It was chained to the wall, thick manacles round his wrists, cutting into its flesh.  The creatures treatment was obvious, the fur on its arms was matted with blood and its once splendid wings were battered and broken. The general stood over the fallen creature, leering at it, something he'd never have done had the creature been strong and healthy, if it hadn't been broken.  Despite everything I had been told about the thing in front of me, I felt sad seeing it like this.  Nothing should endure the torture told by this creatures wounds.  It didn't look up while the general was there, just hung its head and stared at the floor, but the moment the general started to walk away it looked up.  I was the only one still watching it, who saw its blue eyes flare in hate as it watched the general, its weakened muscles tensed in a vain attempt to move.  To my shock I found myself silently agreeing with it, shared its hate of the general for what had been done to this poor creature and against every rational thought I began to plan to help it.