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[center]To be loved, to be appreciated, most dogs know what those things are. Most dogs cherish them, even if they aren't loved by a human they are loved by another dog, though there is one dog, a b.itch who hasn't ever had a kind word put to her ever. In her own little world, her only good skill is fighting, she has taken away many dogs hopes and dreams, they begged her for mercy, apologized for being rude and scampered away. Celtic wasn't a mean dog, she wasn't a nice dog either, she was a dog who wasn't to be meddled with. Most are horrified to find out her past, then they finally understand, but they then fade away, not wanting such a messed up dog weighing them down.
Thunder cracked in the sky, lighting striked down in the distance and rain pounded down on every surface, soaking you in a matter of seconds. The sky is as black as night from the storm clouds tucking the sun away in their blankets. The day was as black as midnight itself, a midnight were the moon is nonexistant and the stars seem further away than normal.
Celtic strode on the dock, the rotting boards creeked with her ever step. Her pelt was drenched and her rudder hung limply between her appendages. She sniffed the air, making sure no other dogs were around, she we wanted to be alone, she hasn't enjoyed another dogs company since she was a pup, when she was oblivious to the evil world around her. She found an old shack that had a broken window and a box under it. Celtic jumped onto the box and climbed through the window, its glass cutting at her flesh, she ignored the pain, ignored the blood that dripped down her side. She landed on the floor and lay on a blanket that was left there, she didn't sleep though just layed there, hoping that she would fall into a deep sleep and never awaken.[/center]
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