Pure hatred drove me forwards, pumping my legs faster than I they had ever pumped before. Running. Driving. Breathing. I had never known anger like this, never known loss or despair or the idea of revenge for my dear dog. Over rocks, I clambered across the coast, stopping to glare at no one, just watching my hot body steam in the light rain.
I ended up outside the recruitment office, drenched and heaving to get air into my lungs. My knuckles were bone white against the shabby door frame as I clung to it, half swaying in the strong winds.
"Well hello Mr Bowerman." Smiled the pushy and diminutive man who had originally recruited me from behind a mountain of paperwork stacked on a desk.
"They killed 'im." I growled, "They killed Jack! They killed my friend, they'll pay for that they will." I shook my fist at no one in particular.
The army man smiled slightly, glad my dog was dead; this made me hate him even more.
"Well we can set you up with the gear you need and the training, you'll start on monday."
"No, now. Let me start now, the quicker I can get to them murderers."
"Well if you insist, Mr Bowerman." Smiling again, he scribbled on a bit of paper and dismissed me.
I stood out in the rain for a while. I did not want to go back, nor did I want to stay here. Eventually I settled on going for a few laps of my island, it would clear my head if nothing else.