A/N: I wanted to do a bit on Linux, as he struck me as one of the more interesting characters in the movie. I also couldn't help but wonder just where his rivalry with Khampa came from, and put this wondering to Linux, too.
As A Winter's Night
Linux fingered the dart in his hand, flicking it from finger to finger in the most dextrous manner. He had always been a master with darts - not just the game, but the projectiles themselves. He knew every and all manner with which to use them, whether it was for a mere after-work pastime with the fellows, or for more serious ventures. Like striking at your enemy. Or your enemy's son.
He growled and stopped his fidgeting, gripping the dart firmly in his right paw. He sat alone in his office, mulling, brooding, waiting for his lackeys Riff and Skoff to complete their task of capturing Khampa's son. The more he thought about that infuriating mastiff, the angrier he became - if such were possible.
He dared to raise his eyes, meeting the monochromatic picture of his lifelong enemy. Many pictures of Khampa, the sheep, and their village sat in his office. He'd been plotting his revenge on them for years...ever since he and his gang had been defeated. Yet where had it all begun, and when? Long before Snow Mountain, that was for sure.
For once, Linux's thoughts strayed down a rabbit hole that didn't prompt further hatred, but rather a musing sense of inquisitiveness. He wondered, perhaps for the first time in his life, when this age-old rivalry started, and for what reason. He himself had grown up with a strong dislike for dogs, and a deep hatred for mastiffs, in particular. His father, who had been a stalwart, imposing alpha in his days, had culminated his son's disdain for the mastiffs. Linux had grown up seeing them as the enemy. His father had raised him for the sole purpose of taking over Snow Mountain, when the time was right.
Yet for all his father had taught him, he'd never revealed to Linux the history behind the rivalry. Certainly it had started somewhere, and yet perhaps even his father had no idea how the hatred between species grew, swelled to enormous proportions until the bitter bloodshed and rivalry completely blotted out the pages in history that spoke of its beginnings. Linux supposed that after a time, no one knew or cared how it started, how it all came to this.
Snow Mountain had been a target of him and his father's for a long time, and yet it hadn't always been a part of their lives. Linux was actually out of puphood when his father set their first raid upon the village, only to have met with failure at the hands (or rather, paw) of Khampa's father...who had been a true warrior in his prime. Their defeat was such that Linux's father refused to assault the village again unless they had a truly ingenious plan - one that would not fail.
Well...his father had passed on before he saw his dream come to fruition. Linux regretted that, but he didn't regret the path he was on. He would oversee his father's company, and continue his lifelong work of destroying Khampa and the village once and for all - even if it took his entire lifetime.
Khampa...they, both of them, were bitter people. Khampa had a good heart, one that cared deeply for the villagers, and his son. But there was a slight edge of bitterness about him that Linux recognized very easily in himself. The difference was, Linux felt no fatherly protection over a people, did not live for others the way Khampa did. He lived for himself. If ever there was anyone he could be said to live for, perhaps his father would be the first person to come to mind. But his father's dream became his dream, and with each passing year, he grew more passionate about making sure that it came true. Not so much for his father anymore, as it was at first, but for him.
He'd never doubted his goals, never doubted what he believed to be his sole purpose in life. Regardless of where or how this antagonism was born, Linux would do everything within his power to see to it that Khampa and his ancestors would not have the final say. Regardless of how many times his own ancestors were defeated at the hands of the mastiff, this war would continue, perhaps for all time, or at least until the very last days of the earth.
He snapped out of his reverie, and presently flung the dart with frightening speed and accuracy directly on the eye of Khampa's picture. He chuckled to himself.
'Oh yes, my old foe,' he thought, leaning back in his chair, 'this is far, far from over. Enjoy your peace while you can.'
His shoulders shook as he chuckled, now barely able to contain the glee he felt at the thought of razing the village and putting an end to each and every one of its citizens.
Truly, truly their grudge was a bitter one. Bitter as a cold winter's night.