"What?"

Annette and Kilian both exclaimed the word together. They forgot for a moment in their anger and shock that they were face to face with the most bloodthirsty of canines.

Bentley, who was not unconsious as Annette had thought moments ago, whimpered when he heard his fate. Kilian placed a reassuring paw on the disabled dog's head.

Azriel's cruel smile faded into a calm glare. His blue eyes sparked with a light that scared Annette. Whatever was passing through the mottled black and white dog's head was dangerous.

"Respect." He said simply. Annette felt Kilian pushing on her chest with his body, pushing her back. She obliged, stepping carefully so as not to fall as the train lurched and rocked under her feet.

"Respect your father, know your place." Azriel went on. He glanced at Harley, who had begun to advance upon the two. On the silent command, the massive white beast of a dog halted. Annette couldn't bring herself to relax even knowing that Harley was not to harm her or Kilian. She glanced at Bentley. His eyes were still closed, but his ears were perked to listen. His face was tight.

"Father." Kilian croaked. It surprised Annette, and the other dogs in the car. Many of the prisoners, Deedro, Boomer, Sunny, and a half dozen of the previously uninterested followers of Azriel turned to stare. Kilian's floppy brown ears had fallen on his lowered head. He looked as broken as he sounded.

"Why are you doing this to us?"

Even Azriel was taken aback at being submissivley adressed as he had requested. His eyes widened for a fraction of a second, almost to quick to notice, and then he calmed himself and cleared his throat. He gave Kilian one of his signature smiles, the kind that made Annette want to heave up the contents of her stomach, if it wasn't a week empty.

"Unity, my son." Annette had heard this before. She glared at Azriel, but said nothing. She wanted to know as much as anyone why the mad dog was kidnapping and torturing others, even going so far as to kill them.

Azriel went on with his off-the-wall explanation.

"What better way to bring every dog together than to know, without question, what you are. Followers of Azriel, yes. What have you all learned recently, here with me?" Annette's eyes unconsiously strayed to Bentley, who would never walk again.

The small gesture did not go unnoticed by Azriel. "That's right, my dear!" He praised. "Disobedience will always be punished. But, if you listen to Father, and do as Father wishes, you are committing to unity. All will surive peaceably under Azriel, you see?" Annette did see, in a sick, twisted way. Azriel believed himself to be king. He was a tyrant to end all tyranny.

Azriel braced his legs firmly as the train hit a hard bump on its tracks and sent everyone lurching forward. Annette and Kilian lost their footing and landed with a simultaneous on the filthy floorboards. Annette raised her chin high as she tried to stand, she wanted her face away from the muck and waste that Bentley and the others had left there. The sharp movement made the deep gashes on the back of Annette's neck sting.

Only Harley and Azriel stood tall and strong in the aftermath. Stella had skidded into Bentley, cursing disgustedly. She tried to untangle herself from his dead legs. Annette glared at them when she had regained her balance. Kilian, who was already standing, bowed low and began, once again, to back up with Annette.

"Thank you for the enlightenment, dearest Father." Kilian said softly. To Annette's astonishment, she heard no contempt in the terrier's voice. She wanted to see his face, but was unable with him pushing her steadily into their corner with the rest of the bewildered prisoners.

Azriel nodded to Kilian.

"Good boy." He said simply, and then turned tail on them, with his followers in tow. The three dogs joined their companions near the door of the car, which was still slightly ajar, letting in flurries of snow and faint moonlight. Everyone was huddled together, with only the occasional snap or growl from a lost temper or a foot that had been stepped on.

Kilian whipped around when the trio's attention was diverted. He began nosing Annette to their place faster with his muzzle. Annette could see his face now. It faded from total submission to a twist of anger and worry. His brow was wrinkled tightly as though his mind was whirling.

Annette hit the wall a moment later and sat down. Taking no notice of the other prisoners, Kilian and Annette shared a nuzzle. The spaniel mix was relieved to find that Kilian had not lost his mind.

