A/N: Okay. So I received a pretty lengthy review a while back, and since I can't reply to guest users, I'll do it here. (You're free to skip this if you aren't interested.) First of all, I appreciate you leaving a review. Harsh or not, I always appreciate some feedback, and while I understand your frustrations, there's a few things that you have gotten incorrect. And as for me being "Hellbent on avoiding logic like the plague", as I will explain, there is SOME method to my madness.
Firstly, Marshall deciding to help out the dogs of the Canine Valley isn't out of respect for Hood, nor what he did. This isn't that kind of story. It's because there are lives that need serious help, and he won't turn his back on them, even if that means time is running out to prove his own innocence. For you to assume that this is a redemption story for Hood, your assumed "villain" of this story, you'd be wrong. Secondly, I have not forgotten about Marshall's quest to clear his name. But a crucial part of this story is Marshall learning something important about something I won't spoil at the moment, and I feel as though putting himself, as well as his personal goals above others who he has the opportunity of helping, is more in line with his character than knowingly leaving a whole myriad of canines to die.
Shifting gears to the catalyst, the theft of the golden bones, the reason I decided that the catalyst would be something as little as that, as well as a seemingly clumsy Dalmatian is because I do believe that regardless of how the others feel, if they're left only with evidence against, while yes, they would try to find a way to prove Marshall's innocence, ultimately, them, as well as the public, would look at Marshall, regardless of how irrational. I might not have done as good of a job showing mob mentality in that regard.
While, yes, obviously other Dalmatians exist, but who aside from Humdinger (Who has already been ruled out previously) and the PAW Patrol know about the golden bones to their knowledge? Why did Hood know, you may be asking? That's a plot point that comes up later. No spoilers there.
Additionally, I understand your viewpoint in Ryder's decision to send Marshall to the pound, but I feel as though you skipped his explanation as to why he decided to do this. He, as well as all of the other pups in the PAW Patrol, look out for the comfort of the citizens they're tasked with protecting. Meaning that Ryder, for the sake of regaining the public's trust, decides to do what he feels he has to. That's not even beginning to address the fact that they're all children, with the oldest having just broken double digits. But, a lot of people see that as a weak justification, so I'll just leave that as a side note.
Something I've been trying to convey with this story is the lack of black and white. Ryder may have told Marshall that he will send him back to the pound, but that doesn't mean he hates Marshall. Same goes for the other pups. They do believe that Marshall is guilty, while irrational, but I've dedicated entire chapters to show how many, including and especially the remaining PAW Patrol members, don't hate Marshall, but are left with only that tape and nothing else but the knowledge that they were the only ones who knew about the bones.
Many may wonder why I would type all of this out in the first place, and give energy to this. But I do believe that things like this should be addressed. Not only that, but I feel as though those misconceptions, like Hood becoming a good guy, this being a Marshall torture flick, or the pups and Ryder hating Marshall, should be cleared up. But I will appreciate you not coming up with assumptions about how the story is going and how the story will go and basing arguments off of that. Again, I'm all for the criticism, but the insults are unneeded. Thanks for your time.
Everest's snowcat finally came to a stop, a slight distance away from the shabby wooden gate of the Canine Valley. The group was overjoyed to finally reach their destination, especially after their first close encounter with the wild animals
"Finally, it's been decades!" Rocky groaned, slumping down, "Does that mean we finally don't have to worry about a pack of wolves trying to eat us anymore?"
Hood looked at the mixed breed, "For now, yes."
"How's it going back there, Marshall?" The inventive pup then turned around to look at his Dalmatian friend, who was busy treating the injured pup on the medical sled behind them.
He briefly looked up from the pup's hind legs to look at Rocky, "I think we're dealing with a broken hind leg, but he's gonna be okay! He'll live!"
"Broken leg?" Hood asked loudly, turning himself around.
Hearing the wild Dalmatian repeat what Marshall had said, the pup began to whimper. He knew exactly what was to come, and so did Hood. The white furred pup began to quiver and shake, eyes widening and filling with tears.
The former EMT seemed confused at this reaction, "What's wrong, buddy?"
