Junkyard Dogs

[colourcodedchaos]

Ashmedai

 

"Ah, so someone here does know rule 1. I was beginning to wonder. But yes. My name is Ashmedai. Current count is one hundred and forty-six. Anyone want to be 147, be my guest. And if anyone wants to sic me on Ty's mob with no plan, no backup and nothing to lose, I'll be happy to discuss rates after food and a room have been allotted to me. Glad the charade doesn't have to be kept up any more, it gets old after a while." Ashmedai smiled. Well, she showed teeth and her eyes glittered.

 

That counts as a smile, right?

[Packgoater]

Frost let a small, sly, slithering smile escape from her lips and show itself as her pale blue eyes narrowed, this time with pleasure. "I think I might just like you yet, Ashmedai. But I am no fool, like Ty. I plan, I use strategy, I think. I have a brain. That the problems with males, isn't it?" she sighed, rolling her eyes and tossing her head to show that she wanted Ashmedai to follow. Then she walked, head held high, through the crowds of her people, her pack, her family, her pride, and wandered through a few rooms before she came to one a few young mutts sat in, and nodded. "This is where you'll stay. This is where our Omegas stay. You know the rules, and if you don't, you'll learn them soon enough."

[colourcodedchaos]

Ashmedai

 

"I hear and obey, Alpha. I only hope that you'll let me be the one to present you with Ty... I wouldn't dream of denying you the satisfaction of the taste of his blood. Sitra Akhar calls for him as it does for us all... perhaps we should talk in the morning of terms and strategy, so that this all can come to pass. Much has been done tonight." With that, Ashmedai ducked her head in a respectful but not fawning bow, her eyes glinting with possibilities in the frail, wan light of the reflected moon.

[Packgoater]

Frost looked at her from the corner of her eyes and pulled her lips into a smirk. "Unfortunately, Ashmedai, you are merely an omega. I will talk with the betas and you will be given orders. If you wish to move in rank, simply challenge another pack member. I like you, Ashmedai, and hope someday you shall be my beta. But until then, you are an omega," she said sharply, before turning on her heel and walking away. She had matters to attend to, and no matter how much she liked Ashmedai, Ashmedai was an omega, and omegas weren't worth Frost's time. She snorted, entered a stairwell, and made her way to her room.

 

A runty little scruffy ruffian looked at the old dog before her. Shaking the slime that dripped from her nose, she let out a raspy bark in greeting. The whole half of her lean body wriggled mercilessly, and she rolled on her back, letting a whine come from the back of her throat. She immediately saw this dog as a threat; Ashmedai would likely be the boss of the omegas, and the way she talked to Frost... Well, it was... different. If possible, she pressed herself even flatter to the ground as another dog walked up with a snort. This dog was more muscular, arrogant clearly, and likely an omega only for disobeying Frost. He was covered with scars and one of his eyes was missing, as well as his tail. The fur around his muzzle was graying and his eyes were cold and wise. His coat was a complex array of brindle on the boxer's rather bulky frame. "Who're you?" he snarled, clearly a demand. "Whatta you want?" the brindle boxer growled, letting the sound rumble and reverberate through his chest and echo off the walls of the abandoned buildings. A few other omegas gathered around Ashmedai and the boxer with wide eyes, eager to see a fight. The ruffian scooted out of the way, not wanting to get hurt by either of them.

[colourcodedchaos]

Ashmedai

 

"Oh, a brindled hound. Tell me, did your master find the witch of the Westmoreland with a good grey hawk in hand, or is that just flying over your head like every other polysyllabic word does?" Ashmedai's tone was light. "Listen, you're obviously fairly hard. You're useful. You're less useful dead. You get one warning, and that was it." Her body radiating confidence, Ashmedai turned to her experienced eyes and clear, vicious brain to analyse her assailant.

 

Boxer. Heavyset. Multiple scars, so some experience. Down here, so something to prove. Loyalty to Frost, perhaps? Ladies in charge don't sit well with him. It's why he's so covered in scars; run-ins with the dogs who set up the new order, no doubt.

 

"Tell me, Spot, do you know rule 1?"

