Here's the thing about War Dog. I don't know where he came from. I don't know why he chose me. I don't know why he decided that if anyone ever came close to putting me in a bad mood, he would eat them. One day, he was there. About a mile or so back, a black cloud on the plain. He was catching me easily and I was sure I was going to be dinner. I turned, drew Agnar from the scabbard on my back and prepared to die fighting. But he just thought it was a game. I gave him my best moves and he just bounced around like a puppy with his tongue lolling out and pure joy in those bone-white eyes. Agnar didn't touch him once. He didn't leave my side for six months after that. Then, over the years, he'd come and go - always seeming to arrive just when I needed him most. /////////////////////////////////////////////////////// [Time is not linear // All Realities Exist] /////////////////////////////////////////////////////// 2000x2949px • The first proper illustration I ever made of The Endling (2016)