Bonedog Poem Novels & Stories

I lowered my height a little bit. “Their flesh were properly consumed by the dogs and their bones still lie on the plain fields. Your bones will be a sweet addition. And with the amount of fat on you, the dogs are about to have a good feast.” I grinned at him before straightening up. “Get him out of my sight.” I ordered and he was dragged away. “I need another glass of wine” I grabbed the bottle of wine and poured some in an empty glass, drank from it and walked towards the small stage where that slave had been earlier.

’ ‘I can’t remember. Fibber. ‘Try, I’ll do the lead-in to jog your memory. ‘Old Mother Hubbard Went to the cupboard To fetch her poor dog a bone But when she got there The cupboard was bare, And so the poor dog had none.’ She looked at him expectantly. With a half-embarrassed smile he continued, ‘So she went to the shops, And bought some pork chops, And the dog wagged his tail and said “Yum!”.’ She burst out laughing.

No hound on this earth could naturally grow this big. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a black hound with a foaming mouth launch itself at me. It sank its teeth into my leg and shook its head back and forth viciously, and Elena and I screamed together in pain. Elena bit into the hound’s neck and pulled away with furious strength. I saw the dog’s body tear away, but its hideous head still clamped its teeth shut over my leg. With a roar, Elena wrenched its jaws apart until it splattered apart like rotten fruit.

The bond hums louder, like a growl trapped under my skin. Outside, a wolf howls. Low. Possessive. Claiming. It sounds like him. I close my eyes, press my back to the wall, and whisper to the darkness, "I'm not yours." But the bond whispers back, soft and inexorable as poison. Mine. And deep in my chest, something wild and broken whispers back. Yes.

The vendor glanced warily left and right, confirming no one was watching, before gesturing for the beastkin to approach. This was a wolfhound beastkin. He was tall and slender, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. When he stood, he blocked out the bar lights, which cast a shadow over me. Before I could react, the vendor yanked the crude collar around his neck, forcing him to his knees before removing the rusty muzzle.

"My bones... they ache." "Good," he said, biting lightly at the tendon in my neck. "That means the wolf is waking. She's scratching at the door, Lila. Let her out." The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in bruises of purple and blood-orange. The air in the hollow changed. The birds fell silent. The wind died down. A heavy, expectant stillness settled over the forest, broken only by the rhythmic, low thud of drums starting up deep within the den.

I wanted them to feel the hunger, I wanted them to remember that the patient dog gets the fattest bone. I turned toward the circle of my remaining generals. Beings made of bone and shadow, their forms protected in armor older than most kingdoms. One stepped forward—Mal’drek, his blade still dripping with blood that hadn’t yet dried. “She’s stronger than we expected,” he hissed. I smiled. “She’s exactly as strong as I expected.” Mal’drek shifted. “You could have killed her.” I turned slowly to face him. The silence between us became razor sharp. “I could have.”

“Now you’re almost grown, and almost grown means curious, which means dangerous.” I cross my arms. “I am grown!” I shout. She doesn’t hesitate. “There are bonehounds. Starving, half-dead things with skin stretched tight over broken skeletons. They smell blood and chase it for miles. There are whisperers, creatures that climb inside your head and convince you to walk off cliffs or drink poison. There’s a woman made of smoke who turns into a bird and pecks out eyes with her beak. A man with bark for skin who collects girls and grows them into his tree.”

“Bullshit reasoning! I pay to keep a dog, not to let it boss me around or get myself mauled. There’s no ‘logic’ here—if a dog bites people, it’s wrong. Period!” Xena was momentarily speechless. “You…!” She quickly regained her composure and snapped back. “Don’t change the subject! I’m streaming today because Kate Lincoln abused her dog. I’ve seen that dog myself—it’s the sweetest thing!” “Hahaha!” Dogman suddenly burst into laughter, leaving the livestream chat flooded with question marks. After his laughter subsided, he said mockingly. “Sweet? Folks, don’t let this chick fool you. I’m Dogman—I’ve never taken in a so-called ‘sweet’ dog.

A punishment. A sentence. In my arms I carry the bones of wolves—massive, ancient, cracked by time but still heavy with forgotten glory. I don’t need to ask who they are. I can feel it. The marrow sings with a forgotten power. They are my ancestors. Alphas who once stood like gods among wolves, now reduced to brittle weight and hollow echoes, fueling the very fire that tortures me.