[Packgoater]

The boxer flared his nostrils. "I'm not some bulldog, you flea-bitten matted rag of a dog. I can think. I know rule number one. Don't we all? But in times like these, loyalty is the first law, the one we follow by. You should learn it," he snapped, his eyes turning cold and harsh. "You're useful enough, probably more useful alive, as well. So I'll let you be, for now. I'm the one who hands out warnings, I'm the alpha of the omegas. That's how it's been for the past few days, and that's how it'll be until..." he growled, flattening two cropped ears. "Nevermind, you're not worth it. But you're stereotypes are a bit harsh for my liking. Keep them in check, or I will for you."

[colourcodedchaos]

Ashmedai

 

Ashmedai trotted over nonchalantly and kept her tone light. "You're right. I'm just an old mercenary dog. Harah, what was I thinking trying to challenge a young, male thing? But really... you're forgetting something. Riddle me this-"

 

She burst forward and snatched the boxer's hind leg in her powerful jaws. Crunching down on it, mostly for her own amusement and definitely not for the taste, she snapped her body around in a circle and threw the dog through a television screen, and indeed out the other side, decaying plastic not providing much resistance to your average ballistic canine. It was showy, much too showy, but necessary. You could only get so far on threats and weird behaviour and it was imperative that she fixed the image of the unbeatable warrior in their heads. Even though Yeshua knew she wasn't.

 

"How does an active, employable mercenary live for nine years."

 

It wasn't a question. The crunch as the TV set toppled backwards onto the yelping boxer still provided the answer, though.

[Packgoater]

((Because Frost is high up there and probably can't talk with Ashmedai too much, I'll make a new character. He's Stribog, Frost's only son (he killed off the others).))

 

The other dogs backed off, whimpering, whining and all together uncomfortable. This new dog was not to be messed with, she was to be left alone. She was the alpha omega. She was their leader, their person to both be afraid of and look up to. She was their spokesperson, advocate, and also source of fear. But she was, most importantly, one of them. They parted and mostly spread apart, but suddenly flattened their bellies to the ground as a few spotted a young dog whom had been watching. He was a troublemaker and a tormentor, he was Frost's son and thought that made him special. He was a cocky young brute who was hard headed and stubborn, not to mention rash and rather vile. He was Stribog, a fluffy young malamute who had just seen his old mentor get pushed around by an old mercenary who he was starting to respect. Maybe. Tossing his head about arrogantly, he strode up to her. "That was a good fight. You're new, I saw you this morning. I'll have you know I'm Frost's son and I... oversee things for her sometimes. I'll take her title of alpha next, because everyone knows our bloodline is superior. So don't even try," he growled, sniffing at the end of his speech. "I forgot how dank, musky and dark it is in here. You poor, poor omegas. By the way, we'll be planning a run, and I'm thinking we'll put you all on the front lines."

[colourcodedchaos]

((Sorry about the wait, I've been busy with uni stuff. And your man Stribog's definitely in need of a rolled-up newspaper, preferably one rolled-up around a bit of old pipe...))

 

Ashmedai

 

"You're to succeed Frost? That's nice. Everyone should have their little flights of fancy. I met a King Charles spaniel once, smart lad, convinced he was Oliver Cromwell. Bit himself to death after a while, very sad. Still, it's nice to know I'll be earning my keep. If you'll excuse me, I think I need to give this lot a little instruction in how to fight. Best thing about cannon fodder is that if they stick around, you can use them again and again. And then they'll teach the rest. So I'm doing you a favour, mister Overseer, by doing your job for you. Remember that. On your way, lad, you don't want to stay in this festering heap any more than necessary. Your mum might make you take a bath or something. Tatty-bye..." With that, Ashmedai turned and raised her voice. "You lot, form ranks, ten abreast! Now!"

 

The story about the spaniel had been mostly real. Vortigern, his name had been; a good dog who'd taken her in for a while and talked about his days as the mascot of the Department of Insensate Carnage. His mind was a furnace. He'd taught her everything; about the Voice of Command that humans used, hardwired into a dog's brain; about how to fight with the swiftness of something called a 'fencer'; about leading raids and pack-level tactics; about this magical thing called the Left, which said that everyone could pull together and prosper together, if only they'd let themselves. It had dawned on her after a year or so that he'd wanted a successor to his ideas.

 

He'd been so weak and confused at the end... they'd broken back into his old university, found a basket for him, pulled it up close to the fire in somewhere called the Master's Study, whatever that meant. He'd scratched his ears, turned around in it three times, and gone to sleep. He'd been nearly eleven; the six-year-old Ashmedai had left him there, in front of the fire, to sleep out his last night in peace.

