A dark shape moved swiftly through the winding alleyways of the winding maze of buildings, the city lights shining high above his head. They illuminated the tiny drops of water that fell from the sky, hitting the ground with a heavy beat. Puddles formed around the hybrid’s feet as he stopped at the corner of a street, staring up at the sign.

            “West Cordova Avenue.” Buck mouthed the words silently, his multicoloured eyes flickering as a car drove by, its blue and red lights dancing around the downtown streets, its wailing cry echoing throughout the abandoned buildings. Buck turned his head, watching its rear lights fade into the distance. The hybrid narrowed his eyes, then continued walking.

            It wasn’t long, though, before Buck stopped in his tracks. He looked up towards another sign now, realizing he had strayed off course. The sign read East Cordova, not west. Buck swore under his breath, looking back towards the path he had walked for a while now. He could hear sirens in the distance; they would be coming soon. He had to get back on track, and quick. He spun around in the silence of the night, tearing off in his previous direction.

The rain pounded hard on his shoulders now, yet the hybrid moved with ease through the small streams that fled down the street. He was used to running through the rain; he had to be, or he would never survive in the area. It rained there constantly, and he didn’t really mind it. But it was sometimes hard to hear in the rain, meaning the hybrid would have to be more careful when on the move.

Something caught his ears, though, and it wasn’t just the distant sirens. His ears shot to attention as he realized the noise was coming from nearby…

“Shut up, mutt, or I’ll kill you.”

The threatening voice rang out from a nearby alleyway. It sounded hostile and sincere. Buck knew the source of the vocals meant what he said. Quietly, he tore off in the direction of the noises…

In the alley…

The tomcat shoved the young retriever down onto the ground, holding a small, black handled pocket knife near the center of her eyes. It glimmered in the single light that lit the alley, although it was dim and was hard to see things clearly with it on. The female on the ground whimpered, obviously not the fighting type. She had let out a long yip previously, although she knew it had probably been muffled out by the rain.

Her frightful eyes were a deep brown, tinged with light specks of green. Her ears flowed down the side of her face, her hair falling over it softly. A thick brown collar was clamped firmly around her neck, and a small blue charm hung off of it. Her clothes were nothing special – normal and plain, mostly. What used to be dry was now damp with the rain that had fled into the alleyway. Most would call her pretty, but obviously, this cat in front of her didn’t care for how she appeared.

The golden retriever let out a small grunt as she heard a small splash of a puddle nearby, but the cat seemed just to shrug it off for the rain.

“You’re on my territory, freak.” The tomcat hissed. “You don’t want to mess with my gang, or we’ll mess with you.” The cat looked at his switchblade, which was still hovering above the dog’s head. He grinned, rubbing his filthy paw along the handle. “Now… how about I show you just the small effect of what will happen if you dare come across the borderline again, eh freak?” The tom drew back his blade slightly, prepared to strike.

The scream from the retriever never came. Out of the shadows, a shape emerged, holding a smaller creature in his bulky arms. Quickly, he retraced his steps back to the main street, carrying the light burden with ease. The sirens had long ago faded off, and now, only the rain was left to keep the two company.

The hybrid moved down the street, the moon breaking through the line of street lights and illuminating him softly. Soon, he was gone into the distance of the street, just like the police car that had passed him so long ago. Above him, the street sign shone clearly as the street light shone above it – West Cordova Street.

--

            “Where is he!?” The medium sized husky mix slammed his fist down on the table with a hard thud, although the look on his face didn’t change. His sharp brown eyes held a stern stare, causing him to look as though it was the only look he ever gave off. He wore a thick hooded sweater, although some parts of it seemed rugged, as if they were slowly disintegrating away. Covering his legs were sagging jeans, a few sizes too big for him, it seemed. His ears flopped down, almost covering his eyes like his greasy mouse-brown hair did. His hand was clenched up, but the shiny surface of a ring glinted inside of it, through the cracks of his fist. The other dogs at the table seemed to be calm – although some looked as though they could break out in hostility any moment.

            “Calm down, Chase.” One of the dogs leaned back in his chair, propping his foot against the table, which was covered by a dirty shoe. “You know Buck; he’s probably off somewhere lipping back at an old store owner or somethin’.” His blue eyes glinted in the husky’s direction, giving him a quick rugged smile. The leader it seemed – Chase – let out a snarl, sinking back into his seat as some of the others let out a small snicker.

            “The shops ain’t open at this time of night. He had a simple task; he should have been back a while ago.” Chase leaned his head against his hand, rubbing his fingers through his hair. Another spoke up.

            “Maybe he was… caught.” The table of canines froze, their eyes turning towards the one who had spoken up. Her blue-streaked hair hung heavily over her shoulders, and she bore a small tattoo of a wolf-like creature on her shoulder. She wore a tank top – torn at the sleeves – and had a sweater tied around the back of her chair. She sported dark grey jeans, and her shoes seemed to fit her well. Chase stared towards her, as if he couldn’t believe her words. Yet he had no chance to speak, for at that moment, the door swung open, cold air blasting towards the assembled gang.

            “I haven’t gotten killed, and I definitely haven’t gotten caught.” The cold voice of a hybrid came from the doorway and the gang around the table turned to face him as he walked in. Instead of “warm” welcomes, though, Buck was just cast looks of stupidity, a few sneers from a member or two. Chase frowned leaning back in his chair.

            “What’s that you bring with you, Buck?” He asked, trying to see what the shape that hid under Buck’s jacket was. The malamute/husky didn’t hesitate as he set the object down in front of Chase.

            “Careful. It’s… fragile.”

            Chase looked at it closely, pulling back the jacket. Buck stood still, his eyes showing little emotion. Chase frowned, looking towards Buck. He remained calm, although it looked as though he were about to burst out in horror.

            “It’s a little goldenrod.” The blue furred wolf remarked – the same one who had pointed out what she believed had happened to Buck. “We don’t allow purebreds here – you know that, Buck. Or at least, we don’t allow her kind.”

            “Shut up, Chloe.” Buck snarled, although it looked as if he didn’t want to say anything at the very moment in time. He took his seat, his face seeming to fume. No one dared bother him any more. Chase seemed to be observing the small dog in front of him with curiosity in his eyes. He knew her type; they were usually brattish and didn’t care all that much for others. But if Buck had taken the time to save her, then she must’ve been important. Buck didn’t just go around saving every distressed dog he saw. Actually, he tended to enjoy worseing their life problems.

            Still,thought Chase, as he began to stand up from his seat, turning his attention towards the other members. It wouldn’t hurt to have another member in the gang. It was true; the Constar Gang had been losing members ever since some of the rival gangs from further north had been forced to flee from their territories, leading to multiple wars – and deaths. Chase cleared his throat, ready to speak. The other dogs turned their attention towards their leader.

            “Buck, you know our rules. We don’t accept her type.” He paused, observing the large dog’s face before continuing. “But, if you wish, we can let her stay until she wakes from her state of… unconciousness. We will see what she’s like – if we don’t like her, we’ll force her out right away. But at the moment, you can consider her safe here. When the time comes… we’ll decide what will be of her. Meeting dissmissed.” With that, Chase turned around, leaving his torn-up old bar chair swinging as a breeze from a ratted window invaded the room. Buck slowly went over towards the new girl, lifting her gently. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t feel hostility towards her. Something about her was different, even in her present state.