"...Am I gonna die?"
"What?" Marshall asked, taken aback.
Rocky, and even Everest, who was focused on finding a place to park the snowcat, turned around to look at the little puppy with shock abundant in their faces. The mixed breed's eyebrows furrowed. Why in the world did the pup think he was going to die? Marshall just said he was going to be okay. After all, it was just a broken leg, right?
"Die? No, no, no, you're gonna be fine!" The Dalmatian reassured him, frantically waving his paws, "Why do you think you would?"
Hood sighed. He knew that the three were still naive about how things worked in the wild, but this rule was plain and simple, "Because that's what getting a broken leg means most of the time."
"Huh?" Rocky, arguably the most intelligent of the group, was confused by this, "Bones heal."
Marshall's eyebrows furrowed, "...If a bone breaks and doesn't get treated... It could get infected or lead to permanent deformities. It's not like the bone just knows where to go. Either way, it would be really bad."
The pup in Marshall's care let out another distressed whimper, looking at his broken hind leg.
"But don't worry, I can make a pretty strong splint, no problem!" The Dalmatian smiled, "I could even make a cast. Then in six to twelve weeks, it'll be all better!"
"Three months max?" Hood's eyes widened, "That's pretty fast."
Marshall shrugged, "That's just how it works. Since this little guy is young, it might be even shorter. It could just take one month to heal."
Everest finally stopped the snowcat at the entrance, "That's amazing, Marshall!"
The former firefighter flushed under his fur, chuckling as he tugged on his scarf, "It's no big deal... But the healing time does depend on species..." He turned to look at the white puppy, "What are you? I've never seen a pup like you before."
Hood's eyelids lowered, clearing his throat, "That's an American Eskimo dog. As the name implies, it's native to America. It's pretty rare to find them in Canada."
"You're pretty knowledgeable on dog species, huh?" Rocky commented, "How are you able to tell the exact breed that quickly?"
"A lot of the dogs in the valley think it's important to know their species, because most of the time, we refer to those we don't know the names of as their species."
"So should we start calling you 'Dally' instead of Hood?" Marshall smiled coyly.
Hood raised a paw, "I'll beat you if you try."
"Dally, what are you doing!?" The group suddenly heard a deep shout from the gate, making them all flinch with surprise.
"Dally?" Marshall asked as he, Rocky, and Everest began snickering amongst themselves.
The wild Dalmatian whipped his head back at Marshall, flashing his canines, "Shut up!" He hopped out of the snowcat before closing the distance between himself and the gate's entrance, where a dog was sitting on its haunches.
The dog in question was a large, black furred canine, whose deep, orange eyes glared daggers at the smaller wild Dalmatian. He loomed over Hood, his size and stature dwarfing the previously confident Dally.
"The heck is that thing? It's huge!" Everest exclaimed before Rocky quickly put a paw over her muzzle.
The mixed breed gulped, "I know about those... That's a Belgian Malinois, or more simply, a Belgian Shepherd."
"Shepherd? Like Chase?" Marshall asked, earning an affirmative nod from Rocky.
"When I heard that you had talked with three Domestics last night, I thought you were telling them that they couldn't come back here..." The pitch-black Shepherd's voice was deep, a constant low growl seeping from between his sharp teeth with every word he spoke.
Hood looked up at the large dog, glaring at him, "Now's not the time to talk about this! One of our own is injured, and one of those Domestics might be the only way to make sure he doesn't die!"
"Injured?" The Shepherd raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
"Bring him, Marshall!"
Hearing Hood call for him to bring the injured pup over, the Dalmatian nodded and bent down low to the ground, "Hop on, little buddy!"
The American Eskimo pup decided to listen to the kind pup that helped him out from under the fallen tree. He had no reason not to. So far, the Dalmatian had been pretty gentle with him, and seeing his smile only made him feel more safe. He'd rather be with him than on his own on the medical sled. He used his three working legs to climb onto Marshall's back. His chin resting on the soft scarf he was wearing.
