#and his coat is blue with red brindling

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

Chewbys so cute when I take her on a walk

One of her pups lives about halfway down the trail from us and she's been over there to visit him so she knows he lives there

And every time we get over there she always slows way down and tries to peek through the trees to look into his yard to see if he's out

[chirrups]

I would love to hear the reasoning for picks of dog breeds! As a fellow dog breed nerd I heavily agree with most of them, you did some really good character reads when choosing

i'd love to! but fair warning, it's gonna be a bit... long

Grian - Cairn Terrier (wheaten)

grian HAD to be some kind of dog from the hunting terrier family because they are small, stubborn, and persistent, which are distinctly grian traits in my opinion (also, he couldn't been from toy terrier groups because a tiny but driven working dog seems more his style than purse dog).

to fit my design of grian, the breed had to be short-legged with a longer/wispy coat and come in some sort of cream/wheaten color, which fit in well with the cairn. norwich terrier was also on the table but i like head and proportions of the cairn more.

Scar - Catahoula Leopard Dog (light red leopard)

i'll be so real, scar's breed is 50% a heart pick. scar is my favorite so i very shamelessly gave him the breed of my aunt's dog who is one of the best animals i've ever known. outside of that, catahoulas are kind of a multi-tool hunting dog and have this duality of being very intense on the field then switching to easygoing at home. i like that duality for scar as he's good at playing silly but has sharp moments of competency from time to time.

design-wise, i wanted scar's breed to be brindle, spotted, or some other busy whimsical pattern with short fur. also scar reads medium-large dog as he is on the more affable side and isn't small-dog-fierce like grian or joel are. and catahoulas have lovely leopard patterns with bright eyes and i went, how could i not give scar this one!

Mumbo - Standard Poodle (black & white)

the sky is blue and mumbo gets the poodle. poodles are highly intelligent sporting dogs but are known nowadays for their fanciness and also just terrible proneness to nervousness which are just very mumbo to me.

i needed a large breed of dog that could come in black and white, with some sort of varied fur length on the muzzle for that 'stache. poodles, with their silly haircuts, are the one dog that i think could genuinely rock a mustache mumbo-style

Jimmy - Beagle (lemon & white)

i explained a lot about my choice for jimmy here. but tldr, beagles are plucky, brash, and a bit foolish which are all very jimmy things to be. they are also known for baying which i think is a fun parallel to his entire canary thing going on.

the breed needed to be some form of tawny at a medium size (to pair with scott, tango, and marytn) with a short coat. more importantly the breed in my head had to have floppy ears. idk why call it a gut feeling.

Joel - Jack Russel Terrier (tricolor, broken coat)

i also explained about joel here but he is also deeply hunting terrier coded. joel is stubborn, energetic, and aggressive in way that is three steps north of the average life player so it felt natural to give him the Terror Terrier. he's also both doggedly independent yet attached to his people which is a very jack russel trait.

joel needed to be small, i'm not sorry, but with a more active frame. i also had preference to tricolor as the black-brown-white combo is something i use in my normal joel design too

Scott - Shetland Sheepdog "Sheltie" (blue merle & white)

scott's pick was more heavily reliant on coat color. i needed a long-hair medium sized breed that could come in blue merle or blue and white; which left collies, aussies, and shelties. i ended up going with shelties because of their disposition.

shelties have a tendency to be deeply loyal towards their family and distantly affable to outsiders which scott is. he also has this tendency towards earnest self-sacrifice and giving up when there's no way forward instead of holding on till the bitter end and most shelties i've met tend to give in gracefully rather than hold on to a fight they won't win.

Impulse - American Bulldog (brindle & white)

i wanted impulse to be a physically intimidating yet generally agreeable breed, which hits the mark for mastiff-types. american bulldogs are farm dogs that are both great guardians and very lovable which strikes me as an impulse sort of thing.

i was originally considering english bulldog but i wanted the breed to be firmly in large dog territory. english mastiff was also on the table and honestly either works well for him, but the tiebreaker is that the breed had to be not as tall as skizz’s and the higher white content in american bulldogs worked better design-wise.

Skizz - Bernese Mountain Dog (black, rust, & white)

prefacing this with the fact i probably know the LEAST about skizz, the breed had to be large and friendly while being relatively peppy? i guess that's how i'd say it. bernese mountain dogs kind of hit that mark, they are known for being calm but i've met a few that are on the more energetic side.

design-wise, the dog had to be larger than impulse's american bulldog and cleo's rottie with a luxurious black coat. great dane was in consideration but the face shape and very gentle nature of danes just didn't work for me. that and i wanted skizz to have the awesome fluffy fur as he deserves.

Tango - Podengo (fawn & white, wirehair coat)

tango is the one i'm most on the fence about. in many ways tango and his generally lively sort of attitude gives off terrier vibes but i could not find a breed of terrier that i liked design-wise. most terriers in the medium size range have folded ears and unless i wanted to crop them (which i am personally not a fan of) folded they'd have to stay. plus dipping into terriers, the most common tawny color is wheaten/cream which just would make tango look too alike to grian and martyn.

so i ended up going with podengo, a hound sight/scent mix with high activity and high intelligence to match tango's energy. i've not met a podengo in real life so it's hard to vouch for the breed, but they have a nice fawn and white color which in combo with a wispy wirehair coat kinda looks like flames. other breeds i might later retcon tango into are australian cattle dog, border collie, or a wirehair vizsla

Bdubs - Brussels Griffon (red, rough coat)

i met a griffon the other day and it struck me how bdubs-like the little guy actually was. griffons are spunky, little silly, and have that "gnaw at your ankles" energy that bdubs employs when he wants other to get out of his area.

the choice for griffon also came from their little beards which matched the fluffy/shaggy look i wanted for bdubs. plus the appeal of their red/belge coats is pretty high.

Etho - Keeshound (gray, cream, & black)

so etho needed to be some sort of spitz, as spitz are northern climate specialists and many breeds retain a more independent "wild-like" nature while being playful, intelligent, and affectionate family dogs. etho, the old minecraft player that he is, needed a dog that historically lived impressively but in modern times finds a place being just a silly guy.

it was between samoyed and keeshound because both historically were multi-purpose herding/hunting/hauling dogs that were bred into family pets. keeshound was the obvious winner because i've never seen a more etho-coded coat color.

Cleo - Rottweiler (black & rust, long haired)

for cleo, the breed had to be one with fighting/guarding history but not so intensely territorial to where the dog would be bad with small children. as much as cleo is lauded as a fighter in fandom spaces, she still soft in certain spots and i didn't want to land her with a breed that wouldn't make that exception, so i went with a rottie. rotties are intimidating guard dogs but notably they are amazing with small children and are great at knowing when to defend and when to be gentle.

design-wise her breed just had to be large, have red, and have thick fur. rottweiler, while fitting her great everywhere else, don't typically have that last trait as it's a rare recessive gene that was actively bred out of lines until recently. but i said, i liked rottie too much so i gave her longer fur anyways.

and done! i am currently working on the last set of 6, but i will update the reasoning here when i do just to keep my rambles at least a little contained. i hope any of this makes sense lmao

[hariki-maru]

afghan hound!!🐾

the afghan hound is a sighthound (hunting dog used to track prey mostly using sight) originating from the cold mountains of afghanistan, distinguished by its gorgeous thick, silky coat! the akc describes the breed as, "aloof and dignified aristocrat of sublime beauty" despite this description though, they are still very silly and loyal!!

history

although the afghan is an ancient breed, there is no pictorial record of the afghans. there is a drawing done in 1813 depicting an afghan soldier with a dog that looks similar to the afghan hound of today, indicating that the breed hasn't changed much in appearance even after 200 years! (・o・) the afghan hound was brought to britain by military men as a living souvenir from the exotic lands of where they were posted (kinda messed up)

there were a few dogs imported to the uk during the late 1800s-early 1900s like "shahzada", a cream dog whose body was preserved by the british museum and "zardin" who had many characteristics prized in the breed even today such as his “snowshoe” feet and the visible saddle on his back. he was so awesome ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ) that he became the model for the first afghan hound breed standard, written in 1910-1920.

in the 1920s the importation of afghans rose. the first afghan hound kennel in the uk had desert (also called steppe or bell murray) type dogs which had sparse, silky and light coats. by contrast, the mountain (also called ghazni) type dogs had heavier coats and greater angulation. a ghazni type dog named "sirdar" became very popular as he looked much like zardin, the previous headline maker. eventually both types were crossbred with each other, creating the afghan hounds we have today!!

appearance

afghan hounds generally weigh about 23-27 kg (50-60 lbs) with a height of about 64-69 cm (25-27 in) with a life expectancy of about 12-18 years. it has a thick, silky, flowing coat which is long in length ☆ the saddle hair, or the hair along the back, is short, close and coarser than the rest of the coat and should (by breed standard) have a smooth appearance.

afghan hounds also have a long, silky topknot and a hood of long hair may form from the top of the neck and flow into the shoulders and withers. the hair on their muzzle and cheeks is very short and fine and the hair on their neck may be almost bare of long hair and become an extension of the saddle.

following the breed standard, a LOT of colours are accepted. accepted colours are black, black and tan, black and silver, blue, cream, blue and cream, red, silver and white. accepted markings are black masks, brindles, brindle and black masks, dominos and brindle and dominos!

temperament

afghan hounds are independent, dignified, and aloof but are affectionate and extremely loyal to the humans they have bonded with! ᡣ𐭩 this loyalty can make it difficult for an adult afghan to adjust to a new home though, but it can make them fairly easy to housetrain because they want to please their owners ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )

grooming

afghan hound pups have short, fuzzy coats that require little maintenance. it doesnt stay that way though ૮◞ ﻌ ◟ა as the long, silky coat of an adult afghan requires regular grooming. HOURS of brushing per week (not daily; phew!) is needed to maintain a smooth coat free of debris, mats and tangles. regular bathing, with shampoo and conditioner, is also required to keep its hair soft and silky. what a diva! (っ- ‸ - ς)

health

afghan hounds are prone to developing hypothyroidism (condition causing decrease in thyroid hormone production), necrotic myelopathy (loss of myelin from the spinal cord, can result in paralysis), sensitivity to anaesthesia and cortisone (vets will help guide afghan owners towards the most appropriate anaesthesia options), gastric dilatation volvulus (gdv; often known as ‘bloat’, a condition where the stomach twists, trapping the contents and gases), panosteitis (a painful, inflammatory bone disease) and laryngeal paralysis (a progressive paralysis of the larynx).

they may also develop eye problems and hip dysplasia, which, by responsible breeders, are conditions tested for along with a thyroid evaluation.

exercise

afghans are sighthounds, bred to hunt and chase prey by sight, so they have a strong instinct to run off in pursuit of anything perceived as prey, causing walking off leash to be not advisable. short walks do not provide enough exercise for this athletic breed so ideally, an afghan hound should have the opportunity to run several times a week for at least two hours in a large, enclosed area. afghans are tall, lean, and strong, which makes them excellent jumpers, so their exercise area must have a high, secure fence! ∩^ω^∩

training

as stated earlier they are very loyal to their owners and are eager to please them and are quite easy to house train. teaching afghans general commands is sufficient training, although no amount of training will overcome the breeds hunting instinct to break off on a high-speed chase unfortunately ʅ (◞‿◟) ʃ

fun fact: the afghan hounds long fur was originally developed to protect them from the harsh climate of the mountainous regions of afghanistan, acting as insulation!! ૮ • ﻌ - ა

sources:

🐾

[thistledown-au-warriors]

into the wild - allegiances

Index || Prologue >

The allegiances of the forest clans as of Into the Wild - Chapter 1

Characters have their original canon names in their description unless considered obvious.

Not all family trees remain the same, some blood relations were altered.

Characters marked with a * are trans and described by their preferred pronouns

—————————————— ThunderClan ——————————————

Leader:    

Thunder Blue Fur — blue-gray molly, tinged with silver around her muzzle and blue eyes. (Bluestar)

Deputy:    

Red Tail — small tortoiseshell tom with a bushy ginger tail with golden eyes. *

Apprentice, Dusty Earth

Healer(s):

Leaf Spots — dark tortoiseshell molly with a distinctive dappled coat and amber eyes. (Spottedleaf)

Apprentice, Stone Pelt

Stone Pelt — stocky gray tom with battle-scarred ears and blue-green eyes. (Stonefur)

Warriors:    

Rose Fall — gray tabby molly with pinkish ginger markings and pale eyes. (Rosetail)

Lion's Heart — golden tabby tom with thick fur like a lion's mane and green eyes. Frost Shine's mate.

Apprentice, Gray Stripe

Tiger's Claw — big dark brown tabby tom with unusually long claws and amber eyes. 

