Glimpse of a work in progress
A little taste of a much bigger story I've been working on. I'm not going to give away any of the plot at this point but if anyone has any writing advice they think might be helpful please let me know in the comments.
Broken Toe was a good dog. He kept his master's house clean. He never disobeyed, at least not on purpose. He got beaten now and then, what slave didn't. A master had to remind a slave of his place after all. But the woman, the one people called the Lady, he didn't like her. The first time he had seen her he had growled at her. This earned him a beating. It was something about the way she smelt. True people couldn't smell it but Broken Toe had a good nose.
Broken Toe wasn't a true person, he was only half a person. The slave masters had told him that when he was young. He listened, he didn't want to be beaten for forgetting like all the others in the pen. There had been all sorts of half breeds in that pen. The alchemists had experimented breeding slaves with many different animals. One by one they were sold. Hoof Hands the half horse had been a disappointment for the masters. She was so big that her mother died giving birth to her. Her feet were hooves, that was not uncommon among half horses, but so to were her hands, useless for holding anything with. And she was female, half horse males were more popular, apparently rich women would pay a fortune for them at the auctions. She had been sold to a mine overseer to pull carts. Long Tail was another half dog just like Broken Toe but she was small and timid. She would back away from the masters when they ordered her near even though she new she would be beaten for disobeying them. She was sold to a rich man to warm his bed. Broken Toe felt sorry for her most of all, he hoped she had found some courage and escaped, run off to join some outlaws somewhere.
Broken Toe would never run away, he was a good dog.
A knock at the door, the Lady had arrived. Broken Toe let her in. His fur stood on end as she passed. She went straight for his masters bedroom. The master was already up there waiting, the Lady didn't like to be kept waiting. And then the sounds started. It was the same every time, the crashing of objects tossed across the room, the creaking of tortured furniture and his master's screams of pleasure and pain. It went on for hours. The Lady herself never made a sound.
Broken Toe herd the door to his master's bedroom. The Lady was finished with him. She hurried down the hall and let herself out. Broken Toe gathered the things he needed to attend to his master. When he arrived in the room it was in the usual state of total chaos that she always left it in. Pictures torn from the walls. Curtains torn from the windows. The bed half way across the room, though it was, this time at least, still in one piece. His master was lying spread out on the floor. He was pale and cold to the touch. Blood still flowed from his numerous scratches. Broken Toe propped him up and gave him the restorative elixir to drink as he cleaned and bandaged his wounds. Then he dressed him in clean night clothes. He shifted the bed back into its proper place, replaced the sheets and lay his master down for the night. It would take the entire next day to get the room back in order for the Lady's next visit.