The two looked up after a moment to see the bedraggled group of dogs watching them curiously. Kilian met Annette's eyes, and she saw determination in them. He then turned his gaze back to the prisoners, silently begging them not to discuss his behavior with Azriel.

For the first time in a long time, a warm wave of hope seemed to wash over the dispondent crowd. The dogs understandingly dropped their eyes, turning their backs on Kilian and Annette.

His plan was in action.

"No..." Lady gasped.

Angel stood watching, horrified. Beside her, Scamp was a mirror of her shock. Trusty was inhaling the scent of blood on the concrete, trying to pick up the trail again. He was repeatedly whining apologies to Lady and Tramp. His ears dragged the icy ground loudly as he paced.

Jim Dear was crouched, tending to Tramp. He petted the distraught canine's grey head gently, speaking soothingly to him. The man did not understand the reason for his dog's collapse, or the panic that had ensued. He, as a human, did not have the nose to smell Annette's blood, or the fine tuned ears to hear Tramp crying out that his daughter was in danger somewhere, bleeding and hurt.

With a deep grunt of effort, Jim hauled the Tramp into his arms and stood. He stumbled under the extra weight but held fast to the weakened dog. His thickly gloved hands clung to Tramp to prevent him from falling.

"I'm sorry boy." He said to the dog. "We need to go home."

"No!" Tramp protested. He groaned and growled and launched himself from the man's arms. Jim Dear cried out in surprise and let him go. Angel winced when she heard Tramp's heavy body hit the cold concrete. He landed on his side and lay there, with his breath knocked out of him.

Jim dropped to his knees and ran his hands gently over the dog, who stirred.

Angel could hardly believe her eyes. Was the aging dog this weak, that such a fall could hurt him?

"Oh...Tramp!" Lady rushed to her mate's side and nudged his face. He groaned and rolled over, blinking hard.

"Hiya, Pidge." He whispered, trying to catch his breath. He stood on rubbery, shaky legs and gave a weak shiver. Lady supported his right side, and Scamp left Angel to stand on his father's left. Angel watched the family's exchange for a moment and then joined Scamp to help the older dog steady himself. Jim Dear's hands hovered over Tramp's back to catch him.

"Easy, boy. Easy."

Despite the streets being lined with lamps, the night was dark. Angel silently feared for the Tramp if he was to trip on something in the night. His legs were not faring well.

"Come on, old man, you shouldn't have done that." Scamp scolded his father. Angel kicked him in the rear, making him jump. He shot her a glare but quieted.

"I did what I had to do." Tramp said firmly, snorting. He reminded Angel of his son when he did that. One was just as stubborn as the other. "We have to find Annette. She's in danger." He sounded like a lost pup when he spoke of Annette.

Angel sighed. "He's right." Everyone turned to stare at her, making the golden dog shrink inside, but she didn't back down. "But its getting late. I think us younger dogs should keep up the hunt. Tramp, you need to go home. Save your leg, go rest. We'll find Annette."

Lady laid a paw on her mate's and nuzzled him. A tear glistened in her eye.

"You can't go on like this." She said gently.

Tramp closed his eyes and hung his head. Scamp nudged his father with a shoulder. The bigger dog nodded quietly.

"I'm of no use to my children." He murmured. He looked tired. Jim Dear rubbed Tramp's ears and bent to pick him up again.

"Come on, boy. Don't hurt yourself, now." Jim scolded gently. Tramp didn't even lift his head to respond. lady hovered nervously at the man's feet. Angel wondered if she had done the right thing in encouraging the dog to give up his search to the youngsters.

Trusty had stopped searching for a trail long ago. He stood with his head bowed, watching the Tramp lose his last shred of confidence in himself.

"Come on, pooches." Jim called.

Scamp and Angel looked at each other. Jim Dear would not understand the group being split, or leaving three of his dogs behind.

"We're just gonna have to make a run for it." Scamp said. His little tail wagged unconsiously at the thought of disobeying his master. Angel, despite everything, found it adorable. She would never tell him that, though.

