Ricochet was not overly observant; it was one of those things that his father had taught him, but had faded into his memories, slipping away month by month. It was his confidence that led to this foolish belief that he could deal- meaning fighting- with anything that could otherwise be avoided, which let his guard down. But that did not mean he was entirely the fool, either. The buttermilk boy relied on Guns, with his sharp nose and pricked ears, to act as a warning system.

Utterly absorbed into this companionship, the distant blood tying them together, reveling in the sensation of camaraderie, it was easy to stop paying attention to the drenched scenery around them. Catastrophically easy.

Their unseen and unknown ‘friend’ was clever, slipping through the trees, staying downwind like a good little spy. Maybe it was that she was so engrossed in her eavesdropping that she forgot to watch out for the dog, with had drifted away from the Incendiary’s flank, snotty black nose pressed to the ground, occasionally stopping to tilt his head this way and that way. Guns was by no means dumb, for all his companion’s claims. In truth, he was clever- his cleverness perhaps exceeding Ricochet’s in some cases. As he wandered, dripping dismally with rainwater, chilled and soaked to the bone, something warned him of difference. Some might call it that sixth sense them dogs have.

Guns watched the pigeon in sore temper, the feathered bird out of reach. It was just taunting him, plump and juicy, cooing in a sopping tree. Every time it hopped from foot-to-foot, fluffing up its mottled gray feathers, a shower of droplets rained down on the collie’s head.

A low growl rumbled in Guns’ throat, a reverberation not unlike the crash of thunder from the sky. He shook his head, dislodging a cascade of freezing water.

Beyond the pigeon, something cracked.

Ricochet’s ears twitched cautiously, lifting his head. “Did you hear that?” The boy asked Dragomir, teal eyes narrowing into daggers once more. A bolt of lightning cracked down, splitting the sky in a thousand tiny shards of gloomy gray and dismal, drab silvers.

Something wasn’t right, Guns could feel it. Slaver dripped from his black jaws. He crept forwards, nostrils twitching, inhaling the musky scent of mud and leaf mold and green. There! A mare… no, pieces of a mare, flickering like a wraith, coming together and vanishing for a few moments, no, not vanishing, camouflaging. And in his primitive dog brain, he thought something like ‘what the fuck is that?’ And so he gave a short staccato of barks that were louder than the hiss of the rain, barks that made his whole body shake and the air quiver.

Ricochet’s muscle tensed, almost automatically jerking into preparation for battle, ears pinning to pale skull, eyes stark with suspicion as he moved away from Dragomir, soggy earth squelching beneath his hooves.

“GUNS!” He roars, quickening to a trot towards the edge of the trees, and through the sheets of rain there is a glimpse of black and- feathers?

Unseen by the Incendiary, Guns lunges at the mare, leaping upwards in attempts to close his jaws on Shadow’s left wing, just in case she got ideas about leaving.

“NIEQUE!” The Incendiary screams, lunging forward, hooves sinking into the ground, eyes glistening with a wild fervor, and he braces himself for the interlocking green of the young willow trees, letting them claw at his buttermilk skin as he tears through, scraping his face and shoulder, water splattering behind him as he charges through, teeth bared and ears pinned. Why did he use Nieque's name? In hopes of goading Dragomir into the fight as well. He couldn't be so selfish as to spill all the blood.

Guns barks again, dropping back to await orders from Ricochet.

How dare she eavesdrop? She would pay for this. He wouldn't let her go, no, he wouldn't, he would beat her down into a pulp and tear at her until she broke beneath his hooves.

“FUCK YOU!” Ricochet shouts, and he shoots forward in attempts to past her, twisting his head down and bucking at Shadow’s delicate leg joints in hopes of shattering one.