AN 1-30-2014: So if you've made it this far you may have noticed the timeline is a little weird here. (Thank you guest reviewer, this is for you. And apologies also, didn't know you had to 'moderate' guest reviews until now.) Dale is mentioned and so is Holborn so it is post bloodhound. However, I loved Rosto Aniki and Kora as characters and decided to diverge from there to focus on them. (It's fan fiction ... I can do that :P)

Yes, I avoid mentioning Tunstall at all intentionally. I don't really want to address what happened in Mastiff with him, nor do I want everyone analyzing his character because of that. Hence I simply left him out. For our purposes consider this an alternate to what happens after Bloodhound. (Yes, Rosto calls her Terrier. He also calls her little puppy once or twice. He likes to mess with her, that's nothing new!)

I'd love to hear what you think of the story so far!


Bed rest had been bad enough but this might just be worse. She was up, moving around, walking normally, but things still weren't right. The healers had stopped their treatments ages ago and the rest of the healing was her responsibility. Beka was getting restless, being cooped up in that house. She could go out now, and she did. She walked around, visited her spinners 'talked' with the pigeons. but for what purpose? She could only visit the spinners so many times before even they would begin to get the smell of desperation. She needed distraction, productivity, purpose and it was beginning to make her irritable. But even she realized that she was still not physically ready for her patrols yet.

She discovered that Rosto was a convenient outlet for that frustration when he returned from the dove one evening. She was pacing outside in the courtyard not waiting for him. She was bored, so bored, but she was not waiting for him. She was just letting Achoo stretch her legs. She had been walking somewhat aimlessly with the scent hound for most of the day though, so whether or not that was necessary was another thing entirely.

"Waiting up for me, little puppy?" Rosto asked when he reached the courtyard. "I've been a bit busy tonight."

"Not waiting for you. Waiting for everything to stop hurting so I can get back to preventing you from being busy."

"And see me waste away for lack of business? You are a cruel creature." He reached out towards her cheek as he said it, and she responded by catching his wrist in a vice grip.

"Stop trying to touch me, Rosto, or lose the hand. Your 'business' is of no value to me or anyone else." She was in a fighting stance as she released his hand and glared daggers. To her confusion he just smiled.

"There's no need to pick a fight, you could have just asked. Train with me tomorrow morning, you'll feel better." He whistled to himself as he left her in the courtyard slightly dumfounded.

She spent more time than she would ever admit trying to decide whether to take him up on the offer. Everyone had their own unique fighting style. Was it really safe to let Rosto in on hers? It's not like he hadn't seen her fight before, and she had certainly seen him…but training with someone was different than watching them fight from the outside. In the end she wasn't sure if it was the boredom or the logic that won out…but she was waiting when Rosto walked past her room towards the roof. There were no snide comments from either and it was amazing how easily they slipped into the role of training partners. Fighting, even training, felt like breathing again after being underwater far too long. Some of the drills he used were foreign to her, but most were surprisingly similar to the ones she used with the dogs. So she began to train with Rosto most mornings.

This morning Beka finished tying her braid as she walked past Rosto's door and didn't even bother knocking, just commented from outside: "You're late." She knew he would be fully awake even at this absurd hour.

"I'm not late, you're early, " he said, opening the door. Fully awake yes, fully clothed, not quite. He held his tunic in his hands giving her a glimpse at the yellowing remains of countless bruises covering his torso. She stared openly and he smirked before realizing that her gaze was not exactly the stunned adoration he was hoping for.

Realizing what was concerning her he chuckled gently, "Ah, yes... forgot about those. Gifts, from some surprisingly loyal cage dogs."

She remembered them from the infirmary and suddenly wondered if that was the group of cage dogs he had been speaking to when the spinner had caught his words. It was possible; now that she thought about it no dead cage dogs had shown up recently. The ones that had visited her had been pretty beat up themselves, at least two of them sporting broken wrists or arms and one looked like he had had to reset his nose. She had seen no evidence of cuts, though, save the one that was clearly a warning. She had assumed that meant Rosto had not needed to bother with blades. The extensive collection of bruises on his body implied a different story. Could she have misinterpreted...Rosto didn't seem the type to risk his own well being to avoid hurting a bunch of cage dogs.

"Ersken got you out."

"He tell you that?"

"Not exactly...When?"

"Before you woke. Goodwin told me to stay away from the Kennel… but I don't think even she thought that would do any good. Anyway a group of them decided they would... assist the street dogs by getting a jump on me. Apparently I was inside for less than an hour before Ersken came."

"A group... four?"

Rosto looked at her in curiosity for a moment. "Six, actually," he smiled "apparently they think I'm dangerous, Puppy. Can't imagine why."

"They did all that in an hour?" Beka asked in astonishment. They must not have even bothered with the conversational part of the interrogation.

"Well, not exactly" he said lightly. "Why do you want to know, Terrier? Surely I deserved it for something, right?"

"Tell me."

"They followed me out of the infirmary that night after we spoke. Just four the second time."

"I remember them, but you were carrying your knives. I know you were and they were not..."

"I'm always carrying my knives Beka. Perhaps I'm not as free to use them as you suspect."

The silence stretched out between them as he shrugged into his tunic.

"I'm dreadful with curved blades, let's start there," she stated, changing the subject as she always did when something made her uncomfortable.

"Are you trying to imply that you have been going easy on me?" He asked, feigning indignation as he strapped the remainder of his knives into place.

"I know how much you hate being humiliated in the morning."

He smiled wickedly and Beka had a feeling she was going to regret that comment as they climbed to the roof. Beka really did hate curved blades. They were not intuitive to her and she found it frustrating. She definitely could have picked a better day to mock him...

