Multiple Settings Stray Dog Haven- Ghost's Pack

[Redrin]

The mention of past owners stirred something deep in Zephyr’s chest, a quiet ache that curled through his small frame like a chill. Fawn spoke of hers with such warmth, but Albatross, as ever, seemed unimpressed by the emotional weight of human connection. Zephyr didn’t want to unpack his own thoughts on the matter. He didn’t like the memories or the feelings that came with them. So, as he often did, he leaned into humor.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever asked for your opinion, Alb,” Zephyr said with a mischievous glint in his eye, trotting close to nudge her soft white fur. “But I’m always glad to hear it,” he added quickly with a lighthearted tone. Before she could retaliate, verbally or otherwise, Zephyr bounded away, dancing over to Fawn with his usual quick-footed energy. He skirted wide to avoid a lamp post, then leapt effortlessly over a discarded box beside a trash can, showing off without really meaning to. He landed smoothly beside Fawn, still breathing easily, and fell back into step beside her.
“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” Zephyr chirped. “What if we race back to the house? Ghost probably won’t notice if we didn’t hit every inch of the city’s border, and honestly, there’s nothing out here anyway.” He paused to sniff the air, just to be sure. Nothing but stale alley scents and the faint aroma of street food. The itch to run bubbled up inside him, especially at the thought of racing Albatross. Besides, the quicker they got back to the house, the sooner he could sink his teeth into something that didn’t come off the sidewalk.

 

[m4ngy.mutt]

-CHIEF-

It had been months since the pack had suffered the tragic losses of both Ches and Walker, two formidable members who had left an irreplaceable void. Their deaths weighed heavily on the pack, both emotionally and in terms of its future. Realizing this, Chief didn’t allow himself time to mourn. He left that space for those who needed it, though he privately missed the presence of the two dogs just as much. The pack had been struggling without them, their absence felt in every decision, every hunt.

Chief refused to succumb to the same anguish he had seen gripping others, particularly Ghost. The pack’s leader had been hit the hardest by the loss of Walker, his closest companion and a remarkable deputy. Chief suspected their bond could have grown even deeper had Walker not been shot during a patrol. Yet, Ches’s death had seemingly forced Ghost out of his despair—pulling him back into the role the pack so desperately needed him to fill.

Even with both Ches and Walker gone, there were small silver linings amidst the grief. Ghost had named Chief a mentor to the young and eager Chive. Though Chief wasn’t confident in his abilities as a mentor and had no prior experience, he didn’t question the decision. Ghost had chosen him for a reason, and Chief was determined to uncover why.

Then there was Fawn—the spaniel who had only recently been welcomed back into the pack. At first, Chief hadn’t trusted her, but the weight of her guilt over Ches’s death had become apparent. Fawn seemed to carry it more heavily than anyone else, and Chief couldn’t ignore the way she threw herself into helping Nessie with Trinket and Lumi. Observing her in those quiet, thoughtful moments, Chief chose to step back and let her focus on something productive, even if it meant he’d have less time with the dog he'd grown attached to.

In the rare ocassions Chief wasn’t busy training Chive, he soon found himself avoiding Nessie altogether. Conversations with her often veered toward Chive’s progress, a subject that filled Chief with self-doubt. The kangal couldn’t help but compare himself to Bo, a dog who seemed to excel in everything—from mentoring Rogue and his effortless charismatic way of speaking to Agnes. Chief wished he had Bo’s expertise, especially when it came to navigating things with Nessie. He could use all the advice he could get.

Now, watching Rogue dart through the undergrowth and successfully catch a rabbit under Bo’s guidance, Chief felt a pang of envy. Rogue was thriving, and yet here he was, distracted and uncertain, even as Chive waited for him to focus. Something about the forest today felt off—it put Chief on edge in a way he couldn’t quite explain. Shaking off the uneasy feeling, he forced himself to push aside his doubts and turn his attention back to the avid pup in front of him. Chive needed him to be present, to be the mentor he had been chosen to be. And for the sake of the pack, Chief couldn’t afford to let him down.

Chief stopped near a patch of soft grass and gestured for Chive to sit. "Today, Kuzucuk," Chief began, his voice calm but firm "You become the thing that fears us predators most. A good hunter doesn’t charge blindly after prey. A good hunter understands it, understands, that while we are different in many ways one thing that binds us together is our urge to live. Sure, you may know a thing or two when it comes to overpowering your prey but none of that matters if you cant actually find what it is your lookin for."

