A/N: Yeah, a short chapter, but…an important one, I think, in regards to the development of FentonxManson. Also: Another snippet of Danny's time in the GZ!
Chapter #10: A Walk
Cujo's ears raise slightly, his head turning to the door. His tail wags slowly, causing Sam to glance up from her book. He glances back with expectant eyes.
"You want to go out?" she asks.
He yips in agreement, scrambling off of her lap. He takes the leash by the door in his teeth.
"You want me to come with you?"
He wags his tail rapidly.
She slips on her shoes and wraps a coat around her shoulders. It's dark out, and she knows a route that's likely to be empty. He dances around her feet in excitement as she clips the leash to his collar and leads him outside.
It's not too cold outside, even with the breeze. The small, dirt path she takes to the forest is empty, and she begins to walk the circuitous route around the town.
After half an hour, Cujo freezes in place, his tail slowing to a stop.
"What is it, boy?" she asks.
"M-Miss Manson?" Leaves rustle, and someone steps out from around a corner. A thin, lithe hound made of smoke and fire walks astride him.
Cujo's tail resumes wagging full-force, and he bounds over to the visitor.
"I wasn't aware anyone else knew about this path," Danny Fenton smiles, crouching to pet the little beast, "Then again, Cujo probably showed it to you, didn't he?" he seems to be speaking with the dog more than her.
The black dog he'd been walking trots over gracefully, huffing at the edge of her dress.
"Annwyn," Danny laughs, "Introduce yourself first."
"Please excuse me," the voice reverberates through the air, and she looks up with ice-blue eyes, "I am Annwyn, Alpha of Hellhounds. It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Manson," her ears lay against her head, and she bows momentarily.
"It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Annwyn," she nods.
"Cujo has been behaving with respect, I hope?" her ear flicks in irritation, "After all, he is under orders from our master to protect you."
"He's fine," she smiles.
"…" those burning blue eyes bore into hers for a moment, "Well, as long as you have no quarrel with his behavior."
Danny snorts, "You have no right to judge him."
"I am the alpha. I may act as I wish," she sniffs.
He laughs, his blue eyes shining in Cujo's green glow, and looks up at Sam, "Now you know why I left Cujo," he winks conspiratorially.
Annwyn growls softly and worms her way under Danny's hands, pushing the other canine out of the way. She places her paws on his shoulders and pushes him down, barraging his face with licks.
"Argh! Annwyn!" he yelps.
"This is what you get for your senseless comments," she huffs, "Perhaps it will fix your mind?"
He laughs, "Annwy–" they both freeze in place. Annwyn's eyes lock onto something, and she slowly steps aside, allowing Danny to glide to a crouch, his eyes trained on the same spot. His fingers trace down to his boots, from which he pulls a knife.
It looks like an ancient dagger with a pitch black blade, save for the small, glowing strip of green down the center. Gone is the innocent smile she'd seen as he played with Cujo – who now stands by her feet, the size of a Shetland pony. In its place is a solid mask of steel, with cold eyes set alight by the dagger.
Now she knows why Cujo had seemed so disbelieving when she'd compared Danny Fenton to a puppy.
"Who's there?" he growls.
A few tense moments pass by, and the tension slowly eases from his body.
"They have left," Annwyn pronounces.
"Follow the scent," he orders, sliding the knife back into his boot, "I want to know who it was."
"Perhaps I could escort you home first?" she suggests.
"I'll be fine. I'll walk Miss Manson and Cujo back to her manor, and then I will return home. Just follow the trail before it cools."
"Yes, Master," she bows, bounding off into the undergrowth.
He pats Cujo's head absently and takes the mastiff's leash. The smile she's more familiar with eases its way onto his face.
"Perhaps we should be going, if you don't mind?"
A chill worms its way up her spine. One moment, he's sweet Danny Fenton, with tired eyes, a warm smile, and a gentle voice. The next, his eyes turn to ice, his face set in determination, and his voice a cold, furious growl.
No, there's a third face, as well. The teasing, confident smile she's seen the slightest hints of, and a voice as smooth and strong as silk.
Which one? She wonders as they stroll back to the mansion, which one…is the real Danny?
-BREAK-
"Let me go!" He shouts, wriggling against his restraints. His eyes track to the armored ghost that carries him.
"Quiet, Whelp," he laughs, "And accept your place on my wall."
"Your…wall?" he whispers weakly.
"A rare creature such as you? I must have it in my collection!"
"Rare creature?! I…I'm just your average human–" he stops mid-sentence, his wide eyes locking onto his reflection in a window. It's his face – no doubt about that – but his hair is white as snow, and his eyes are acid green.
He falls limp, struggling to catch another breath through the fear that tightens his chest.
I have to get out of here…!
"See, Halfling? You are worth plenty."
I have to…get away…
A wash of icy power surges down his arms, lighting his hands with unearthly green light, snapping his bonds. He drops to the ground and begins to run as quickly as he can. The ghost – it is a ghost, right? – laughs behind him.
"That's right, Whelp. Run," he laughs, "You cannot hide from me. I am Skulker, the greatest hunter of the Ghost Zone! Give me my sport! Make me earn your hide!"