Apprentice, Raven Shadow

Black Leopard — tall and slender black molly with large paws and amber eyes. (Leopardfoot)

White Flower — big white tom with yellow eyes. Willow Branch's mate. (Whitestorm)

Apprentice, Sand Storm

Willow Branch — light-gray molly with blue eyes. (Willowpelt) White Flower's mate.

Misty Step — blue-gray molly with lighter paws and blue eyes. (Mistyfoot)

Mossy Patch — large sleek furred gray and white molly with amber eyes. (Mosskit) Brindle Face's mate. *

Dark Pine — sleek black and gray tabby tom with yellow eyes. (Darkstripe)

Mouse Fur — small dusky brown molly with yellow eyes.

Fleet Foot — swift light brown tabby tom with green eyes. (Runningwind)

Pale Tail — sandy-gray tabby tom with dark stripes and blue-green eyes. (Longtail)

Apprentices:    

Dusty Earth — dark brown tabby tom with amber eyes. (Dustpaw)

Raven Shadow — small, skinny black tom with a tiny white dash on his chest, white-tipped tail and green eyes. (Ravenpaw)

Sand Storm — pale ginger molly with green eyes.

(Sandpaw)

Gray Stripe — long-haired gray tom with a dark stripe along his spine and yellow eyes. (Graypaw)

Queens:    

Frost Shine — beautiful white molly with blue eyes, partially deaf. (Frostfur) 

Mother to Bright Flame, Thorn Claw, Bracken Leaf and Blazing Cinder. (Brightkit, Thornkit, Brackenkit, Cinderkit) Lion Heart's mate.

Golden Flower — pale ginger molly with golden eyes.

Mother to Swift Bird and Leaping Lynx. (Swiftkit, Lynxkit)

Brindle Face — patched gray tabby molly with green eyes. Mossy Patch's mate.

Hop Speckle — old pale brown tabby molly with amber eyes. (Specketail) Small Ears' mate. Nursery caretaker.

Elders:    

Sparrow Nest — big long-haired dark brown tabby tom with part of his tail missing and yellow eyes. (Halftail) White Eye's mate.

Small Ears — gray tom with small folded ears and amber eyes. (Smallear) Hop Speckle's mate.

Patchy Shade — small brown and white tom with yellow eyes. (Patchpelt)

White Eye — pale gray molly with one yellow eye and poor hearing. (One-eye) Sparrow Nest's mate.

Dapple Pelt — once-pretty tortoiseshell molly with a lovely dappled coat and amber eyes. (Dappletail)

Thrush Wing — sandy-gray tom with white flash on his chest and green eyes. (Thrushpelt)

—————————————— WindClan ——————————————

Leader:    

Wind Tall Tail — black-and-white tom with a very long tail and pale yellow eyes. (Tallstar)

Deputy:    

Hop Step — black tom with a twisted paw and green eyes. (Deadfoot)

Apprentice, Short Whisker

Healer(s):

Bark Face — short-tailed brown tom with yellow eyes.

Warriors:

Stag Leap—large old dark brown tom. Wren Flight's mate.

Doe Spring—light brown molly.

Rye Stalk—gray tabby molly with soft fur. 

Wren Flight—brown molly. Stag Leap's mate.

Crow Fur—black tom with patchy fur.

Rush Tail — skinny creamy-brown tom with pale blue eyes. 

Dark Foot — dark gray tom with a lighter belly and yellow eyes.

Cloud Runner — pale gray tom with green eyes. Morning Bloom's mate.

Bristle Thorn — black tom with long spiky fur and orange eyes. (Bristlepaw)

Fly Swoop — small black-and-white tom with green eyes.

Muddy Claws — mottled dark brown tom with amber eyes. (Mudclaw)

Torn Ear — wiry gray tom with a torn ear and pale eyes. Pigeon Flight's mate.

Pigeon Flight — dark gray tom with white patches and dark eyes. Torn Ear's mate. *

Ash Dust—speckled gray molly with blue eyes. (Ashfoot)

Apprentice, Running Brook

Apprentices:

Short Whisker — brown tabby tom with amber eyes. (Onewhisker)

Running Brook — light gray tabby molly with light green eyes. (Runningpaw)

Queens:

Morning Bloom—a tortoiseshell molly. (Morningflower) Cloud Runner's mate.

Shining Sorrel — gray-and-brown molly with bright yellow eyes. (Sorrelshine)

Mother to White Nose, Tawny Tail and Web Foot. (Whitepaw, Tawnypaw, Webpaw)

—————————————— RiverClan ——————————————

Leader:    

River Crooked Jaw — huge light-brown tabby with a twisted jaw and green eyes. (Crookedstar)

Deputy:    

Oak Heart — large reddish brown tom with yellow eyes.

Healer(s):

Muddy Brook — long-haired light brown tom with golden eyes. (Mudfur)

Warriors:

Beetle Nose — tom with crow-black fur and amber eyes.

Petal Dust — tortoiseshell molly with green eyes.

Vole Claw — gray tom with blue eyes.

Dappled Moss—tortoiseshell and white molly. (Mosspelt) Leaping Frog's mate.

Ember Dawn — tortoiseshell molly with bright ginger patches and gray eyes. Dawn Bright's mate.

Blooming Grass — brown tabby molly with a white splash under her chin and one white hind paw. (Greenflower)

Black Talon — smoky black tom with orange eyes. (Blackclaw)

Leopard Fur — unusually spotted golden tabby molly with amber eyes.

Apprentice, Snow Paws

Sky Heart — pale brown tabby molly with green eyes.

Rush Whisker — mottled brown molly with green eyes. ( Grasswhisker )

Vixen Leap — large black molly with amber eyes and a short tail.

Reed Tail — pale gray tabby tom with orange eyes.

Loud Belly — dark brown tom and green eyes.

Mallow Tail — tortoiseshell tabby and white tom with green eyes. *

Dawn Bright — ginger-and-white molly with hazel eyes. Ember Dawn's mate.

Leaping Frog — muscular gray tom with a striped tail and amber eyes. (Frogleap) Dappled Moss' mate.

Silver Stream — silver tabby molly with blue eyes.

Apprentices:

Snow Paws — dark brown tom with stark white paws and amber eyes. (Whiteclaw)

Queens:

Lily Stem — pale gray tabby molly with green eyes.

Mother to Soft Shade, Heavy Step and Cold Silver. (Shadepaw, Heavypaw, Silverpaw)

Elders:

Bird Song — tabby-and-white molly with ginger patches around her muzzle, flecked with gray, and amber eyes.

Gray Pool — thin gray molly with patchy fur and a scarred muzzle with yellow eyes. Retired early.

Shining Lake — mottled gray-and-white molly with pale yellow eyes. (Lakeshine)

—————————————— ShadowClan ——————————————

Leader:    

Shadow Broken Tail — long-haired dark brown tabby with orange eyes. (Brokenstar)

Apprentice, Vole Burrow

Deputy:    

Black Paws — large white tom with huge jet-black paws and amber eyes. (Blackfoot)

Apprentice, Dawn Cloud

Healer(s):

Violet Fang — old dark gray molly with a broad, flattened face and wide orange eyes. (Yellowfang)

Wet Nose — small gray-and-white tom with amber eyes. (Runningnose)

Warriors:    

Feather Storm — dark brown tabby molly with yellow eyes. Blizzard Wing's mate.

Stumpy Tail — brown tabby tom with green eyes. Tangle Burr's mate.

Cinder Fur — thin dark gray tom with orange eyes. Ashen Heart's mate.

Scorching Pelt — ginger tabby tom with green eyes. (Scorchwind) Dark Petals' mate.

Boulder — silver tabby tom with blue eyes.

Russet Talon — dark ginger molly with green eyes. (Russetfur)

Apprentice, Rat Bite

Claw Strike — battle-scarred brown tom with amber eyes. (Clawface) Rowan Berry's mate.

Dark Petals — black molly with yellow eyes (Darkflower) Scorching Pelt's mate.

Apprentice, Deer Hoof

Blizzard Wing — mottled white tom with amber eyes. Feather Storm's mate.

Finch Flight — black-and-white tom with pale yellow eyes. Apple Seed's mate.

Wolf Step — blue-eyed dark-gray and white tom with a torn ear. Fern Shade's mate.

Ashen Heart — pale gray and ginger molly with golden eyes. (Ashheart) Cinder Fur's mate.

Flint Fang — gray tom with thick-furred paws and amber eyes.

Apprentice, Badger Mask

Fern Shade — tortoiseshell molly with yellow eyes. Wolf Step's mate.

Tangle Burr — gray-and-brown molly with dark green eyes. Stumpy Tail's mate.

Apprentice, White Throat

Apprentices:    

Deer Hoof — dark gray tom with white paws and yellow eyes. (Deerfoot)

White Throat — black tom with white neck and paws and green-blue eyes.

Rat Bite — dark brown tom with pale green eyes. (Ratscar)

Badger Mask — very tiny, fluffy black-and-white tom with green eyes. (Badgerfang)

Dawn Cloud — small ginger tabby molly with pale yellow eyes.

Vole Burrow — tiny brown tom with light yellow eyes. (Volepaw)

Queens:    

Speckled Newt — black and ginger tabby molly with pale yellow eyes. (Newtspeck)

Mother to Brown Pelt, Wet Pads, Little Cloud. (Brownpaw, Littlepaw, Wetpaw)

Rowan Berry — cream and brown molly with amber eyes. Claw Strike's mate.

Mother to Marigold Patch and Mint Stem. (Marigoldkit, Mintkit)

Apple Seed — mottled light-brown molly with pale green eyes. (Applefur) Finch Flight's mate.

Mother to Tall Poppy, Snowy Blossom, Swamp Puddle. (Tallpoppy, Blossomkit, Swampkit)

Elders:    

Ash Bark—thin long-bodied gray tom. (Ashfur)

Night Pelt — black tom with a chronic cough and green eyes, retired early. 

Cloudy Pool  — gray-and-white molly with green eyes. (Poolcloud)

Crow's Tail — black tabby molly with green eyes.

Holly Flower — dark gray-and-white molly with amber eyes.

———————————— Cats Outside the Clans ———————————

Smudge — plump black-and-white kittypet tom with yellow eyes who lives in a house near the edge of the forest.

Rusty — flame-colored ginger tom with green eyes who lives in a house at the edge of the forest.

Barley — black-and-white loner tom with blue eyes who lives on a farm close to the forest.

[shadows-starlight]

Shadows and Starlight

Book 78: Friends of Fur and Four Legs

-

It was sunset.

The sun was lowering in the sky as it displayed its orange, pink, and blue hues across the world.

A majority of the inhabitants of the Ebonvale forest were already at home doing their evening routine. However, for Malakar, sunset was the perfect time to pick some blackcurrants. His raven, Corvus, loved blackcurrants. He loved them so much that he would eat an entire pile in one sitting.

So tonight, while Aurora, Grimble, Flord, Tibber, Corvus, and Pippin were back at the lair, Malakar went off into the forest to pick some black currants.

Suddenly, Malakar heard the sound of howling and some rustling in the bushes. He decided to investigate what the sound was. The sorcerer pushed through the thick foliage and his eyes fell upon the source. A large, shaggy dog was trapped in a thorny rose bush, howling in pain. Her blue brindle coat was matted and covered in burrs.

The dog stopped howling long enough to gaze up at Malakar, her kind, dark brown eyes gazed at him, filled with a mixture of fear and hope.

"Easy now, girl," Malakar murmured, "I'll get you out of there."

Carefully, Malakar took out a dagger he would often use to hack his way through thickets and bushes, and gently cut the thorns of the rose bush, which allowed the dog to limp out of the bush, revealing that her fur had been covered with thorns and burrs. She was a massive creature, almost as tall as him when standing, not Clifford the Big Red Dog tall, but she was indeed taller than most dogs.

Malakar immediately recognized the breed of the dog.

 It was an Irish Wolfhound and she looked like she was around two years old.

There was no collar, indicating that she was all alone.

He would worry about that matter later, for now, his job was to get the thorns and burrs off of her fur. With a gentle hand, he started getting all of the thorns and burrs from her matted fur, being mindful of her flinching every time a thorn scraped her skin.

The dog lay still on the grass, too tired and weak to resist.

“There we go,” he said, finally freeing her from the last of the thorns. The dog slowly stood up on wobbly legs, her tail giving a tentative wag.

Malakar gently ran a hand along her back. "You’ve had a rough time, haven’t you?"

The dog whimpered in response.

Malakar took out some black currants from his satchel and offered them to the dog, "Here, have some. You need to regain your strength."

The dog sniffed the black currants in the palm of Malakar's hand, and without hesitation, ate them in one mouthful. She panted happily and barked with delight, licking Malakar as if to say thank you.

Malakar chuckled and said, "Come with me, my furry friend. You'll have a home with me and my daughter would be delighted to see you."

