Wilbur was freaking out right now. He was a phantom hybrid in a world that hunted and sold hybrids--mostly as slaves of sorts. Legally speaking, they had no rights. Dogs had more rights than hybrids. It was unfair, as hybrids were just like humans except with different features and abilities, but humans feared anything different from them. And fear led to hate, and hate led to violence. So now, Wilbur had gotten captured by one of the hunters and was locked in a small, steel cage that barely fit him in the back of a van. He was trying to find a way out, but there didn't seem to be one. He was on the verge of tears but held them back because water burned his skin. His brother had gotten captured long ago and Wilbur hadn't seen him since, and now it looked like he was going to have the same fate.