 

She didn't know, of course, that he was still alive, still occasionally convinced that he'd led the Roundheads to victory in the Civil War, and still thinking fondly of her.

 

It was probably for the best.

 

"Right then! My name is Ashmedai, and you are all going to die horribly tomorrow morning." This had about the same effect as you'd expect - everyone started shouting at once. In the confines of her head, Ashmedai facepawed. "QUIET! Better. Now then. You're all going to die tomorrow... unless you listen to me now. Because you're strong, you're all strong, but you're scared. The place we'll be raiding? It doesn't matter. Battles are big and noisy and terrifying, yes, but if you are scared then one of two things will happen. Either you'll freeze up with the shock of it, and then be killed, or you'll keep on going, and then nothing can stop you. But that's only half the story. Spread out a little, I'm going to show you how to win yourselves some fights..."

 

And so began the training.

 

And so, in the head of the elderly deerhound, began the revolution.

[Packgoater]

((Hah, yes. He needs some discipline. ))

 

 

Stribog open and closed his mouth a few times, infuriated. No, how could she...? It didn't... Waiiiiiiiiiit what? She was training them? The useless omegas? That-that wasn't possible! That was Stribog's job! She couldn't do that! "N-NO!" he let out yelp of disgruntlement as he sat down and watched, letting her speech sink in. Stribog himself didn't really know how to fight. He was a year old, never had gone out on the battlefield, and was shaking of the thought of doing so. And yet, here he was, the son of Frost, not knowing how to fight and watching an old female give a powerful speech and begin her training. Stribog cleared his throat, his eyes lowering to his paws and back up as he looked at her, his legs starting to shake as he attempted to overthrow his instinct to writhe on the ground and show respect to the hound before him. In the end he cleared his throat, embarassed, and whimpered, ducking his head to Ashmedai. "Will you -I mean- I command you to... -er- I... Canyouteachmetoo?" he spluttered, looking guiltily up at her with large brown eyes. What had he just done? "No. I mean, you need to go away. Now. And..." he mumbled, obviously loosing steam. "And... and... yeah. That's what you should do," the malamute/husky cross muttered dumbly, clearly not the brightest dog in the world.

[colourcodedchaos]

Ashmedai

 

"I see. You're going to be difficult to deal with... so I won't deal with you. Your mother's subordinates will. Goodness, they'll be tricky. Frost keeps them in line because they all know she can beat enough tar out of their sorry little bodies to repaint an ocean liner. And since you asked me to teach you how to fight - an omega, trapped down in the dark with the rats and the creep of sickness - I wonder what they'll make of you. Lunch, probably. So, unless you feel like calling for Frost and letting her know just what power you've really got... get in line."

 

Ashmedai waited. As one dog, the omegas turned towards Stribog, nervous as a barrel of kittens in a raptor pit but utterly unable to look away. She turned a stare on the Shadow Prince that the rest of the low dogs had felt full-force before - a stare that seemed to slice through skin and bone and all the artifice of self-delusion and expose a dog's soul, scared and naked in the simmering dark.

 

"Your choice, Stribog. Yours alone."

[Packgoater]

Stribog shifted on his feet, unease written on his face. Then he suddenly started to slink away from her, until he realized his feet were moving toward the line. It was as if he couldn't control them. He stood sharply in line, his face a stormy scowl, and cowered. Him, the big male, cowered and hunched over, looked up at her with miserable eyes. He would hear about this. Word would get out and Frost would disown him. She would have a beta take his place for the throne. Stribog shook his massive head, dotting the surrounding dogs and walls with bits of saliva as he thought of the horrors he would have to deal with. "Don't- don't tell Frost]please..."[/i] he whimpered, all regality and dignity gone with the wind.

[67596]

"Oh, what an experience." Kadabara said. A look of embarrassment silently passed over her face. Thief had not meant to make her uncomfortable in any way. "Are you really starting a pack? That sounds so much better than having to be a loner, to have a pack to watch your back, hunt together, and fight together..." She stopped dead and her head snapped to the side. Thief fixed his gaze in the same place and saw nothing. What was she looking at? If Kadabara were human, she would probably be pale faced with her face locked into an expression of concern. Unfortunately, dogs gave off no such indication of emotion besides their tail. "What is it? Do you smell something odd?"

