Chapter 16 Hidden sanctuary

They drove in the pitch black night for what seemed hours while they kept him in the trunk at the back of the car, naked and wounded. The car was speeding, every time they made a turn, G-forces will throw Michael's tormented body against the side, hurting him severely. He was getting scratch wounds all over his body from the pointy innards of the trunk. Still they kept driving. The oxygen level in the air was getting low while CO2 clouded his head, making him sleepy. Michael knew that if he dozed off he would never wake up again, so he kept fighting the drowsy fog that was clogging his consciousness, but as the trip took longer and longer it became harder for him to keep himself awake. Eventually he closed his eyes and let himself slip away. If Fly and Jake hadn't reached their destination within minutes afterwards and had opened the trunk, he had certainly passed over to the other side.

"Hey! Wake up white boy! Don't fucking die on me now! I don't want to have to bury your sorry white ass."

Michael opened his eyes, Jake and Fly had dragged him out of the car. He was lying in the mud on the side of the road with both his arms locked in the grip of the two black men. Their dark hostile faces were hovering above him like gigantic insects.

"That's a good boy! Now get the fuck up and start walking, we don't have all night to spend on you."

They hauled him to his feet. Clumsily and shakily he took a step, but the pain resulting from this action reminded him urgently that his body was too damaged to perform the task; bending his knees was like sticking needles into it and using his buttock muscles ruptured his arse. He could feel a stream of warm blood run down his shivering legs. He whimpered, begging them not to let him walk anymore.

"What's the matter with you bitch, I told you to walk! Now start walking!"

Jake grabbed his protruding genitals and squeezed them till they turned purple. Michael cried tears of pain and humiliation, he dropped on his knees and covered his sex with his hands, trying to protect it. But Fly grabbed his wrist violently and twisted his arm in a 90 degree angle, causing poor Michael utter agony. He gave up and let Jake's hand grab hold of his wrinkled balls and penis. Jake jerked on them painfully, forcing him to get on his feet. Then he dragged him by his genitals, stumbling and crawling, into the dark forest.

The spot where they have been told by Belinda to bring Michael to was only half mile away from the road. They had to walk in north/eastern direction for 15 min, then they would find an old gravestone in the middle of the woods. That was the place where they had to leave him behind. It took the three men longer to get there since Jake and Fly constantly had to hit, kick and force Michael to walk any further. As they finally reached their destination, their victim collapsed on the damp forest floor and huddled up like a frightened animal, an image that was intensified by the fact that he couldn't speak and had to whimper in order to beg for mercy. Michael watched with hollow eyes how Fly flung a piece of rope over a thick branch and secured one end of it to the stump. Jake walked over to him, visibly disgusted by the faul and shameless creature he had made him become. He grabbed his wrists brutally and started to tie them together with the rope, then he tied up his ankles with another piece of string. He checked if everything was secured, then he gestured to Fly to string up their victim. A flash of pain shot through Michael's shoulder blades as the two men raised his feet high above the ground, making him support his entire bodyweight on his wrists. He groaned and panted while he blinked his eyes and stared into the far distance, trying to distract his mind from the burning pain. Never in his entire life had he thought that it would end like this. He had always hoped that he would die from old age in his own house, comforted by his future wife and children. He had feared to die from lungcancer since he used to smoke more then 20 cigarettes a day. But this.this was an utter nightmare. He shivered while cold mist started to collect over his body. The bundle of cloth stuck in his ass was soaked with blood and dripped between his legs. He started to cry as Jake ran his callous fingers across his ass cheeks, almost as tender as a lover. He didn't want him to touch him. If he had to die at least let him die without the humiliation of being used by this sadistic man. But it was as if fate kept playing tricks on him. The sight of his victim hanging there so helplessly was sending shivers down the spine of his ruthless tormentor. He reached out with his hand grabbing Michael's genitals and started rubbing his cock. Michael protested and screamed as he felt two fingers protruding his ass, running across the new enlarged boundaries. Jake pushed his sweaty face against his groin and licked the inner parts of his thighs with his rough tongue. Michael shivered all over his body, he couldn't help it, but the sudden attention around his manhood after so much suffering caused him to become excited. Jake squeezed his balls gently while he kept licking him from below. Then, he started to fuck him in his ass with three, four fingers, which was nothing compared to what Michael had gone through this evening and the screaming that was accompanied by the first intrusion was soon replaced by soft groans. Michael was losing his mind, he felt pleasure and pain wash over his body in successive waves, faster and faster, till his senses could no longer separate them from each other. He started to moan as Jake fumbled his dick, squeezing it rhythmically as if he was milking a cow. His lid got hard and stiff and fluid started to spurt out of it. Jake observed his victim's state of excitement and grinned maliciously.

