Hungry...

Hungry...

Gotta find food.

That was all Boris could think as he made his way through the darkened halls of the studio, careful not to call the attention of the Ink Demon that ruled the old building. He had made that mistake before during one of his many excurisons for cans of bacon soup; the only food source in the studio. Boris was fortunate enough to escape the Ink Demon's wrath unscathed by hiding in a miracle station; the booths were scattered all over the lower levels of the studio, serving as a small sancturary for all of the other inky inhabitants.

He was also fortunate the Ink Demon hadn't caught wind of the safehouse.

Boris searched high and low as he searched for the elusive cans of bacon soup. He couldn't to eat the stuff as each time he searched, there seemed to be fewer and fewer cans. The hungry toon wolf paused as he heard distant crashing noises.

Was it the Ink Demon?

Boris remained still for what seemed forever until he spotted something from the corner of his pie-cut eye.

A can of bacon soup.

Just sitting there on a shelf.

Untouched.

The toon wolf clapped his gloved hands in excitement and reached for the can.

Suddenly there was the sound of a door opening around the corner of the darkened hall. Boris had dropped the can as he flinched from the sound of the door. He went to pick the can up, but clumsily kicked it away from him as he approached. Boris watched in horror as it rolled out into the open.

My food!

Boris perked up as he heard an unfamiliar voice.

"Hello? Someone there? I know you're in here. Come out and show yourself." The voice had called out.

It didn't sound like it was a voice that belonged to an ink creature.

Boris wasn't sure whether it was curiosity or fear that made himslef walk out into the open. Right away he saw a man standing before him, a look of disbelief in his eyes. He wasn't anything like the ink beings that dwelled in the studio, even if he was stained in ink.

"Boris?"

The toon wolf was surprised the stranger knew him. He watched in silence as the man carefully approached. Boris felt himself back away a bit, worried about being attacked.

The man stopped and carefully lifted his hands as if to try to calm a wounded animal. It seemed as though he figured the toon wolf wouldn't harm him.

"Wait. It's okay, buddy." He soothed. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Buddy...

He called me "Buddy"...

"You're not going to hurt me, are you?" The stranger asked with a small smile.

It was true Boris wasn't much of a fighter, and the man did seem like he could be trusted.

The toon wolf hesitantly approached, hoping he was right.

Boris watched as the man bent down and grabbed the can of bacon soup, holding it out to the wolf, staring as if he could see the unfamiliarity in those pie-cut eyes.

"It's me, Henry."

Henry...

Henry!

A forgotten memory flashed from Boris' mind.

"I'll try to do you proud, Henry."

Boris held his head, wondering where the memory came from.

Henry gave him a look of concern.

"Are you okay, buddy?"

There he goes again.

Buddy.

The name sounds familiar, yet distant.

Boris nodded.