[colourcodedchaos]

Ashmedai

 

((I understand that this may be perceived as character control. I would have asked permission, but I'm at least five hours ahead of everyone else here (I think) and I have to sleep at some point. So yeah. Besides, I tried to keep Stribog in what little character he's established as having, so 's'all good.))

 

"I won't, unless you give me a reason to. So let's get started! This is standard sword drill, I learned this off an old, old friend. He was a mercenary like me. He was eleven when he died. This should tell you everything you need to know about how good he was at not being killed! Now, I want you to copy my movements exactly!"

 

Ashmedai dropped into a low stance, teeth bared and back ramrod-straight. The other dogs followed suit, slightly raggedly at first, but the deerhound paced through the lines correcting the stances. They were all in the right shape for a variety of attacks now. She began to teach the basics, using a technique that Vortigern had called 'kata breakdown,' whatever in harah's name that was to the humans. She showed herself fighting off a pack of invisible dogs, each step measured and each swipe of her claws a killing blow. Then, once that was complete, she had them drill the same basic swipes and step patterns over, and over, and over.

 

It was doubtless upsetting for Stribog to learn that he was being outpaced by the smarter omegas. A female border collie on the other end of the line in front of him was highly praised for her efforts - they'd only been at this an hour and she'd already got the movements down pat. Instead of moving her on, though, Ashmedai set her to teach the dogs who were really struggling in a smaller group. They improved quickly, likely to the astonishment of the malamute princeling. He couldn't be seen to be shown up by the omegas, and so redoubled his efforts.

 

Face front. Turn left, drop, sidestep, left foreleg rip. Move forward, sidestep, right foreleg rip. Turn about, drop, sidestep, left foreleg rip. Move forward, sidestep, right foreleg rip.

 

With a snarl of pride in his abilities, Stribog turned and waited. Ashmedai spotted him, gave him a calculated smirk, and then spoke a single command.

 

"Again"

 

So that was what he did.

Edited September 20, 2011 by colourcodedchaos

[Packgoater]

((Where do you live? O.o I live in the U.S., so you're probably right... O.o

It's fine, and that would definitely be how he would act. ))

 

Stribog let out a low grumble/growl that rumbled through his chest and echoed lightly off the walls. He was not a graceful dog by any means, and his paws seemed to go exactly where he didn't want them to, resulting in him landing face-first on the cold tile floor. Stribog let out a grunt and went back to the routine. He had to do it, he had to show those omegas. His face knit in deep concentration, he watched Ashmedai and her movements closely, doing his best to mimic them exactly. When he finally had it down he could've leapt for joy. He did the movements again and did them pretty well. Soon he was rapidly doing them over and over again, concentrating to get his large paws moving the right way, and getting better each time.

 

[colourcodedchaos]

((Where do you live? O.o I live in the U.S., so you're probably right... O.o

It's fine, and that would definitely be how he would act. ))

((I live in Britain, which is near England. England is the birthplace of many great inventions: the practice of heron-spiking, the Great Wall of Hamburg, most modern post-impressionist appreciation theories and the number four. As an American, you will of course not know any of this... *liarjackplz*))

 

Ashmedai

 

Ashmedai helped the last omega, a nervous looking young terrier called Argo, through the final passage of the sequence. Smiling, she pronounced them ready to start learning economy of movement.

 

Most dogs fought in a barbarian frenzy, rolling around in a big dustcloud until one party gave in from sheer exhaustion. This usually led the victor to be jumped by the loser's packmates; the humans called such things 'dogpiles,' according to one half-remembered conversation the deerhound had had with Vortigern. They didn't suit Ashmedai's style at all. Vortigern had taught her to be elegant and economical in combat; neat, small movements that to the untrained eye were inconsequential, right up until the charging dog barrelled past her and had its throat shredded. This was what she proceeded to have the omegas and Stribog practice, again and again, one side running at them while the other side stepped and lashed their paws out at the throats or sides. She had the lines shift up and down - she didn't want anyone to know how anyone fought too well, that would defeat the object of the exercise - and kept a weather eye on promising dogs that she would reveal further mysteries to. Stribog was one. Despite his considerable bulk and the considerable problems he was having in lining his stance up, he seemed to be learning very quickly. More to the point, he seemed to want to, like the collie female who seemed to have a mind like a scalpel blade and the reflexes to match. Another was a leviathan St. Bernard who was surprisingly nimble, but she needed to get him to stop holding back. A few others popped into her mind, but she focussed on the dogs having trouble and propped them up.