"You like this don't you little whore? You like this! Shall I let you come in my mouth? Hey? Would you like that sissyboy? Tell me, moan for me if you would like that!"

It was as if he had stepped out of his own body and he was watching somebody else from a distance, someone low and stupid, someone so weak that it allowed that black monster to take advantage of his body over and over again. He watched as the madman opened his wretched mouth and started to moan as horny as a bitch in heat. It was a deep and primitive sound that could only be produced by a mindless animal. To that pitiful creature nothing mattered any longer, nothing made sense anyway. It would just do as it was told since it's own free will was long since beating into submission. From a far corner of his consciousness, he could hear the black monster speak to the deranged creature.

"Thought you would like it. Now come to Daddy little sissy boy."

The restrained loon gasped for air in shear pleasure once his erect penis disappeared into the dark maul of the monster. The black beast was suckling on it, he sucked the last traces of sanity that was left out of the wriggling creature. Michael could see how the lunatic reacted. Shamelessly, it rolled it half-closed eyes back, and stirred by the ecstatic sensations that the monster's slippery innards caused on his genitals. Although the creature was speechless, he knew the words that it wanted yell if it had a tongue. It would beg his dark master for more. More humiliation, more pain, more depraved pleasure to satisfy its lust. Michael could no longer stand the sight of this despicable creature, it's actions made him sick. He wanted to run away from this twisted scene and banish the memory of it to the farthest corners of his consciousness. Instead, he felt himself pulled towards the disgusting animal, he draw closed and closer to it while his mind screamed and his non-existing body resisted to be united with this faul creature, a creature too low to be called a man any longer.

Jake was fully devoted to his task, he enjoyed watching the white boy twist his body and throw his head back in his neck in perverted pleasure. This was so much more reassuring to him then the whimpering little pile of misery that he had to deal with before. He hated it when men behaved like that, they would seem so fragile and vulnerable. If he hit them like that it felt like hitting a child. It made him feel guilty, it made him feel bad about himself. But if he could make them indulge into sexual pleasures with his sadistic little games, if he could make them scream in terror and moan hungry for his assaults, it would make him feel better. It would be as if they were provoking him to do these things to them, that no blame could be laid on his shoulders. If he raped the little perverted bastards while they were horny like monkeys in heat, he would only be giving them what they deserved. Steadily, he worked Michael to the point of climax, he took the white boy's lid in his mouth one more time, ready to pull it out as soon as the first drop of cum spurted it's way out. He wouldn't let the little bastard come of course, but he would really enjoy fucking his horny ass afterwards while the demented slut is desperate to come. He wanted him to beg. Beg like a mindless slut to get raped by him. That will teach the little worm to respect him. That will show him his place.

He was surprised to find a warm liquid, too watery to be cum, flooding into his mouth before he even had time to pull himself away from Michael's groin. He let the taste of the strange liquid roll over his tongue and swallowed a few drops before his nostrils recognized the smell of it. Disgusted, he started spitting and coughing. His lips were clenched tightly together as he pulled himself away from the urinating penis. The stream hit his face and for a while his dark skin was covered in yellow urine dripping from the tip of his chin down to the borders of his shirt. Jake looked up at his so-called victim. He was wearing a painful grin on his face and chuckled childishly. The little demented fuck had done this on purpose. He had done this to humiliate him.

Jake's eyes shot daggers while the veins in his neck started to show and his dark face was pulled together in a terrifying mask. He was a volcano on the brim of an eruption.

"YOU DEMENTED SLUT!"

He grabbed Fly's belt and pulled out the rubber club. With all his brute power, he smashed it against Michael's shinbones.

