Klima's life : Kennel's life.

Wolv sniffed, shaking himself, his dark glance showinf his discomfort. he made huge effort to integrate, showing good will, even in the most menial tasks and  trying to excuse his debility by giving a blind trust in his brothers. Once again, they teased him, playing with him like a fun toy whom feels nothing. He was completly annihilated, waking in a dark alley of the kennel where they left him 'rotten' on the floor and bathing in his vomit. his painful heart was more hurted by the betrayal than his head, still dizzy by alcohol. He woke up with just a few memories, even if he did what they told him, blinded by his need to be integrated, moving the "Not even capable"  to steal a bota of paga... to drink upside... to run to the door without breathing, to strip off your clothes and sniff the flowers... to stay the face one minute in the barrel of kalana; ending by swallow the liquid, nearly on choking. He had done everything,drinking more excessively and believing that they were really brothers... But he has been the unhappy clown of an eternal hazing on a silly one who was not able to be spiteful.
He lowered slowly his face, silent tears sliding down along his cheeks, alone in the middle of the kennel wher they left him die after the toy was broken. Wolv had not even courage to stand up, to bounce again, to forget once more his IQ barely exceeding a Bosk's IQ and that was fatal for his integration. His shoulders flapped of sobs, staying protrate without the will to stand up. He felt soiled in any way : his body blotched  by his own vomit... his heart which wanted to once again trust. His spirit thought of his new master, this guy whom bought him for less than a sack of weath. This one will also proof him that he is nothing. And it is with a nascent depression that he will rolls on himself and not going to the service. Find him into the kennel will reaveal a child with a face streaked with tears, hugging himself to protect him from others and so depressed that he even doesn't matter to be whipped for his absence.
The minutes passed and his misadventure becomes blurred in his mind, obliterating the scene for a few bits of facts that he don't even remembers the starting point. To be a rednex has this advantage that the memory is failling as much as the ability to analyse things and the silent around him and the freshness of the sand under his legs will reset slowly his brain, clearing little by little mocking faces, amused sneers... and the shots of elbows when he accepted the challenges each time more humiliating. This is where is his weakness... His failing memory will set him into the same situation, more and more... and this is what hiw chain brothers have understood and openly abused.
If he had been a little less stupid, she should be able to tell this parallel life which took place into the kennels. All was golden Klima... but no free was able to knwo about... the city was separate in two kind of slaves : the owned ones... and the slaves of the city. The first ones care about their statut as their life, the second ones were in perpetual competition to distinguish themselves from the lot. Do not have an official collar was making you an object of exchange and cheap as the life depended only of the will of frees. The obedience of the city boys was just a smooth image of their interest, showing their best profil to be purchased. As long as their destiny was not fixed by a collar what was their pride, they were just dogs biting each other to control the game. The kennel was a worl of dogs where each sought to keep his bones, full of fustrated boys by the enslavement and which send their anger on the weaker ones. The absence of a collar made them bitter and boys despised everything their owned brothers appreciated. They disdained the beauty and taunted the goodness as long as it was not expressed by a free. They broke out laughing at the sight of a weakness, seeing a more fragil boy, they wore him until the small, beautiful, ugly, able or unable to, will become a less than that will not be noticed in their place. They wore with pride their feats, scrap of authority in a world where they were submitted and worshipped, once tasks of the day completed, the violence of the words and acts, venting their frustration on those who were not able to defend themselves. Wolv was for them the perfect victim, his frail figure, his limited brain, his selective memory. His slender body showed that he was not yet in the flower of age, just at the border to become a man. His long skinny legs and fine size were those of a teenager to the asexual behavior that had not yet suffered the peak of maturity and which suffered from limited nutrition  by the abduction of his oatmeal he suffered regularly. Despite this, he accepted his pitiful life, unconscious to be the  unhappy  life wire of the kennel by his bullshit... feel his brothers interested in him was as proof that he was part of the family.