Rita's spirits had been lifted immensely by the companionship of her father, and she woke each morning with a positivity that she'd long missed. She delighted in getting to know him; he was quiet and focused, and his inexperience in socialising showed in how often he seemed to almost forget that she was even there. Reserved though he was, Storm was thrilled to have his daughter by his side, and was impressed by her cunning- clearly this kid had a very bright future as a street dog. They covered a lot of ground each day; in the past few days the pair had been roaming the Bronx. Initially, Rita had been unsure about venturing far from all that she held familiar, the chance of stumbling across Willow out here was zilch, but she eventually came to the conclusion that there was little chance that her younger sister was alive anywhere, so just rolled with it and tried to settle into the new life she'd found. It didn't make it easy to deal with, but it meant she was freed from her self-inflicted prison of guilt. Storm kept her mind busy, teaching her everything he knew about the street life. Remaining active as they did, the skinny hounds managed to stay relatively warm and comfortable, despite the chill in the air.
By midday Rita was hungry and with her father napping a short distance away, she took to rooting through trashcans. It was the quickest and easiest means of making a meal, though the results were often not particularly exciting. Almost always, however, there was something tasty to be had, and the risk was so much lower than any attempted thievery. Although she'd made a few raids on unsuspecting citizens, it was more for the purpose of making a good impression on her father and really it was something she'd rather avoid after some near misses. The run-in with the aggressive man on her first day alone had seriously dented her confidence. When she had managed to steal anything exciting from humans, the unwanted attention from scavenging dogs had cancelled out any benefits that such meals held to her. Had she been back with Dodger, her confidence issues would have been dealt with very quickly- there was no time for nursing nerves when someone was constantly challenging you to keep up. The little mutt's cockiness sure had its uses. Rita pawed through the rubbish, trying to differentiate between the smells, certain that she'd caught whiff of something promising. A turkey leg- score! Taking the prize in her teeth, Rita backed out of the can and turned to see a sandy brown dog standing over her, teeth bared.
"You'd better hand that over, princess," the dog snarled, danger obvious in his voice.
Rita froze; her eyes frantically searching for an escape route. While usually she'd have made a run for it, she hadn't seen this menacing stranger until it was too late and she found herself trapped. In her surprise, she dropped the piece of meat, and in an instant the strange dog had snatched it up.
"Smart kid." The dog started to leave, knowing that the pup had been rendered intimidated. He didn't notice the second hound approach, soft paws silent against the concrete.
"You goin' somewhere?" Storm spoke calmly. He had no fear of the stranger who was now outnumbered, only anger at the exploitation of his pup's inexperience. He lowered his head, hackles raised. If this lowlife wanted a fight, he'd be getting one.
The sandy brown dog eyed the newcomer. They were evenly matched, but if the hound was protecting his pup he would be unlikely to back down quietly. The dog was hungry enough that it was worth the risk. He rumbled a low growl, not prepared to give up on the meal so easily, and kept walking, daring the newcomer to stop him.
Storm leapt onto the sandy thief, hitting out with his forepaws and knocking the stranger onto his side with the force of the blow. In the time it took the dog to turn to retaliate, Storm had his strong jaws around his throat, thousands of years' worth of hunting instincts that had been bred into him finding expression. He held firm, knowing exactly what he was doing.
Surprised by the force of the attack, the thief dropped the turkey leg in his struggle to fight back. Rita saw the opportunity, and awakened from the trance in which she'd found herself, darted in to take back her lunch. She watched, eyes wide, as her father saw off the stranger. His strength and courage were obvious, and she could tell that he was a force to be reckoned with.
Turning back to his pup, Storm panted heavily. He'd not given much consideration to how vulnerable his young daughter was. Half-grown she might be, but it was clear that she had no idea how to defend herself. He knew that he shouldn't be surprised considering the privileged life she'd been born into, but it didn't make it any less of a problem. "What happened there, Rita? You know you can't just let people take your food, you don't know when you'll next find something substantial."
Rita felt embarrassed, "Usually I'd just run with it, but I was trapped. I don't fight."
"What do you mean, you don't fight?" Storm asked.
"I guess I get scared, I'm not really sure what I'm doing," Rita said. She knew there was more to it than that, and added defensively, "I've seen some dogs out here; they'd tear me apart without a second thought. I don't want to ever be like that. So I run."
Storm looked at his daughter, wondering if she might be just too sensitive to take proper care of herself. Sure, she was smart, and every now and then he'd see a glimpse of spunk that was obviously in her somewhere, but right now she'd be walked all over in a second. "Look, I know it's scary, and I know you're just a kid; but you gotta work this out, I might not always be there to fight for you. I know you gotta be able to live with yourself, but being able to defend yourself isn't gonna make a monster out of you."
Rita hung her head, feeling like she'd disappointed Storm. It was the last thing she wanted. As a tiny pup she'd always imagined her mysterious, adventurous father, and hoped that he might be proud of her. She avoided looking him in the eye. "I'm sorry Dad, I'll try harder."
Sensing that he'd hurt Rita's feelings, Storm didn't take the matter further. Once she'd finished off the morsel, they carried on their way. For hours they walked in silence, neither quite knowing what to say to the other. Happy as he was to have his daughter around, Storm had never had a constant companion like this, and it was all too easy to fall into long periods of quiet. It couldn't be right though, she was not even five months old yet- where was the play, the jollity that should abound in a pup that age? A smile creeping to his whiskered muzzle, Storm felt a sudden urge to enjoy some light hearted fun with his offspring- it hadn't been often in his young life that he'd had anyone to play with. Perhaps Rita was also becoming too used to being alone and so required to hold herself with an exaggerated maturity. Storm dropped himself into a play bow, bobbing his head invitingly. "Come on, squirt, looks like you need a bit of fun. Think ya can catch me?" He bounced up, and with a backward glance to his daughter, raced out onto the road with little concern for the traffic all around him.