Rising to his haunches, Chief motioned for the pup to follow, his gaze steady but inviting. He led Chive into a secluded clearing where faint paw prints scattered across the earth, the unmistakable scent of gopher lingering in the air. Chief crouched low, his muscles relaxed yet ready, his sharp eyes catching the glint of a nearby burrow. He made note of its position but deliberately avoided drawing attention to it, letting Chive find it on his own. "Prey have instincts, fears, and habits, just like us," Chief began, his voice measured and resolute. "While we don’t share all of them, one things for certain.." He gestured toward the tracks with a subtle nod before continuing, his tone shifting to something more thoughtful. "When faced with danger, prey will almost always run. But when running isn’t an option, they’ll rely on their strongest instinct—the one thing they’ve mastered for generations. It’s something Nessie and the kuzucuks taught you well."

Chief’s eyes flicked back to Chive, watching the pup’s reaction closely. "Now, imagine you’re the prey, Chive. Where would you hide? How would you settle in hopes of staying unseen? Then, when the moment comes…" His voice dropped, a faint hint of challenge threading through his words. "Flip the switch and strike fast."

Chief eased back slightly, his posture open and expectant as he watched Chive process the instructions. His eyes held a quiet patience, waiting for the pup to let the lesson sink in and begin his search.

 

[CHUUYAS_HAT]

Albatross drew away when Zephyr made an attempt to tease her. If anyone of them had braincells, it'd be him first, but clearly he wasn't using them properly just yet. "And if I myself remember correctly, I don't think I was talking to you either, was I? I'm pretty sure my comment was directed to Fawn, and Fawn alone." She had let her voice slowly rise as the other small dog bounded away. They most definitely clashed in personalities, but sometimes was he bearable. And when she said bearable, she meant just at the edge. The small, white scout-now being partly discarded to the side for now-dragged behind. Today was not a day she wanted to patrol, if she had to admit out loud, but going against Ghost's orders would only lead to more scolding and punishments. She was still 'young' as they said.

Soon enough however, she pushed herself more so that she could follow Zephyr's trail. He was scaling off of junk and other pieces of debris, as if there weren't any other way to get across. Albatross just slid through the gaps that were left behind, also over hearing what the patrol's leader was saying to Fawn. "That's a bit of a bad plan, when you're not a senior, you know." The Pomeranian prodded at the ground beneath. "What if something really is out there? You'd be held accountable for letting us loose like that, and I'd be accountable if Fawn isn't taught much better than that!" She let out an exasperated noise. It wasn't that she wasn't up for a challenge; to be fair, she was just weary of what could happen now that the pack had experienced two downfalls. If they even joked about something, they'd be in for a lot more.

Interactions: Redrin & Chaotic Poem

Agnes didn't need to even ask to know that she had put Ghost a bit more at ease. There was always this one feeling she noticed whenever the pack members relaxed. Perhaps it was because of how much she spent time looking after them, and catching on signals. Most of the things that came around had been something she had assumed already, or heard. A stale rabbit lingering on someone's muzzle, which leads to a future bellyache possibly...a pup chewing on some stolen herbs, which leads to throwing up...she didn't have much to think about so spying on how everyone does seems almost like a normal thing for he to do. "Trinket?" The medicine dog looked over to where the window flashed with white bird feathers for a second. "Is that an offer for me?" She gave a look to the leader. Something about this discussion made a spark of joy start inside her. She was just thinking of an apprentice. Trinket was a workload, but she could work with him if she needed to.

"Won't he be a bit worried that he can't become a striker or a scout, if so? Not many seek to take the path I chose to be on, and even then who knows what I want." Agnes lumped forward so her belly touched the floor, and paws stretched out like usual. "And if I did take someone under my wing, that would mean going out more for me. How exciting." A touch of sarcasm swiped out, but she smiled. There was a small itch of anticipation coursing through her, like something that she never believed would come, came. Though, a new thing suddenly came to her head. "There is also another matter I think should be brought up. One of our members may be hiding a small secret, but I can't confirm it. Maybe it's just a hitch, but I doubt it." She tapped her chin. "I am not surprised if someone really did like Fawn, but her body is certainly forming. It's not all there, yet at first I figured you fed her too many squirrels. Then I saw how she started to droop around the living room more." A pause.

"Maybe she's expecting?" Agnes queried out loud.

Interactions: Chaotic Poem

 

[m4ngy.mutt]

Trinket gave the supposed kibble a skeptical glance from afar, his nose twitching slightly. "Of course I’m sure! I know what kibble looks like, Lumi," he insisted, his voice tinged with indignation. At the mention of seeing Agnes, Trinket let out a small huff of discontent. He hadn’t fully adjusted to leaving Agnes’ den for Nessie. Sure, he adored Nessie and saw her as the mother figure she’d become for the pups, but the time spent under Agnes’ care had left a lasting impression on Trinket. Being with the medicine dog gave him a unique sense of security—a comfort that came from her knowledge of healing. Nessie’s protection was unquestionable, but Agnes brought an extra layer of reassurance he couldn’t quite shake missing. He felt betrayed at how easily the presence of the dog he'd been with when first arriving had been ripped from him.

