Paws keep a steady rhythm as they sweep across the dying, brown vegetation that fills the forest. A long tongue lolls off the side of a patch-work face, the heat here promising the collie won't get much respite, but he presses on. With nose sweeping the ground he is intent on finding the trail of the little Ricochet, or perhaps even that of the fighting mare with the fire bird.

Speaking of birds, a dove takes to its wings as he breezes past its bush. It causes his head to jerk to the side, golden eyes attracted to the movement. His stomach churns, a reminder that his meals have been thin as of late with all of this traveling. A bit of hunting along the way wouldn't add much time - he knew Ricochet would have sunlight to spend regardless. Plus, he'd track better on a full stomach, or so he'd use as an excuse.

Veering off a faint path Guns stole into the better depths of the forest, pace slowing and belly slinking. In little time he was upon a flock of doves pecking absently at the dirt. Easy, stupid targets, Guns thought eagerly. Further and further the collie swept up the distance until he was so close he could taste them! As he lunged, oblivious to the thunder of hooves that scared the doves before his teeth snatched them, deaf to the shouting voices that foretold the ones he wanted, the birds scattered with a cry of alarm and slapping feathers. Smoke met the gaping jaws instead, tasting gritty and foul and heavy. Guns landed poorly, his aim thrown by all the explosion of ruckus and madness that quickly ensued around him.

The ground shook - that he felt. His name was screamed - that he heard. Too late though, his focus too set on a lost meal.

Hooves consumed the space around him, one pair narrowly striking him while others swept around. Adrenaline spiked in the dog that had already been running on that natural high. Surprise overwhelmed sense and a high-pitched yelp agonized an injury that did not exist. Tail tucked and hackles raised the collie sprinted away from the chaos, eyes watering and lungs choking on the smoky veil that sent his sense haywire. As he ran, he recalled someone had called his name. Instinct yielded to better sense of his heart and the black and white dog blurred around a tree and lunged back towards the fray, barks echoing the excitement pumping through his paws.

In the distance, a dunskin bellowed in response to the yelling that came muffled, and the scream of a dog that came all too clear. Cold dread filled the stallion as he shoved off his tree, surging into the woods with a haste his bloodlines could boast of.

Guns and Ricochet came upon the scene together. "GUNS!" Ricochet called harshly, his tones rough with his fear and his confusion. A creme body bounced to a slow trot as a bark came in response and teal eyes settled on an all too familiar cloud of smoke. A harsh snort curled from the dunskin with an explosive finale, the gunpowder gathered in his nostrils feeding the emotional state of the young stud with deadly magic. "Smoke!" he hollered, knowing she was near, haunches tucking as he whirled, fore hooves bouncing up and grazing over top the collie. Guns didn't flinch this time however, trust and partnership placed in the Incendiary. Too long had they been each other's shadows that one could so easily harm the other, these strangers however, still had the dog's fur up on end and set his teeth to bare.

"WHAT'S GOING ON!?" Ricochet demanded, furious at his lack of insight as he glanced the form of Kimber and a strange, striped mare all mixed up together.