The screamer was still hanging around me, holding the tool as a weapon. He was, for better or worse, a difficult match for me, but I wasn’t going to stick around. I ran after Rusty’s voice.

The screamer chased. There was no way it was letting me go that easily, but it was far too slow and soon I son managed to lose it somewhere in the concrete jungle.

There were too many closely packed buildings. So much so that even I got lost inside.

I barked, hoping to get a response.

There was a scream; it was not the response I was looking for. Far ahead things were getting rowdy. I could start to hear them, coming around and looking for me. Suddenly, Rusty barked again. His voice echoed inside the still factory, but I was able to distinguish where the sound originated from. He was somewhere in the west.

Stay away, he said, and then came a painful, tear-jerking howl. I let out a howl as well and started running toward him.

There was a large building, square, windowed, and boxy, unlike others. I could smell him inside. There was blood on the street —not his. He wasn’t alone. Something growled and it echoed inside the hollow building. I went straight inside through the front doors and up the stairs and kept climbing until I was at the fourth floor. The stairs ended there since it was the top floor. I walked away from the stairs and looked left into the sunbathed hallway, and my heart lurched.

I had found him.

Rusty was at the end of the hallway, lying upon sun-kissed white tiles that glowed orange from the light. However, he wasn’t alone and neither was he safe. Two ravenous, disgusting, fucking pieces of shits had him pinned on the floor! His face was turned in my direction, and his eyes looked at me. The screamers were tearing into him, eating him as if he was food, gorging on his old flesh, fighting each other for a mouthful more.

He was struggling, whimpering; his sharp voice was piercing. I couldn’t move. Memories flooded my head. I was stunned. Then he barked. It held no meaning, but I knew it was directed at me. He most likely wanted me to run, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I dashed toward them instead, screaming and barking, mad. I changed in shape and grew in size as my steps thundered in the empty hallway. I was reckless, and I didn’t care.

They were killing him.

Hate boiled inside me and a growl grew at my throat. It exploded out of me when I opened my mouth. Only Rusty stopped whimpering, but the other two kept digging into him.

Run… Rusty wheezed out, as his eyes lost color.

Run, Run, RUN! He howled on his last breaths, and then he ceased to exist.

My transformation was instant and horrendous. Curving horns grew from my temple; blades rose out of my elbows, and larger became my nails. A thick skull covered my face; it was a mask of sorts with its own set of fangs.

I crashed into the bloody, disgusting vermin’s. I was screaming as I bit into its back, held it from the spine, and flung it back. It screamed as it flew back five steps and then rolled on the white, sunlit floor for another five.

The other jumped back, doubtful of what it was looking at. There was no panic in its scarlet eyes, and they looked the same as mine from up close.

I jumped at him and we tussled on the floor right next to Rusty’s corpse. I tried to scratch my chest, but its nails weren’t sharp enough. They didn’t hurt. I grabbed it from the neck and tore its head off its torso in one sweeping motion. That killed it, but I didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. I roared and slashed its chest open, and tore out its ribs.

My head was not in the right place. I was going mad. They had killed Rusty. The screamers friend, the one I had tossed back, took hold of my hairy tail, and tore it from my back like I had torn its friends head from its body.

They couldn’t feel pain. Break a rib or poke an eye, they didn’t care, but I felt the pain and the burn in the amounts that the injury deserved. And as I learned that day, excessive pain, like fear, was another way of getting rid of the berserk state that excessive usage of the warmth brought.

The screaming beast engulfed my tail as the skull mask cracked and fell off my face. It disintegrated into dust mid-air and disappeared completely before it touched the tiled floor. And then we were fighting.

I heard the sound of the screamer's serrated jaw snapping loud and clear in my ears. It pinned me to the wall and I couldn’t do anything about it. The warmth refused to flow and the screamer refused to slow.

I —I didn’t fear death anymore, but the sight of Rusty stirring right before my eyes, even though he had gone still as a brick, was horrifying. I watched with wide-open eyes as he got up on his three feet, raised his head, and looked into my eyes. And then the strangest thing happened; as if driven by the last sparks of thoughts that he had before dying, Rusty —now a screamer no different from the one that had me pinned to the wall— went for his killer’s jugular. His fangs, sharp as thorns, broke and bled as he bit into the screamer's neck. He managed to puncture, but only to a superficial depth —not like the depth or degree of the wounds mattered to the screamers.

However, by doing so Rusty got me free. The raging, mad screamer turned and pounced at him in return. They were on the floor a second later. It was easy to see that Rusty was not its match.

I tried to will the heat to move, but I couldn’t. It had decreased considerably from my last transformation, but it was nowhere near as low as it had been at times. I was tempted to run away and save myself. The hallway was not a dead end; it cornered to my left and continued for a significant distance. I could even see the stairs on the far side. But I wasn’t about to leave rusty to fend for himself. I knew he was dead, and a screamer; there was no doubt about it. Though just a trace, he was also starting to give out that sweet scent unique to the screamers, and I.

