The omen swims into Nadeen's sight, even as Briar snickers at the Sidhe's prancing poetry.
A shadow play, like a puppet theatre, silhouettes against a wall. The figure of a canine, offered a caressing hand that turns into a harsh blow. Yet, it still crawls back, seeking any semblance of affection. A forked path before him - in one direction, the beatings continue, until he snaps and fights back - and in turn, is crushed. The other direction... a misty haze, but perhaps, a possibility of a different future.