The dog nuzzled Malakar and with that, they began the walk back to the lair. As they approached the lair, Malakar pushed open the oak door, only to be greeted with the sound of laughter and playful squeals.

Inside, Grimble, Flord, and Tibber were entertaining themselves with a juggling competition, which ended up with the juggling balls landing on their heads, bonking them.

Aurora was watching the competition on her spot on the floor with amusement, laughing as the juggling balls hit the henchmen as they fell.

Corvus perched himself on the dining room table and Pippin, who was inside his little mouse house that Malakar had constructed a few days before, was busy feasting on some pieces of cheese and a few stray grapes.

At the sound of the door opening, the henchmen turned to find not just Malakar himself, but the large dog as well, her massive frame filling the doorway. “What is that—?” Grimble started.

The dog, sensing the presence of the henchmen, got excited and rushed inside to greet them, giving them big, slobbery kisses with just a lick of her tongue.

"Eww!" Flord grimaced, "Puppy germs!"

He sputtered and spat as he tried to wipe the dog slobber away from his face.

"Boss," said Tibber, nervously poking up from his hiding place from under the dining table, "wh-what is that?"

Malakar chuckled, patting the dog’s head. “Not to worry, my friends. She's really quite harmless. I found her in the woods while on my blackcurrant hunt. She was all alone and she's going to be living with us from now on."

Aurora, upon seeing the dog, let out an excited squeal and crawled towards the dog. The dog perked up, and with a wagging tail, she bent down, laying down on her stomach, and sniffed the baby gently.

The baby reached out to touch the strands of the dog's shaggy fur. The dog, seeing how friendly Aurora looked, gave her a big slobbery kiss with her tongue. She laughed and clapped her hands.

Then, Aurora hugged the large dog and the dog nuzzled her gently in return.

“See?” Malakar said with a grin. “They’re already fast friends.”

The henchmen looked at Aurora and the dog as they interacted and got to know one another.

"I've never seen a dog this big before," said Tibber, looking a little less nervous.

"She's so big," said Flord, "way bigger than any of us, by far!"

"She's big enough for Aurora to ride on like a horse," said Grimble, smirking, "maybe we should test out that theory!"

Malakar laughed softly. “That's alright with me.” He looked down at the dog, scratching behind her ears again. “But first, let’s get her cleaned up.”

In the bathroom, Malakar, Grimble, Flord, and Tibber piled inside along with the dog to get the grime and dirt off of her body. Working together, they washed her tangled fur with warm water and soap. Slowly, the grime washed away, revealing her beautiful blue brindle pattern.

“You’re quite a beauty under all this mud,” Malakar remarked as he rinsed the last of the soap from her coat.

The dog shook the water off of her body, causing everything and everyone to get wet. However, instead of getting angry, Malakar and his henchmen burst out laughing.

Once she was dried and brushed off, Malakar led her to the kitchen, where he filled two bowls with fresh meat and water. She devoured it hungrily.

While she was eating, Malakar went to the dining table and started to craft a collar for her.

With steady hands, Malakar painted the leather collar with a bright pink base and added delicate red roses with green leaves surrounding the name, which he inscribed with crimson ink: Roisin.

He stepped back to admire his work, a satisfied smile on his lips. “Roisin,” he said, turning to the dog, who had finished her meal and was watching him curiously, smacking her lips with her tongue. “A fitting name for a rosebush survivor.”

The dog wagged her tail, already in love with the name.

Malakar fastened the collar around her neck, making it tight, but, not too tight. The bright pink stood out against her blue brindle fur. “There we are. Now, you’re officially part of the family.”

After the dog, now dubbed Roisin, stood tall and proud as she showed off her new collar. It made her look very grown up.

Roisin then made her way to the nursery where Aurora was playing with some blocks. Aurora squealed with delight at the sight of Roisin.

"Well then, Aurora," said Malakar, picking Aurora up, "how about that horse-dog ride theory, ey?"

Aurora liked the sound of that.

Malakar gently placed Aurora on Roisin's broad back. The baby squealed with delight, her tiny hands gripping Roisin's fur as the dog stood perfectly still, seeming to understand her new role as the baby’s steed.

Then, Roisin trotted around the room as if she really was a horse and Aurora couldn't stop laughing.

It looked like so much fun, so fun, that Grimble, Flord, Tibber, Corvus, and little Pippin hopped along for a ride. Fortunately, the dog was strong enough to hold all of them on her back.

Malakar, on the other hand, watched the fun with a smile.

"Welcome to the family, Roisin," he murmured, content with the dog finding a place in his little family.

[animala2z]

Dalmatian (dog Breed) Size, Price, Meaning, And Special Info

The Dalmatian is a medium-sized dog breed known for its unique white coat marked with black or brown spots. Originating as a hunting dog, it was also used as a carriage dog in its early days. The origins of this breed can be traced to present-day Croatia and its historical region of Dalmatia.

It is believed that the early ancestors of the breed were specific breeds of pointer and spotted great Dane. Today, it is a popular family pet and many dog ​​enthusiasts enter Dalmatians in kennel club competitions.

Dalmatian At a Glance :

SIZE: MediumEXERCISE: More than 2 hours per daySIZE OF HOME: Large houseGROOMING: Once a weekCOAT LENGTH: ShortSHEDS: YesLIFESPAN: Over 12 yearsVULNERABLE NATIVE BREED: NoSIZE OF GARDEN: Large gardenTOWN OR COUNTRY: Either

History Of Dalmatian :

known written information about the Dalmatian canine dates back to 1375, when the Bishop of Dakota, Peter, mentions a Croatian stalking canine, substantially Dalmatian with short white hair and black round spots on the colorful corridor of the body, and he calls it Canis dalmatics.

The first delineations of tykes have been set up in Croatia an altarpiece from 1600- 1630 in Veli Losinj and a triptych in Zaostrog. The first proven descriptions of the Dalmatian date back to the early 18th century and are set up in the libraries of the Archdiocese of Dakota, whereby in 1719 the canine was mentioned and described in church history as Canis dalmatics.

Bishop Petar Bakic and then again in 1739 by the church chronicles of Andreas Cazcamety. In 1771, Thomas Pennant described the species in his book Synopsis of Quadrupeds, stating that the species originated in Dalmatia; He called it a Dalmatian.

A General History of Quadrupeds :

Thomas Bewick’s book, A General History of Quadrupeds, published in 1790, refers to the breed as a Dalmatian or coach dog.

During the Regency period, the Dalmatian became a status symbol trotting with horse-drawn carriages, and those with decorative spotting were highly prized. For this reason, the breed earned the nickname ‘The Spotted Coach Dog’. This breed was also used to guard the stables at night.

This breed was developed and bred mainly in England. The first unofficial standard for caste was introduced in 1882 by Englishman Vero Shaw. With the formation of the first Dalmatian Club in England in 1890, the standard became official.

When the dog with the distinctive markings was first shown in England in 1862, it was said to have been used as a guard dog and as a companion to the nomadic people of Dalmatia.

By the early 1920s, the breed’s unique coat became popular and widely distributed across continental Europe. Its unusual signs were frequently mentioned by old writers.

Breed Characteristics :

Adaptability: 5 PointsDog Friendly: 5 PointsEnergy Level: 5 PointsTrainability: 5 PointsExercise Needs: 5 PointsAffectionate: 5 PointsGrooming: 1 PointTerritorial: 3 PointsWatchdog Instincts: 3 PointsApartment Friendly: 1 PointBarking Tendencies: 3 PointsCat Friendly: 3 PointsChild Friendly: 5 PointsHealth Issues: 4 PointsIntelligence: 5 PointsShedding Level: 5 PointsSocial Needs: 5 PointsStranger Friendly: 3 Points

Appearance of Dalmatian :

The Dal is one of the most instantly recognizable breeds of dogs, thanks to its short white coat that is covered in spots. While black and white is the most common color combination, the liver can be caused by recessive genes inherited from a Dalmatian puppy’s parents. Rarely, you can find blue, brindle, and “lemon” Dalmatians with orange spots.

Also rare is the tricolor Dalmatian, which has black and red spots. Sometimes you can find Dalmatians with long hair: commonly called “long coat Dalmatians” or “LCs”, this length is a rare trait that is also caused by recessive genes.

Although their coat makes them stand out from the crowd, Dalmatian puppies are born sans spots. Their distinctive pattern begins to appear when they are about two weeks old.

[cryptidclaw]

Here is an example of Medieval theme naming and roles! What do you guys think?

Allegiances of the beginning of the First Rise of Change Arc!:

Note: I tried to list the cats under each category in order of oldest to youngest.

THUNDER KINGDOM

Monarch:

Monarch Blue of Frost - short furred, tall, slender, solid blue-gray molly, with blue eyes and some white and a distinctive white diamond star shape on her chest.

Apprentice: Squire Fire

Advisor:

Advisor Red of tails - small, long furred, tortoiseshell tom with a distinctive ginger tail and orange eyes.

Apprentice: Squire Dust

Herbalist(s):

Herbalist Spotted of leaves - beautiful, fluffy, dark tortoiseshell molly with a distinctive dappled coat and orange eyes.

Captain:

Captain Lion the heart - large, fluffy, golden, ticked tabby tom with fluffy thick fur around his neck like a lion's mane and green eyes.

Apprentice: Squire Gray

Knights:

Senior Knight White the storm - long furred, gray tabby colorpoint tom with blue eyes.

Apprentice: Squire Sand

Senior Knight Tiger the claw - big, long furred, dark brown tabby tom with unusually long front claws and amber eyes.

Apprentice: Squire Raven

Knight Dark of stripes - fluffy dark gray tabby tom with dark black stripes and yellow eyes.

Knight Bird of flight - short furred, slender, brown tabby tom with some white and a distinctive white blotch on his chest, and upper lip, and green eyes.

Knight Willow of pelts - short furred, very pale solid gray and spotted cream molly with green eyes.

Knight Down the nose - short furred, tall, long limbed, white molly with distinctive large floppy ears and blue eyes.

Knight Cricket the step - very small, short furred, prettily handsome, white cat with black and orange calico patches and orange eyes.

Knight Mouse of furs - small dull brown ticked tabby molly with yellow eyes.

Knight Shrike of tails - tall, long limbed and tailed, pale brown tabby tom with dark black stripes with some white and green eyes.

Apprentices:

Squire Dust - buff, chubby, dark brown sepia color point tom with white on his muzzle, paws, tail tip, and as a small patch on his chest and purple eyes.

Squire Raven - small, scrawny, long limbed, solid black tom with a white patch on his chest, white-tipped tail, a scar over his left eye and purple eyes.

Squire Sand - a yellowy cream tabby and solid black tortoiseshell molly with a distinctive black marking covering exactly half her face and one orange eye in the black, and one green eye in the cream.

Squire Gray - fluffy, chubby, gray tabby tom with dark gray stripes, some white and orange eyes. 

Squire Fire - a short, very chubby, handsome, long furred, bright ginger ticked tabby tom with some white and green eyes.

Queens:

Senior Knight Speckle the snap - long furred cream ticked tabby tortoiseshell with gray speckle patches on her back and covering her tail and golden yellow eyes. She is the oldest nursery queen.

Senior Knight Golden the flower - beautiful, long furred, golden cream tabby molly with golden yellow eyes.

Senior Knight Frost of furs - a sleek long furred, beautiful, white molly with a gray and orange tabby calico patch over one eye, and a mostly orange calico tail with one blue eye and one green eye.

Knight Brindle the beauty - short furred, gray-brown and orange tortoiseshell molly with green eyes and some white.

Elders:

Elder Small the ear - small, short furred white tom with orange tabby patches and battered torn ears and green eyes.

Elder Sparrow of pelts - big scruffy furred dark brown tabby tom with half of his tail missing and green eyes.

Elder Fog of talons - pale blue-gray molly, with some white, as well as one clawed out eye and one yellow eye.

Elder Thrush the cloud - medium furred, sandy brown ticked tabby tom with some white, and green eyes.

Elder Dapple of tails - round, chubby, short furred, white molly with black and orange calico patches and dappled spots and yellow eyes.

Elder Rose of tails - long furred, gray and red calico molly with a distinctive fluffy rosey red tail and yellow eyes.

[art-of-tek]

Fanart of the book "Misty and Vernin in Nowhere" by Ethan Summers. It's a spinoff of the "Dogs of the Spires" series. I do recommend both if you like more mature xenofiction. It's about an unlikely found family of creatures who basically noclipped out of reality and ended up in (not the backrooms) a realm called Nowhere, where glitches in reality cause random chunks and creatures from other universes to show up there.

Characters are: Misty, Vernin, Terry and Duke. Special shoutout to G for helping me with Terry's anatomy (I can't draw dinosaurs). Backgrounds are AI generated imagery for the prompt "nowhere". I didn't draw Shadow because I just cannot draw anthro's for the life of me, either.

