I lie splayed inside the corner of my enclosure, nonetheless and silent. i have lengthy because bored with jogging around; some distance be it from me to call for help. The band at my throat cuts into my flesh. I mew pitifully into the darkness.

I haven’t any concept what they want to do with me. they say i’m rare and precious, that they want me to check something, that i’m a juvenile feral lynx – something that is. They would not be very pleased with me now. i am haggard and limp; my jaws hurt with the attempt of chewing the meagre helpings of tough meat they supply me; my coronary heart is broken, my paws are tired, my coat is matted and dull.

The door to my jail is opened; right here, truely, is certainly one of my captors…

but this? this is distinctive. This is not certainly one of them.

This one smells extraordinary; he does not reek of insensitivity. He blinks, adjusting the focus of his human eyes to the dark, then gasps slightly and runs over to me. He gets rid of my collar and reads the tag. Then he lifts me gently, and that i rub my worn-out face towards his chiselled jaw. He whispers softly in my ear.

“you are coming home with me, Radon.”

(Short fiction Writing)