Power of the Pack - Ch. 3
Title: Power of the Pack
Chapter: 3
Fandom: Road Rovers
Character(s): Colleen, Exile, Hunter
Genre: Family, friendship, drama, some action
Rating: K+/PG
Disclaimers: Road Rovers © Warner Bros
Notes: After somehow getting back into this nostalgic show from my childhood, I got this idea for a story based on something I noticed in the first episode. That, and I really wanted to write a story about my favorite character, Exile, anyway. And not really needing an excuse to write fanfics anyway, I went ahead and gave it a try. Enjoy.
Summary: He joined the Road Rovers without any hesitation. But even after all this time, he never forgot everything he had to give up.
[Chapter 2]
~*~*~*~
"How're you holdin' up, Exile?" Colleen asked softly as she worked, noticing the husky wince.
"Fineski," he replied, trying to keep the weariness out of his tone, "although I will be feeling much better when you stop poking needle in my shoulder…"
She smiled a little as she continued to suture the wound; she knew it didn't hurt him, since she had already numbed the area. But he probably could still feel something, and she recalled that Exile was rather…uncomfortable around medical procedures.
"Just relax," she soothed, trying to keep him engaged. "I'll be done in just a sec."
The Russian canine only responded with a small shake of his head, and Colleen couldn't tell if the movement was intentional or not. After a quick examination over her teammate, the collie was relieved to find that Exile mostly sustained merely minor injuries. The small scrapes were easily taken care of, and his ankle wasn't too terribly sprained. He could probably walk on it if he needed to; still, she would prefer that he'd let it rest until it healed.
There were only two serious injuries, but they did cause a good deal of concern; one of course was the gash on his shoulder that she was currently sewing up. It wasn't too deep, but it was a few inches long, and she was worried about the amount of blood he probably lost. Even if she had the best medical skills within the team, she was by no means a doctor, and she couldn't be sure of the real damage of blood deficiency.
The other problem was a sizeable bump she found on his head. She had bandaged it up already, but she wasn't sure yet if she could leave it at that. She expected the headache and the dizziness that accompanied the welt, but she became a bit uneasy when Exile almost fell off the table as they sat him down. He also complained a little when they pulled a light closer to better look him over, and he didn't seem to hear her when she asked him some questions. If his head was hit hard enough, the symptoms could mean he had a concussion.
He seemed to be doing better, though. She spent most of the time speaking to him while she treated him, hoping to keep him attentive. If he did have a concussion, she didn't want to risk him falling unconscious. Eventually he began responding to her, and they managed to carry on a conversation as she took care of his wounds. His previous response also encouraged her, showing her that he was clearly aware of what was going on, and she imagined the bump on his head wasn't as serious as she initially thought.
However, she knew that they still needed to be careful. For now, they had to keep Exile awake until she could be absolutely certain that he did not have a concussion…even though what he really needed was some sleep. Whatever adrenaline had powered him to get to headquarters before had now rapidly dissolved, leaving him so exhausted that she felt sorry for keeping him up.
"There we are," she said as she closed up the stitch and snipped off the extra twine. Over her shoulder, she called to the other Rovers, "All done, gents."
The other three canines, who agreed to hang back and let Colleen take care of their injured teammate, made their way over as she gently grasped Exile's arm and helped him slowly sit up. When Shag was close enough, he reached into his snowy white coat and retrieved a dog dish filled with water that he offered to the husky.
Taking the bowl, Exile lapped at the water gratefully, enjoying the feeling of the cool liquid through his dry throat. He drank until there was nothing left, then let out a satisfied sigh as he handed the dish back to the sheepdog. "Spasibo," he rasped out. He shook his head a little, coughing a bit to clear this throat. "I mean, um…thank you."
The collie frowned as she put her tools away. The same thing happened in her conversations with Exile earlier as well. Sometimes after she asked him a question, he would respond entirely in Russian. Usually he caught himself quickly and repeated the answer in English, but she worried that the inability to separate the languages was a possible sign that he did have mild brain trauma.
Hunter suddenly pulled her aside, and she looked up at him curiously. "How's he doin', Colleen?" he asked, keeping his voice low.