[ID: Digital fullbody drawings of four characters facing left. The first is Misty, a shaggy-coated black dog with floppy ears and green eyes. She is wearing a red shirt, purple backpack, and blue and green socks on her front paws. The second is Vernin, a sighthound mix with a dark grey brindle coat, small floppy ears and brown eyes. She's wearing a golden necklace with a green pendant. The third is Terry, a juvenile off-white Herrarasaurus with black stripes on his hips, as well as black spots scattered over most of this body. He has amber eyes and is wearing a pink collar. The final dog is "Golden" Duke, a black wolf-like dog with pricked ears, golden eyes, metal silver claws and toes and a white chest. He is wearing golden full-body armor. All have neutral expressions and standing poses. The backgrounds are various abandoned-looking AI-generated locations depicting a lone horizon. End ID.]

[dark-myst28]

Warriors AU: Fire’s Step to Change

FStC

Beginning Arc

ThunderClan - The Brave and Intelligent

Leader: Glacierstar—blue-gray she-cat, tinged with silver around her muzzle. Apprentice, Firepaw (Warrior name Glacierbreathe)

Lives 4

Deputy: Redtail—small tortoiseshell tom with a distinctive ginger tail. Apprentice, Dustpaw

Medicine cat(s): Spottedleaf—beautiful dark tortoiseshell she-cat with a distinctive dappled coat. Apprentice, Ravenpaw

Warriors:

Lionheart—magnificent golden tabby tom with thick fur like a lion's mane.

Apprentice, Graypaw

Tigerclaw—big aggressive dark brown tabby tom with unusually long front claws. He is the brother of Frostfur and Miststorm.

Miststorm—big white-and-grey spiky furred she-cat with amber-blue eyes. She is the sister of Tigerclaw and Frostfur

Whitesnow—big white tom. Apprentice, Sandpaw

Darkstripe—sleek black-and-gray tabby tom.

Harpytail—pale tabby tom with dark black stripes. (Longtail) Rumored to be either Halfclan or Half-Kittypet

Chestnutwing—angry light brown tabby tom. Rumored to be either Halfclan or Half-Kittypet

Cherrysnap—spiteful tortoiseshell she-cat extremely pregnant. Rumored to be either Halfclan or Half-Kittypet

Eaglebreeze—swift tabby tom.

Willowpelt—very pale tortoiseshell gray she-cat with unusual blue eyes.

Mousefur—small heavily scarred dusky brown she-cat. Former Rouge

Apprentices:

Dustpaw—dark brown tabby tom. Older brother of Ravenpaw Dustfang

Ravenpaw—small, skinny black tom with a tiny white dash on his chest, and white-tipped tail. Younger brother of Dustpaw Ravenglare

Graypaw—long-haired solid gray tom. Half Brother of Darkstripe Grayclaw

Sandpaw—dark tortoiseshell and ginger she-cat. Sandscreech

Firepaw—handsome ginger tom with bright green eyes. Firespark

Queens:

Frostfur—beautiful gray and white she-cat and blue eyes. Sister of Miststorm and Tigerclaw

Kits - Cinderkit Swiftkit and Snowkit Age 3 Moons

Father of the Kits Unknown

Brindleface—brindle grey tabby she-cat with pale green eyes. Former Rouge claims to have come from a Clan called SkyClan

Kits - Elderkit and Tulipkit Age 2 Moons

Father of the Kits Ash

Goldenflower—pale ginger coat.

Kits - Brackenkit, Brightkit, and Thornkit Age 5 days old

Father of the Kits Unknown

Elders:

Sparrowtail—big dark brown tabby tom with part of his tail missing.

Nightfish—pale gray she-cat, the oldest cat in ThunderClan.

Dappletail—once-pretty tortoiseshell she-cat with a lovely dappled coat.

Thrushpelt—sandy brown tom with light green eyes

Rosetail—once pretty tortoiseshell she-cat with a bright red tail Rumored to have had Redtail, Willowpelt, and Spottedleaf but she will never say.

ShadowClan - The Cunning and Mysterious

Leader: Brokenstar—long-haired dark brown tabby. Apprentice Batpaw

Lives 7

Deputy: Blackfoot—large white tom with huge jet-black paws.

Medicine cat(s): Runningnose—small gray-and-white tom. Apprentice, Damppaw

Warriors:

Stumpytail—brown tabby tom. Apprentice, Brownpaw

Boulder—silver tabby tom. Apprentice, Wetpaw

Clawface—battle-scarred brown tom. Apprentice, Littlepaw

Nightpelt—black tom.

Mossthorn—gray-and-white she-cat with dark blue eyes

Volewhisker—dark brown tom

Mintclaw—grey she-cat

Marigoldheart-dark tortoiseshell she-cat

Apprentices:

Brownpaw—dark brown tom Browntoad

Wetpaw—dark sleek-furred grey tom Wetspider

Littlepaw—small ginger tabby tom Littleclover

Queens:

Dawncloud—small tabby.

Kits Marshkit, Bogkit, and Rodentkit Age 5 Moons

Refuses to mention the father

Flowerstep—black-and-white she-cat. (Brightflower)

Kits Jackdawkit, Deerkit, and Cedarkit Age 1 Day Old

Father of the kits Boulder

Elders:

Ashfur—thin gray tom

WindClan - The Swift-Footed and Spiritual

Leader: Tallstar—a black-and-white tom with a very long tail.

Lives 3

Deputy: Deadfoot—a black tom with a twisted paw.

Medicine cat(s): Barkface—a short-tailed brown tom.

Warriors:

Mudclaw—a mottled dark brown tom. Apprentice, Webbedpaw

Tornear—a tabby tom. Apprentice, Runningpaw

Onewhisker—a young brown tabby tom. Apprentice, Whitepaw

Bristlefeather-light brown tom

Father of Runningpaw

Stoneheart-handsome dark greyish-brown tom

Thrushwing-beautiful sandy-brown she-cat

Apprentices:

Webbedpaw-grey tom Webbedfoot

Runningpaw-light brown she-cat with yellow eyes Runningstorm

Whitepaw-black she-cat with blue eye and a white-tail Whitetail

Queens:

Ashfoot—a gray queen.

Kits: Eaglekit Age 3 Moons

Father of kit Deadfoot

Morningflower—a tortoiseshell queen.

Kits: Gorsekit and Briarkit Age 4 Moons

Father of kits Mudclaw

Elders:

Crowfur-snappy skinny black tom with blind white eyes

RiverClan - The Devious and Spiteful

Leader: Crookedstar—a huge light-colored tabby with a twisted jaw.

Lives 2

Deputy: Oakheart—a reddish brown tom

Medicine cat(s): Clovervine-beautiful brown-and-white she-cat with green eyes.

Warriors:

Blackclaw—smoky black tom. Apprentice, Heavypaw

Stonefur—a gray tom with battle-scarred ears. Apprentice, Shadepaw

Loudbelly—a dark brown tom. Apprentice, Silverpaw

Silverstream—a pretty slender silver tabby.

Leopardfur—unusually spotted golden tabby she-cat.

Whiteclaw—a dark warrior.

Apprentices:

Heavypaw-thick dark-brown almost black tom Heavybird

Shadepaw-black she-cat Shadefish

Father Stonefur

Silverpaw-angry silver-grey tom Silverthorn

Queens:

Mistybreathe-gorgeous dark grey-blue she cat with haunted orange eyes

Kits: Reedkit, Splashkit, Maplekit, Oakkit Age 5 Moons

Father of the kits Blackclaw

Elders:

Graypool-eldery grey she-cat

Cats outside Clans

Yellowfang—old dark gray she-cat with a broad, flattened face. Former ShadowClan Medicine Cat. Originally called Stormfang

Smudge—plump, friendly black-and-white kitten who lives in a house at the edge of the forest.

Barley—fairly young black-and-white tom who lives on a farm close to the forest. Formerly apart of a group of cats called The Forsaken

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

Im researching pitbull coat colors cuz the different ways different coat colors come about and present in cats and dogs is fascinating (clearly, considering how much I geek out about calico cats)

And apparently chewby had some rare puppies

(This website didnt specifically say that blue brindles are rare but other places im looking do)

Like I knew boosie had an interesting coat but I didnt realize precious (a blue fawn) was also not common

Also according to this boosie is technically a reverse blue brindle cuz blue is his primary color (he just looked blue as a puppy and developed brindling as he aged)

[honey-dewey]

The Prince’s Dogs

Pairing: Oberyn Martell/Reader

Word Count: 4,171

Warnings: None!

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Upon leaving your small village and getting a job in Dorne working for the two princes of Sunspear, you had no idea how much you’d miss one very small yet very pivotal part of your life. The rain. However, being the dog trainer for Prince Oberyn might beat the rain. Might. 

A/N: Have I watched Game of Thrones? Nope! But I’ve started reading the books and read a bit of book 3 with Oberyn, so that’s what this is based off of. Oops. 

Of all the things you missed about home, the rain was what you missed most. Dorne was a fine kingdom with ample sun and the intoxicating smell of salt in the air. But rain was scarce this far south in Sunspear, and you longed for a day where the skies opened and wept, showering the earth.

But the rain was something you could not have, so you settled for a life many would envy. A position in the Dornish palace, dressed in fine clothes rather than your worn out linens. You dearly missed your old home, with the smell of wet dirt and the muddy ground beneath your bare feet, but when your parents had passed, you needed to leave, finding work and income to keep yourself alive.

And you’d found it. You were a servant for the Martell family, although you rarely saw your masters. Doran was always busy, and his younger brother was typically nowhere to be found when he was needed. You’d never met Elia, but the stories were prominent, even to your people. Anyone south of King’s Landing knew all too well the story of Elia Martell.

The Martells treated their servants well. When you’d arrived, they’d put you to work immediately in the kitchens, scrubbing copper kitchenware until your hands were red. The woman who oversaw your work was impressed. Apparently most ended their days with bloodied fingertips. You’d told her you worked with animals day in and day out where you’d come from, and your hands were well prepared for harsh conditions. However, despite the grind, you wore soft clothes. A linen shirt you’d refused to give up, brown pants, and a deep yellow robe you often never wore. You were built for the cold, and Dorne was hot as an oven. A robe would only serve to boil you alive.

You sighed, scrubbing a large cooking pot and dunking it under the water again. Your face was finally legible in the surface, warped and coppery, but legible nonetheless. You hung it to dry alongside the other pots you’d cleaned, turning back yet again to the pile of dirty dishes. You were elbow deep in soapy water when someone exclaimed, “My Prince! I did not see you there!”

“It’s fine my dear,” a honeyed voice said, thick with a Dornish accent. “I did not mean to scare you.”

Hanging another pot, you finally turned to see your visitor.

Prince Oberyn Martell stood by the fire, the flames dancing in his onyx eyes. He smiled at you, and you felt yourself flush. “And this must be the one who keeps my dogs. I’d recognize those hands anywhere.”

You nodded. Once she’d learned you worked dogs in your past, your overseer assigned you to keep the prince’s dogs when you weren’t busy. He had five, all of whom were slender and fast and well trained thanks to you. All the dogs sat by your feet during meals solely because you fed them scraps of your food, and apparently the prince had taken notice. “Yes, I am. Is there a problem with their training?”

Oberyn chuckled. “Quite the contrary, in fact. The girls are swift as ever, and have no hesitation while hunting. Tell me, how did you train them to run through rivers?”

“Food.” It was a true answer. You’d taken the dogs to a shallow pond and baited them across the water, working your way up until you were baiting them across the deepest river you could find. Compared to training dogs in pelting rain, which you had done before, training the dogs to swim fearlessly had been simple.

“Ah,” Oberyn said with a smile. “Food, of course. I suppose this means you’re also the reason Nyx and Artemis are looking a bit rounder than usual?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Your dogs are all in perfect health,” you said sternly. “And if two of your ladies are looking too well fed, then I should not be confronted, because I had nothing to do with it.” It was a blatant lie, and you both knew it.

Oberyn put his hands up. “I was merely making an observation,” he said lightly. “I’ll be leaving you to your washing up.”

You did as he left you to do, washing each dish until it shone and then heading to the doghouse. It was big as your old house back home, and all five dogs rushed to the door as you opened it.

“Hello girls!” You said eagerly, kneeling down so they could all nip at your ears and fingers. “How are we today?”

The dogs all dispersed after that. It was late and there was a warm fire, so three of the dogs curled up to sleep. Nyx and Athena stayed awake, wrestling for a toy before Athena grew bored and trotted off to sleep with her sisters. So Nyx found the next best thing to play with. You.