In spite of that Beka was enjoying herself. She felt life return to her limbs and found that she was doing surprisingly well; she had fully expected humiliation with this particular weapon of choice. Instead, Rosto found himself backing away from the fiery Dog with too much energy.

"Aren't you afraid you are giving away your secrets, Master Rogue?" she teased.

"You know my secrets, Puppy," He smirked, "and you'll never put me back in those cages."

"Most rats think so." She grumbled, but the tide was turning and she saved her breath while backing away.

With a dramatic movement he sent her blade clattering across the rooftop and pulled her close, his own blade delicately placed at her throat. In that moment she realized something terrifying. She had told him something she shouldn't have, now he knew she hated fighting curved blades. What was she thinking? Training with the Rogue, putting herself in this position, with his knife at her throat, dependent on his good will for her life. Training 'accidents' were not exactly unheard of … he could kill her and her friends would comfort him.

With a smile Rosto replaced the blade with a quick kiss. "Most rats are not the king of the rats," he whispered in her ear as he released her.

No more curved blades, tomorrow she would knock him back down a bit. Still it was reassuring to see him in good form again, should his challenger appear again.

"...Do you think he will challenge you openly?" she asked, putting her hands on her knees trying to get her mind and her breath back under control.

He nodded; she was pleased to see that he too was winded. "An ambush may work for a lot of things, but it doesn't get you the respect you need to take over the court."

"We don't even know for sure that's what he wants."

"His movements are not random. He is scouting, that's what I did before taking over. You must know everything the old Rogue knew the moment he falls. Of course, I also made myself known, made allies."

She was quiet for a moment and he felt a familiar chill as he watched her ethereal eyes and wondered if they saw something that he could not.

"He's fast, Rosto, He was faster than me." Rosto nodded, still somewhat distracted by ghostly eyes. "And I've seen my share of tricks... I didn't see it coming. I thought I had him."

"Don't underestimate me, Love. I have an advantage that you didn't."

"Stop calling me that... and what do you mean?"

"You went in blind, I won't have to."

"I'm feeling better."

"That's good." He replied, confused by her foreboding tone.

"That means he is too."

"Don't be so pessimistic, Beka," came Aniki's voice from the stairs, her voice getting louder as she came into view, Kora a step behind. "You're just mad because you can't hold onto your blade in the morning!"

Beka laughed, "Apparently not, why don't you show him how it's done, you like these horrid bent things."

She had underestimated Rosto, more than the challenger had. There was a reason he didn't think he could win without messing with the Rogue's head first. But as she watched Aniki and Rosto train some of the nervous tightness loosened it's hold on her stomach. Despite the fact that Beka detested using them, she had to admit they were amazingly graceful in the right hands. The pair moved easily, in rapid flowing drills that were about muscle memory rather than combat training. It was quite beautiful it's own way and she smiled.

The challenger had waited too long. Rosto was back in form.


Things at court progressed much as they always had. Few knew why the Rogue was so intent upon finding the blond-haired Scanran - though most suspected its relation to Beka's attack. This was not so unusual. Any Rogue who wanted to stay in power for longer than a month or two discouraged high-profile murder attempts on the King's law enforcement. At least when organized by an outsider.

Rosto observed the Court from his dais as he sharpened a blade from one of his forearm sheaths. He sharpened many of his blades in public. Not only did it occupy his hands, but also he enjoyed the image it created for anyone glancing towards his throne - no one would forget how he had earned his position.

As he worked he reflected on Beka's prediction that the Scanran would make his move soon, now recovered from the feisty Dog's wounds. He knew those wounds had saved not only Beka's life, but also his own. He had come close to falling apart in the aftermath of the attack on Beka and invasions of his home. If Beka had not wounded the man, he would have taken full advantage of the Rogues vulnerability. Beka had taken that advantage away, and it made all the difference.

Aniki was standing nearby with a faraway look on her face. Rosto smiled, "You need a better mask, Aniki, or you will be mistaken for a minnow."

She nodded "Just wondering if we know him." She began spinning one of her own knives in a game she often played with herself while thinking. Another useful mannerism on the intimidation front.

"I've wondered that myself."

"Whoever he is, he didn't think he could win without some unusual advantages..." she continued, letting the knife thud point first into the wood of the dais before sending it flying in another intricate vertical spin. " He missed his chance," Phelan commented from nearby, echoing Rosto's thoughts.

"I'd say so" he smirked. With a rapid movement he plucked Aniki's spinning knife out of the air to examine it. "You should come up with a habit which does not dull your weapons."

"I've got more," Aniki smirked and left leaving him with her blade and Phelan's company. Rosto liked Phelan. He was a good reliable man; for all that he'd started out as a dog. It had been years now since Phelan had 'defected' and Rosto always hoped that his example would serve as an... inspiration to Beka.

Hadn't happened yet, but he was nothing if not a patient man. He hadn't said it out loud but somewhere in the back of his mind he could practically hear Aniki laughing at him for that one...

"Do you think of the Dogs as the enemy?" he asked Phelan abruptly. If anyone had a reason for that perspective, Phelan did.

Phelan thought for a moment. "Not anymore. There are bad people amongst the Dogs, just like Rats. The bad ones got 'er killed. But there's good one's too. Like, Beka and Goodwin...they care."

Rosto thought of the Cage dogs that had jumped him, the stories of the Drink and the torture in the cages. Beka's idolization of the Dogs still didn't make sense to him, but he was starting to think that it was too engrained now to ever be removed.

Beka was never as cold to Phelan as she had been to him. Certainly she had been upset when Phelan had joined the court, but things went back to normal between them pretty quickly. Possibly because he wasn't constantly trying to kiss her... Rosto had nearly forgotten about Phelan's presence until his musings were interrupted.

"She already knows not all dogs are good. You're a good man, Rosto, she'll see that too one day."