Rita raced after her father, relieved to finally have a chance to act her age. The cold wind in her fur as she ran was exhilarating and she felt alive, alive and free. She laughed and squealed as she caught up to Storm and they playfully pounced at one another, batting with their paws and mouthing in feigned aggression. Rita rolled out of the tangle and dashed around the next corner to a small alley, only to be stopped in her tracks.
Storm followed after, and instantly saw what had put an end to the game. A dog lay sprawled on the cement; stiff from the cold and bloodied. How long the dog had been dead, Storm did not know, but the smell was awful. They must have been well and truly caught up into their play fight to have missed it before. "Rita? You okay?" he called to her gently.
The pup just stared. To think that mere moments ago she hadn't a care in the world- but this was the reality she was faced with. Who was this dog? Was someone missing him? The cold eyes were staring but unseeing, sending a chill down Rita's spine, yet she still couldn't look away. Was this what Willow looked like now? Beaten to death, starved, frozen or all three, none of the scenarios were foreign concepts to the Rita, and with a cold feeling from deep inside she realised just how little it would take for this to be her.
"Rita?" Storm nudged the pup's shoulder, freeing her from the waking nightmare that she helplessly stared into.
"I'm… I'm okay." Rita forced herself to look away, and was surprised to realise that tears had been rolling down her cheeks. She walked by her father's side, a million thoughts running through her head, and unable to shake that terrible stare from her mind's eye. "Dad?" she whispered, "Do you think you could teach me to fight? I don't want to end up like that, whatever it takes."
Storm was sorry that Rita had to experience such a forceful reality check, but was pleased that it had meant that she was more open to receiving some guidance in defending herself. "Of course, I'll train you up a bit." He licked her head, messing up (or rather, messing up further) her long fur, "But in the meantime, you know I'll protect you with my life. You're going to make it through this winter, and that's a promise." He led his daughter away from the terrible sight that had caused her such distress. "Come on, little-un, let's go for another run."
Rita collected herself and smiled back at her father, trusting that he would not let any harm come to her. She tried to shake the horrifying image from her mind and allow herself to forget her fears for a while. The loving support that Storm was giving her made all the difference in the world. With a feeble smile, Rita followed him back out into a world that was completely oblivious to the loss of one solitary street dog. Everything kept on going, and she'd have to learn to do so as well.
Storm jumped up, shaking off the evening chill and throwing his head back to let out a howl. In a snow-laden Central Park, he was free to run and frolic with his beloved Rita, no longer penned in by the concrete and buildings that made up the majority of their world. It wasn't just for play that he'd taken her to this wide, open space, though to his mind that was important too, but for the beginning of training his daughter up so she'd be capable of taking care of herself.
Despite her trepidation about being taught to fight, Rita couldn't help but get caught up in her father's high spirits. It seemed he knew the way to teach her was to do it with fun, and she felt her senses sharpen in this environment so different to what she was used to. Storm must know what he was doing here.
"All right, squirt," Storm said, from the play bow he'd dropped into. His breath showed in the cool air as he spoke. "First, tell me what you think you're good at. If you feel confident, you'll do better, so we'll use what you already know to start with."
Rita wasn't sure what she was good at that was any use when an angry dog was bearing down on her. "Um… I can steal stuff, and car surf, and run pretty fast. But you said that I shouldn't be running away, so dunno how that helps."
Storm licked his lips thoughtfully. "So, you're clever, brave and agile enough to take from humans- a lot of dogs out here aren't. You have a good awareness of the world around you, and you make it work for your own benefit. And you have the ability to get out of trouble fast if you really need to. See, you've got a lot more going for you than you think."
"I haven't thought about it that way. I guess you'll show me how to make those things work for me?"
"That's the idea- come here, spar with me," Storm bounced in his play bow, inviting Rita to strike at him. "You're smaller, and probably quicker than I am; you should be able to dart in to take a nip or smack without getting trapped by me. Try."
Rita bobbed up and down on her paws, preparing to make her move.
"It's okay," said Storm, "we're just making a game of it."
Rita jumped up, smacking her father's shoulder with her paws… or at least she tried to. Storm ducked out of the way, leaving her stumbling and losing her balance. She gritted her teeth, knowing that she'd been too slow. Trying a new tactic, she darted around behind Storm, making a moving target. In the second it took for him to spin around to keep her in his sights, she jumped forward and nipped his ear. Before he could strike back, she retreated, her body held close to the ground.
Storm gave a satisfied smirk. "Good. That's exactly what you need to be doing."
"That's it?" Rita raised an eyebrow. It was all too simple. There was no way such moves would help her in a real fight.
"You've gotta start somewhere. Once you've mastered the basics, then you can use your head to try new things- use your environment to your advantage. If you learn to duck and dive, you'll only have to fight if you think it's worth it. Keep practicing and you'll be able to retain control. Can't ask for more than that."
Laughing, Rita dropped into a bow and then jumped at her father once more, striking out with her forepaws. "All right… if you say so!"
Together, snapped and fought, sending a spray of snow into the air as their game intensified. Her spirit soaring and her heartbeat quickening with the excitement of the tussle, Rita tumbled down a snowy hillside. Storm came down the hill in a single leap, and he barked loudly. The park was their playground, and he had so much of it to show his daughter. For Rita, wherever he took her was just fine- as long as Storm was with her, she wouldn't be afraid; as long as Storm was with her, she had no reason to be.