"Come on." Jim Dear said again, somewhat impatiently. He was getting cold and tired, and his arms must have been aching terribly supporting such a large dog as Tramp.

"Trusty?" Scamp said, bouncing on his toes. "Can you run?"

"Well...I, uh...I been doin' a mighty fine bit o' runnin' tonight, see-"

"Good." Scamp interrupted, and then dashed away down the sidewalk, kicking up gravel and ice as he went. Everyone stood open mouthed, until Jim Dear shouted.

"Scamp!" He cried. Angel took the opportunity to run, with Trusty clomping loudly behind her.

"Angel! Trusty!" Jim's voice was almost a whine now, but already very, very faint. Angel's heart was beating fast. The golden dog knew that she and Scamp would probably be in trouble when they got home, but finding Annette was more important.

When the distraught man's shouts grew too faint to hear, Angel stopped. Scamp was only a little ways in front of her, paws braced on the icy pavement, panting hard. A candle-lit street light flickered overhead in a cold wind that ruffled Angel's fur.

Trusty wheezed to a halt behind Angel. His mouth was open wide and the pupils of his eyes were going in and out. Such a run for the creaky, ancient canine was probably just as bad as making Tramp run on his broken leg.

"Phew! What a rush. Makes me feel like a...wild dog again!" Scamp breathed. He trotted back to Angel, who swung her paw at his big head. The floppy eared grey dog yelped and ducked.

"What was that for?" He pouted.

"For taking off like that!" Angel laughed and shook her fur out to fluff it against the wind.

"I reckon I aughta find that trail once more." Trusty said awkwardly. He put his nose to the ground and set to work. Angel could hear the big lanky dog snuffling loudly. She shuffled her paws, which were growing numb with the cold seeping through the concrete sidewalk.

"Are you cold?" Scamp asked curiously.

"Yeah." She answered, not taking her eyes off of Trusty, who was turning in a wide circle with his ears dragging the ground.

"Me too." The grey dog shivered. The only sound for a while were Trusty's attempts to pick up a scent.

"I wonder if Annette is somewhere warm tonight." Scamp said softly. Angel's spirits fell. Her heart ached to find her friend, and stop the damage it was causing to the family.

"She has Kilian, remember?" Angel moved closer to Scamp. His eyes were wide and sad, but he smiled.

"Pops said he found those two snuggling the night away. I bet she is warm."

"That's better." Angel smiled back.

"I got it..I got sumthin." Trusty was mumbling. Angel and Scamp turned at once when they heard the exclamation.

Scamp's ears were perked eagerly forward. His little flag tail was high and hopeful. Angel tilted her head and trailed behind the grey dog, who was on Trusty's heels.

Trusty remained glued to the concrete. He zigged and zagged, back and forth, eyes unfocused. He was determined not to lose the trail again. He mumbled incoherently behind his heavy, drooping jowls.

"Is it Annette? Is she alone now? Who's with her?" Scamp bombarded the old dog with questions that remained unanswered. Angel brushed up alongside her best friend to calm him.

"Scamp..." Angel whispered after a while.

"I know." Scamp said tensely. The path was beginning to look terribly familiar. The clean cobblestone streets of the town had been replaced long ago with wet dirt roads, old, rickety, broken fences, and old houses in need of repair.

Wet snow mixed with dirt from the streets, making an uncomfortable, clumping mess in Angel's fur. In her short time as a housepet, Angel had gotten used to being clean.

The further into the mucky streets the trail led them, the more Angel's fears became a reality. The dogs stopped in exactly the place that Angel suspected they would. The gaping black pipe opened like a dark mouth, ready to swallow the canines.

"There it is. Home sweet home." Scamp said.

Angel scoffed. "Yeah right. More like Hell if you ask me."

Trusty stared hard at the doorway to the junkyard. Angel could see his short fur standing on end. His rickety old legs were shaking.

"It...it smells." He stuttered. "It smells like death."

Angel felt her ears pin themselves against her head. Her heartrate picked up. It was eerily quiet, and obviously empty. She and Scamp glanced at each other, and then on a silent cue, hopped into the black pipe. Neither were one flinch away from danger, especially if a loved one was involved.