She wasn't sure if he suspected something himself, or if he could just tell she thought something was wrong. "He's all right for the most part," she replied honestly. "But I'm a little concerned 'bout his 'ead."
She half-expected him to make some kind of joke. But instead, his brows knitted together as he frowned, scratching the top of his head. "Is it bad?" he wondered.
"I don't think so…But we should keep an eye on 'im, just in case."
"Do you know what's goin' on?"
Colleen shook her head. "I tried askin' 'im earlier, but he never said. When he did start talkin', I didn't bother askin' again. He might tell you now, though."
Hunter nodded. "Okay…" He turned and once again approached the Siberian husky, waiting while the other put on his silver uniform. "Exile…" he said after a moment, "do you think you could tell us what happened?"
"Ja," Blitz interjected. "Just tell us who did dhis, and I will personally see to it that dheir heinies are severely bitten."
Exile groaned, though from pain or revulsion even he couldn't tell. "Don't be weird boy…" he grunted, placing a hand to his head.
"Do you remember anythin'…before you came 'ere?" Colleen questioned.
At first, the Russian canine said nothing, and simply sat on the examination bench with his eyes tightly shut. Then, just as they were about to ask again, his fist clenched and he nodded. His voice was barely above a whisper as he replied, "The Groomer…"
They all heard him anyway. "The Groomer?!" the others repeated with wide eyes.
"She was there?" Hunter exclaimed.
"Da," Exile seemed to sigh. "She try to take me from my home."
"Okay, time-out," the leader said, crossing his hands in a 'T' position as he processed what they were being told. "Groomer tried to steal you…?"
"Da."
"You…as a regular dog…?"
"Da."
"From the house of the Russian president?"
The husky nodded, earning troubled looks from the rest of the Rovers. All different kinds of possibilities filled their heads about why the Groomer would kidnap Exile, including the same fear that she might know who they are.
"Can you…can you tell us what happened?" Hunter asked again, hoping they could figure out what Groomer was really after.
Exile shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. "She came…capture me…put me in truck with other huskies."
Something about the flippant answer somewhat worried the retriever, but the end of the comment caught his attention. "Other huskies?"
The Russian canine nodded again. "Many others…all Siberian huskies."
"That's not like Parvo," Hunter remarked. "Why would he only want one kind of dog?"
"He isn't after just one breed, Rovers," the Master announced suddenly. "He's after a special type of breed. Across the globe, dogs have been disappearing in mass quantities; not just several types of huskies, but also Eskimo dogs, malamutes, Samoyeds, Chinooks, Greenland dogs, Eurohounds, Tamaskan dogs…"
Colleen's eyes widened with comprehension. "Sled dogs…" she murmured. "He's after different kinds of sled dogs."
"Exactly," the Master confirmed.
Scratching the top of his head, Hunter glanced at the collie. "How'd you know that?" he wondered.
She smirked as she crossed her arms. "If you paid more attention to watchin' the race instead of swappin' bets, you'd probably know that too."
The Master sighed as a debate about dog sled races broke out among most of the group. Even though they were good dogs most of the time, there were occasions when they would get a little too sidetracked. "Now's not the time for this, Rovers," he advised.
Exile, who preferred to stay out of the conversation, looked up at the man as the chatter died down. "Wait…" he said, slipping off the examination bench. Turning to Hunter, he asked, "Are dog sled races still ongoing?"
"Um…I think so…" the retriever replied. Thinking for a moment, he nodded. "Yeah, some races will still be going on until that really big race in March."
The husky turned to their Master. "If evil Parvo-man is after sled dogs, could he also going after them?"
The Master rubbed his chin. "It's possible…If he is, then we'll know where he'll hit next."
"Hey, good thinking, Exile," Hunter commended, placing a hand on the other's good shoulder.
The husky, however, said nothing, and didn't seem to appreciate the revelation of his suggestion.
"You know what to do, Rovers," the Master said. "Find Parvo…and stop him."
"Yes, sir!" the leader answered for the rest of the team. Turning to the other canines, he said, "Let's head out, Rovers!"
With a group howl, the team made their way to the vehicle hangar. But Hunter hung back with the Russian member for a moment. "Hey, Exile," he began, "maybe you should -"
"I am going," Exile responded resolutely.