Marshall smiled, standing up and beginning to slowly make his way over to Hood and the dog in front of him. Just as they got within sight, he noticed that the fiery glare the black Shepherd was giving him instantly softened upon seeing who was on his back.
"Axel?"
The Eskimo pup's ears perked up, his little tail beginning to wag. He recognized the dog in front of them, and was glad to finally see a familiar face after spending a few hours trapped beneath a tree.
"So he has a name, and you don't?" Marshall turned his attention to Hood as he walked up to sit on his haunches behind him.
Hood glared at his Dalmatian counterpart, "He's second generation."
"You are too, Dally. What's your excuse?" The black dog spoke up.
"...Anyway, this is Marshall," The wild Dalmatian gestured to the former EMT pup, "He learned how to treat injuries from the humans who took care of him. He can even treat broken bones."
"Broken bones? Seriously?" The Shepherd seemed taken aback by this news.
"Yeah, I can!" Marshall puffed up his chest, trying his best to not look intimidated, "If this little guy doesn't get his bones treated soon, it could potentially—"
The large dog cut him off, "Yes, I know what happens when a dog breaks a bone. They become pretty much useless or die."
"Do you want that to happen to him?" Hood inquired, "If not, then you have to make an exception and let Marshall take him to the Medical Bay."
The large pup looked down at the American Eskimo, his gaze softening by the moment. It was hard for Marshall to see, considering that the Shepherd was blocking the sunlight and everything on his face was covered with black fur with the exception of his orange eyes, but he knew that the gears in his head were beginning to turn.
The Belgian Shepherd suddenly bowed his head, gritting his teeth, "Dalmatian, if anybody asks, you snuck in, alright?"
"Are you talking to me?" An awkward smile spread on Marshall's face.
"Dally, come with me. We need to have a talk with the elder."
"Elder?" The former firefighter soon turned his head to look at Hood once more.
Hood nodded, "Yes, elder. We might be wild, but we need someone at the top to keep watch of everything. How else do you think we're getting that wall built?"
"Fair point..." Marshall nodded.
The Shepherd then looked over at Rocky and Everest, "As for those two, they can't come in."
"Biscuits!" Everest laid her head on her steering wheel.
Marshall turned around to look at the two disappointed pups still sitting in Everest's snowcat. He knew well that the two weren't exactly keen on letting him go off on his own, especially in a place that hated dogs that had owners. Could he blame them for being protective of him? Especially after everything that happened between them?
The former firefighter gave them a reassuring smile, "Don't worry, guys. I'll go in and treat this little guy. Nothing more, nothing less."
"Just be careful when you're in there. We don't know what these dogs are capable of..." Rocky suggested, his eyes glued to the large Shepherd walking away with Hood.
He nodded, "Will do, Rocky."
The mixed breed watched as Marshall carried the American Eskimo through the gate and out of view.
Hood walked alongside the large Belgian Shepherd as they approached a wall made from wooden planks set up against a cave. The Dalmatian gulped faintly once he noticed that the pitch black dog stood off to the side of the small opening, gesturing to it.
"This is as far as I go."
"Huh?" The wild Dalmatian's brows raised, "You're not coming in with me?"
"Not unless he calls me in. He just wanted you."
Hood's face scrunched up, "Me? Why me?"
"Well last I checked, I didn't bring three Domestics to the valley."
"I didn't bring them here!" The doppelganger Dally exclaimed, "They somehow tracked me using human sorcery... I still don't know how they did it."
"Either way, you're the reason they're here. You're the one who's facing the elder."
Hood grit his teeth beneath his mouth, looking at the grass beneath his paws, "Great..."
Upon getting himself through the entrance, the Dalmatian instantly was faced with a dog bigger than him. Not only that, but the dog looking down at him was bigger than the Belgian Shepherd waiting outside. With a healthy coat of cream-colored fur and eyes and a sluggish posture, it didn't take a rocket scientist to know which breed he was facing.
The elder in question was a Great Pyrenees.
"If it isn't Dally!" The gigantic dog exclaimed, a smile on his face.