Trusty remained frozen with fear outside.

Once inside, Angel understood Trusty's terror, and his claim that he smelled death. The place reeked of dispair, hopelessness, disease, and filth. It was nothing like the place she remembered, even its looks were somehow different.

Less friendly.

"I don't like this." Scamp muttered. "Do you smell that?" Angel did smell it. Underneath every other horrifying scent that permeated the place was a sickly sweet odor that Angel couldn't place a paw on.

Angel and Scamp wandered slightly away from each other, both gazing in different directions. Angel's paws slogged through wet snow and mud, making a horrible squealching sound in the nerve racking silence of the night.

"Angel, come look at this." Scamp's voice echoed throughout the junkyard and its various assortments of garbage and metal. Angel trotted across the open ground in front of the all too familiar junk heap to see what Scamp had to show her.

She smiled faintly when she saw the old baby buggy, a plaything from their days living as street dogs. She remembered the day Scamp had arrived in the Junkyard and someone, though she couldn't remember who, pushed Scamp all the way down the junk hill in it.

"I remember this old thing."

Angel smiled at Scamp, expecting him to reminisce with her. His usually jolly face was marked with a frown that left her instead cocking her head to the side, questioning him.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"Look closer." He said shortly. Angel leaned in close to the buggy and gasped. The inside of the carriage was smeared with dirt and waste, and tiny pawprints littered the mess, turning in all different directions inside.

"Someone was keeping pups here." The golden dog looked at Scamp with wide grey-blue eyes. This was not a place for infants. Even when Angel was living here, the few pregnant or nursing mothers she had seen come and go wouldn't dare have their puppies in such a dangerous place, crowded with canines of all types. Something was definitly wrong.

Scamp hunched his shoulders and lowered his nose to the filthy ground. Angel watched him sniffing frantically, with his big ears falling into his face. He finally, suddenly flung his head back and exclaimed loudly.

"Annette!" He cried.

"Annette?" Angel stepped forward.

"Annette was here." He wagged his tail excitedly for a brief moment, but slowed it to a stop. "You don't think..."

"Those are her pups? No." Angel finished his sentence. "I've talked to your sister a lot lately. She's not stupid." The fluffy dog scoffed. "And she wasn't pregnant either. She wouldn't have been able to hide that."

Scamp screwed up his face.

"Okay, smart alec." He snorted teasingly. "I don't know anything about pregnant dogs. I've never even seen one."

This surprised Angel, but she left it alone.

"Come on." She said instead. "We're getting close."

The two wandered through the junkyard together, side by side. Every once in a while, one or both of them would pick up Annette's scent on the ground, or under something. There was even stale blood in several places. Annette was still bleeding when she arrived at the junkyard.

Many, many other dogs were scented as well, underneath the dank, sickly smells. Scamp and Angel gave up on counting the different scents after a while.

Angel sat down on the muddy ground to rest. She sighed. Scamp sat down beside her and scooted close.

"She's not here." He said. He sounded disappointed. They wouldn't find Annette tonight. They'd only uncovered a much bigger mystery.

"But why was she here in the first place?" Angel questioned.

"This is hopeless!" Scamp barked. He growled and swung his paw back, slapping a dented tin can as hard as his strength would allow. The can sailed across the clearing to land in a tall bin.

The entire bin seemed to jingle like bells at the can's impact. Angel perked her ears. She knew that sound. She'd heard it often, the tinkling of tags on a dog's collar. The pomeranian mix had dreamed of having that sound coming from her own neck when she was living on the streets.

She got lightly to her feet and trotted over to the can. With one swift kick of her hind legs, Angel had toppled it onto its side. It rolled away with a deep clanging sound, and, much to Angel's horror, dozens of dog's collars of all shapes, sizes, and colors spilled from it. Some were chewed through, while others were still fastened tight, as they would be on a dog's neck. And there, shining a bright and beautiful blue, and stained with blood, was Annette's collar. Right in the middle of the pile.