Disclaimer: The Fox and the Hound is the property of Daniel P. Mannix and Walt Disney Studios, not mine.

Forever Young: It gets worse...trust me!

The Next Political Dynasty: Dun dun dun! Have you even seen this movie yet? Just wondering, lol. Keep reading and have fun moving in!

Lone Wolfdog: I LOVE HANK THE COWDOG!!! That's where I got the name Beulah from!! If you'll look on my profile, you'll eventually see a/b 4 stories I have planned out to write based on Hank the Cowdog. I LOVE Drover best!

Anonymous but Impressed: Thank you very much. And the drama picks up more in this chappie, as you'll see!

The Fox and the Hound 3: The Next Generation

Part One: The Younger Years

Chapter Four: Tragedy Strikes

"UNCLE CHIEF!" Smoky continued to yell from the net. "Why isn't he coming?"

"Because somebody wanted to sneak off from home while he was sleeping!" Ace growled. "We're too far out in the woods for him to hear us now!"

"Well, maybe we can chew our way out," Autumn suggested, not wanting to stay up in the air all day.

"It's worth a shot," Beulah had to agree. "I can't think of anything."

"I'm not going to listen to some stupid fox's idea!" Smoky insisted.

"You calling my sister stupid?" Swift snapped. "If I recall correctly, you are the one who got us up here in the first place!"

"Will everybody just calm down?" Ace pleaded, trying to shove Swift's tail from his nose. "We have to work together if we want to get out of here, and—"

"You can work together by yourself," Smoky snapped. "I'm not dealing with these forest animals."

Swift started to say something back, but a loud noise stopped him from doing so. "Wh-wh-what's that noise?"

Everybody stopped chatting to listen as well, and before long a truck with a large flat-bed pulled up underneath them. They stared as two men got out and looked up at them.

"Looks like we got something in that one," the driver, a heavy man with a red beard, said. "Chop 'em loose and put them in a crate."

The other man, a skinny guy with black greasy hair past his shoulders, rummaged around in the backseat for something to chop the rope with. Smoky didn't like the way these men looked or smelled, so he stuck his little muzzle through a hole in the net and screamed, "UNCLE CHIEF! HELP!"

While all this was going on, Chief had been enjoying an uninterrupted nap—that is until it did get interrupted...by some yelling. He jerked his head up and shook himself awake before perking his left ear up to see if he could hear it again. Yep, there it went again, coming from the woods and—the woods?! Sweet mother, the kids! And they sounded like they were in trouble!

"Hang on, kids, I'm com–ow!" he yelped. When he jumped forward, he had forgotten that he was still tied to his barrel to prevent him from going anywhere and nearly choked on his rope. He heard the yelling again, and he knew he couldn't let his stupid doghouse get in the way of protecting the children.

Chief gathered up his strength and tugged hard on the barrel, like he had done when he chased young Tod so long ago, and finally got the barrel loose enough for him to run and drag it behind him. Barking at the top of his lungs, he dashed through the broken section of the fence.

The greasy haired man had found himself a machete and was now busy hacking at the rope that held the five youngsters suspended in mid-air, while his heavy-weighted friend set a huge crate with holes in it on the ground. Smoky was still yelling for help, his voice growing tired.

"Forget it, Smoke, he's not gonna show up," Ace sighed. "We're too far out in the woods for him to hear us."

"No! Uncle Chief is gonna save us, you'll see!" Smoky insisted. "If he can beat up a mountain lion, it'll be a cinch beating these two losers up!"

Just then, the net began to fall and the kids screamed when they felt themselves going down. The greasy haired man caught them in his arms and emptied them into the crate before slamming down the lid.

"Well, let's get 'em in the truck," he said, beginning to kneel down so he could lift the box. Smoky stuck his little snoot out of one of the air holes and started howling. They were just about to be lifted from the flatbed of the truck when the sound of angry barking could be heard.

"What the–," the heavy man started to ask, but he was cut off when a huge gray dog suddenly showed up, teeth bared and all.

"Who the heck is this guy?" Swift wanted to know.

"It's Uncle Chief!" Beulah exclaimed happily. "He heard you after all, Smoky! Hey, look, he even brought his house with him!"

"Wow, he must've been in a hurry!" Ace remarked.

The heavy man let go of the crate, and Chief jumped up and clamped down hard on the man's arm with his teeth. The man started screaming and tried to shake the angry dog off of him, but Chief kept a tight grip on his opponent.

"Hey, Marty!" he yelled to the greasy haired man. "Get this crazy dog off me!"

Marty was searching frantically in the pickup for something to beat the dog with. "I'm coming, Jeff, old pal!"

Jeff finally managed to throw Chief off of him, but the old hound wasn't done yet. He aimed lower and started ripping the man's leg open with sharp fangs and claws. Jeff tumbled onto the dirt, trying to kick off his attacker.

"Marty, he's killing me! Hurry up!"

"Get him, Uncle Chief, get him!" Smoky yipped excitedly, having been watching the whole show. "Tear his legs off!"

Marty succeeded in locating a thick short pipe that he could use to save his friend with and sprinted over to where the two where still going at each other. Smoky could see something in his hand and started yelling,

"Uncle Chief, behind ya!"

Somehow, the old dog was able to hear the pup's warning, but a moment too soon. As soon as he looked up to start having a go at Marty, the greased hair man slammed the pipe into the dog's head. Chief let out a yelp of pain, and when Marty beat the pipe onto him again, the dog collapsed to the ground.

"Thank God, I thought that crazy mutt was gonna kill me!" Jeff said, standing up on shaky legs. "Let's get out of here in case its owner shows up or something," he added, nudging the dog over into a ditch so nobody could see it.

The two men grabbed the crate and hoisted it onto the back of the truck. The pups looked worriedly outside the walls.

"Uncle Chief? Uncle Chief, wake up!" Beulah whimpered, seeing the old dog lying motionless on the ground. "What's wrong with him, why won't he get up?"

"Oh my gosh, please tell me he's not dead!" Ace pleaded.

Smoky stared out with eyes filled with horror. "No. No, he can't be dead." The truck's engine started up and began to drive forward. "He just can't be!" Tears swelled up in his little brown eyes as the image of their seemingly lifeless uncle faded into the distance. It's all my fault . . .

Aw, how tragic! How are the kids going to escape now? Is Chief really dead? When are Tod and Vixey going to realize their cubs are gone? Gotta keep reading to find out!