The dog’s legs ached from the cords. She wanted to run, to whimper.
She couldn’t do either. The cords held her jaws shut too.
The world smelled of death and pig blood. It would smell of dog blood soon too.
An old man limped over to the rubbish dogs. He grabbed her uncle by the cords that held his paws. The dog remembered her uncle bringing her monkey meat when she was a puppy; and sitting guarding the litter while the others hunted.
The old man slashed Uncle’s throat. Suddenly Uncle was meat, not her uncle at all.
She wanted to howl, to whine. All she could do was shut her eyes or watch.
She watched. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was a chance to get away.
She wriggled her paws again. The cords still held them tight. She moved her jaws from side to side, but even that didn’t lessen the bonds.
Only she and her brother were left now. She growled as the old man approached them. He grabbed her brother this time. The old man dragged him to the killing ground, then threw his body in the pit.
The old man made a noise. He sounded happy.
The dog stared at the lounging humans, at the heap of pig entrails, flies buzzing around them, at the waves lapping on the beach. She watched for any chance to struggle, to bite and run …
She was next.