Stray Dogs Gin Novels & Stories

They deserved the gridiron. "I didn’t dabble,” Vydon swore, raising his good hand in mock surrender. He understood exactly the concerns I battled inwardly. “Gossart hunts people who do not pay Ozric back, and he is also an avid collector of krait snake venom in Streppes. Their family line is famous for the garstini drink that's made from larvae roots and venom. It makes their blood acidic and corrosive to others upon contact. Drawing their blood is a no-no. They will never be wolf's meat.”

Raegan states and I sway still holding the bottle as the dress disappears and my clothes are returned. “Did you finish the liquor?” She says startled. “Yeah, why did you want some?” I say, giggling after. “That is made specifically for wolves, it helps us to get drunk it should’ve served 5 wolves.” She says in a shocked tone. “Well, it served one hellhound today,” I say, following it with laughter. Zek enters the room and helps me stand up as I continue laughing. I slightly stumble over my feet and let him guide me out of the building. He helps me onto the seat and I fall over, taking up the whole seat. I hear the door close as my eyes get heavy and threaten to close.

This matter reached the ears of June and Ingrid the next day. June was visibly disgusted. "Belle really gave Grayson a dog. I'm so done. It wasn't even a special breed or anything. She just picked it up off the street! There's not a single speck of sincerity! "If it were me, I would have bought the most expensive dog for Grayson. How could a stray dog be a match for Grayson? Hmph! Mom, how about we poison the dog as well?"

It belonged to a local drunk who had finally done himself in when he fell and broke his neck after a night of his normal drinking bout. People only found him in the gutter close to his house the next morning. He had locked his dog in. Since then, the dog had become a stray that people merely threw scraps of stone they felt like, and shooed away when they got nothing for him. The market square had become his new home, yet nobody wanted to claim what they termed a useless dog. The rest of the day had been spent going to the local police station to make a statement about the dog, then they took a trip to the vet where the dog was treated, bathed and fed.

It took another week before Purity was up and moving on her own. Libidi and Pru weren’t around the house much as they worked at STRAYTIS for Lasci, who was ready to get things back to normal. He hadn’t heard or felt the stranger that had visited last week but was on guard, keeping a close eye on Purity.

“You’ve been a great help.” * The Waggoner’s Rest had only been open ten minutes, but a couple of regulars had already settled themselves at the bar. “Just a half of bitter, for me,” DI Silver said, when asked what he was drinking. Kimberley wanted orange juice. I decided I could tackle a pint of Calvors 3.8. We sat around a table. The bar’s narrow, shadowy interior smelled of brass polish and bleach. I explained to the Detective Inspector that I had paid Gerard Forlin a visit and my theory on the bottles of gin.

We made it until 4 in the afternoon before we headed back to the shelter. "Hey guys, you're here? Mad, look what we've got here," Cassy held up two white puppies. "Beautiful puppies, right?" She walks close to Maddox, showing the adorable puppies. The puppies are clean and well-groomed and don't look like street dogs with no owners, although they are ASPINs, the usual street dogs in the Philippines. I have a terrible feeling about Cassy bringing puppies who have owners that just roam around the neighborhood. They don't look hungry either.

Before getting in the car, Vito stared hard at the estate windows, his eyes full of resentment and unwillingness. "What are you looking at?" Lorenzo wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. "Watching them get lost." My voice was calm. "I've already notified every family in the country. No one dares take in these stray dogs." Lorenzo kissed my earlobe, his tone chillingly cold. "The only place they can go is the lowest slum." Three days later, Lydia brought back firsthand intel. They'd settled into a rundown apartment on the edge of the city. A ten-square-meter pigeon cage with moldy walls, half the window glass broken, drafty as a whistle.

Sniffing the air, I immediately knew who the scent belonged to. A stray dog? I almost chased after the sound, but I didn’t have much time to act because six stray dogs appeared in front of me, smiling through their teeth while their dark eyes stared at me from head to toe.

When I turn back to demand an explanation, the path behind me is empty. The driver is gone. “What the hell?” I spin around fully now, panic rising fast. “Where the fuck did you go?” No answer. Another growl sounds again, louder this time and my stomach drops when realization hits me hard enough to make me dizzy. Stray wolves. Everyone in Crescent Hollow knows the stories. Stray wolves are not friendly to humans, especially not in parts of the city like this. My hands shake as I bend down quickly, removing my heels and dropping them without a second thought.