They shed their forms and the kennel fell silent for the first time in years as everything pretending to be a dog realised it was among friends. The silence carried all through the night and lasted until the first staff entered to feed and take care of the dogs.
The metallic scent of blood hit them first, followed by the warmth and raw-meat undertones of a butcher's shop midsummer. Still, they went about their routine as normal, all the while feeling distinctly unsettled and unable to name the cause until they saw blood spilling from beneath the back door that led out to the kennels.
It looked like pure, visceral carnage at first - heaps of matted fur thrown into the central walkway, half caught on door handles and cage locks and on every dog bed was an equivalent sized... thing looking up at them with familiar happy eyes and unpleasantly wide smiles as they waited for breakfast to be served.
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