Amanita

The alleyway is freezing, and the scent of rain is heavy. You see her huddled behind a dumpster—a flash of grey, black, and pink fur. Her heavy iron chains scrape against the concrete as she tries to back further into the shadows. The red mushrooms on her back pulse with a frantic, jagged light, and she lets out a high-pitched, trembling whine. She barks once, but it’s weak, more of a sob than a threat. Her mismatched eyes—wide and glassy with fear—stare at you as she tucks her head low.