"YOU LIKE TO PLAY ROUGH? I WILL PLAY ROUGH WITH YOU! YOU SICK LITTLE BASTARD!"

Fly was horrified as he observed how Jake lost his temper and attacked his victim with the virulence of a raging bull, clenching his fist around the club so tightly that his white knuckles showed. Each bash on the flesh caused the white boy's body to fling backwards against the tree like a human boxing-bag, while his legs were turned into pulp. The worst were the terrifying cries that came from him, barely human, loud and sharp as the death cries of a wounded deer. Fly's nervous mind urged him to stop this human turned predator, if he didn't do anything to stop him, he would surely kill the guy. But his fear for turning Jake's rage against himself withdrew him from any actions. Silently he stood there, clenching his fist tensely and blocking his ears from hearing the pitiful cries of their prisoner. Shit, what if he really kills the guy? Jake is a fucking idiot, he thinks with his dick while the rest of him is controlled by his temper. He could get them in serious troubles with this. He didn't want to go to jail just because mister caveman here was peed on by the little worm. He had to do something to stop him. Stop it now for fuck's sake.

"Stop it Jake! Stop It! You're killing the little shit! You're killing him!"

But Jake was so absorbed by his rage, he couldn't or didn't want to hear him at all. He kept smashing his club on Michael's legs. He wanted to make him suffer, he wanted to torture him till he was ready to rot in hell. He wanted him dead.

Finally Fly's nerves broke down, he flung himself in front of Michael, catching a brutal hit on his chest from the club. He bend forward as the air was smashed out of his lungs. The pain surprised him since it was so enormous, it burnt inside his body and numbed his senses. He sank trough his knees while he held his hands over his chest and collapsed on the forest floor. How could that little wimp suffer more then one blow of this and still dare to challenge Jake? Was he out of his mind? This was more than a man could bear, this was enough to break a grown man down to a whining child. Still trying to catch his breath he screamed to Jake, who stood there motionless with the club in his hand like a comic version of a Victorian picture. If he ever wanted to get the message through his thick skull, this was the time to do so.

"Jake!.Stop this shit man!. You're killing him!. You'll get us into big troubles with this little piece of shit! Pull yourself together! Stop it! Stop it now!"

"HE FUCKING PEED ON ME THE SICK SON OF A BITCH!"

"Just leave him alone for fuck's sake.You've already beaten the shit out of him. He's more dead then alive! Look at him man! Look at him!"

Jake stared at his victim, he blinked his eyes as if he saw the damage he had done to the poor man for the first time. Michael's legs were bloodened, swollen and red. His left shinbone was turned in a weird angle with a frightening bump sticking through the other side. Veins near the surface of the skin were busted by the brute assaults. The bandages that had nursed his knees were minced into the flesh and Jake could clearly distinguish a splintered piece of white bone sticking through the redness. It was only for the fact that Michael had been raised too high above to ground for him to brutalize his chest, stomach and head or he would have surely killed him with the severity of his attack. Jake was surprised to find his victim to be still conscious, a merciless act of fate, since the pain must be unbearable by now. Still, this horrifying image didn't bring up any emotions of compassion in him, he observed the suffering of his victim as a man watching the news who had just learned about a disaster that had killed hundreds of people in a colony on mars. It didn't toughed his soul, it didn't even reached it's front door. But he realized that he couldn't keep beating the little wimp up. Fly was right, he was more dead then alive already, it wouldn't take much more to send him six foot under. Still, he wanted to teach this piece white ass shit a lesson. If he couldn't hurt him physically, he had to find another way. What was it that his old man used to say? Teach those silly white boys a lesson when they're disrespectful, calling you nigger and stuff. Hit them where it hurts the most. Hit them in their weakest spots. And suddenly it occurred to him. He knew how he could make Michael suffer more then of any of his physical abuses. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves and looked back at Fly, giving him a reassuring wink to let him know that he had himself in control again.

"We're gonna leave you here white boy! I'm not gonna kill you myself. I can let the sun and the bugs do the job for me."

His voice was deceivingly calm. Almost comforting as if he as talking to a difficult child that was receiving a mild punishment. He spat on the ground and rubbed the phlegm into the black soil.