The doppelganger Dally gulped faintly. While the large dog seemed friendly initially, he knew that it was only a tactic he used in order to get quicker answers on those he interrogated. He wouldn't let that feigned soft exterior trick him this time.
Hood took a few steps back in an attempt to try and see the humongous dog's whole body, "You're a lot bigger than I remember..."
"Well, it has been a few years since you've come to visit me, hasn't it?" The Great Pyrenees shrugged, sitting on his haunches.
"Come to visit? You had Brutus come get me!" He exclaimed, referring to the black furred Shepherd, "There was no choice!"
"Now, now, little one. There's no need to shout."
The Dalmatian's right eye twitched, "Don't patronize me, Elder."
Elder sighed, standing up completely to tower over the wild pup, "I suppose it's time to get down to business then."
His eyes narrowed. There was the Elder he remembered from all those years ago. Once that childish persona dropped, he was all about business. Whatever it took to keep the valley safe. Hood had a good feeling that Elder would think that the pups he brought with him would endanger their safety.
"And business is...?" Hood raised a brow.
"Why exactly are there Domestics who know about us?"
The Dalmatian looked at the large dog, irritation in his eyes, "They tracked me using human sorcery or whatever that's called. Once they were here, there was no use in trying to hide the reason why I stole from their home."
"Oh, so you've been stealing?"
"It's one of the only things keeping the valley alive."
"So what exactly are you thinking pertaining to those Domestics?"
Hood's brows threaded together, "I know this sounds insane, but those three might be a turning point for the valley. They've got skills. Skills that to us seem like sorcery."
"And what are these skills?" Elder asked, intrigued.
"One of those pups, the Dalmatian, can heal. He says he's able to fix broken legs within the span of three months!" He explained, "Another was able to lift a fallen tree from the ground with nothing but things found in the forest."
Elder walked over to Hood, looming over him with malice, "Don't confuse yourself, little one. They learned those things from humans, haven't they? How are we sure that they won't lead them right to us?"
"So you're gonna try to send them away and let the valley die!?" The Dalmatian clenched his paws, "I know you've noticed. Even with the food I've stolen, there's barely enough to go around! If we go on like this, the valley won't last much longer and you know that!"
Elder stood still, listening to Hood angrily explain his reasons.
"...I don't exactly trust them either, but they volunteered to help. We should at least give it a shot before we shut out the idea. What do we have to lose?"
"Everything!" The Great Pyrenees's voice boomed through the cave they were talking in, "We've already lost one home because of humans, and I know you haven't forgotten that, or what happened to your mother!"
At the mention of his mother, his pupils shrank to nearly a third of their original sizes, "Don't you bring her into this!" He looked up at Elder, rage in his eyes, "I'll see to it that something like that never happens again. Just let them in! We need every possible chance we can get!"
Elder turned around, beginning to walk back to a collection of leaves and grass on the ground, "Sure. I'll let them in... But on one condition."
"Let's hear it then."
Turning his head around to face Hood, he allowed the Dalmatian to see the devilish smile that grew on his face by the second, "They'll have to face a Valley Trial."
Meanwhile, Rocky and Everest had managed to set up a small camp a slight distance from the wall of the Canine Valley. Everest had put her vehicle into its pup house mode, giving them a place to put all of the bags they had brought with them from Liz's house. In one of the many bags they had brought, Rocky pulled out a tent from it and set it up to be right at the entrance of Everest's pup house so they could have both the pup house and the tent to use as a small home.
Once they finished with that, they simply had to wait for Marshall to get back so they could discuss their next course of action. They had retreated into the tent-pup house hybrid in order to eat some of the dog food they had packed, talking amongst themselves.
"...And then he knocked me into the bay!" Rocky exclaimed, throwing his paws up, "If I wasn't mad at him before, then that really got under my fur."
While waiting for their favorite Dalmatian, Everest had asked how he and Marshall became so close before everything that happened with him being accused of stealing the golden bones. Since they had nothing better to do, Rocky decided that he would start from the beginning.
"I'm sure he didn't mean it. He's just a clumsy pup is all!" Everest giggled, "He'd never do something like that on purpose."