You wrestled Nyx for the toy, rolling around on the ground and laughing as she growled at you. You growled right back, shaking the toy and coaxing Nyx to drop it. She did, and you tossed it across the room for her to chase after. Nyx was the leader of the pack, the biggest and the oldest. Her muzzle was streaked with grey, but her black and white coat still shone with youth and her eyes sparkled when she was playing. She would always be a puppy at heart.

She returned the toy to you, and you took it. Nyx snapped her jaws at you in an attempt to take the toy, but you pulled it away quickly. “Absolutely not!” You said firmly. “We don’t snatch.” You made Nyx sit, her eyes trained on her toy the entire time. When you finally threw it again, she caught it and trotted right past you with it, dropping it obediently at the feet of her master.

You stood quickly, nearly tripping over yourself as you did so. You knew you looked a mess. Covered from head to foot in dog fur and saliva, your sleeves were still damp from washing dishes and your feet were bare, as they always were. Your hair, which you’d grown long upon arriving in Dorne, was a mess of tangles. Your morning’s braid was long gone.

But the prince didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he scratched Nyx behind the ears and tossed her toy, sending her joyously chasing after it. “I figured I’d find you here,” he said. “The guards said you liked to put the dogs to bed every night.”

You nodded, relaxing a bit as Oberyn sat on a bench and gestured you to his side. Nyx followed you, sitting practically on your feet as you sat. You absently scratched under her ornate collar, hearing her foot thump the ground as you found the sweat spot to scratch. Oberyn smiled as Nyx squirmed under your hands. “You work the girls well.”

“It was my job back home,” you admitted. “I worked the hunting dogs. They were stockier and slower than yours, but could take down anything they wanted. Training them was a task, especially during the rainy season.”

Oberyn nodded slowly. “My girls are bred for speed,” he said. “Their mother was a gift given to my sister, and she bore me my puppies.”

You tried to imagine Oberyn cradling a tiny puppy. His hands were bigger than yours, and a puppy would probably fit in his palm. “Is the mother still alive?”

“Died of age years ago,” Oberyn said. “Right after bearing Persephone’s litter.”

The beautiful dark red dog looked up when Oberyn said her name, but went back to sleep shortly after.

“And what happened to the other puppies?”

“I got pick of the litter,” Oberyn said, smoothing a hand over Nyx’s head. “And the other puppies were given to knights or to houses who’ve sworn loyalty.”

You nodded. “These five were incredibly lucky.”

Oberyn smiled. “Two of them were the youngest born, and one was a runt.”

Both of your gazes went to the dogs curled around the fire. “Was it Artemis?” The blue dog had always been smaller than her sisters, but she had never been any less impressive.

“No.” Oberyn stood, sitting cross legged beside the fire and looking warmly at his dogs. “Athena was the youngest born in her litter, but wasn’t a runt by any means. Nyx was my first dog, the biggest in her litter of course. Persephone was a middle born, and I chose her for her fighter’s spirit. Artemis, bless her, was second youngest in her litter but she was an average size. No, it was Hestia who was a runt. She was so small, we all feared she’d die in the night. I fed her myself, with a rag soaked in milk, for months.”

You nodded, sitting on the other side of the fire and stroking Hestia’s silky ears. She was the best suited for hunting, with her dark brindle pattern and keen blue eyes. “She’s a magnificent dog.”

“She is.”

For the better part of the night, you and Oberyn sat in silence around the fire until it was nothing more than embers. All the dogs were long asleep, and the only reason you didn’t join them was because the room was stiflingly hot. Oberyn looked at peace in the heat, and actually seemed surprised when you got up to sit next to the cracked window. “Are you warm?”

“I’m boiling,” you said. “Dorne is a beautiful place, but must it be so damned hot?”

“Oh? And where do you come from that would justify Dorne being hot as the ovens you work in front of?” Oberyn asked, tipping his head ever so slightly.

You tucked your feet up under your body, leaning against the windowsill and looking out across the Sea of Dorne. “I come from a place where no man rules. My people have been there for generations and will remain there for generations. The land is firm beneath our feet, it’s why we all go barefoot. We have three seasons. The winters, the summers, and the rain. Each turn, between the winters and the summers, it rains. It rains a lot. No one is ever deterred by the rain, as it’s warm, so unlike the freezing rain in the mountains. We were barely fifty houses strong when I left, but our land stretches as far as the eye can see. Flat expanses of green, and in the summers the fields bloom with every kind of flower imaginable. It is a beautiful sight, and if you travel far enough east, you can see the shadows of the Dornish Mountains.” As you spoke, you grew only more homesick, wishing you could plant your feet in the mud and breathe, just breathe in the open air. Dorne’s air smelled of ocean and fish, and you craved the wetness of the petrichor smell you’d grown up with.

Oberyn joined you by the window, looking out at the glowing moon hung high in the sky. “What would you give to return?”

“Everything.”

It was an answer that seemed to stun the youngest Martell sibling. He blinked, still gazing at the moon. “Of course,” he said softly. “Of course.”

The next day, you spent all morning in the great hall, feeding the dogs under the table and reading a book you’d bought in town. Doran and Oberyn sat at the head of the hall together, arguing, but you couldn’t hear them, nor did you care to. You merely flipped a page in your book and fed Hestia another scrap of bacon.

Halfway through your day, you were interrupted in your washing of linens by the lake. Oberyn rode up to you, two horses and all his dogs by his side. “Come.”

You stood, dusting off your pants. “Where to?” You asked. “I doubt I’ll be much use on a hunting trip.”

Oberyn handed you the reins of a horse you’d trained early in your days of working in Dorne. “I’m taking you home.”

You went eagerly after that. You may have been wary, but Oberyn was sincere enough that you trusted him. The dogs followed you, ever the obedient hunters you had trained, as you and him rode hard northward, stopping to make camp as the sun began to dip below the horizon.

“Why are you joining me?” You asked once you’d made camp. “You could’ve sent me on my way, alone.”

Oberyn considered your words, turning meat over the fire. “You fascinate me,” he finally admitted. “You want for nothing in Dorne, and yet you are more homesick than anyone I’ve ever met. You talk about your home as if there is no better place to be. I want to see if you’re right.”

You grinned. “You’ll need firmer clothes than that,” you said, gesturing to Oberyn’s ornate robe. “It’s nearly rain season. Anything that isn’t made to stand up to the water will be ruined.”

Oberyn ran the fabric through his fingers, nodding. “What should I wear?”

“There’s a town not far from my home,” you said. “We’ll find you some suitable clothes there.”

The town in question was a three day ride away. While you rode, you and Oberyn got to know each other. He talked happily about his daughters, never favoring one over the other and seeming proud to have bore them all. In return, you told him about your parents, despite both of them being deceased. He was a good listener, hardly ever interrupting. As the weather grew colder and a wet chill filled the air, you felt yourself getting more comfortable, more at home.

The town finally loomed in the distance after three days on horseback, only stopping to rest the dogs or the horses. You were familiar with everyone, happily chatting to the townsfolk while you browsed thick clothes for Oberyn. He kept the hood of a roughly made cloak over his head, concealing his identity as he watched you make decisions. Finally, you walked away with a sturdy linen shirt that matched yours, reinforced brown pants, and a thick robe that mimicked the Dornish style while also remaining functional. It didn’t fall to Oberyn’s ankles as his vibrant yellow one did, the new faded deep green one stopping just above his knee. He grumbled about the color, but you hushed him as you donned a similar coat in faded burgundy.

As you continued east, the threat of rain grew stronger. You could smell it now, the rain heavy clouds a swirl of deep blue grey on the sky. Artemis whined when a distant rumble of thunder sounded, but you hushed her gently and nudged the horse forward. “We’re not far off. We’ll beat the rain.”

You were right. The village came into view before the rain started, and you quickly ushered the five dogs and one Dornish Prince into your family’s home as warm summer rain began to fall.

Oberyn stared at the ceiling in wonder as the rain began to pound. “Will it hold?”

“It’s held for three generations,” you said, putting logs into a fireplace and looking for your flint. “It’ll continue to hold, that I can swear.”

Once you got a fire going and some food set out for the dogs, you went outside. Oberyn tried to stop you, but you ignored him, opting to stand out back of the house instead. Rain soaked you to the bone immediately, but you didn’t care. The rain was warm and comforting, like being hugged by an old friend. Your hair slicked to your head and your clothes were sticking to your skin, but you simply tipped your head to the heavens and smiled.

You were out for a surprisingly long time before Oberyn braved the rain. He shielded his eyes and stood beside you, shoulders hunched. “Are you going to come back inside? You’ll catch a chill if you stay out here much longer!”

You shook your head. “No I won’t,” you said, looking over when a crack of thunder interrupted you. “Relax Oberyn, it’s only rain.”

Eventually, Oberyn loosened, standing next to you and admiring the rain. When he spoke again, his voice was full of wonder. “You worked in these conditions?”

You nodded. “Sometimes, the rain lasts for weeks,” you said. “We need to hunt, eat, and gather, so yes. I worked in the rain a lot.”

A bell sounded in the distance, and Oberyn looked over, shielding his eyes. “What’s that?”

“Dinner!” You said eagerly, taking his hand. “Come on. You want to see what I love about home? I’ll show you.”

The dinner hall was a sturdy building, bigger than the others. People filtered in, all soaked from the rain, so yours and Oberyn’s wet state wasn’t unusual.

“The dog keeper is home!” Someone said cheerily, seeing you showing Oberyn how to quickly towel his hair dry. Immediately, people began to crowd you, hugging you and asking why you’d returned.

“Oh,” you said, squeezing water out of your coat. “Someone asked me where I came from that would justify me calling Dorne hot as an oven. I felt compelled to show him.” You looped an arm through Oberyn’s elbow, and he looked at people you’d spent your entire life surrounded by.

“Is that Prince Oberyn Martell?” Someone finally asked in a hushed tone.

You shrugged. “Maybe in Dorne he is,” you said. “But out here, he’s just Oberyn.”

Oberyn seemed grateful, and you pulled him to a table. Food was passed around, and the conversation picked up once more. With the warm fire blazing at the front of the hall and the fall of rain against the roof, you felt more at home than you’d ever been. The people around you were your age, and they pushed you for questions about Dorne.

“Oh it’s beautiful,” you said, stirring your stew and dipping your slice of bread into your bowl. “But it’s so hot! I don’t know how those Dornishmen survive the heat in their robes!”

“We’re born there,” Oberyn said, bumping elbows with you. “Unlike you, that heat is all we’ve known.”

You grinned. “I will say, they let me play with the Prince’s dogs, so it’s not all bad.”

“Play?” Oberyn said, stunned. “You trained all the dogs! Let me tell you,” he said, turning to the people around you. “I’ve never met a better dog trainer in my life. If they weren’t so insistent upon working in the kitchens, I’d have promoted them to full time animal trainer already! Lord knows our horses need the firm hand.”

The people around you began to tell Oberyn about your past while you ate, happily telling him about how you’d once trained the village dogs to hunt in the pouring rain by slathering yourself in animal fat and racing through the woods while they hunted you down during the rainy season.

“Is that what you did with my dogs?” He asked when the story was done.

You shrugged. “More or less,” you said. “I take bits of my own breakfast and bait the girls. I told you, that was how I got them to swim so fearlessly.”

Oberyn nodded. “You know you could just ask for more food if you’re going to be sacrificing your own breakfast for my dogs.”

Another shrug. “I don’t mind.”

“Did you bring the dogs?” Someone asked, and you nodded.

“Of course!” You said. “I’ll let the young ones play with them tomorrow if this rain lets up. Although, it is what I missed most.”

“The rain?” The person sitting across from you asked. “Does it not rain in Dorne?”

You sighed, mopping up the last remnants of stew with bread you’d taken from Oberyn. “Not enough,” you said wistfully. “The most it’s rained since I moved there was an hour’s worth of mild rain. And it only rains once every month! It’s hell.”

After dinner came dessert, a sweet pastry filled with oozing red berries and topped with sticky honey. It wasn’t something that was made very often, and you ate yours quickly, savoring the flavors. Oberyn was more hesitant, and was a bit more dignified. However, no amount of dignity saved him from the fruit juices dripping down his chin and you laughing at him while handing him something to wipe his face.

After all the food was eaten, you bid everyone goodbye and braved the rain yet again. It was lighter now, and the children were chasing each other around, happily shouting and playing with the sturdy village hunting dogs. There was no rush for anything, and you didn’t hurry home. Instead, you walked slowly, despite the light rain, taking in all that you’d lost when you left. Oberyn held your hand, the hood of his robe pulled up over his head. He looked at ease here.

When you reached your house, the rain was no more than a light mist, and you eagerly pulled Oberyn around back. The sun was almost gone, but the final rays soaked the land in gold, illuminating the rolling hills and picturesque plains.