"I don’t need to see Agnes, I’m fine," he grumbled. His eyes followed Lumi as she made her way toward the fence, catching the familiar spark of mischief lighting up her gaze. Trinket’s ears flattened slightly as he watched her, alarm flashing across his face. "Oh no, Lumi—no!" he yelped, his voice dropping to a whisper as he remembered Nessie’s proximity. "There’s food inside! And what if we get caught? We don’t have long before we’re out there with Chive. What if Ghost decides to delay that because we broke the rules?"

For a moment, he hesitated, weighing the consequences against the eager determination radiating from Lumi. Seeing the yearning in her expression as she gazed beyond the fence, Trinket groaned dramatically, finally caving. "I suppose if we’re sneaky enough… we wouldn’t have to worry about any of that," he muttered, though his tone hinted at his own appeal to the idea. His gaze flicked back toward where Nessie lay. "Only thing is…" He cocked his head, one brow raised thoughtfully. "How do we get out there without Nessie catching us?"

 

[Chaotic Poem]

At first, Fawn was thrilled at the idea of ending the patrol early. She stumbled over a loose rock, her paws dragging with exhaustion. She had been trying her best these past few days, but no matter how hard she pushed, her body felt sluggish and strange, like she was carrying a weight she couldn't put down.
Still, when Albatross casually dismissed the idea of cutting patrol short — citing Fawn’s training — her heart sank. She lowered her head, her body drooping with drowsy shame.
Why can't I just curl up in my den and fall asleep on my favorite blanket? she thought miserably.
That blanket had followed her through everything. She had given up her old dog beds to the nursery, thinking the pups needed the soft places more than she did. Only her small, worn blanket remained, tucked safely in her bed in the strikers' and scouts' room.


The thought of the nursery made Fawn pause in the middle of the street. A motorcycle buzzed loudly past them, its tires hissing on the damp concrete. Across the street, a door slammed shut, sending a soft echo bouncing between the brick walls and faded shop windows. The city was alive around them — noise and motion and scents weaving together like a fast-moving river.


And suddenly, she remembered.
This tiredness, the strange weight pulling her down — it wasn’t her grief. She knew what it was. A warm rush of comfort flooded her chest. The nursery! The whelping box waiting for her, the soft scents of home... Fawn almost wagged her stump tail right there in the street.


New energy sparked through her paws. She lifted her head and looked eagerly for Albatross and Zephyr, who had padded a few paces ahead. With a little burst of excitement, she caught up, her trot light and lively again.
She would finish the patrol — she would see it through! And then she would return to the house, curl up in the nursery... and stay there until her pups were born.

 

[Chaotic Poem]

Ghost nodded encouragingly — the offer was most certainly meant for her. But as Agnes went on, her excitement was tinged with skepticism, as if she was still wrapping her mind around the idea of mentoring her own Novice.
Ghost paused, his thoughts drifting briefly to Trinket. He glanced toward the back door, catching sight of the young albino Doberman playing with the English Setter pup.
Both pups were nearly ready for apprenticeship. Lumi would make a fine Striker someday, but Trinket... Ghost sighed inwardly. The pup’s challenges — being nearly deaf and a tripod — made surviving in the outside world a daunting, if not impossible, task.


He opened his mouth to speak, but Agnes continued — and the next words caught him off-guard.
Fawn was expecting?


Ghost stiffened, feeling a pang of guilt. He hadn’t even realized how close the spaniel had grown to the other dog after Walker’s death.
I should have noticed.
Once again, regret twisted inside him — regret for how deeply he had withdrawn after the loss. And once again, he silently vowed: Never again.


“Well, that’s good! More pups for the pack!” he said with genuine warmth, his tail giving an eager wag. Fawn had been trying so hard to master the skills of a Scout, but had struggled more than most. Ghost had assumed she was simply overtired — this explained everything.


“It’ll mean putting her training on hold — if she even feels the need to continue after the pups.” His voice softened, sharing the quiet doubts he had harbored about Fawn’s future as a hunter or fighter. She had always seemed gentler, more nurturing, than most.


He shifted his weight, refocusing.
“As for Trinket... he has to understand he can't be a real Striker.” Ghost finally voiced the thought that had been weighing on him. His gaze found Agnes again, more earnest now. “I was hoping you could talk to him.”


He didn’t want to force Trinket into something he couldn’t survive. Letting the pup try would feel too much like tossing a helpless soul into a world too cruel for him.
Maybe — just maybe — under Agnes’ guidance, things would fall into place more naturally.