It was a bleary-eyed man who came to the door, blinking away sleep at the sound of barking and scratching. "Pete," he groaned, "you've got a pet flap, why all the―" He stopped abruptly as he opened the door to find Pete lying on his doorstep, more dead than alive. "What the devil?" he blurted out. "Pete, what in the Sam Hill have you gotten into?"

With a grumble the pajama-clad man bent down, picked him up and carried him inside. Muttering a string of questions and comments, he tended the dog's injuries while Toby listened with rapt attention at the door. Rex had departed as quickly as possible to see Trixie home safely and then get back to his own home, shivering almost uncontrollably.

"And with the vet's place already closed for the night," Pete's owner grumbled. "I just hope you last till morning, boy."

Toby groaned apprehensively. He hoped Pete would make it, but he sure wasn't going to take the chance. When all was quiet, he slipped into the darkened house. A fire crackled in the hearth, providing some illumination. "Hey, Pete?" he whispered. A whimper from a pile of blankets by the fire answered him, and he padded over. "How are you?"

"Practically dead," the bundled covers replied.

"Oh, come on, don't even talk that way," Toby groaned. "We're all rooting for you. Even Dad."

croaked Pete. "That reminds me, what about the sentence?"

Toby shrugged. "I smoothed it over," he assured him. "He says to consider the it lifted."

Pete sighed. "Might not matter now," he groaned, his voice sounding like gravel.

"You don't know the half of it," Toby replied. "You were out when we brought you here, but I heard your owner as he was fixing you up. If you're not better fast, he might…" He couldn't bring himself to say the rest of it

Pete took a deep breath. "Maybe I deserve it," he admitted.

Toby was aghast. "Pete, don't talk that way!" he exclaimed. "If it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't still be alive! Remember Christmas? Heck, remember an hour ago? Without you, Trixie would be dead."

"Don't you get it?" Pete grumbled. "I'm the reason she was there."

"Pete," Toby pleaded, "you've gotta hang in there. For Mom, for Dad…"He trailed off for a moment before adding, "For me."

Pete turned one eye to stare at him. "You? For real?" he asked.

Toby nodded. "You may be a jerk sometimes, but I don't want you to die."

Pete sighed. "If you really mean that, then tell Trixie…" And with that he passed into oblivion.

Toby felt himself beginning to weep, uncertain whether Pete had died or just fainted. "Come on, Pete," he pleaded. "Pull through this, for all of us."

The next morning, Pete awoke to find his master bent over him. The man placed a hand on his side to feel the steady rise and fall of his ribs. "Pretty weak," he murmured. "Maybe you just don't have enough in you."

Pete held his silence. He was determined not to whimper, not to show any sign of weakness. If he was going to die, he wanted to go the way he should have lived: With dignity.

"I'm sorry, boy," his owner whispered, "but I'm afraid I gotta do this." He lifted Pete off the floor and took him outside to a corner of the yard. With a determined grunt, he pulled out a pistol and clicked back the hammer. Pale sunlight glinted off the steel barrel. Straightening his arm, he pointed the weapon at his dog's head. "Sorry, boy."

"Come on!" Toby called to Terry, running for all he was worth. "We've gotta see if he's all right!"

Despite her age and lack of experience, Terry was only a pace behind him. "I just hope we're not too late," she panted. Snow flew out behind them as fog puffed out of their open mouths like smoke from racing train engines.

"You and me both, Mom. Now come on, we're only a block away. We can still―"

A gunshot shattered the air as a flash of light illuminated Pete's back yard. Terry stumbled and fell in the snow as Toby skidded to a halt. "No," he breathed. But as the echo faded, there was no doubt that the shot had come from Pete's yard.

"No," cried Terry, gasping. "No, no, no!" The tears wasted no time in pouring from her eyes.

"Mom, it's a mistake," Toby insisted. "It has to be. Pete can't be dead, he's…" But he knew the words were empty. He had spoken to the dog last night. What did he have to live for? What pity would his master, a hunter, have on a dog who would survive for a week at best?

"He's dead," Terry cried. "Pete…my son…" Her words trailed off and she let out an agonized howl.

Toby stood stock-still. Never in his life had he felt so powerless, so useless. Not when he'd hurt Luna as a puppy, not when he lost the way in the wilderness, not even when Luna went through labor while he was trapped outside. I failed, he thought. I tried and tried to give him a chance, and now…

He turned away. A few weeks before, the thought of never seeing Pete again would have left him jumping for joy. Now he felt that if the world were made of dog food, and every plant and tree a soup-bone, he'd give it all to see his brother again. Tail between his legs, Toby all but limped back home. He tried to find something in the whirl of thoughts to grab onto, some thread of hope to ease the pain, but there was no way out, no escape from the accusing voices that jeered inside his heart.

Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.

"He's dead?" gasped Luna.

Toby nodded weakly. "Mom and I were going to see him, and…we heard a gunshot." He hung his head. "Pete's master was always a little rough. I think he must have put him down."

"Uncle Pete's dead?" Arrow was usually a tough girl, but there was no missing the catch in her voice.

Toby's ears drooped towards the floor. "I'm afraid so."

Luna's face drooped too. "I can't believe I'm saying this," she confessed, "but I really thought he had a chance."

Toby sank bodily to the floor. "It's all because of me," he lamented. AI tried to help him, and look where it got him. If I had just said no, Pete wouldn't have kept going after Trixie, she wouldn't have run off and neither of them would have been hurt." His voice failed and he began to weep. "It's my fault."

Luna spoke softly to him. "You can't know that," she reasoned.

"And why not?" he challenged. "Give me one reason this isn't my fault, just one!"

She thought for a moment. "First off, for all you or any of us know, Pete could have gotten hurt some other way if you hadn't helped him. He probably would have kept up the pursuit even if you hadn't tried to help, so there's no reason you're responsible for the accident."

"Mom's right," asserted Arrow. Even through the tears, she managed to be supportive. "You did your best."

Toby closed his eyes. "Then why do I feel like I failed when Pete was finally getting somewhere?"

"Because you have a heart," Luna answered. "A good one, and it was in the right place. You wanted to give Pete the same happiness you have. You agreed to help him keep Trixie from doing herself in. You gave him something he never could have had on his own. You gave him hope, and even though he's dead he died a hero."

"Maybe so," the blusky conceded, "but the point is, he died."