Trying something new. Why not?
"Rocky! Over here!" Zuma bounded through the grass, his eyes on the plastic disc in his friend's mouth.
Rocky tossed the disc with as much force as he could.
"Got it!" Zuma planted his paws in triumph of the catch.
"Me next! Me next!" Skye jumped up and down waiting for the throw.
"Here it comes!" Zuma spun up in a circle and released the disc in her direction.
A sudden gust of wind propelled the disc high into the air above her.
"Still got it!" Skye yelled, hopping to intercept to the disc and landing after a flip.
"Still got it," She stated, smiling.
"Woah!" The group exclaimed in amazement.
"Great catch, Skye!" Zuma barked.
"Thanks!" She giggled.
"It would be a really nice day if the wind would stop gusting," Rocky observed.
As if on cue an even bigger gust of wind pushed over some glass bottles Rocky had sitting on his pup house, shattering them on the ground.
Everyone flinched in response to the sudden noise.
Rocky sighed, "Man! I set those out because I wanted to add them to my collection… They were pretty cool root beer bottles…"
"Don't worry, Rocky," Rubble assured, "I'm sure you'll find more of them."
Rocky nodded, "It's okay, everyone! I'll clean that up as soon as we're done with our game!"
"The wind does make it a perfect day to play frisbee, though!" Skye remarked, looking down the field for a target.
"Throw it here, Skye!" Marshall waved.
"Incoming!"
"I got it!" Marshall trotted backward with his eyes on the descending disc "I got -," he tripped over his rear legs and landed on his back, the disc coming to rest just beside him, "I don't got it…," he muttered before jumping up, "I'm okay!" He yelled at his friends.
Everyone laughed.
"Marshall!" Chase lowered his head, reading himself to run, "I'm open!"
The dalmatian chucked the disc with all his strength.
Chase blindly sprinted ahead of the disc, cocking his head back to watch it from behind.
Another sudden gust of wind pushed the disc off trajectory over the grass and onto the pavement near the watchtower.
"Almost… Got it…," Chase panted, eyes fixated on the disc – unaware of what was about to happen.
The other pups realized too late.
"Chase! Look out!"
"Wha…?" Chase snapped his eyes forward in time to see himself careening toward the side of Rocky's pup house. By the time he tried to stop he was already sliding over shards of broken glass and head-first into the side of the structure – everything went black.
"Chase!" The group gasped, running over to the still pup.
"Chase! Are you al-," Marshall cut himself off as he got closer to his friend, observing his condition. Blood steadily oozed from glass shards stuck in his paws and a cut on his head.
"He's bleeding!" Skye panicked.
"That looks really bad!" Zuma looked away.
Rocky gulped in fear.
"Chase…?" Marshall gently nudged his friend.
"Ugh…," Chase cracked his eyes open.
"Zuma, get my gear! Rocky, go get Ryder!" Marshall commanded.
Both pups quickly ran off.
"Chase?" Marshall asked again.
"Marshall…?" Chase squinted at the blurry figure standing over him.
"How many paws am I holding up?" Marshall held up his right paw.
"Th-Three…?" He hesitated, "Wait…"
"That's – That's not good, is it?" Skye looked at Marshall.
Marshall shook his head.
"I'm okay…," Chase tried to set up and yelped in pain as he put pressure on his paws.
"No!" Marshall eased him back down, "No, you're not okay. Try not to move, your paws are pretty torn up, Chase. They're bleeding."
"B-Blood?" Chase stammered, looking down at his maimed paws.
Realizing his injuries, the pain caught up with him.
"Marshall…," Chase whimpered in fear as the world started to darken around him.
"I'm here, Chase. Don't worry, buddy… Just stay awake for me, okay?"
Chase went limp.