Hey! Wassup?! So here we go, a new Chapter... Yep... what did I plan to say here again? I dunno... so how about I just impart some random wisdom for your life? The Hurdy-Gurdy is the predecessor to the organ, and is ultimately awesome. Don't start a tulip fight with a Dutchman. Don't spray bear mace unless it is imperative you do so. If you have to fight, fight like the third monkey on the ramp to the Ark and it's starting to rain. Cooking foreign foods is fun and quite delicious, especially German food and Moroccan food. And finally, if you're teasing/bothering a sister of yours, make sure: 1. She is NOT taking Ballet or Martial Arts classes. 2. She doesn't have any makeup at her disposal nearby. 3. You have good health insurance. 4. You can make the hundred yard dash in at least 14 seconds.

Disclaimer: I don't own Paw Patrol. And since I don't, I'm at creative liberty because I don't have to keep it strictly by the show's patterns. Haha! Let's get it on!

6:15 PM, Adventure Bay.

Chase and Marshall reentered the Lookout, both projecting their own versions of casualness, Chase's being a neutral face and a sauntering gait, Marshall wearing a giant grin and prancing inside with his usual happy-walk. After exchanging a brief look, they split ways. Marshall plodded back to the TV, tangling his paws when he was most of the way there and landing with a plop to his belly on a red beanbag chair. Chase, having no idea what to do, walked up to Rocky.

"So... whatcha doing?" He asked, noting the faint scent of sea water. It smelled like Rocky did get wet after all.

Rocky froze, looking up with one ear folded down and that crazy grin he only got when messing with mechanical stuff Ryder wouldn't approve of. It was a look that was semi-scary to Chase, because it always appeared to the police pup like the mixed breed was considering doing some sort of experiment on him involving prosthetic limbs and maniacal laughing.

"Something," he said casually, returning to his dismantlement operation. Chase watched for a bit, scanning the small pile of components that sat on the floor. The Xbox cover was functioning like a tray, holding the screws and small bits and pieces. Chase cringed when the recycling pup ripped out a fan unit, examined it, then dropped it on the ground with almost disregard, yet it landed softly in the stand-in tray. Chase moved away quickly as Rocky began attacking the disk drive, not being able to stand watching what almost appeared to Chase as vandalism.

Walking into the elevator, he hit the up button. As he climbed the tower, he considered Rocky's actions. That look... that look was a pure Rocky look, like no other pup should be able to replicate. Chase scratched his chin, thoughts wandering.

The door slid open and Chase stepped out, crossing the room absentmindedly and sitting at his place where the pups always lined up. The big round room's only illumination came through the large windows surrounding the Lookout's top, allowing the evening light to spill in, giving everything a dim blueish coloration and casting long shadows across the floor. The days had gotten shorter in Adventure Bay, provided that it was fall, and the sun was setting at an earlier and earlier time everyday. Chase looked out the window, taking in the glow of the town and the primal beauty of the high mountains, pine forests, and grassy fields surrounding it. He saw his binoculars and comic where he had left them out on the balcony.

Sighing, Chase wished Ryder would hurry up and get back. He needed their leader's help. Sure, Marshall was there for him, but he wasn't completely convinced of the situation either. The boy they all had come to love would surely be willing to give Chase's findings at least the benefit of the doubt.

Looking at the large screen, Chase had a great idea. He walked over and powered it up, the Paw Patrol logo coming to life front and center on a light blue background. Hitting a couple of buttons, the screen showed Chase an air-view 3D map of Adventure Bay. He pressed a rectangular red button, making a bunch of images of the pups' tags appear at their current locations, including Everest's and Tanya's at Jake's mountain inside the lodge. Each pup tag icon also, when highlighted, showed the wearer's vitals. They would change colors depending on their situation, flashing red being critical or emergency. Chase had learned enough about the monitor to operate it effectively in the case of Ryder's absence or incapacitation.