The retriever frowned. "You really oughta get some rest."
"I am fine." A fire burned in Exile's icy eyes as he looked at the other. "This time… is personal."
Still somewhat hesitant, Hunter then nodded in understanding. "All right…but be careful, okay? Take it slow."
Exile didn't answer and looked away.
The roar of the jet echoed across the mountains, the blanket of snow gleaming beneath them in the sunlight. The trees danced as they passed overhead, shaking off the ice crystals that gathered atop their leaves. At first glance, there didn't seem to be any problems in the encompassing region. However, as they approached their destination, they could make out the throng of people gathered around the base of a mountain, and the empty sleds scattered about the area.
Colleen finally stated the thought on all their minds; "Looks like we're a little too late…"
Hunter carefully landed the jet in an open section, mindful of the approaching humans. As the engines died down, the aircraft's door slid open for the six canines to step out into the crisp wintry air.
Blitz hugged himself as he shivered. "Why can't we ever get sent to a nice beach somewhere?" he complained. "Where they serve dhose drinks with de little umbrellas… But noooo…it always has to be someplace where my tooshie freezes!"
Exile rolled his eyes, deciding to overlook the Doberman's exaggerations this time. Instead he inhaled deeply, enjoying the sharp air that filled his lungs. Honestly, they weren't often sent to cold regions like this. Normally they were sent to much warmer locations, and while he never complained, he usually felt more at ease in cooler temperatures. Actually, he felt he worked much better in places like this.
Unfortunately, while he generally felt fine being in the cold, the chilly atmosphere did nothing to help his injuries. His head and shoulder were beginning to throb with a growing pain as a frosty wind blew around them.
Doing his best to ignore his ailments, he tried to focus his attention on the conversation going on between Hunter and a nearby person. "So they just ran off?" he heard the leader ask.
"Yeah," the human replied in a heavy tone, his body stiff - and they knew it wasn't from the cold - as he slid his hands into the pocket of his thick brown coat. "You can ask some of the other mushers too, but it's the same for all of us. While we were running the race, the dogs all just stopped for no reason. No matter what we did, we couldn't get them to go; they just sat there, and nothing happened for a good few minutes. Then they suddenly got out of their harnesses and ran off."
"Were they acting strange at all?" the retriever wondered.
The musher combed through his thick beard as he tried to recall. "Not that I noticed…though they seemed to be looking for something before running away."
Placing his hands on his waist, Hunter turned to the Siberian Rover. "Whatcha make of it, Exile?"
The husky frowned. "It's nyet nothing," he commented. "Dogs must have heard The Whistle."
"Whistle?"
Exile nodded. "The Whistle is probably what make dogs stop in middle of race. It sounds like it's calling you, and you must find where it comes from. The louder they hear it, the more they are wanting to find it."
"You heard it?" Hunter asked. This was part of the story the husky failed to mention before.
"Da. I hear it before I see Groomer."
"She must be using it to gather all the sled dogs," Hunter mused. Turning back to the musher, he said, "How long ago was this?"
The man checked his watch. "Three…maybe four hours. A bunch of us just got back from the route after the dogs ran off."
"Well, she's got a heck of a start," the retriever quipped. "We're gonna hafta haul tail if we're gonna catch her."
Colleen suddenly cleared her throat, and when Hunter glanced at her curiously she motioned her head to the Russian native. The husky subconsciously rubbed his injured shoulder, staring at the snowy ground with a distracted look in his icy-blue eyes. Turning back to the collie and noting her concerned frown, Hunter nodded in agreement, recognizing what she meant.
"Okay, Rovers," he began, the authority that made him leader easily slipping into his tone, even as his mind rapidly worked to think of a plausible excuse to use. "We better split up. Colleen, Shag and I will take the Tank Rover to scout around."
"Roger, 'unter," Colleen replied before she and Shag went to get the vehicle he called for.
Turning to the remaining three, Hunter continued, "Exile and Blitz, you two stay here with Muzzle for now and keep an eye on things."
Muzzle hopped around in his stretcher, grunting out a wordless affirmation. Blitz exhaled a trail of steam as he sighed. "Fine," he grumbled, still trying to keep himself warm.
Exile, however, frowned as he looked at the leader suspiciously. "Why I stay here?" he wondered.