"I know that it's cold now white boy, but it's soon gonna change when the first sunrays arrives. It's the middle of June you know. If you're lucky, you'll survive a couple of rainy days but sooner or later the heat kicks in. Our state is famous for the hot summers you know. Weeks without a single drop of rain."

He paused before he continued and grabbed both Michael's dangling legs, he ran his fingers over the damaged flesh tenderly, while being careful not to press on the bruises.

"The sun will burn that white skin of yours into a crispy brown, maybe you'll get as black as we brothers are. And I bet the bugs will love you. I bet they're gonna nest in your ass cause it's dark and moist in there. They will crawl inside your guts and eat you from inside out. You ever watched those documentaries on Discovery channel? Those damn bugs that lay eggs inside an animal, and then the maggots get out and eat them self fat while the dumb beast is still alive? You'll get so much of those bugs inside you that they will come out of your eyes! And I bet the birds will come. They'll come for the eyes first. They always come for the eyes first cause it's nice and soft to eat. Then, when the maggots have eating their way trough your rotten belly, they come back and rip out your guts. God I would really enjoy watching that."

He closed his eyes as if he was treasuring the image, his deranged mind running amok with his sick fantasies. He knew from the yelping sounds coming from his victim that he was scared, but scared was not enough for him. He wanted him to be desperate. He wanted to hurt him in his most vulnerable spot. A lie was all it took to achieve that goal.

"Just as I enjoyed watching that little bitch of yours dying."

Michael startled, the fear that the Jake's words had placed in his heart was overwhelmed by a wave of emotions; guilt, despair, panic, denial. Most of all denial. This must be a lie. She couldn't be dead. He must be lying to him. Michael stared down into the face of his tormentor, something that he had avoid to do since they had brought him into the woods and had string him up. His eyes were searching for any sign on that relentless face that could betray his owner and give away that he was lying. But Jake stared back at him, his face concealed behind a mask of deceptive sincerity. His lips pulled back over his teeth in a sadistic grin.

"She's dead white boy! That skinny little bitch was too fragile, couldn't even stand one blow on the head. But you shouldn't blame Fly for that. If it wasn't for you, she didn't had to go down the cellar to look for you anyway."

Michael closed his eyes, the words lingered in his mind like a bad record stuck on a needle. He felt sick, the world turned before his eyes, while his disbelieve made place for acceptation for this cruel lie.

"You killed her white boy! She didn't have to die if she didn't cared about your worthless ass."

Pain washed over his body. The image of her tumbling to the floor, her blood stained hair, her closed eyes and parted lips. She was gone, the sick fuckers had killed her. And in a way it was indeed his fault, he was responsible for her death. Guilt and remorse, both more powerful in it's destructive ability then any physical torture crawled inside his mind. Images, moments, memories of her flashed before his eyes. Her smile, her lips, her kisses, her warmth, her scent, her sweet and tender voice. Tears started to welt, a scream burnt inside him and erupted as he cried out loud over the top of his lungs. He cried till he lost his mind. He cried till he forgot all about the reason why.

"It's your fault white boy, remember that. She wouldn't have died if it wasn't for you!"

Jake was content with himself. This was even better then beating the little shit to death. More then the threats of his approaching and painful death, these words will be eating him for the rest of his miserable life. He had hit him where he was most vulnerable, he had hit him right in his heart.



The woods were silent except for the singing of birds. The trees were concealed under a dark blue veil, the colors of an approaching dawn. Cold morning dew that had collected on his bare skin formed little rivers that streamed down his shivering body. His mind was slumbering, perhaps keeping him lingering on the borderline of awareness on purpose in order to protect him from the truth that had send him into this darkness in the first place. What was that truth? He tried to recollect his memories. There was something he knew, a knowledge that will cut through his heart with a blunted knife if he dug it up from the dark pits of his mind, but was also too important to him to forget. Did he have the courage to unravel this truth, to learn it for a second time? He moaned softly and moved his hands, only to find them tied together and stretched above his head. He was hovering high above the ground. For a short moment, he thought that he was outside his body again, but the sharp pain cutting through his shoulder blades as he moved convinced him otherwise. Shreds of memories started to flood into his mind that was no longer protected by the thick mist of sleep.

They had left him.