 

Throughout it all, she told them stories of the Left. Of it being a magical kingdom, far away, where the food was free and the sick were healed and no favours or patronage or petty politicking marred anyone's lives. Where the needs of the many weren't equal to the needs of the few, because they were the same. A shining, sun-lit empire where no dog was left behind and all dogs could be proud of. And, if dogs worked hard for it, it wasn't just a possibility. It was an inevitability.

 

Despite his roots in the caste system of the Shadowpack, Stribog somehow found himself going along with it. After all, he wanted to do his bit for the Shadowpack as much as the next dog, and if that meant working with omegas then, well, that was what it meant. Besides, it just meant acting like a pack, only without people sickening and dying. He'd never have to be scared of the end.

 

He gritted his teeth and waited for the next runner to come at him.

 

He was ready for them.

 

((Ashmedai, the Junkyard Dogs RPG's official Cool Old Lady...))

[shelbell]

((Acutally, i thought that packgoater's dog was talking to us, sorry))

Kadara's tenchtions faded, "No, sorry, thought that i smelled somthing. Anyway, are you?" She sat back down and knawed in her bone, listening carfully to what he might say.

[67596]

Thief relaxed a bit once Kadara did. "No, sorry, thought that i smelled somthing. Anyway, are you?" Thief thought it over a little bit. Yes, he had been considering it for quite some time now. It could bring prosperity or it could overwhelm him with new mouths to feed. Kadara gnawed on a bone and looked at him curiously. "Yes, I beleive I will start a pack. I don't know what to name it yet but it will be done." There, that was out of the way. Now the party could begin for real even if not many dogs were there yet.

Edited September 23, 2011 by ArchiosLukos

[DragonGirl10188]

(( Don't see an OOC and looks interested. *rubs hands together* I've been prepapring a doggie charrie.

 

Name: Maya

Age: 3 years (In dog years she'd be 21 )

Breed: Alaskan Malamute x Siberian Husky

Rank: Loner

Appearance: X

Gender Female

Personality: To be rp'ed.

Mate: None.

Pups: A little puppy. Her name is Gina..

History: Maya use to have a lovely owner who was possibly the best human she met. Her life was good back then- but she was abandoned. One day her human disappeared and was replaced by a teenager, or someone from college. She was thrown out into the cold and deserted to the infamous Boneland. The man knew she was pregenant, and a few weeks later a healthy litter was born, a litter of five. Four died due to hunger and cold, which has haunted her mind this past month. But her little Gina has a strong mind and body, she has survived but is starting to get weaker by the day.

Introduction Paragraph: Maya brushed her pup's fur with her tongue and shuffled her paws forward, while sweeping her tail around the back of Gina. She could see she was starving. "Mummy..." She muttered and dropped her head. "Yes, I know. Let me go get something for us" She sighed and looked at the small heap of rocks they had found in the forests.

Maya was soon venturing out into the forest with her nose in the air. Minutes passed, and nothing was here. "Just an empty land of traitors" She growled and shook her pelt.

 

Oh! She lifted her head and started charging. Meat! The wonderous smell of fresh meat. A corpse was laying in the middle of some trees. She glared around with sharp eyes while cautiously approaching. Her mind was playing tricks on her, wasn't it? Nope. The meat was real. She was soon finished all of it, with tiny specks of meat left. She heard the scavengers coming and was already off.

 

 

))

Edited September 23, 2011 by DragonGirl10188

[colourcodedchaos]

((Well I'm all for letting you in. Come and join the world's only canine socialist revolution!))

 

Ashmedai

 

The omegas were learning well - had learned well. It wouldn't be enough for most of them, but the ones who survived would keep learning, and keep surviving. She dismissed the omegas and Stribog and made for a free bunk space. The old dog wasn't satisfied by a long way, but there were other perks.

 

"Ashmedai, wait!"

 

Ashmedai turned to face the speaker, the smart collie from earlier. Her name was Reiver, she was roughly four-ish, and her coat was oddly glossy for an omega. "What do you want?" The older dog's manner was perhaps a touch brusque, but that was simply how she rolled.