“Take a deep breath,” you said softly, seeing Oberyn’s eyes go wide. “And tell me what you smell.”

Oberyn took a breath, staying silent for a moment. “I can’t describe it,” he said, voice soft with awe. “It smells like earth and water and something not of this world.”

“It’s called petrichor,” you said. “The smell of rain on dry soil.”

A delicate silence lapsed over you two, bound only by your connected hands as you watched the sun fully set. Once the sky was dark, you pulled Oberyn inside, handing him a towel so he could dry off.

“How long are we staying?” You asked, stripping out of your soaked clothes and hanging them to dry on a line.

Oberyn, who was in another room for privacy, made a small noise. “I don’t know. A week? I must return at some point.”

You smiled, pulling on a linen shift and tossing another log into the fire that the dogs were surrounding. “I agree. I suppose the girls I work with will be disappointed if I don’t return.”

Oberyn came out of the room wearing a shift identical to yours. He began to hang his clothes beside yours. “It’s nice here,” he said. “I don’t know why anyone would ever want to leave.”

“I didn’t,” you reminded him. “If I’d been able to, I would’ve stayed here all my life. But then I would’ve never met you or your dogs.”

Oberyn smiled, sitting beside the dogs and gesturing you close. You sat with him, facing the fire. Hestia woke up, set her head in your lap, and fell asleep immediately after. You stroked her ears, humming to yourself. “Thank you for bringing me back.”

“Thank you for allowing me to come along,” Oberyn replied.

As you grew more and more tired, you finally relented and stood to go to sleep. “You’re welcome to join me,” you said to Oberyn. “I apologize, but there’s only one bed.”

Oberyn stood. “It’s fine. We can share.”

You took the right side of the bed and Oneryn took the left, you giving him an extra blanket when he started to shiver. His chills never faded, and you did the only thing left. You shifted in the bed, curling up against Oberyn’s chest and wrapping your arms around his middle, giving him your body heat.

“Your Dornish blood is at a cruel disadvantage out here,” you said softly, and you felt Oberyn chuckle.

“I’ll just have to adapt,” he murmured.

The next morning, you woke to no rain and a perfectly blue sky. Oberyn stayed asleep as you got dressed, made breakfast, and let the dogs out to play with the eagerly waiting children. As Oberyn’s dogs raced off to entertain the kids, you sat beside an open window, waiting for Oberyn to wake up.

When he finally did, he sat across from you at the tiny table and slowly began to eat, blinking sleepily at you from time to time.

“Good morning sleepy head,” you said finally, once the food had all been eaten and Oberyn looked a bit more awake. “How’d you sleep?”

Oberyn looked up at you. “Great. Where are the girls?”

“Outside with the kids,” you said, pointing out the window, where you could see the dogs running around with the children. “We’ll hunt them later, but for now, let them have their fun.”

“Ah.” Oberyn nodded. “Okay. So what do we do?”

You shrugged. “Typically, I’d have been working for a while by now.”

“We could work.”

“With those hands?” You said, taking Oberyn’s hands in your own. “Your skin isn’t accustomed to my kind of work, it would split immediately.”

Oberyn smiled. “So what do we do?” He asked again.

You squeezed his hands. “Whatever we want, Oberyn.”

“What if I want to go back to bed with you by my side?” Oberyn asked.

“Well then.” You stood, shedding your coat. “I guess we better get going.”

[secret-engima]

Butbutbut! You never said where /Crowe/ ends up. Where's she? Is she even in Konoha?

Crowe is in Konoha, just as a year older and where she lives she’s never encountered Sasuke. *waggles eyebrows*. But sure have a RAMBLE.

...

Niko is not like other Inuzuka. She is not loud and demanding like many of her Clan, like the loud barking of their dogs, nor is she growling and rough like the members who take more after the wolf blood said to run in their veins. Even so, there is something ... feral about Inuzuka Niko. Something wild and brittle. Some people murmur that she’s more wildcat than dog, eyes too keen and tongue too sharp, preferring the company of herself or the new puppies over the company of the pack and Clan at large.

She wasn’t ... ALWAYS like that, the Clan knows. But an incident as a young child of four that ended with her nearly drowning in the river seemed to have knocked something loose in her head. She got quieter, wilder, her eyes keen and paranoid, wary of being around too many of the Clan at once.

Her father had introduced her to pups early in the hopes it would smooth her rough edges again, but even after the reacclimatized into the Clan, she was never the same. There was something feral and angry in her eyes now, something brutal and efficient in the way she trained.

In another Clan, perhaps this would have been cause for more alarm, or even paranoia of an enemy plant. But this was the Inuzuka. They were all a little feral and crazy at heart, Niko just showed it in a different way. So no one really asks why the river incident made her feral and she never tells. But the truth is...

Niko remembers dying. She remembers being someone else, an orphan, angry at the world, a glaive, with two brothers at her side.

A dead woman, lying on the ground screaming in rage and pain from the bullet in her side as one of her comrades (one of her trusted, one of her FRIENDS) watches her with dark eyes and raises the gun to put a bullet through her chest.

Niko remembers being Crowe, and Crowe was slaughtered by a Kinslayer (because they weren’t Clan but they were GLAIVES, they had fought and bled side by side and didn’t that make them just as much kin in the eyes of the Old Laws as any braid in their hair?).

Now ... now she is awake. Awake and wary of betrayal again, wary of this world of ninja who flaunt their ability to lie and kill and betray yet preach the Will of Fire in the same breath. On some level, the part of her that is Niko, four years old and naive, thinks it makes perfect sense. Will of Fire is for Pack, lying and killing is what you do to the enemy.

But Crowe, in the back of her mind, asks what happens if someone decides she counts as an “enemy” despite her blood relation to the Clan, despite her Clan’s spot in Konoha?

It takes a long time to settle, and by that point her father has her playing and caring for the Clan puppies on a regular basis. Caring for them soothes her. She had always loved animals in her last life, and nin-dogs were special. All of them. From the littlest puppies to the grizzled old veterans.

She is six when she gets nin-dogs of her own. A little trio of pups who were inseparable, all wiggling and happy and yipping at everything and nothing. Their fur is soft and thick, their tails curled over on themselves like akita, though they will grow far bigger than any akita dog. Their coats are distinctive, a red brindle, a black reverse brindle, and a regular red. She names them Daidaimaru, Kiimaru, and Muramaru respectively, as is the tradition. In private, she calls them her Team Cerberus as she carefully weaves the Clan Altius braid into her hair (she may be an Inuzuka, she may be in some other era or world or what have you, but she is still an Altius and an Altius she will remain).

She doesn’t expect to get another nin-dog. She’s bonded with her three pups and she is happy with that. Very few Inuzuka ever bond with more than three, and three is an uncommon number or a Ninja/Nin-dog partnership as it was.

Then she finds Kon.

She is eight and the village is on edge, tight and frightened by the sudden massacre of the Uchiha Clan, and the tension drives Crowe to flee into the clan grounds for some peace and quiet with her pups. They are playing in the stream when they hear the heavy, limping tread of a stranger and smell blood on the faint breeze. Crowe is on her feet in an instant, hand going to the real kunai she stole from her big brother’s stash, and her pups growl little squeaky growls that are not menacing in the slightest.

Out of the forest steps the largest non-Clan wolf Crowe as ever seen. On an adult ninja he could come up to the thigh, easily, and a glance at the too-large size of his paws and disproportionately large ears on his head tell her that this stranger is still a PUP. Older than the Cerberus triplets, but probably not by more then a few months. They stare at each other for a long time, bright gold eyes in a black furred face staring into her own dark brown eyes before he whimpers and drops his head in submission, his body listing to one side as he does.

Crowe forgets all about the tension in the Clan and the drama of the Massacre as she cautiously inches closer and closer to the wheezing pup. He lets her get close, lets her see the long, bloody gashes down his side and clumsily bandage them before leading him home to the vets. She ends up having to stay with him during the treatment process, because he snarls and snaps at anyone who isn't her.

She isn’t sure why he trusts her.

In the end, the vet concludes that he’s half Inuzuka dog, which might be why he stumbled into the Clan grounds, though no one can determine who his sire is (they think his sire is dead, killed on mission, which is why none of their dogs steps forward to take responsibility). His other half is wolf. Not just any wolf either, but the special mutation of wolf that lives in Training Ground 44, the Forest of Death that Crowe has heard some of her relatives tell horror stories about. No one knows why he left the grounds and came here, and no one quite know what to do with him. He’s feral, intelligent as a nin-dog but not socialized like one, and no one is going to trust him around their children as a partner.

Except Crowe. Crowe who sneaks into the vet’s office every night to feed him strips of meat and tell him stories, Crowe who looks into his eyes and sees the same feral, knowing edge. The edge that came from staring death in the face too young and knowing what it is to wake up afterward. The edge that came from being betrayed by someone trusted and not knowing how to take it. Crowe who does not force him to submit, but instead sits outside his kennel and whispers stories to him that she has told no one else. Not even her pups. The Old Stories and Clan Songs, the meaning of the braid in her hair.

He watches her with too-wise eyes and in the dark of night, noses through the kennel bars to lick her hand in comfort.

When he is well enough to be let out of the vet’s office, the Clan watches in tense bewilderment as he strides right to Crowe, gently licks the heads of the smaller pups, and then sits down at her feet with a defiant, steady look in his eyes.

He has chosen her. And Crowe will not turn him aside. She names him Konmaru, after the deep blue-black of his fur, unbroken by even a speck of white or grey.

He will grow huge as he gets older. While the Cerberus Triplets will grow up to a normal size for their breed of Nin-dogs, up to Crowe’s waist and no higher, Konmaru quickly sprouts into a bear of a beast, up to an adult’s elbow by the end of his first year, then up to the shoulder of the Inuzuka Clan head. His frame fills out to match, and people stare whenever Crowe parades by with her little Pack, a trio of hip high Akita and then a massive bear-sized wolf indulgently padding along at her heels.

The vet tells her once that, if he were a pure wolf from the Forest of Death, he would be even bigger, probably growing to the size of a small building, but the Inuzuka breed blood that lets him access chakra and learn to speak also keeps him relatively small in size.

Konmaru is patient and quiet for such a young dog, unlike the excitable Cerberus trio, and very observant.

It’s Konmaru that quietly tells her of the boy in the year below them at school who has a braid hidden in her hair like hers.

Crowe’s heart is in her mouth and she lingers after school that day, watching the younger kids. Konmaru chuffs when he spots the boy he meant and Crowe feels something sick in her gut when she spots the Uchiha boy, chatting happily with another boy, about a year older then him who is not in her class. She drifts closer and sees-.

Ulric Chief braid.

Ostium Chief Braid.

Her voice is a sob as she storms over to them, a bristling trio at her heels and Konmaru languidly towering at her back, “You two absolute, morons!” She yells and their eyes blow wide in shock and hope because she’s yelling in old Galahdian, uncaring of who hears. They spot the braid twisting through her hair and the older boy’s (Libertus’s) face crumbles as he cannons into her with a sob of her old name.

She ends up spending the night at Nyx’s compound, cuddling her brothers while her dogs sprawl around like a living perimeter as they exchange stories of all that happened.

Crowe remembers hearing of the massacre, and now that she knows it was NYX who was the only survivor, she feels sick.

Nyx tells her not to worry about it.

Crowe does anyway.

Konmaru gently flops his massive head on Nyx’s stomach, causing the boy to cough from lost air, and Konmaru rumbles in gentle amusement, “I like this one,” he announces in a bass voice far too deep for his young age, “even if he smells like cat.”

And that is that.

[doberbutts]

(1) Sorry sending another ask! I just came across something weird when doing dog breed research. There's a website called coloredbostonterriertruth that talks about how it's wrong to breed color variations on Bostons because "... These colors are considered disqualifiying faults and completely go against the breed standard (the very definition of the Boston Terrier), breeding them could never be done with the purpose of improving the breed. Unfortunately it is often done for profit."

(2) it just sounds... I don't know the word, elitist? Why does it matter the color of the dog? What if the breeders are breeding for companions only? It's really confusing to me. It's like this person absolutely hates non standard colors and they claim anyone who breeds them aren't doing it for the health of the breed. What does color have to do with breed health??? A dog being good for show doesn't automatically mean they're healthy right? So strange. Their wording is just so weird.

Well, there’s a couple things to dismantle:

People who deliberately do not breed to standard- unless the standard is in and of itself harmful- are usually not doing right by their dogs. Standards exist for a reason- whether the reason is arbitrary (no white GSDs!) or not (no double merles!) ignoring individual pieces of standard is frequently harmful because nothing ever exists in a vacuum. Additionally while there is room in many standards for various interpretations (thus why we have different types), when you change one part you often change the whole.

