Above, you can see when this was written. Also, the crappy art is mine. Of m'boy.
Is it obvious how much I adore this kid??
This is an even older one than before -- if you've been keeping track of the characters, there's Alpha, Scar-throat, Gray-eyes, and Roanoke/Yawp. Since these, I've added Soft.
I might type up the AU-thingy of my main story idea, but idk.
•••

    It’s dark. I can tell that much, at least. It’s dark and everything hurts. What happened? Why can’t I remember anything? Why can’t I move? Where am I? A growl breaks the silence, deep, dangerous. What was that?
    … Oh.
    It’s me.
    I shake my head, blinking. I feel… Weird. Hungry.
    My eyes adjust to the darkness, and I can see. Almost as clear as day. This seems weird. I think? I don’t remember,
    I scan my surroundings, taking mental notes of everything.
    I’m in a room. And…
    And I’m tied up, apparently. My arms and legs and neck bound like a… Like a....
    Like a what? I don’t know. My mind is all… Fuzzy. Memories are almost non-existant.
    Lifting my head as much as I can, I take in the scents around me. They’re old, but faint traces of something warm and alive surrounds the place.
    My hunger spikes. Red tinges my vision momentarily.
    Then it subsides as I realize they’re -whoever they were- are long, long gone.
    I pass out.
    Time blurs. Hours, days, weeks; it’s all fuzzy. All I know is that I’m currently stretched across a couch, something that one of the prey-things were fond of. I don’t know them. Or, I didn’t know them, before this outbreak-thing. They spoke in gibberish, for the most part, and I can only make out bits and pieces of their words.
    I know they call me “Yawp”. That’s what they yell any time I do something. So, all the time. Even when I bring them food, they yell at me! Stupid prey-things can starve, eating out of those shiny things.
    My brows furrowed as I sat up into a crouch, legs pulled close under me in case I needed to spring at something. Lifting a clawed hand, I pushed the hood of my hoodie (that’s what the called it, I think) back. I needed the coverage of it when I went outside during the day, but it was a hinderance to my vision.
    A huff escaped my throat. Where are they?
    My hand in front of me, I splayed my claws, examining them. They were long, about an inch or two from my fingers, which were darkened from dirt and blood. Then, with the utmost grace, raked them across the couch’s arm. The fabric parted easily, leaving gaping wounds.
    I grin, hissing at my inatimate foe. Growls and snarls leave my throat as I circle it, sharpened teeth bared in challenge. Then, in the blink of an eye, my legs coil, muscles tense, and I’m airborne. And then I’ve landed on the back of it, claws and teeth tearing.
    “YAWP!!”
    I still, turning my head towards the noise.
    Standing in the “safe-room” doorway, covered in blood and gore, are my prey-things. All three look annoyed, and the leader starts babbling in an angry mannner.
    “-Expect?.... Alone for…. Bored… He’s a….” Gray-eyes sighs, his namesake scanning the damage.
    I screech proudly, perching on the back of the couch, baring my teeth in a smile.
    “He’s…. We’re… Hasn’t eaten…” Scar-throat adds.
    She shares a glance with Alpha, who just shakes her head. The two converse in hushed voices, but glance at me every-so-often.