They had taken him away from the asylum and had left him in the woods to die. And they had killed Angelica. They had killed her. Sorrow filled his heart, making it feel empty and cold. That's what his mind was trying to protect him from. From the knowledge that she was gone forever. Salt tears started to stream down his face. She died for him. They killed her cause she cared about him. The agonizing feeling of guilt jumped out of the chaotic pool of emotions like a psychotic jack-in-the-box. He had caused her death. Shivering from emotional shock, he started to sob silently.

The sun appeared above the trees. It filled the pinewood forest with warm colorful rays of light. The orchestra of birds died away and was replaced by the humming of insects, announced the beginning of a beautiful summer day. Michael blinked his eyes, It occurred to him that this was the place where he was going to spent the last moments of his life. A Sudden ease fell over him. Slowly, he looked up and took a deep breath to fill his nostrils with the smell of pine. He resigned with his fate, with the prospect of dying here. The woods were beautiful, so quiet and peaceful. It was also in some way comforting familiar. It reminded him of the forests back in Maine where he grew up as a child. And maybe, if there is still a God out there after all he went through, he would meet her at the other side. He would then finally be able to shrug off that terrible feeling of guilt and loneliness that was eating away his soul. But how many days would it take? How much more does he have to suffer before he was allowed to find his eternal rest? He remembered Jake's words, about how he would die of thirst. How his body would be eaten away by birds and bugs. A sarcastic grin appeared on his face. It wouldn't take more then three or four days of drought to kill him, but he wouldn't give a rat's ass about what happened to his corpse afterwards. A mental picture appeared before his eyes, where he saw his rotten corpse dangling from the tree that supported him, while squirrels were nesting inside his ass. He giggled childishly, he just could picture those little rats, picking up nuts from the forest floor and storing it inside asshole. Stupid and idiotic, but then again, his life so far seemed to be one sick joke. At least they had the decency to give me a headstone, he thought as he observed the moss covered gravestone that stood a couple of feet away from him. Although it would have been nicer if they had also buried me underneath it instead of letting me dangle six feet above. Another giggle escaped his lips, He couldn't help it. The sudden awareness of the absurdity of his fate had struck a strange inner chord. He tried to press his lips together to withhold himself from bursting into laughter like naughty school boy trying to keep in his chuckling while pulling a prank on the teacher. I'm losing my mind, he thought, I will die as a giggling senile bastard strapped to a tree while pissing all over myself. And with that mental image popping up in his head, he couldn't hold himself in any longer. He burst into mad kind of laughter, loud enough to startle the birds hidden in the trees and made them flee in flocks.

On the other side of the woods, Nero was leading the pack across a small stream when he was the first to pick up the scent. The tall Doberman pointed his wet nose high into the air. He recognized it. It was the scent that they had been searching for. He had lead the group wandering around in the woods all morning, trying to pick up traces of the right odor. The pack had been restless, especially the young Beagle with the dark spot over his right eye. When he and the rest of the group was searching the damp forest floor for fresh tracks, the young brat ran off to chase a stupid chipmunk. He had to bark and bite to force him back into the group. He couldn't understand why their Lady was ever so careless to include the brainless thug into the group. Still irritated by the events of the morning, he snarled at the young male, showing his teeth while he raised his tail high above the ground. Better let him know that he didn't want him to mess things up now that he had finally found a trail. The rest of the dogs were also alert by know, driven mad of craving by the rich sweet musky smell that their Lady had trained them to recognize. It also made them nervous since a second scent, equally strong as the first, was mixed into it and was coming from the same direction. It was the smell of blood; human blood and it awakened their predator's instincts. Nero knew that his pack was anxious to go. All they were waiting for was a signal from their leader. He groaned and turned around while wagging his tail. Suddenly, he took off, tailed by the whole pack of hounds behind him. They vanished into the thick foliage of the forest.