"Of course he wouldn't, now that I know him a lot better than I did back then..." The mixed breed nodded along, "But before he saved my life during that storm, I thought for sure that he got pleasure in seeing me get wet."
"That Marshall..." The Husky let out a dreamy sigh, "It was funny seeing you get splashed from time to time, though."
Rocky's eyes squinted for a moment. That sigh sounded strange to him, and whenever something sounded strange, he had no choice but to ask about it. The question had been long awaited, and brewing in his mind from the moment Marshall left the lookout without them.
"Hey, Everest?" The mixed breed looked into her eyes, "There's something I've been needing to ask you."
The Husky seemed confused, tilting her head slightly, "What is it?"
"I've been wondering... Do you like Marshall?"
"Of course I like—"
"No, no, no... I mean like him. Like... More than friends like."
Everest suddenly began to blush under her fur, "What makes you ask that?"
"Well, lately you two have been closer than ever..." Rocky elaborated, "And you always worry about him, but not in a platonic way, if you know what I mean. I noticed this after the night he had his panic attack."
Everest played with the grass beneath her paws, "Yeah... That's when I first realized I had feelings for him..."
Rocky's eyes widened, "So you mean to tell me that she only saw him platonically before that night? Marshall better thank his lucky stars that he didn't want to confess back then..."
"Please don't tell him!" She suddenly began begging, "I just... I-I'm not ready for him to know! With all of this stuff going on, I don't think I should add that on to what's on his mind..."
"You've been on his mind since before this all started!" He internally laughed, "Don't worry about me telling. I hate those kinds of guys that decide to spill feelings for others. It's cheating, not to mention ingenuine."
"Oh thank you, thank you!" The Husky hugged him tightly, bouncing up and down, "I owe you one, Rocky!"
"Actually, that reminds me..." The mixed breed gulped faintly, "You see, remember back when you asked me what Marshall and I were talking about that night?"
"Yeah, you said you didn't feel comfortable talking about it or something..." Everest let him go, "Why?"
"Well you see... That night, the reason why I didn't want you to know is because I told Marshall something really secret that I didn't want anyone knowing about?"
Rocky began to sweat, the area around his face growing hot. He couldn't help but to allow his head to drop, giving him a nice view of the grass beneath them.
Everest was quick to notice this shift in tone, "What's wrong?"
"Well, Everest, the thing is..." He took a deep breath in, "I—"
"Mongrel! Husky!" A familiar voice shouted from outside their tent, interrupting Rocky's sentence.
"Is that Hood?" The Husky sat up, peeking out of the tent.
Rocky sighed, irritated, "Maybe another time..."
The two left the tent to be greeted by an unsettled Hood. Everest was first to recognize how stressed the Dalmatian with the black fur on his face seemed as she greeted him.
"What's up, Hood?" Rocky, who was close behind Everest, was baffled.
"Well, I managed to get my point across to the elder..." He began, "But the thing is, you three will only be allowed into the valley only if you pass what's called a Valley Trial."
"Trial?" Rocky asked, "This really is a primitive village..."
"How hard can it be?" Everest shrugged, "Whatever it is, the three of us will handle it the best we can!"
After taking the injured pup to the Medical Bay, Marshall went right to work. The Dally used a few short, thick sticks and some strong vines to create a splint for the little pup. Upon tightening the primitive splint, he smiled confidently.
"That should hold until they let us into the valley so I can really get some solid materials on it."
The American Eskimo smiled faintly, "Thank you... Um... Mister?"
"I'm Marshall," The Dalmatian held out a paw for him to shake, "That big pup said you were named Axel, right?"
The little pup nodded, "Mhm."
As the former EMT talked with his patient, a familiar dog was watching from the Medical Bay's doorway. Standing there was the same Great Pyrenees that Hood had talked with just a few minutes prior. He remained quiet as he watched Marshall tightened up the vine wrapped around Axel's hind leg.
"Don't worry... We'll discover what these Domestics are made of."
The same crazed smile he had given Hood earlier developed on his muzzle as he slowly allowed the door to close.
"...If not, they won't be around to let others know of our location."