"Well," Hunter said slowly, "if Groomer and her pets are still close by somewhere, we need to make sure she doesn't cause any trouble with these people around. So in case she shows up and tries something, I need you and Blitz here to protect everyone." It was the only thing he could come up with so the other wouldn't be offended, and he hoped that it sounded believable.
But Exile didn't look convinced. "Why for she'd come back here if she already took all dogs?"
"Well…" The retriever rubbed the back of his head. "You never know with Groomer. It's better to be prepared."
The Siberian Rover crossed his arms. "You want me staying because I am hurt."
Hesitating for a moment, Hunter then sighed. He thought himself a pretty good actor, but it was much harder for him to outright lie. "Look, I know you wanna get her for what happened, but you need to take it easy, Exile," he said.
"Bolshoi," Exile protested. "I am all righty to go."
Hunter didn't look persuaded, but still placed a hand on his friend's shoulder and said, "Maybe so, but you had a long night. You stay here and rest up, so you'll be ready when we really need you."
At first Exile said nothing, his ears folded back against his head as he looked away from the leader. He was obviously not happy about this decision. But not wanting to argue, he nodded anyway.
Seeing that Colleen and Shag were waiting for him, Hunter patted the husky's shoulder encouragingly. "Don't worry," he said. "We'll probably need backup anyway, so if we see her, we'll call you."
Exile watched as the retriever ran off and hopped into the Tank Rover, looking on as his three comrades headed out into the snowy wilderness. As the vehicle disappeared, he placed a hand to his throbbing head. Even though he really did want to find Groomer and help all those other dogs that were taken before, he knew that Hunter was right; he needed some rest.
The way he was now, he wouldn't be much help at all.
Despite the Tank Rover's usefulness in snowy terrain, the problem was its design lacked a covertness that would otherwise help them sneak up on the Groomer if they ever did find her. Unfortunately, the helicopter mode would make it easier for Groomer to see them before they found her, and the sled mode didn't have a means of maintaining momentum.
In normal circumstances, Hunter and Colleen would just take the Sled Rovers and have the Tank Rover waiting as a base nearby in case they ran into trouble. However, the leader didn't want the sheepdog by himself in the off chance that something happened. That usually wasn't a problem…but since Exile wasn't with them this time, they couldn't afford that risk.
So instead, the Tank Rover plowed through the snow with Shag at the wheel, while Hunter and Colleen kept watch for any signs of Parvo's right-hand lady.
For a while, nothing was said between the three Rovers as they concentrated on their tasks. But the silence was finally broken as the retriever muttered, "I just don't get it…"
"Don't get what?" Colleen asked.
"What Parvo's up to…" The leader scratched his head as he looked toward his two teammates. "He doesn't usually go after one type of dog."
Shag mumbled an incoherent question, but after a moment of thought Hunter shook his head and waved it off. "That's not really the same thing," he replied. "When Parvo captured those Shiba Inu, he only took…what? Five of 'em? But this time, he's capturing who-knows-how-many sled dogs. And even if they're different breeds of dogs, they still have that in common." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "What is he up to…?"
The sheepdog offered a garbled suggestion, and Colleen couldn't help but roll her eyes. "I don't really think Parvo's the sort for a sleigh ride through the mountains, Shag," she quipped. "And even if he was, he wouldn't need all those sled dogs." Turning to Hunter, she added, "Maybe he needs these sled dogs for a particular purpose."
"Like what?" the leader wondered. "Pulling sleds?"
The collie shook her head and sighed in exasperation. "Is that all you think Exile is good for?" she retorted.
Hunter felt himself wince a little, somewhat surprised by the bite in her accusation. He was only kidding, after all. Then again, maybe this wasn't a time to be making jokes…especially about a matter that personally involved one of their own. With an understanding nod, he urged her to continue.
"Sled dogs are used for pullin' sleds," Colleen confirmed, "but they also need the strength to do so. Sled dogs are also known for their endurance to travel the distance to transport their load, and the speed to get to their destination in a reasonable time."
Hunter and Shag exchanged questioning glances before turning back to their female teammate. "Did you get all of that from the race on TV?" the retriever asked.