The other problem is that frequently people who are deliberately not breeding to standard are simply breeding for color alone. This means nothing else matters, and the dog loses out on health, temperament, structure, and more. This generates a huge problem of dogs that may be interesting colors, but have horrible health, crippling arthritis, and are aggressive or overly shy. Additionally a lot of breeders who are simply breeding to produce off-standard colors are doing it with the intention of charging more money for the “rare” colored puppies. The money a puppy costs should be comparable to the money you put into producing the litter itself and into the parents, so for instance charging $1000 for a standard colored puppy and then $5000 for an off-standard colored puppy from the same litter is ridiculous because it’s not like that “rare” color took any extra money to produce. And yet, many people who deliberately produce off-standard colors do exactly this. It’s a money making scheme at best.

Boston terriers are a companion breed, which means all of them are bred for companions. Even show dogs are companions. “Breeding for companionship” is not enough of a reason to breed a dog- what do they have to prove the dog is bred to standard? Being purebred is not enough, and if you are breeding purebred dogs then why not breed to the purebred standard? Dog shows are there to judge how well the dog matches the standard by using an unbiased third party (several, actually)- if you are not participating, how do you know that your dog is correct?

All five of these dogs are purebred, registered Yorkshire Terriers, another companion breed. There is nothing about any of these dogs’ photos that tells me anything about their health, sure. However, there is plenty that tells me which ones were produced by people who actually care about the standard. Tiny dogs like Yorkies have their own unique struggles with health, so breeding too big or too small will cause problems for the dog and could even contribute to the dog’s early death. Coated breeds like Yorkies also have a specific coat type that’s called for, so breeding away from that coat type creates a coat that’s impossible to maintain. This is painful and dangerous for the dog, and annoying and expensive for the owner, because the incorrect coat type will be prone to matting and either need constant grooming (annoying) or to be shaved frequently (expensive) to spare the dog the pain of mats tugging at their skin.

Bostons have their own unique problems too- with the brachycephalic head, the short tail, the terrier attitude, and the genetics which go into the breed, there’s a lot to balance there. Ignoring that to focus solely on color is a disservice to the breed.

But one thing to keep in mind is that even the Boston Club of America will concede that there are some colors that will appear in responsibly produced litters. Bostons are only allowed by standard in black, seal, or brindle with white markings- solid colored dogs, liver colored dogs, dilutes, piebalds, those deviations from the standard are things that could happen in a responsibly bred litter.

Dogs with white markings will sometimes have puppies without, or with minimal white, or with markings in the wrong place. Because the white markings on a Boston are a type of piebaldism (I think I have the genetics right for this?), too much white can result in a dog that is deaf, blind, or has other amelanistic health problems (because various organs use melanin in their processes). This is also why the standard calls for the white markings to not go over the eyes or ears- it significantly ups the chances for producing a deaf or blind dog. Dogs with too little white aren’t as likely to have any health problems, but does mean that something’s happening to that piebald gene to not show up properly, which ups your risk of having too much white as well.

Any dog who is black can also be red (liver) and any red or black dog can also be dilute (blue, isabella). These are common mutations that have developed to be present in just about every dog breed and are just going to pop up every once in a while unless you are doing a lot of coat color genetics checks (and sometimes even if you do, since we just found a second dilution gene). I’m also about to get a dog from a breed that cannot have any of these colors, as black with tan points and white markings (black tri) is the only standard color. However, reds and blues popping up occasionally are not unheard of, even with the best bred litters. However those dogs are not unhealthy just because they are a different color, that’s simply a dice roll on coat color genetics, and those dogs are generally placed in a home that will not breed them and the breeder will make choices to avoid producing puppies of the off-standard colors again.

However, there are some colors that are not possible within the Boston breed- tricolor (I think) and merle are not possible within purebred Bostons, and that means anyone breeding “Boston Terriers” who are these colors are not breeding purebred dogs. This isn’t inherently a bad thing- there are people who breed mixed breed dogs that are also breeding responsibly- but it is dishonest to say that you are breeding purebred dogs when you are actually working with mixed breeds. People should be honest and knowledgeable when producing dogs. The options for calling a merle Boston “purebred” are either dishonesty or ignorance... neither of which are traits I’d expect in a responsible breeder.

Fawn (with black mask) I believe is directly from a cross breeding with the pug- if I am correct that would put that color also into the “dishonest or ignorant” camp.

Personally I’m in the camp of “if the color is possible within the breed and does not harm the dog then idgaf” which is why if the swissy breeder gets a red girl I won’t mind if that’s the one that comes home (I’m less a fan of dilutes due to the possibility of CDA)- but that’s an argument to be had with the breed club and not on the internet.

I’m also a working dog guy, so in general I don’t really care how a dog looks as long as it’s structurally sound, has the temperament I’m looking for, is relatively healthy with very few issues I need to keep track of, and can do the work I need. This is why I don’t particularly care that my doberman, for instance, does not match conformation standard within the breed- he is bred much more to the working standard and even then has his faults. Chihuahuas are also a companion breed, but after having a young puppy I rescued die from not being bred or cared for responsibly, I decided to go with a breeder that was doing right by their dogs rather than rescue again. In the Chihuahua, this means I’m going to a show breeder. Greater Swiss Mountain Dogs are a working breed without much of a breed split between show and working, so the breeder I went to both shows and works her dogs in various avenues. All three dogs are produced by people who do more than suggested health testing, extensive temperament testing, and a fantastic track record of producing healthy, sound, and sane dogs for their buyers.

[warriorsultimateguide]

Hi it’s me again, sorry. How do you draw calicos/tortoiseshells? I’m drawing Tawnypelt rn and I’m having so much trouble drawing her tabby markings, spots, etc. Any tips? I’m doing it on sketch paper so I think it’s a tad harder not having the right colors and all...

No worries! I love hearing from people :} Now for torties? That’s a bit of a hard question as I’m still working out how they work myself :S. But I’ll for sure do my best to try and explain!! This May be a long post, so if you want a shorter explanation please let me know and I’ll see what I can do ^^

The last tortie I drew was Tawnypelt I think--my memory doesn’t exactly Serve well, but let’s start off with the basics! We’ll talk base colors first.

Base colors

Torties can come in all sorts of colors, but the most important thing to keep in mind is that the base color is alwayss darker than the colors of the markings--here, I’ll show you some!

Here’s our tortie for the day, I’ll show off some base colors!

A lot of torties are black in base color I believe it’s the most common? But there are also

Blue torties

Chocolate torties

And many others! But those are hte most common ^^

Patches

All torties have brindled patches(though I personally don’t draw them that way aha) and they’re always lighter than their base-coat, and typically within this spectrum of colors

But you can Really do whatever you want, just don’t let the cat geneticists know I said that ;}. However it IS good design practice(with torties or calicoes at least) to make the patches lighter, it’s just easier on the eyes and looks better!

Patches can look like however you want, I personally envy the people who can do the brindled patches, it’s SOOO pretty, but I like to stylize them personally, it all depends on where you want your art style to go.

I’ll give a few examples using our base colors!

You can have as little or as much brindling as you want! And if you don’t wanna do stripes you can do this

Stripes

Sometimes torties have stripes, and I usually call them Torbies! WIth black torbies, I only do the stripes on the red patches, it’s a lot easier to see that way! Much better design clarity

Here’s an example

Though for torbies with a lighter base, I like to do stripes all over, but you can still only do them on the colored patches, that’s the fun in it!

Here are a couple of examples of both ^^

If you want some tabby tips I’d recommend looking at this post: link It might be Slightly outdated but a lost of the advice still applies to how I draw stripes :}

Nonetheless, I hope this was helpful for you!! If anything was unclear please do let me know, I’m open to any further questions you may have about cat design! ^^

[peterxwade24]

BWYD Chapter 8

How Marinette and Damian Acquired Their Pets

Bruce sat in his office, looking at apartment listings in Paris, when the door to his office was flung open and several heads of black hair flew into the room. Several voices spoke, trying to be heard over each other. He closed his laptop and pinched the bridge of his nose. “One at a time.” He sighed and looked at the boys. “Please.”

“Tiny Bat thought it’d be a good idea to practice flying-” Dick began.

“But, Pixie Pop got stuck-” Jason interrupted.

“And it’s all Grayson and Todd’s fault.” Damian finished, shooting a glare at his two older brothers. “Drake and Thomas are trying to coax her down but she won’t look down.”

Bruce’s eyes had blown wide and looked from Dick to Jason to Damian before he shot up out of his seat. He, followed by his three sons, ran out of the office and towards the cave. He took the stairs three at a time, pushing himself to go faster with every step.

“Mon Chou!” He called as soon as he caught sight of the red of her suit. He ran to stand underneath her form, his arms extended. “Mon Chou, you’ll be okay. Trust me.”

Marinette, her eyes catching sight of Bruce’s and never wavering from there, let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and let go, trusting him to catch her. She relaxed while she plummeted from the high roof of the ceiling into his waiting arms, until at the last second when she flexed her wings and fluttered down to him. A giant smile blossomed on her face as a giggle fell from her lips. “Hi Ubaba.”

Bruce pressed a kiss to her forehead and looked at his sons. “That’s how it’s done.” He looked over Marinette (her suit being comprised of an oversized dark red long-sleeved top tucked into black and dark red striped cargo pants over black combat boots, a black and dark red reversible hooded cape hanging from her shoulders, a dark red and black spotted domino mask concealing her identity covering her face from the tip of her nose to her hairline, with her hair (usually styled in a braid of some sort) pulled back into a low bun in order to allow her to easily pull her hood up) and smiled. “Okay Mon Chou. What have we told you?”

Marinette flushed, her translucent wings folding back underneath her cape and out of the way, before speaking. “Not to try flying unless it’s around Oiseau bleu’s gymnastic equipment.” She looked up at Bruce, the eye lenses shining with the same blue of her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “It’s okay. Just be more careful next time.” He looked over the six children in the cave before his eyes lit up. “Family meeting in my office. Whoever makes it to the office the fastest and the safest gets to pick what we’re having tonight for supper.”

All six of the kids took off, Marinette dropping her transformation after she’d reached the stairs, and Bruce shook his head at the antics of his children. He took the secret elevator back to his office and sat down in his plush office chair.

Tim and Duke ran into the office in unison, followed closely by Jason carrying Damian and Marinette with Dick bringing up the rear. Tim and Duke high-fived before turning to Bruce with matching smiles.

“What’s the meeting about?” Tim asked, plopping down into one of the chairs across from the desk.

Bruce looked over his family, his eyes counting, before turning to Marinette. “Mon Chou, can you go get Colin?”

Marinette nodded, passing Tikki a cookie before striding over to the window and pushing it open. “Tikki, spots on,” Marinette whispered and with that done she dove out of the window and flew off.

Marinette returned a few minutes later, Colin with his arms wrapped around Marinette’s neck and his face pressed into her cape, and set him down on the hard floor of the office.

Colin looked around the room. “So, as nice as that was. Why was I summoned?”

Bruce smiled at the children before turning his laptop around to let them see what was on his screen. “So,” he looked over the children, his youngest just shy of thirteen years old and his oldest thirty-one years old but still behaving like he was twelve, “who wants to go to Paris?”

---

Marinette looked around her room, a frown on her face, before she strode to the bathroom door. She walked through the bathroom and through the door to her brother’s room, where she threw herself onto his bed. “How can you decide what to bring?”

Damian looked at her over his shoulder and shrugged. “Just decide what you can’t live without. We’ll come back home every so often.”

Marinette nodded before a mischievous smile spread across her face. “You wanna go raid Jason and Dick’s rooms?”

Damian dropped the shirt in his hands before grabbing Marinette’s and the two ran from his room towards their oldest brothers’ rooms. They two broke apart, Damian going into Jason’s room while Marinette went into Dick’s. The two emerged, five minutes later, with four or five shirts tucked under their arms before they went into the other room and repeated the process. The two siblings, laden down with eight or ten shirts or hoodies each, ran to Damian’s room with mischievous smiles on their faces and chuckles streaming behind them. They collapsed onto Damian’s bed, the shirts and hoodies surrounding them.

“Okay. So, what did you take from Todd?” Damian inquired, his green eyes boring into Marientte’s blue eyes. “Huh?”

Marinette smiled a smile full of teeth, showing how happy she was. “His two favourite hoodies, one of his older shirts that smells like him, the hoodie he stole from Ubaba and one of his favourite shirts to steal from Ubaba.” She pursed her lips and looked at him. “You?”

Damian’s face broke out in a smirk. “All of his shirts from Alfred and all of Grayson’s hoodies from Alfred. What’d you take from Grayson?”

Marinette giggled. “I snatched the ones he snatched from Ubaba and the super soft hoodies.”

He held his hand up, “high five?”

Marinette high fived Damian before Alfred the cat jumped onto her abdomen. She let out a breath of air and laughed. “Are you going to bring any of your pets with us?”

