her foot dragging and bouncing behind her. Thump-ssh, thump-ssh, thump-ssh. She hated the sound of her leg behind her, and she kept going, burning off all her anger and annoyance. Soon the ripping pain in her twisted leg flared up again. She tried to outrun the pain, breathing harshly and feeling as if she was going to burst, but it quickly got the better of her. She had to stop, or at least slow down. She dragged herself down to a swift walk, panting hard but refusing to give in to the pain. She hated for anything to get the better of her. Being a cripple had made her that way, she figured, and she was proud of that. Other dogs might be overwhelmed by pain and fear every minute of their lives, but not she. She had to be strong so people and dogs wouldn’t treat her like an invalid, and she put every ounce of her being into strength.

Chase’s dark red ears shot up as she faintly heard muttering and the shuffling of many paws from an alleyway somewhere over to her right. She stopped, tilted her head, and listened. Experience had taught her to make a guess at what she was hearing or smelling before going to investigate. She sniffed, and the scent of many dogs wafted up her nostrils. There was a crowd of dogs gathered together for some reason in one of the alleyways; she could determine that much. Curiosity pushed her cautious paws forward to silently pad through the alley, and the next, and the next. The collective murmuring and musky scent got louder and stronger as she advanced, and finally she stood at the entrance of an alleyway where dogs of all shapes and sizes stood clustered together, pushing and jostling for a space to see. At the back of the alleyway was a huge dog, a black and white malamute, balancing himself precariously on top of a metal trashcan. He was obviously the one the dogs were trying so hard to see and hear. Chase stood at the entrance, not sure what to do. Curiosity overtook her, though, and she squeezed herself into the crowd and crept among the other dogs. The malamute was too far away for her to hear, so she steadily edged herself through the sea of canines until she could dimly make out what he was saying:

“…so, as you can see, I have been deeply wronged in the past. Please open your good hearts to a poor old dog and help him to regain his rightful place in society, which was so unjustly taken from him so many years ago.”

“What’s in it for us?” some dog called out from the front.

The malamute smiled coyly. “As you know, I myself have lived amongst you for the past few years. Now that I feel my exile has gone on long enough, my whole plan is for revenge…and perhaps even…for YOUR revenge.” He slapped the metal lid beneath him with a front paw. “Many of us have been outcast for years by fellow humans and dogs alike. Abusive owners, exile, thievery…whatever the crime or reason, I don’t care! As we get out of this alley and into town in our strong numbers, get your revenge, whatever it may be! Terrorize the dogs that harmed you, find those owners and hurt THEM, steal what you can from others storage places and hideaways, whether human or canine! We have been outcast here for years, now is the time to show how our numbers have grown!...Revenge is what’s in it for you.”

“Well, Steele…sounds good to me,” the same dog muttered.

Chase froze, and she felt warm blood pump in her ears. Steele. Why did that name sound so familiar?

“So,” Steele snapped, and looked out at the sea of faces. “ Will you let me lead you in a small army to downsize my enemy, and a few of your own? I promise you all my words and promises are true.” He raised a paw, then placed it over his heart to confirm his sincerity.

Chase had her doubts, but she could feel the very air swimming with the tempted thoughts of the dogs. She waited along with the rest of them for the final answer. Finally one dog spoke up.

“I pledge my loyalty to Steele and agree to this contract,” a mottled brown mutt said firmly, stepping forward. He turned his head to look back at the crowd as if to convince them. “Raven? Matt? C’mon, guys.”

There were murmurs of agreement as one by one each dog stepped forward and pledged his or her loyalty to Steele. Each time a dog came forward Chase studied them, and what she observed over and over startled her. Every dog had some sort of permanent injury or disability, whether it was disabled legs or ripped-off ears or a hacking, phlegmy cough barking from the chest. The brown mutt who had stepped forward first had only a stub of a tail, and his coat was sparse with red, festering bald spots. Something inside her stirred as she suddenly knew she was among dogs who were broken, who knew the pain and injustice of life; dogs just like her. To them, revenge was not an option.