Zooming out, Chase received a view of the whole state. He spotted Ella and Tuck's icons moving fast, going north on the highway into Washington. Ella and Tuck were Golden Retrievers and the Mighty Twins, members of the Paw Patrol who specialized in taking down super villains by using their own super powers, but also were capable at countering criminals without them. Checking their status and several of Ryder's monitoring systems, Chase quickly learned that they were in pursuit of a suspected stolen sports car, a silver and red 2017 Morspeed V.37, there being a possibility that the perpetrator was armed. They had dealt with that kind of emergency before, but still Chase gave a brief prayer for his two friends' safety before he continued on his original mission: see how long it would take Ryder to come home. He felt silly, like a little kid tracking Santa on Christmas Eve, but then again, they had done that and saved said flying-sled riding gift-giving red-clad fat man before. Zooming out further, he could not find Ryder's symbol, which was projected by his wrist pad. After backing the view out so he could see most of the continent, Chase still hadn't located their leader. Feeling slightly worried, Chase began to think. Could he have crashed? There were several major storms across the U.S, could he be in one which was blocking the signal?

Chase snapped his right front paw, something he was proud of because almost none of the other pups could replicate it, and clicked a few buttons on the dashboard. The Air Patroller had a tracking system similar to the tags, just with a stronger signal. Chase brought up the jet's icon, and was hit with a category one hurricane of confusion because of what he saw. The Air Patroller was over the Atlantic Ocean, several dozen miles from the New York coast. Why was Ryder that far away? Whenever they did training maneuvers in the jet, it always occurred in Oregon or an adjacent state's airspace. He tried to access the cabin cam but found it out of operation. He noted that the jet was flying directly away from Northern Europe.

'Maybe it has something to do with that thing he had to drop off,' Chase considered. Then again the only people they specifically knew in that general direction was the Royal Family of Barkingburg. What could it have been that he needed to give them? They all were there yesterday for the ball, couldn't he have dropped it off then? What-?

'Stop it,' Chase tried to shut his brain down. 'No need to make a big deal about this, I've got an actually case to solve. Ryder will probably tell us what he was doing later. Until then, I need-' His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the elevator. His paws flew across the keys, powering down the screen an instant before the elevator reached the top. Skye stepped out of the elevator, eyes finding Chase.

"What's happening?" She questioned, gaze flicking between the police pup and the screen. Chase put on his Situation Normal face, smiling to hide the vicious accusatory glare he'd otherwise be wearing.

"Nothing much, I was just looking at the city lights," he lied, moving his focus out the window and hoping she'd believe and leave. Instead, she grinned and walked over.

"It is a nice view, Chasey," she said softly, sidling up really close.

"Chasey?" Chase asked, shocked. "Why'd you call me that?"

Skye stiffened, looking slightly concerned. "I... er, I can't call my boyfriend nicknames?" She chuckled nervously.

'Boyfriend?' Chase thought incredulously and with the slightest bit of nausea. Did she think they were dating? 'Well, between our talk earlier today and the ball, and if she isn't that familiar with the relationships around here, it'd be reasonable that she'd assume Skye and I are dating.'

Deciding to use the principle of 'yes and,' Chase shouldered her playfully, smiling his best affectionate smile he could muster. "Only if I get to nickname you, darling." It seemed to do the trick, as she bumped him back. She then, to Chase's greatest mental objections, snuggled up right against him. They remained silent like that for eight seconds. Eight. Whole. Seconds. Of. Torture.

"Well, as much as I'm loving this... and you," she added in a tone that almost made Chase shiver in disgust. "Rocky said he's gonna do some cooking and that you may feel like practicing your culinary skills," she told him, stepping back a little. Chase nodded. He did want to get better at cooking, and he also appreciated the chance to escape this detestable situation.

"Can't let him burn everything by himself," Chase said, earning a laugh from the cockapoo. Chase almost whimpered. It was exactly like that sound he loved so much, so rich and good humored. He had always wished above all other wishes that he'd be able to spend time like this with Skye, the love of his life, and now here he was, flirting with a fake. He wished he could just grab her, cuff her, and interrogate her into telling him where his beloved Skye was, even if he had to break every law enforcement rule and procedure.

But instead, he found himself walking back to the elevator, the imposter cockapoo right beside him, leaning her head on his shoulder. Once inside, Chase hit the button for down. As the door slid shut, the worst part happened; Skye leaned up close and pressed her warm lips on his cheek, leaving a kiss on him when she retracted that burned more than the rest of his face. Never before in the German Shepard's lifetime had he believed in cooties, but now he was converted by the stinging acid mark on his fur. He was blushing hard, but the fire in his face was not from embarrassment or affection. He was blushing purely from extreme anger.

