//TW FOR: MURDER, DEATH, GORE/BLOOD, VIOLENCE

Run. Run. Run! That’s all the pup thought to do. That’s all her legs would allow her to do. The pup was a mess. Her white, her cream — even her brown fur was mottled with blood. It didn’t look right, it didn’t feel right. It was not even her blood. Somehow, this precious scarf avoided the blood.  It was the one thing to not have the red liquid on it. The rest of her, on the other paw, did. She remembered how it got there so clearly.

She used to be part of a mafia. Where people would get whacked, where crime was rampant, and there were strict hierarchies. But one day, just as she approached a month and a half, a human that wore black and red took her in. She was trained, as a Carabinieri dog. She saved her owner in a sense. He was so, so lonely. And deemed her a gift from Heaven. Cealica mia.

March. March. March.
Do your drills correctly, march in step. Life in their military-police Force fit her. She was used to hierarchy, but she was safe for the most part. She watched him wear his uniform with a teal scarf — and get yelled at. Because he wasn’t in proper uniform.

Walk. Walk. Walk.
That was, until one day, her human grabbed her, and walked away from his post. Despite her barks and protests, nearly trying to run away, they hid out for a couple days. In a cave, with a fire and warmth. Everything they needed to survive. Eventually, she enjoyed this and her trainer’s company.

Shoot. Shoot. Shoot.
That’s what happened. Other officers stormed into their cave. It was an overwhelming presence. And then, then... they shot. Loud bangs echoed in the pup’s ear as the officer fell. Her trainer. Her master. She whimpered, laying beside him. He wraps the teal and pastel blue scarf around her, and whispers one last thing. "Che Dio vi protegga."

Run! Run! Run!
And here we are. He was gone. Up in Heaven. And she would have the same fate if she dared to stop. She would crash into the waves below. She makes a turn, too sharp and falls upon the boardwalk that Sunhaven calls home. Fear rushes through Cealica, and she tries to get words out, in English. But they come out in her native language."Aiutami!" Her scared voice is a cry, a cry for help. The pup is not in danger, yet it feels like it. And now she’s in a place that she does not know.

The mutt did not expect someone so... weak looking to help her. It wasn’t in a bad way, but she did not look like she should be out. In another sense, she was so, so tall. Much taller than she expected. Cealica’s ear’s flattened as black ooze dripped from her nostrils. What was that, that could not be healthy. The pup walks over to the hellhound, not knowing she could get sick, and tried to wrapher scarf around Marina. Despite understanding English, she could only respond in Italian. "Me chiamo... ma chiamo Cealica. Um... Chell-ee-ca."

The small child looked over at Infirmaryward and offered a smile. Though she knew Latin, she much preferred Italian. Still... they could get bits and pieces from it.

//sorry on mobile + phone dying