“Hey!” The malamute’s voice rang sharply through the alleyway, and Chase slowly raised her head to find Steele glaring at her with pale, angry eyes. He jumped down from his perch on the metal can and began wading through the dogs to get to Chase. A path formed whichever direction he stepped, so before long he was looming over her with an expression on his face she couldn’t read. Suddenly he grabbed her up by the scruff of the neck and held her, dangling, a few feet off the ground. Chase thought about cutting off the real world and going inside her head again, but there was something about hanging suspended in the air with nothing under her paws that made that feat almost impossible. Steele shook her.

“You’re not one of these street dogs,” he snarled, “I’ve never seen you here before. Who are you?” Chase felt anger bubble up inside her again, but she said nothing. Who was this…chump to tell her what to do?

Steele shook her even more violently. “Speak!” he yelled.

“Arf!” she mocked arrogantly. There were some snickers from the crowd. Steele’s eyes widened in surprise, then he turned and shot everyone silent with an icy-hot death glare. The laughter died away, and there were a few coughs.

Steele whirled back around and dropped Chase from his paw with a growl. She stumbled and fell when she hit the dirt, but scrambled back up and regained her composure, ignoring the cutting pain in her twisted leg every time blood tried to throb through it. She would not let any of the dogs, especially Steele, see her pain; she would stand proud. Chase watched through narrowed eyes as a slow, sly grin spread across Steele’s face.

“You’re one of the weakest dogs I’ve ever seen,” he sneered, “No, you are the weakest. Who are you, and where did you come from, mutant?”

Chase felt a burning blaze of fire lick at the center of her heart. “You’re one of the ugliest dogs I’ve ever seen,” she said coolly, “No, you are the ugliest. Tell me, Steele, are you stuck living in these alleyways because your street dog of a mother took one look at you and ran?”

Steele flinched, and Chase was satisfied to see she had gotten him right in the spot where it hurt. “Listen, sap-”

“My name’s Chase,” she told him, backing away through the crowd until she was just inside the alleyway entrance. “And you’re the sap in this case. If you’re so high-and-mighty, why do you need all these other dogs to help you do your dirty work?”

Steele took a step forward and was about to snap something back, when his expression changed. His blue eyes flicked up and down to take in Chase’s whole form, her red and white coloring and the palest tint of gold in her brown eyes, and he began breathing harder as if in shock. The moment passed, though, and the shock melted into amazement, and then into an awful, crafty grin.

“You’re…” Steele started to say, but Chase figured her work was done here and spun around to slip away. The voices and the faint sounds of paws shifting in the dust faded behind her, but she had a feeling that that wouldn’t be the last time she came across Steele and that alley and those other broken dogs. Her curiosity had been aroused, and she needed to satisfy it…She needed to go back to see how Steele was going to carry out his plan. Why did the name Steele sound so familiar to her? She had a faint sureness that it was something to do with her father, Balto, but she had never been one to stick around to hear Balto’s stories of his past. She just couldn’t stay still long enough, unlike her littermates who seemed to have mastered the art of listening. In result, she only remembered bits and pieces of the stories, and even then she was still uncertain of them. Chase shook her head at the new mystery she had just created for herself. Oh, well…the reason would come to her.

The next day as Chase was once again trying to calm the aching muscles in her crippled leg after practicing running (she still hadn’t made it across the line), her eyes were drawn to the darkness of the next alleyway that led to the alley where Steele was setting up his ‘army’. Curiosity tugged at her heart and pulled her paws forward, but she still held herself back. It would be stupid to go back; what more did she need from that conniving canine, anyway? Yet she felt a great wanting to find out more about Steele. She had pondered asking Balto, but she was still mad at him, and she couldn’t knock down her pride that fast. She had still been so annoyed with him that instead of spending the night on his boat she had slept at her mother’s house. She usually switched back and forth between Balto’s boat and Jenna’s house from week to week, but it looked like she had cut short her week with Balto.

‘I don’t