Good Narrative Principles

Me and My Pack


I smell him before I see him. A sweet metallic smell with a hint of vinegar. A smell of menace. Aggression. My ears tip back. I lower my head. Feel a growl welling up from the base of my stomach. I’m ready to pounce, but I’m held back. We wait for them to pass. All the while I let him, the one whose piss makes the hair on the back of my neck stiff, know that he best not mess with me or my team. My pack. My people. My responsibility. I sing it loud so that there’s no mistaking the message.

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