A cloud of dust billowed up as black fur hit the ground with a loud thud. The dog tried to push himself back up to his paws, but his legs shook and gave out under him yet again, and he let out a tired laugh.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Finish it already."

He growled, looking up at the young dog before him, who shook her head.

"I can't do that! You don't deserve to die. You fought just as hard as I did."

The pup tried to reason, but the old dog just shook his head.

"If you don't kill me, then they'll just kill the both of us."

The young dog was silent for a long while, letting this information sink in, before she nodded. The on-looking dogs barked loudly, urging her to finish the fight. So, with a howl. She tore the old dog's throat out, chest swelling at the cheers that greeted her actions.

That felt. That felt good. The taste of blood, the cheering canines in the stands, the old, weak dog dying in front of her. Maybe she could get used to this.

~~~~~

Survival of the fittest, means you do whatever it takes to survive, even killing those who you might've grown up with.

Would you rather they lose their lives, or lose your own?

Just be careful no to lose yourself in the process.