“Run off with the random Chaos into the desert they said. It’d be fun, they said.” Harutte pitifully complained, kicking a clawed foot into the grey sand.
John sighed, twisting his neck around to look at the unhappy dog Chaos, resting his chin on his feathered shoulder. Harutte planted his six legs into the ground, narrowed his two sets of eyes and flared his frill up at John in a warning. It was all bravado and he knew better than to stare at it if he started glowing. You’d think, a Chaos built like a cross between a canine and a frilled neck lizard, with a heat resistant hide would have enjoyed an excursion into Wilt’no, where he’d be able to stretch his legs without being seen by humans, but this one had complained every step of the way.