CHAPTER 5 - "Out For Blood"
I have been hurt.
I have stepped on thorns, been bitten by black flies, and I have bled from a hard beating.
I have known broken bones, tight collars, and cruel masters. The broken bones have healed, the collars have fallen off, the masters are dead.
And it was not vengeance that healed me, freed me.
And it is not vengeance that you hear in my howl.
No.
Not vengeance.
But yes.
I am Out For Blood.
Because blood is a currency, a coin. My blood and theirs.
The blood of those who sought my death purchased rest to heal my broken bones. They crept toward my den, they saw my eyes, and they did not turn back.
Fools.
It was my own blood—days and days of fighting against a short leash—that let me slip from the collar.
The price was high.
Freedom needed a sacrifice, and I obliged.
I am better for it, though the scars have not faded.
Cruel masters can only be defeated with spilled blood.
They cornered and mocked me, and so I cut them down.
They ignored my fur standing on end, my teeth, my reputation.
Such is the blindness of tyrants.
I remember he who broke my bones. I know where the collars are forged, and who holds the hammer.
I can still smell the breath of the cruel masters, laughing at me.
Darkness, darkness, darkness, and I have been hurt.
But I have been something else, too.
Darkness, darkness, darkness, and I have been hurt.
But I have been something else, too.
Hurt is not my guide, my compass.
Victory leads me.
Yes, I have been victorious.
With broken bones I have wrestled strong opponents, staying alive by
ferocity. Wearing the collar, I still howled for freedom.
ferocity. Wearing the collar, I still howled for freedom.
Cornered, mocked, dirt kicked in my face: I snarled and showed them my way.
Bloody wrestling, a terrible howl, my snarl.
Bloody wrestling, a terrible howl, my snarl.
Out For Blood.
Because moments of hurt made me The Dog I am.
By blood those moments of hurt became savage, life-defining victories.
And so it is victory I contemplate.
Not vengeance.
I do not seek old enemies, wonder of their misfortunes, and daydream of their deaths.
Such cruel musings would turn my eyes from my own hunting, my own enlightenment.
I am hungry, starving for a challenge.
And challenges lay before me, not behind.
The moon—solid red tonight—watches over my intentions.
Let my fights be savage, my enemies be strong, their preparation be notorious. Let them hit harder than the last, let me be tired and without aid, and let me taste blood—mine and theirs.
And as the dawn cracks upon my dark den, let my resting eyes dream of victory.
Not the past. Not where I was imprisoned, and who put me there. If he is still alive, his nightmares are of my teeth.
Not the past. Not where I was imprisoned, and who put me there. If he is still alive, his nightmares are of my teeth.
That is enough.
Look, the forest outside my den comes alive.
Look, the forest outside my den comes alive.
Darkness, darkness, darkness, and I know what the day holds.
Thorns in my feet, black flies, a hard beating.
And bloody victory.
Out For Blood.
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If the trainer v2 fit big or small would I be able to ship them Back and get a replacement? Thank you and love the brand
This made me angry, yet so happy. the fact that i used to LET myself be controlled like that. NEVER again. Out for blood forevermore.
Reading these pumps me up for a gym session. I lock in.
Reading these pumps me up for a gym session. I lock in.
This one is amazing.
Over the past year I, like many here, have fought my own battles. Battles against those who did me harm through ignorance, laziness, or spite. It drove me to the absolute darkest spot I’ve ever been in my life, on the very edge of ending the struggle just to have some sense of control again over my life; and I still don’t know what turned me away from that edge. Even today the repercussions are with me daily in my professional life. Please, keep this page alive and these post coming. You make a difference to those who follow you, and help us keep our dog alive inside.
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