The elevator door slid open, and Chase and Skye exited together. The mouth watering smells of good food wafted out of the kitchen, and the sounds of boisterous laughter and conversation came from the same place. The two made eye contact, and smiled briefly. Chase then walked into the kitchen. Skye watched him go, smiling. As soon as he was out of sight though, it slowly disappeared. Taking on a deadly serious face, she boarded the elevator again, sending it back to the top.

When she arrived at her destination, Skye crossed the room to the large screen. Standing in front of it, she swiped her tag. It instantly came to life, showing the map Chase had been looking at earlier. She yipped quietly, and her tag lit up.

"Yes? What is it?" Came a slightly nasal and annoyed voice.

"Our cover is blown," the cockapoo said with contempt.

"Already?" Harold Humdinger sounded unhappy. "Darn it! Who's on to you?"

"It's Chase, the German Shepard police pup."

"The tall, muscly one?"

"Yes sir," she confirmed. "He's trying to convince Marshall, the clumsy Dalmatian, that Zuma and I aren't the real pups. That klutzy fool seems to be starting to believe it."

"How long has Chase known?"

"Since this morning at least. Someone messed up, clueing him in," she said bitterly. "I wasn't sure how much he suspected until I listened in on the conversation between him and Marshall. I then caught him here on the Lookout systems a couple minutes ago; he was looking into Ryder's location, though I'm not sure if he's on to him or not. He is really good at acting, so it's difficult to determine what he knows."

Harold scratched his chin, thinking hard. "Well, you're gonna have to advance the plan a little sooner than expected. Move forward with Operation Harold-ing Escape."

Skye nodded and ended the call.

"I'm sure he could've thought of a better name for it," she murmured.

Dinner only took about an hour and a half to put together. Rocky and Chase had made rice, chakalaka, pepper steak, and Moroccan khobz bread. Chase managed not to burn anything, and the meal proved to be delicious. The Shepard had suspected Rocky to be trying to make up for the lack of special breakfast that morning, seeing how large and varied the meal was. They had fried the rice, giving it a healthy amount of golden brown mixed in with the white grains. The chakalaka, or soweto chili as Rocky dubbed it, was a good combination of baked beans, carrots, bell peppers, hot peppers, other veggies and several of the more exotic seasonings in the cabinet, giving it an amazingly sweet aroma to match the taste. According to Rocky, he had sampled the South African dish a long time ago, and had been dying to try making it himself. The pepper steak was cooked with a mix of peppers and onions, making for a savory topping to the meal. The warm bread almost was too much for the pups' already full stomachs, but none would not eat at least one piece. Despite the fabulous meal, a tangible air of tension had made conversation idle. Chase had kept one eye on every other pup during the meal, and it almost seemed they were returning the favor. When, to the disbelief of the mixed breed chef, Rubble declared he was stuffed, Marshall shot Chase a concerned glance. Chase knew what he was thinking; nothing in a reasonable world could fill that bulldog after only one serving.

After finishing, the pups moved off to get ready to sleep with hardly a word to each other. Now, Chase sat in his pup house on his bed, teeth and fangs freshly brushed. He was tired after a full day of emergencies, and his fight to keep the drowsiness at bay was soon proven to be futile. Slowly, he stretched out onto his stomach, yawning. He felt his eyelids droop down, and his head filled with fog. Chase tried experimenting with shutting his eyes briefly...

He awoke in the darkness, hearing the loud sound of a large engine outside. Sitting up quickly, he instantly looked down to his collar to find out the time, discovering the tag had come off in his sleep.

"Drats," he muttered tiredly, rubbing that stinging sand-particle feeling out of his eyes. "I've gotta stop rolling over in my sleep so much." He scanned the room for his clock, finding the illuminated display. "One forty-six? Welcome back Ryder, good timing." Chase yawned, cringing at the taste of morning breath. He had been anxious to talk to Ryder ever since his discoveries, but now was hardly the appropriate time. As he listened to the Air Patroller power down, he bedded back down. Chase would talk to him after he'd had some proper sleep.

?

Skye gradually drifted into consciousness, eyes cracking open and becoming aware of the dimly lit room she lay in. What had happened to the bright lights? Feeling a tad woozy but better than earlier, Skye sat up. The strong scent of mildew reached her nose, making her recoil in disgust. Shifting on the stone floor, she became aware of another smell... iron. Looking to her right, Skye was startled to see iron bars reaching from the floor to the roof. Beyond it was a large room lined with cells. A table, some chairs, a couple of barrels, and a crate made up the chamber's contents. Where was she?!

