He was a stringy mongrel wandering the streets, driven by a ravenous hunger and hunting a quarry he could not define. Somewhere in the depths of his consciousness, the dog they called Fluke knew that he was once a man.
He was a stringy mongrel, wandering the streets of the city, driven by a ravenous hunger and hunting a quarry he could not define. But he was something more. Somewhere in the depths of his consciousness was a memory clawing its way to the surface, tormenting him, refusing to let him rest. The memory of what he had once been. A man...
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