Michael couldn't remember when he stopped laughing, he couldn't remember when the sadness and cruelty of his life stopped amusing his sarcasm. He just found himself silent for a moment when he heard rustling down in the bushes. First he thought that it was a deer or a rabbit, but then he heard the barking of dogs. Large dogs. His heart skipped a beat as he realized that they were roaming into his direction. Michael had never been afraid of dogs. When he was a young boy, his parents had given him a puppy for his ninth birthday. He had named him Snowball, since his fur was as white as snow. The little fellow kept his company and was his best friend till he died of old age eight years later. Since then he had never kept another pet for the reason that he didn't want to get attached to an animal that could only be with him for such a short time. He was heartbroken when Snowball died, and he didn't want to go through that ever again. However, the dogs that where approaching now, were by no means evoking any sentimental feelings in him. The fact that he was dangling helplessly from a tree while his body was stained with the smell of blood made him aware of how dangerous the presence of a pack of hungry stray-dogs could be. With a shaking voice, he tried to scare them away by screaming, but the dogs seemed not to be intimidated by him at all. Au contrary, it even made them ran faster into his direction. From the corner of his eyes, Michael could see a dark snout sticking trough the ferns. Then, a fierce looking animal appeared, his black coat shiny with collected dew. His ears were pulled flat against his neck and his back was hunched as it first set eyes on him. Immediately it started barking loudly while threatening its victim with mock attacks. Michael was getting scared. That dog was huge and he knew from its body language that it was not afraid of him. It was aggressive and excited, as if it was a wolf hunting down its prey. More dogs emerged from the thick foliage of ferns. There were five of them, two Beagels and three Dobermans. Only the first one had a collar round his neck. A spark of hope lit up in his dark despair. He realized that the dogs were not hungry stray-dogs roaming the countryside, but runaway pets owned by somebody cause their fur was well kept and they didn't show any sign of mall-nourishment. There was a chance that he could be rescued if the owner of these dogs was still looking for them. That was, at least, if the dogs didn't dig their sharp teeth into him before he was found.

The big dark Doberman that had emerged first out of the bushes was circling around him while the other dogs were barking madly. Suddenly, it jumped up and snapped at his legs. He reacted just in time and the dog missed. Furiously, the animal pulled back his upper lip and showed its teeth while growling at him. Then, as if given an invisible sign by their leader, all the other dogs flew at his legs from what seemed like every direction. Michael cried out in fear as he was forced to pull his legs up against his buttocks to keep them safe from those snapping jaws. It amazed him that the even the Beagles were capable of jumping so high. The little bastards took off from the ground like miniature rockets and he could feel their hot breath on his the back of his feet. Their vicious attack lasted for a long time, tiring out poor Michael who was getting exhausted from keeping his legs pulled up. His muscles became soar and the bending of his knees was extremely painful since it ruptured his old wounds. Sooner or later he would have to let his legs down again, risking them being torn from his body by the mad drooling beasts.

After hours of fear and exhaustion, Michael couldn't hold his tense position much longer. He lowered his legs shakily in order to allow some of his muscles to rest. One Doberman snapped at his feet and missed, leaving a splash of warm slaver behind. He screamed as another attacker missed his heel by an inch and pulled up his feet up again on impulse. Michael had hoped that the dogs would eventually get tired and stop their assaults, allowing him time to regain some of his strength. But to his amazement, the animals seemed to have considered that possibility, and took turns in snapping at his legs while the tired ones rest in the shadow under the trees. When the day finally drew to an end and darkness fell, Michael could only hope that they would at least leave him alone for the night. He was absolutely terrified since he could not see them in the darkness except for their sinister predatory eyes reflecting the moonlight. But the ruthless beast kept circling beneath him, threatening, barking and biting. Michael was very tired, his leg muscles were spasming and tears of frustration were running down his sweat worn face. Why wouldn't they just leave him alone? Why on earth did he deserve this horrible death? He closed his eyes while he considered lowering one of his legs, sacrificing a limp in order to get the rest his body was craving for. The idea was ridiculous but he was on his last feet, he couldn't hold on much longer. His fatigue was winning from his fear. He let go of his legs, relaxing every burning muscle in his body, and for a moment his limps were dangling in the air, free for the dogs to snap at. A sharp sting cut trough him as the first of the dark creatures with bright reflecting eyes took hold of his right leg. With a monstrous strength, it pulled on it, almost removing the leg from its base. Michael arched his back in agony and swung his legs back to get the animal off him. The creature was flung against the trunk of the tree. It let go of him and yelped as it hit the ground. Michael was still trying to deal with the pain of the first assault, when a second set of teeth penetrated his bleeding leg. Then a third creature grab hold on his foot, and made him howl as it crushed his footbones while ripping off his toes. Frightened out his mind, Michael tried to pull up his legs again, but it was already too late. The dogs turned wolfs wouldn't let their prey go. More sharp teeth dug into his flesh, intensifying his pain till it cut trough his whole body. His mad cries for help ripped trough the silence of the night, while the terrifying barking and growling of the animals were ringing in his ears and fed his fear. He felt how rips of flesh were torn away from his limps, how his bones splintered between their jaws and how his blood flooded out of his body. They were tearing him apart while he was still alive.