Suddenly, it all came back to her. The ball; spending an incredible night with Chase dancing, playing, and laughing. Walking back to the jet, and remembering she had left her purse in the party room.

Leaving the group, she had dashed back to fetch it, finding it where she had left it on their game table. She had stopped, looking at the chess board they'd left set in Chase's last defeat. Smiling, she had begun thinking about him in his handsome suit, spending more time looking at her than at the board.

"Has something else caught your attention?" She had asked politely after one such instance.

He had grinned, and then told her sincerely, "Only the most beautiful pup in the room." Skye had blushed really badly, tail going into rapid wag mode. She lost her concentration for that entire match, ending up losing to Chase. The Shepard had beamed proudly at his victory. "Looks like I finally found your weakness; flattery." He had then leaned close to her ear and teased, "Isn't that right, lovely?"

"I think you've had too much punch," Skye giggled self consciously, lightly shoving him back. The next few rounds ended with her being victorious, not allowing his newfound silver tongue to get the better of her again.

With purse in tow, she had turned to catch up with the others when she felt something light strike in her back leg, giving a sharp pinprick sting. Yelping, she had turned to examine it, finding a dart protruding from her skin. Instantly her whole body had gone numb. Becoming dizzy, she had slumped to the ground, vision fading as a set of paws came up in front of her face.

Now, head whipping around, the cockapoo realized she was in some sort of dungeon; dress, jewelry, and purse gone. Alarm, fright, and confusion fought for dominance in her head as she shot to her feet, heart pounding. She'd been darted and imprisoned! But by who? Who would-?

"Well, looks like you're finally up," came a familiar haughty British voice. Turning to face the voice, Skye let out a growl.

"Sweetie," Skye snarled, facing the Terrier who stood in the shadows by the wall in the cell. "Where am I? What have you done?"

Sweetie stepped forward into the light, and Skye gasped, losing her hostilities. Fur disheveled, several scrapes on her body, and the slightest amount of blood on her lip, the royal pup's appearance shocked the pilot.

"You're in the dungeon of Harold Humdinger," she said bitterly, like the name was profane. "As for what I did, I think that should wait until the others awaken." She gestured towards the walls and Skye's eyes adjusted, revealing the many other unconscious bodies that occupied the cell.

6:40 AM, Adventure Bay

The only source of illumination was the hearty fire in the cabin's hearth, warming Marshall from his nose to his toes. The faint sizzling and popping sounds of the logs and the smell of small amounts of smoke filled the air, but that was a minor thing compared to the lavender Husky which sat across from him on the plush blue dog bed, gazing into his eyes with her own. He could see the firelight that shimmered on and reflected off her half closed crystal blue eyes, giving them a faint orange tint, and the shine of affection that was there as well, giving him goosebumps.

Marshall nuzzled her shoulder with his muzzle, making Everest produce a cooing sound. She rubbed her cheek on his, and Marshall sighed. Her fur was sooo soft, softer than anything other than the clouds of heaven should feel. Up in her fur, he could smell her scent, that distinct Everest scent of pine trees and lavender to match her coloration.

They soon found themselves face to face, noses only inches apart.

"Everest," Marshall whispered his love's name.

"Marshall," she responded in a low, sultry tone, slowly leaning forward. Marshall began to move towards her, prepping his lips for contact and shutting his eyes.

There came a knock on the cabin door. "Not now, Jake," the Dalmatian said breathlessly, feeling Everest had nearly closed the gap, her warm, sweet breath on his face. He reached around her, intending to bring her into his arms and loving embrace.

"Marshall, are you dreaming?" Marshall opened his eyes, seeing Chase right there in front of him.

"Gaa-umph!" He tried to scream when he found paws covering his mouth. Marshall blinked, realizing he wasn't in Jake's cabin; he was in his pup house. Groaning inwardly, the Dalmatian knew he'd been dreaming about Everest... again. It happened on occasion, but he never, ever got to experience the kiss; the dream always ended before contact. Looking at the amused smirk on his brother's face, Marshall knew that he had at least a guess of what he had been dreaming. Chase removed his paws from Marshall's muzzle.

"Uh, hey Chase. Umm, what's up?" Marshall attempted to sound casual, noting the early morning light spilling through the open door and the clock on his dresser which read six forty-two A.M. A chilly breeze lightly flowed in. He shivered slightly.

