(Plot? What plot? This is not linear at all! Do you expect me to write something like this at the moment? Too many motorsports, too much motorsports on my mind... Though you may have this. Enjoy.)
The wind whistled in his ears as John made leaps and bounds toward an edge of the forest. Contrasting against the deep brown of his coat in the blue of moonlight was Smitty in a bloodstained shirt, unconscious on top of his back.
He would have to get him back home without being seen. Though, since last month, more patrol groups and cars in general came around these parts. Supposedly, due to the fear of Beasts lurking and attacking their unsuspecting victims before they'd subsequently go missing.
He'd hear a branch snap nearby, as if he was being followed by someone or something. His ears and tail would raise in alert, lips pulled back as his snout wrinkled into a snarl. Even with bite marks, punctures, and scratches, he was willing to stand his ground.