Colleen smirked. "I guess you miss a lot when makin' bets, huh?"
"I guess so…" Hunter replied, rubbing the back of his head. "But that still doesn't tell us what he's up to."
"It might be better if we never find out," Colleen pointed out. Shag whined softly in agreement.
But all Hunter could think about was the intense expression on Exile's face before they left headquarters, and he answered somberly, "I wish we had that option…"
The Tank Rover continued en route, treading through the blanket of snow and weaving around the thick cluster of trees. But behind the dense foliage, the passengers inside the armored vehicle did not notice the large van that stealthily drove out, following their tracks back to where they started.
TBC
[Chapter 4]
Chapter: 3
Fandom: Road Rovers
Character(s): Colleen, Exile, Hunter
Genre: Family, friendship, drama, some action
Rating: K+/PG
Disclaimers: Road Rovers © Warner Bros
Notes: After somehow getting back into this nostalgic show from my childhood, I got this idea for a story based on something I noticed in the first episode. That, and I really wanted to write a story about my favorite character, Exile, anyway. And not really needing an excuse to write fanfics anyway, I went ahead and gave it a try. Enjoy.
Summary: He joined the Road Rovers without any hesitation. But even after all this time, he never forgot everything he had to give up.
[Chapter 2]
~*~*~*~
"How're you holdin' up, Exile?" Colleen asked softly as she worked, noticing the husky wince.
"Fineski," he replied, trying to keep the weariness out of his tone, "although I will be feeling much better when you stop poking needle in my shoulder…"
She smiled a little as she continued to suture the wound; she knew it didn't hurt him, since she had already numbed the area. But he probably could still feel something, and she recalled that Exile was rather…uncomfortable around medical procedures.
"Just relax," she soothed, trying to keep him engaged. "I'll be done in just a sec."
The Russian canine only responded with a small shake of his head, and Colleen couldn't tell if the movement was intentional or not. After a quick examination over her teammate, the collie was relieved to find that Exile mostly sustained merely minor injuries. The small scrapes were easily taken care of, and his ankle wasn't too terribly sprained. He could probably walk on it if he needed to; still, she would prefer that he'd let it rest until it healed.
There were only two serious injuries, but they did cause a good deal of concern; one of course was the gash on his shoulder that she was currently sewing up. It wasn't too deep, but it was a few inches long, and she was worried about the amount of blood he probably lost. Even if she had the best medical skills within the team, she was by no means a doctor, and she couldn't be sure of the real damage of blood deficiency.
The other problem was a sizeable bump she found on his head. She had bandaged it up already, but she wasn't sure yet if she could leave it at that. She expected the headache and the dizziness that accompanied the welt, but she became a bit uneasy when Exile almost fell off the table as they sat him down. He also complained a little when they pulled a light closer to better look him over, and he didn't seem to hear her when she asked him some questions. If his head was hit hard enough, the symptoms could mean he had a concussion.
He seemed to be doing better, though. She spent most of the time speaking to him while she treated him, hoping to keep him attentive. If he did have a concussion, she didn't want to risk him falling unconscious. Eventually he began responding to her, and they managed to carry on a conversation as she took care of his wounds. His previous response also encouraged her, showing her that he was clearly aware of what was going on, and she imagined the bump on his head wasn't as serious as she initially thought.
However, she knew that they still needed to be careful. For now, they had to keep Exile awake until she could be absolutely certain that he did not have a concussion…even though what he really needed was some sleep. Whatever adrenaline had powered him to get to headquarters before had now rapidly dissolved, leaving him so exhausted that she felt sorry for keeping him up.
"There we are," she said as she closed up the stitch and snipped off the extra twine. Over her shoulder, she called to the other Rovers, "All done, gents."
The other three canines, who agreed to hang back and let Colleen take care of their injured teammate, made their way over as she gently grasped Exile's arm and helped him slowly sit up. When Shag was close enough, he reached into his snowy white coat and retrieved a dog dish filled with water that he offered to the husky.
Taking the bowl, Exile lapped at the water gratefully, enjoying the feeling of the cool liquid through his dry throat. He drank until there was nothing left, then let out a satisfied sigh as he handed the dish back to the sheepdog. "Spasibo," he rasped out. He shook his head a little, coughing a bit to clear this throat. "I mean, um…thank you."