If the Shepard had hands, Marshall was sure they would be on his hips. "What's up is you were quietly moaning in your sleep and reaching out with your paws, hugging the air. Also, you talk in your sleep."

"How long were you standing there? Wh-what did you hear?" Marshall asked timidly, face warming like a space heater, nullifying the wind's effects.

Chase's smirk deepened, and Marshall knew he was dead. "Oh, not long at all, but long enough for you to mutter something about how soft Everest's fur is, and something about her beautiful lips, and how her nice, fluffy tail-"

"Okay! I get it!" Marshall was pretty sure he now looked like the rare red and black spotted Dalmatian puppy. "What is it you're interrupting my morning fantasies for? Don't you have your own to attended to?" He yawned, getting out of bed.

Chase chuckled softly. "Nah, I can't sleep. Too much on my mind." He nodded off in the direction of the Lookout. "We've gotta tell Ryder about the problem." Marshall agreed; last night, he had gotten some real concerns when seeing Rubble only eat a reasonable amount of food at dinner.

"Let's get to it... just let me brush my teeth first, you've kinda left a horrible image in my head and I've gotta brush it out." Chase covered a laugh, ducking outside.

Seven minutes later, the duo stood outside Ryder's room door. Feeling déjà vu, Marshall knocked twice and backed up. Five seconds passed without answer.

'Here we go again,' Marshall thought with a sigh, stepping up to knock again when the door swung open, Ryder standing in the doorway wearing his pajamas.

"Uh, hi Ryder!" Marshall said, retreating two steps. Ryder smiled.

"Hey there pups! What can I do for you?" Ryder exited, shutting the door behind him. There was a moment of silence before Chase shook his head, looking up at their leader.

"We need to talk to you, sir. Can we go upstairs?"

"Sure," Ryder followed them to the elevator.

Riding with Ryder, they were silent. 'Heh, Riding with Ryder. That's good,' Marshall chuckled without a sound. When the doors opened at the top, Marshall dashed out and crashed on a beanbag chair, feeling he was missing out on the sleep the other pups were getting, real friends or not. Chase came out at a much more measured pace, walking beside their boy-genius owner. Someone had left a window open, making the room just as chilly as outside. Marshall stared at the grey cloudy sky, wishing for the sun to come back.

Pulling up a chair, Ryder sat beside his large console. Chase stood nearby, looking anxious. Marshall couldn't blame him; here they were, about to make the craziest claim ever, and Marshall wasn't even fully convinced it was completely accurate.

"Okay, go ahead," Ryder beckoned to Chase. The German Shepard took a deep breath.

"Marshall and I... well, I noticed that something's off about some of the others," Chase admitted, words coming out in a rush. "I think that they're not really them."

Ryder smiled understandingly. "That's an odd thing to say, are you feeling good?" He checked, eyes showing a hint of concern.

"Ryder, sir, I'm fine, but they really aren't our friends, you've gotta believe me," Chase implored. "I have proof."

Ryder nodded. "Okay, who are you most worried about? Who's acting the oddest?"

Chase began pacing back and forth. "It's three of them, first Skye," Marshall rolled his eyes. Of course he was most worried about Skye. Then again, if he was in his friend's paws, he would be most worried about Everest.

Chase continued speaking. "Yesterday morning I was talking to her and brought up the topic of eagles. See, I kinda lied to her and said I saw an eagle, which I claimed were her favorite birds, and she got all excited. We both know how afraid of eagles she is; it's a paralyzing fear. Next, I caught a whiff of her scent, and it wasn't her's, in a way like it was another dog. Last night, up here she called me 'Chasey,'" Marshall shuddered. Never before had he heard that horrendous nickname. "She acted like we were dating, and called me her boyfriend."

"And you're not?" Ryder checked, leaning forward. Marshall almost yelled, 'Chase? Skye's boyfriend?! Do you know the pair you're talking about?' but still he remained silent, feeling just around the corner from dozing off.

Chase, still pacing, looked shocked at Ryder's question. "Of course not! I've only went on one date to the ball with her. Anyway, she was being strangely... affectionate. Aside from her, Zuma has been really weird, most specifically when we were outside, right after you left. When I asked him, as a test, why he hated surfing, he professed that 'I just do.' That's his favorite sport, and it has been ever since I first met him. Why would that change overnight? Another thing I noticed, no matter how many emergencies we responded to, neither of them said their callouts or catchphrases. We always say them."