 

"Um, you don't have anywhere in this section to sleep yet, right? And, um, I've got a wholebunch of space in my section. Stanley," she indicated the pile of broken plastic where the boxer from earlier lay unmoving, "took a shine to me, so I've got room for two. It's cleaner and there's water too. Fresh water, not like the others. And, um, I can do your coat for you-"

 

"Calm down, Reiver. Calm down. Yes, I'll come back to yours. But my coat's going to have to wait until tomorrow night. And make no mistake, we're both of us coming back tomorrow night."

 

"Yes! I mean, um, yes, we're gonna be OK. Especially with this stuff. I mean, we're going to win, so we can celebrate and we'll be alright!"

 

"Yeah, Reiver, we will." Ashmedai's voice was reassuring as they trotted into the room the boxer had carved out of the scrap metal for his chosen mate. It was as described; clean and spacious with fresh water from a rust-spattered standpipe and a set of human shampoos and conditioners. Ashmedai began to curl up on the floor.

 

"N-no! I, um, I mean I'll take the floor. You have the basket, it's big enough for you and, um, I mean... I'll take the floor."

 

Ashmedai raised an eyebrow. "You're sure about that?"

 

"Oh, um..." The collie paused and looked at her forepaws. "Yes. I think so. Yes. Um."

 

The older dog sighed. "Alright, fine. Let's get some sleep, eh?"

 

And with that, they did, and the world turned on.

[poke11]

Name: Snowy

Age: 3 years

Breed: Husky/Border Collie

Rank: Loner

Appearance: Snowy

Gender Female

Personality: She is shy, but friendly. Mostly Rped.

Mate: None (Yet!)

Pups:None (Again, yet!)

History:

Introduction Paragraph: Snowy nervously looked from side to side before running to some red thing. When she reached it, she then saw what it was. A Bone! Actual meat was there too! It might not be much, but the second she gnawed the bone, she felt the slightest bit better. Hearing paw-steps, she raced off into the distance, bone in mouth.

[DragonGirl10188]

(( So, I'm in? :3 ))

 

Maya lead herself back into the cave with her stomach half full; why was she still starving? She sighed and rolled over, watching Gina helplessly crawl over and start feeding on milk. "Is that good?" She asked and the pup barked in response.

Soon it was gone. A fraction was left for Maya as she saved the most for her weak puppy. She picked her up by the scruff and took her outside, dropping her on soft grass.

 

"We need to find somewhere else" She sighed, Gina nodded "Yes we do mummy...".

[Packgoater]

((Yes, accepted. I'll get a post up soon.))

[shelbell]

"Oh! that is so brave of you to start a pack! You'll be the Alpha, correct?" She smiled the only way a golden retriver could. She finished her bone, licking it shiny clean. She looked at the bone. It was pearly white under the moon. She could see her face in the bone. Her farmilier cocoa brown eyes stared back at her and she laughed. She stopped ebruptly because she saw the look on Theif's face. But once she stopped she only uncontrollably started again. Theif's face showed only confusion and kadabra laughed harder, her face would have turned red from enbaresment if golden fur hadn't of covered it. She gradually calmed down to a faint giggle and then stopped laughing. "I'm- so- Sorry!" she giggled. She smiled stupidly.

[DragonGirl10188]

Maya looked down at Gina. "We have to go now honey" She whispered silently as the breeze brushed their fur, the sun was covered in clouds, giving a chilly feeling to their bodies. "I know mummy" Gina looked up with amber eyes into her mother's rich chocolate brown eyes. "Lets go" She said over the whistling of wind and picked Gina up by the scruff.

 

"Mum, I'm fine. Let me walk!" Gina yipped and playfully pawed her mum's chest, making herself drop to the ground. She smiled and blinked then ducked inbetween her legs. Maya chuckled softly, "It is cold, isn't it?" She asked and was soon padding with her daughter underneath her body, boredly fake staggering in the grass.

 

Maya looked over to the right and saw a beautiful butterfly gliding. Gina giggled and raced out to it. Maya let her have fun, rolling, chasing, doing everything; the butterfly didn't seem to have the slightest of distress. Maya called her back after 10 minutes and they were travelling again. "Mummy?" Gina asked, Maya looked down and smiled "Yes sweet?" She answered "Where are we going?" Gina looked up with her sweet puppy eyes.

 

"I don't know... Somewhere safe, somewhere we can eat and sleep, and make friends and- and" Gina started giggling at her mother as they trotted forward to- wherever was safe, they could eat and sleep happily, and make "friends".