A gunshot exploded. The animals startled as from the shadows of the woods three dark figures emerged. Three man, dressed in monk's habits, their faces covered with shadows cast by the cowls they were wearing. The dogs were frightened and jumped back, folding their tails between their legs and yelping anxiously. They knew what was coming now, they experienced this dozen of times since they were trained to locate and hunt down prey that they found on their Lady's territory. But still, this part of the hunt was frustrating for them, having to leave their price to these men. Nero, still excited by the smell of Michael's blood in his nose, tried to scare off the men by showing his teeth, but one of them carrying the firestick raised his feet and kicked Nero on his snout.

"Back off dumb beast, get away from him."

The Doberman yelped and ran away. He knew that the men were not afraid of him like the man who was dangling from the tree. He couldn't smell their fear. Frustrated, he joined his pack and sat down under a bush while carefully watching the strange men doing their duty for their Lady.

Michael felt a pair of hands touching his cold skin, grabbing hold of his waist. He writhed and uttered muffled sounds of distress. His pain intoxicated mind begged the invisible hands to leave him be. He knew that he would die if the strangers would leave him here for the dogs to feast on, but he was scared. But then a warm blanket was wrapped around his shivering body, and a tender voice spoke to him.

"Ssst, don't be afraid now, everything's alright. You're safe with us."

Michael choked on his tears, the hands raised his body from his restrains to relief his bleeding wrists and cut him lose. He fell weak and half-unconscious in the arms of his saviors. They brought him on the back of a carriage and laid his broken body on a soft pile of hay. Michael was still crying, he panted while he kept uttering pitiful sounds. One of the monks sat beside him and tugged him in with another blanket. Michael could see a friendly smile appear on the old man's face when he came close and touched his cold forehead to comfort him.

"You're safe now lad, don't worry. We will take good care of you."

The carriage started to move as the driver on the box urged the horses to get into full gallop, making the canvas spun above the back of the carriage swung heavily. The monk was trying to tend some of Michael's most serious wounds. He wrapped his feet in thick cloths of linen to stop him from bleeding. The dogs had bitten off two of his toes, a third might have to be amputated. His shinbone appeared to be broken on multiple places and splinters of bone were sticking through his skin. The poor lad might lose his whole right leg if they didn't get to the monastery in time to give him much needed medical attention. The old man shook his head disapprovingly. This was not going to please the Mistress. They were too late with finding him and pulling back the dogs. If the lad was going to be handicapped because of this incident, his potential value for the Mistress would drop severely. He wouldn't be profitable to be saved and the Mistress might even consider of disposing him before he had any chance to recover. The old man felt sorry for the lad. Although he had done his duty to the Mistress for a long time now, he still couldn't deal with all of her cruelties. Silently, he prayed to the Lord to protect the young lad, to keep him save. This was all he could do for him beside from stretching his life for the very moment.

Back in the woods, the two monks who had stayed behind gathered the dogs together. The man who had been carrying the gun put a leash on Nero's collar while scratching the animal behind its ears.

"I'm sorry that I hit you my old friend. You've done your job well. It's our fault that we didn't arrive in time. Don't hold a grudge."

Nero yelped and licked the man's face. All was forgiven. The monk smiled and petted the animal's head.

"You and your friends are going to get a well deserved meal when we get home."

Happily, Nero looked up at the man and wagged his tail. The monk got up and tugged gently on Nero's leash, ordering him to follow. Nero stepped calmly beside him and the other dogs followed silently as they walked their way back to the monastery.