"Chase, I know you have good intentions, but I think you're reading into these things too much. Maybe they were tired, or messing with you," Ryder said patiently. Marshall nodded at his observations, he had thought the same things. "With Skye, what if she has made some assumptions based on things that happened at the ball? Maybe you accidentally led her to believe something? She may have been wearing something that changed her scent, or maybe something nearby put you off? The eagle thing is odd, I'll admit, but there could be any number of reasonable explanations." Chase stayed silent, pace slowing.

Ryder decided to continue. "The best answer I can offer to the Zuma thing is that he's just messing with you, getting under your skin. What if they're all pranking you?"

"Maybe," Chase said softly. Marshall yawned, eyes loosing focus. Looked like he could go back to sleep.

"Don't worry, Chase. I understand your worries. As the leader of the pups, it shows responsibility that you are concerned for your team mates' well being. You're just going to have to accept that maybe they're just off right now. I'm sure Skye, Zuma, and Rubble will be back to normal any day now."

Chase froze in his tracks, looking startled. Slowly, he turned to face Ryder. "How did you know about Rubble being one of them?"

Ryder chuckled. "He... uh, I mean, didn't you say?"

"No, in fact, I didn't." Marshall snapped back into focus, seeing their leader's worried expression. Sweat beaded Ryder's forehead, despite the cold.

Chase took a deliberate step back from the boy in the chair, face taking on a steely seriousness Marshall had never witnessed before, chilling him to the bone. "You went awfully far away for a maneuvers flight," Chase said in a slow, accusing voice.

"Remember, bud? I had to drop something off with a-"

"With who, exactly?" The Police Pup demanded. "Someone in Barkingburg, perhaps?" He sniffed the air.

"Chase, don't you trust me?" Ryder asked the bristling dog, beginning to stand.

"Ich bin ein Idiot," muttered Chase, a growl emitting from his throat. "I trust Ryder, not you, whoever you are."

"Chase, have you gone nuts?!"Marshall exclaimed, sitting upright. He didn't like what he was seeing.

Ignoring the Dalmatian, Chase stalked forward, baring his fangs, making Ryder fall back a few steps "You're under arrest for subterfuge and impersonating an officer of the law," Chase snarled. "Come along quietly, or I will have to use force." Ryder was backed into the wall, looking indecisive for only a moment.

Face contorting in a sudden rage, Ryder struck Chase with a sudden kick, sending him tumbling across the floor into the chair with a crash. Ryder made a dash for the elevator, passing Marshall who was paralyzed with astonishment.

Chase leapt up with a bark. Shaking off his pain, he sallied forth, quickly closing down the distance between himself and the fleeing boy.

Ryder was six feet shy of the elevator entrance when Chase sprung off his paws, catching him in the center of his back and knocking him to the ground. The two rolled for a couple of feet until coming to a stop. Ryder tried scrambling to a stand, but Chase was faster, tackling their leader like a champion rugby player. They began wrestling on the ground, Ryder attempting to escape and Chase trying to restrain him, though having a tough time because of the size difference.

Marshall's eyes darted back and forth between the two combatants, not knowing what to do. Help Chase, his brother who had seemingly gone mad, or help Ryder, who had randomly struck first with a savage kick.

Ryder got to his knees. He managed to land a solid punch to Chase's jaw, making the Shepard topple over. Finding his feet, the boy brought a heel down towards the dog's neck. Chase rolled to the left, narrowly dodging what would've been a fatal blow. He jumped up, clamping his mouth shut on Ryder's left arm, on top of his wrist pad. Yelling out in pain, Ryder staggered to the elevator's outside wall, swinging his arm and smashing the pup against it. Still, Chase gripped tighter.

Shouting something that stung Marshall's ears, Ryder smacked him on the wall several more times. On the third blow, Chase fell down to the floor, dazed, wrist pad still held between his teeth. All of a sudden, there was a rushing Whoosh! Ryder exploded in an impressive cloud of grey ashes and dust, some of it landing on the German Shepard, and the boy's pajamas fluttered to the ground.

Stunned silence filled the room's atmosphere, and both pups stared horrified at the now settling remains.

"You killed Ryder!" Marshall screamed.