That reminded me: the head I had torn; it was bound to have a crystal. So as Rusty and the screamer lashed at each other with teeth and nails, I picked up the bleeding skull and dashed toward the stairs I had climbed up. There I smacked that head open, allowing the sweet mouthwatering scent to spread as it wished —which it did. The two instantly stopped fighting as the scent spread. The screamer showed pervasive interest in the head, but Rusty, he acted —how should I say this— he acted almost alive. He backed away as if he could control the urge to have a taste of the world’s most intoxicating scent. It is no surprise that I was affected by it, but I saw Rusty disappearing behind the corner and let the head roll down the stairs, even though I wanted to have it all for myself.

The screamer dashed past me and down the stairs, giving a screaming chasing after the head. My heart thumped crazily inside my chest even after the screamer was long gone, but I didn’t hesitate to follow Rusty.

To my surprise, he was waiting for me for at the end of the hallway, atop the stairs leading down. He didn’t stay there for much longer once he saw me, however. I followed him down to the ground floor, first in caution, and then in a hurry once I had Gingers scent. She was there, somewhere. Her scent gave me hope. The ground floor was dark. There were no windows there or lights. I guess we were not on the ground floor, but the basement —not like it affected me in any way. For better or for worse I could see in the darkness. It was one of the passive effects that the warmth had on me.

I didn’t hear any screamers there, or anything living for that matter. The dusty floor made me wonder if we were even in the same building, as the floors above were relatively sparkling clean. Stacks of empty boxes and crates covered the hallway. It was a maze down there. Some of the higher stacks had fallen down and created lifeless bridges that lead nowhere.

There were footsteps in the dust, going in and out. All of them belonged to Rusty, but one pair was different among them. The find raised the sparks of hope in my stalwart heart.

I followed Rusty to the first open door where he stood waiting for me. I could smell Ginger inside there somewhere. I didn’t bark in fear of attracting unwanted attention, but I jumped up on my four feet when I heard the soft and innocent yelping coming from inside the room.

It wasn’t possible. I rushed inside, tail standing straight along with my ears. I feared the sounds were a figment of my imagination! However, the sight held true to my thought. I saw Ginger sprawled in the corner, behind a tall wooden desk that was heavily stacked with old brown paper gathering dust. She growled at me as I stood a few feet from her. For her, I must have been a tall and foreign figure in the darkness, but for me she was as clear as a flower in the daylight.

She was fine, tired, but healthy, as were the four small and delicate precious little pups sucking at her nipples. She growled louder as I stood motionless, threatening her with my silence. Not for long though. I only had to call her, to let her know who I was before her aggression turned into disbelief, wonderment, and at last sorrow.

How is this possible? I found you. You were—

It’s me, alright. I went closer so she could see me. I’m alive. Also— can I come closer?

She hesitated at first and then nodded. She knew how eager I was to meet her pups and didn’t keep me away from them.

I went to her while she smelled the sweet scent coming from me. I could see that she was confused regarding its origins since only the screamers had such scent, but she didn’t let the minor disturbance stop her from welcoming me.

Pups… my heart thrummed wildly inside my chest. Finally, I was seeing pups. They were so small, and delicate, and smelled so weird. I licked one’s back and it spread its limbs out and shook its head. They all looked so darn cute.

What do you think? Ginger asked me.

I love them. I told her.

Her tail wagged and she rubbed her head against mine and licked my face. She frowned at the fresh blood that covered me, but she was similarly covered in patches of it and didn’t give it further thought. Her ginger hair looked greasy and matted because of the blood, however, she was alive and well, and it was all that mattered. As for the grim, Kalki could wash her...

Now that was an alarming thought, more so than Rusty’s absence.

I looked back but he wasn’t there; his scent was also gone. Did he leave us?

I have something to tell you, Spring. Dimple— She hesitated and looked away before she made up her mind and told me. I didn’t interrupt her. She needed to release the weight off her chest.

He’s dead. Her voice trembled. He-he was trying to save us… I couldn’t stop him. He, the humans, what is happening Spring? Nothing makes sense! And now Rusty… did you see him while coming down? The humans who killed Dimple followed us inside. Rusty was trying to keep them away, but-but—

Alright, Ginger. You are safe now. I’m here. I sat down beside her. She stared at me and tried to say something, but then one of the pups started crying and she got busy tending to her. There were three females and one male. Coincidently, the male was the healthiest among the lot.

Still, to think I would be alive to see them. Cob would have been over the moon upon seeing them for the first time. Dimple would have most likely kept his distance, but you never know. Rusty— I looked back toward the door, but it was still empty. He was gone and we needed to leave too.