these dogs. The Great Dane, the first male to be seen, stepped farther towards you, its nose jutting into your neck. The Great Dane looked up at the female, snorted, and looked back down at you, and snapped it jaws on your collar. You yelped, expecting him to tear your throat, but he only tore your collar off. He lowered his towering neck down to shove into your muzzle, and he growled a message easily deciphered, "Welcome to my Guild, young one."''