Damian turned to lay on his side before he scratched Alfred behind the ears. “Probably Alfred and Titus. Goliath doesn’t really like people and Batcow likes the part of the cave she lives in. Do you wanna get some pets to take with you?”

Marinette shot up, earning a hiss from Alfred the cat who slunk away to lay in a stream of sunlight, and turned to look at Damian. “Can we go and bug Ubaba to take us to the shelter?’

Damian grabbed her hand after he sat up and dragged her through the manor. “Father! Father!”

“Ubaba!!” Marinette called, easily keeping pace with her older brother, her hair flowing behind them and acting much like her cape. She smiled and tumbled into Damian when he suddenly stopped, drawing a laugh from her brother.

“Can you stay on your feet for five minutes?” Damian laughed and pulled her back to her feet before he looked up at Bruce. “Father. We demand you take us to the shelter.”

“Please?” Marinette pouted up at Bruce, her cheeks flushed.

---

Marinette, Colin and Damian wandered around the shelter, Damian leading the two around and pointing out the more desirable pets. Colin let out a gasp and ran towards a single cage with a solitary dog within. He fell to his knees before the cage and held out his hand. Marinette and Damian followed at a much slower pace, appearing behind him and Marinette fell to her knees beside Colin.

In the cage was a single grey-silver labrador retriever puppy. The puppy’s eyes met Colin’s and Colin waited with baited breath for the puppy to come towards him. The puppy’s blue eyes looked over the three teens before stopping on Colin and letting out a happy yip.

Colin’s eyes widened and he let out a happy gasp. “This one. I want this one.”

Marinette smiled and nodded. “Okay. Ubaba!” She waved down Bruce and gestured wildly towards the cage in front of them. “Colin says this one!”

Bruce came over with the shelter worker, “this is the one?”

Colin nodded, not looking away from the puppy. “The one.”

The shelter worker nodded before they opened the cage, the puppy running out of the cage and into Colin’s waiting arms.

They all continued to roam the shelter before Colin spotted a tortoiseshell cat. He smiled at the cat and looked at Bruce. “This one.”

The shelter worker collected the cat and they continued walking. Marinette blocked out Damian’s words as she continued walking, no Damian she isn’t going to get a female Great Dane so they can have little Great Danes running around, before she comes to a stop in front of a cage.

The dog within the cage had a reverse brindle coat and the biggest, saddest brown eyes Marinette had ever seen. The dog was stocky in build and its ears were pinned back against its head. Marinette’s eyes widened and she crouched down in front of the cage, holding out her hand to the poor dog.

Damian scoffed but held his tongue, knowing that his sister would bond with a rabid hyena (and has (accidentally)) and would glare at him if he said anything. Colin crouched beside Marinette, a smile on his face. “He seems sweet.”

Marinette nodded as the dog, an American Pit Bull Terrier, hesitantly nudged her hand before giving her fingers a lick. She giggled and scratched the dog behind its ears. “Ubaba.” She turned to find her Ubaba standing next to a fear stricken shelter worker, the tortoiseshell cat held securely in his arms while the worker’s hand were clenched in front of their chest. “I want this one.”

Bruce nodded before turning to the worker next to him. “Will that be a problem?” His lips were pulled back in a tight smile but his voice came out icily.

“Are you sure?” The worker asked, narrowing their eyes at the dog. “It was a fighting dog. Are you sure that’s the one you want?” Their voice was barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” Marinette appeared at the worker’s elbow, her blue eyes boring into the worker’s skull. “Why wouldn’t I?” Her voice was soft and giving the worker an out, “what’s wrong with him? He’s gentle and beautiful and was so afraid I would hit him that he cowered away when I approached him.” Her voice grew hard and she glared at the worker before turning away and opening the cage to let the dog out. Her heart broke when she saw how thin he was and his docked tail before she pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

Marinette turned to look for a cat and stopped in front of an albino Maine Coon. She waggled her fingers in front of the cat and smiled when the cat bit her fingers. “Ubaba! Look! It’s Damian as a cat!”

---

Marinette walked out of the shelter, Oberon, her American Pit Bull Terrier, in front of her and Houdini, her Maine Coon, held in her arms. Colin followed Marinette with Gypsy, his silver Labrador Retriever, happily barking at everything from Colin’s arms while Rayas, his tortoiseshell cat, was wrapped around his shoulders. Damian brought up the rear with Bruce, glaring at the shelter worker as they walked out. They had a long night of packing ahead of them and like Hell were they about to let some bigot bring down Marinette.

@dast218 @toodaloo-kangaroo @amayakans @crazylittlemunchkin @marinettepotterandplagg

[inu-jiru]

Decided to post my GTLW AU fic in honor of that spicy fanart @thedogyeller made 😏 Warning though, this is a very petty story and if you even remotely like Sirius, you should probably not read this lololol

Monsoon was finally dead. The demon’s body lied motionlessly in the shallows, the water surrounding it slowly turning a faint shade of red. The soldiers of Ohu returned to the shore, panting and dripping with sea water. Weary smiles were etched onto their faces as they looked each other over for injuries. The dead had been avenged. Ohu was no longer under the pursuit of a dog-eating psychopath. The war was finally over.

Orion shook out his coat, keeping a tight grip on the scythe he’d used to slit Monsoon’s throat. Though the fighting was over and Akame would, no doubt, come to claim it from him, holding the scythe gave Orion a sense of victory. Most of Monsoon’s blood had been washed away in the sea, but what little remained on the blade, Orion could smell. There was no doubt in his mind; he’d done it. He’d killed the bastard.

“NO!” a shrill yowl suddenly cut through the air. The Ohu Army fell silent, the dogs all turning to look towards the rocky cliffs overlooking the beach. Cross and Sirius had been on these cliffs for the entirety of the battle, Sirius because of the injuries on his back, and Cross because someone needed to keep an eye on him. Before the battle, Sirius had been so weak that he couldn’t stand. Now, he was up on his paws, preparing to jump from the edge of the cliff.

“No, Sirius!” Cross cried out in alarm, leaping forward to grab the young male by the scruff of his neck. Sirius’ eyes, once vacant and lifeless, were now blazing in cold fury. With a growl, he swung his head back, bashing Cross in the chin. Cross staggered back with a yelp. “Why, you…!”

“Don’t touch me!” Sirius snapped at her. His eyes began darting madly, searching for familiar faces in the crowd. “Damn you! Damn you all! It wasn’t supposed to go like this! I was supposed to fix him! I was supposed to love him!”

“Sirius…” murmured Gin, stepping forward. “You need to understand. There was no fixing him. He was a monster and he needed to die for all of our sakes--”

“Shut up!” Frothy saliva was now dripping from the corners of Sirius’ maw. “Just shut up, damn it! You’re all wicked! Every last one of you! Especially…” His icy eyes now fell on Orion. “You.”

Everyone turned to look at Orion. The two brothers had been butting heads for months now, and with the sickle in his possession, an attack from Orion could’ve easily spelled death for Sirius. Orion stared unflinchingly at Sirius, his teeth digging into the sickle’s wooden handle.

“I’m wicked, eh?” Orion finally replied, in a voice that was oddly calm. “Heh...that’s rich coming from the guy in love with a homicidal maniac.”

“He wasn’t like that!” Sirius argued, leaping down onto the sand. Aside from a staggering gait, he seemed to be able to walk perfectly fine. Cross stood at the cliff’s edge, trying once more to reach the blue brindle.

“Please, Sirius,” she called. “You’re not thinking straight! Come back and rest, alright!?”

“He wasn’t like that?” echoed Orion, his eyes widening with disbelief. “Oh, so Lydia, Hiro, Kenshin, Musashi, Jaguar...everyone else who’s dead...that didn’t happen, right? God, you really are delusional, aren’t you?”

“Orion, that’s enough,” Weed finally spoke up. He rushed between his sons, shooting a warning glare at the red male. “Be quiet and let me deal with Sirius.”

“Oh, no, no.” A sly grin stretched across Orion’s muzzle. “I wanna hear how else this idiot tries to excuse Monsoon’s actions. Listen up, everyone! Sirius is gonna tell us how Monsoon is just so sweet and kind and never hurt anyone--”

“Hraaaaah!” Sirius screamed. Without warning, he charged. Weed acted quickly, rearing onto his hind legs and grasping the younger brindle with his forelegs.

“Enough, damnit!” Weed snapped. “Orion isn’t worth it, Sirius! Go back to Cross right now; that’s an order!”

“Stop protecting him, Weed,” said Orion. Weed, taken aback, glanced back at him in surprise.

“What…?”

“Sirius is an adult, and so am I. If he wants to fight…” Orion bowed slightly, his brow furrowing and his lips curling back to show off his fangs. “Then let’s fight.”

“No…” Weed muttered. “No, I can’t allow--” His words fell on deaf ears. Orion had made his decision long ago that Weed was no father of his, back during that winter, when Weed beat his young body against the snow. Now, Orion was disowning a brother. If Sirius loved that bear so much that he’d forsake his own kind, then they could rot in hell together.

With another battle cry, Sirius pushed past his father, advancing towards Orion again. Orion stood where he was, watching, waiting, until Sirius got close enough. When the moment was right, Orion sprang forward, moving to the side just as Sirius tried to bite down on his shoulder. Swinging the scythe, the sharp tip plunged into the blue brindle’s exposed back, tearing into the already damaged flesh.

“Gyaaaaah!” Sirius screamed, arching his back in some hopeless attempt to rid himself of the pain. Fresh blood spurt out onto the sand. Weed looked towards Gin, his ears falling back against his head.

“Father! Stop this! Please, Sirius will die!”

To Weed’s surprise, Gin didn’t move. The old Akita didn’t even respond, instead gazing on at the fight with a expression Weed couldn’t read. None of the Ohu soldiers stepped in, their old smiles being replaced with firm frowns. Others looked away, continuing to tend to their comrades. It seemed everyone felt the same way. There was no point in stopping this fight, not because of Orion’s rage, but because Sirius needed to be stopped. His interfering, his Messiah complex, his self-righteousness...he was a mockery to the name of Ohu, to the name of Riki. If the fool truly believed he was right, then it was certain that his meddling wouldn’t end here, if he didn’t snap and try to kill other members of his family next. Perhaps it was better this way.

Realizing that he was on his own, Weed turned back to the fight, preparing to break it up himself. He only saw a blue blur speeding towards him. With a grunt, Weed was thrown off his paws, falling into a heap of fur as Sirius’ body lay on top of him. A few feet away, Orion stared intensely at his ex-brother and father, leaning down slightly to retrieve the sickle from the ground. He paced, never tearing his gaze from his brother’s body. Sirius struggled to his paws, grunting in pain as his entire back was stained with his blood. Below him, Weed reached up with a paw.

“Sirius…” he whispered. His eyes began to sting with tears. “Don’t...he’ll kill you…”

Anger clutched Orion’s heart like a bear’s claws. Sirius, Sirius, Sirius...Weed didn’t care about anyone except Sirius, did he!?

“Orion needs to be punished, Father,” Sirius responded. His voice was hollow, almost robotic. It was as if the mask of compassion he’d been wearing all this time had finally fallen off. “I’ll be the one to bring peace to this world, but first, I need to kill off this demon.”

“Ha!” Orion scoffed. “Try it then, shithead!”

Sirius charged again, fangs flashing in the moonlight. Orion tossed the sickle into the air, catching it after it flipped over. The tip was now facing upwards. Orion dashed at Sirius with great speed, lowering his head before suddenly swiping it, and the sickle, upwards. The blade impaled Sirius’ lower jaw and tongue, not unlike Monsoon’s claw when it had impaled poor Bob’s mouth months back. The mongrel in question perked as he the reference.

“Yeah!” Bob cheered, a wave of catharsis washing over him. “How do you like it, Sirius!?”

By now, Weed had gotten back to his paws. He turned towards Orion just in time to see the male hoisting Sirius into the air by the jaw, ignoring his whines of agony as he began slamming into the ground again, and again, and again, painting the sand crimson. Weed rushed at Orion with a fierce yell, only to receive another blow from Sirius’ body that sent him flying a few feet away.

Orion then flung Sirius upward, allowing his jaw to slip off of the scythe’s blade. Sirius flew high into the air as blood rained down from his body. Tossing the scythe aside, Orion jumped up after his brother, his body spinning into a Battouga. Everyone watched with bated breath as the disk of fur almost seemed to phase through Sirius’ falling body. Suddenly, Sirius’ body split vertically down the middle, and the two halves fell into the sand, gushing blood. There was silence.

The traitor was dead.

Orion landed on his paws near the two bloody halves, panting heavily. He looked down at Sirius’ remains, scowling contemptuously.

“Rot in hell, you worthless sack of shit.”