The collie frowned as she put her tools away. The same thing happened in her conversations with Exile earlier as well. Sometimes after she asked him a question, he would respond entirely in Russian. Usually he caught himself quickly and repeated the answer in English, but she worried that the inability to separate the languages was a possible sign that he did have mild brain trauma.
Hunter suddenly pulled her aside, and she looked up at him curiously. "How's he doin', Colleen?" he asked, keeping his voice low.
She wasn't sure if he suspected something himself, or if he could just tell she thought something was wrong. "He's all right for the most part," she replied honestly. "But I'm a little concerned 'bout his 'ead."
She half-expected him to make some kind of joke. But instead, his brows knitted together as he frowned, scratching the top of his head. "Is it bad?" he wondered.
"I don't think so…But we should keep an eye on 'im, just in case."
"Do you know what's goin' on?"
Colleen shook her head. "I tried askin' 'im earlier, but he never said. When he did start talkin', I didn't bother askin' again. He might tell you now, though."
Hunter nodded. "Okay…" He turned and once again approached the Siberian husky, waiting while the other put on his silver uniform. "Exile…" he said after a moment, "do you think you could tell us what happened?"
"Ja," Blitz interjected. "Just tell us who did dhis, and I will personally see to it that dheir heinies are severely bitten."
Exile groaned, though from pain or revulsion even he couldn't tell. "Don't be weird boy…" he grunted, placing a hand to his head.
"Do you remember anythin'…before you came 'ere?" Colleen questioned.
At first, the Russian canine said nothing, and simply sat on the examination bench with his eyes tightly shut. Then, just as they were about to ask again, his fist clenched and he nodded. His voice was barely above a whisper as he replied, "The Groomer…"
They all heard him anyway. "The Groomer?!" the others repeated with wide eyes.
"She was there?" Hunter exclaimed.
"Da," Exile seemed to sigh. "She try to take me from my home."
"Okay, time-out," the leader said, crossing his hands in a 'T' position as he processed what they were being told. "Groomer tried to steal you…?"
"Da."
"You…as a regular dog…?"
"Da."
"From the house of the Russian president?"
The husky nodded, earning troubled looks from the rest of the Rovers. All different kinds of possibilities filled their heads about why the Groomer would kidnap Exile, including the same fear that she might know who they are.
"Can you…can you tell us what happened?" Hunter asked again, hoping they could figure out what Groomer was really after.
Exile shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. "She came…capture me…put me in truck with other huskies."
Something about the flippant answer somewhat worried the retriever, but the end of the comment caught his attention. "Other huskies?"
The Russian canine nodded again. "Many others…all Siberian huskies."
"That's not like Parvo," Hunter remarked. "Why would he only want one kind of dog?"
"He isn't after just one breed, Rovers," the Master announced suddenly. "He's after a special type of breed. Across the globe, dogs have been disappearing in mass quantities; not just several types of huskies, but also Eskimo dogs, malamutes, Samoyeds, Chinooks, Greenland dogs, Eurohounds, Tamaskan dogs…"
Colleen's eyes widened with comprehension. "Sled dogs…" she murmured. "He's after different kinds of sled dogs."
"Exactly," the Master confirmed.
Scratching the top of his head, Hunter glanced at the collie. "How'd you know that?" he wondered.
She smirked as she crossed her arms. "If you paid more attention to watchin' the race instead of swappin' bets, you'd probably know that too."
The Master sighed as a debate about dog sled races broke out among most of the group. Even though they were good dogs most of the time, there were occasions when they would get a little too sidetracked. "Now's not the time for this, Rovers," he advised.
Exile, who preferred to stay out of the conversation, looked up at the man as the chatter died down. "Wait…" he said, slipping off the examination bench. Turning to Hunter, he asked, "Are dog sled races still ongoing?"
"Um…I think so…" the retriever replied. Thinking for a moment, he nodded. "Yeah, some races will still be going on until that really big race in March."
The husky turned to their Master. "If evil Parvo-man is after sled dogs, could he also going after them?"
The Master rubbed his chin. "It's possible…If he is, then we'll know where he'll hit next."
"Hey, good thinking, Exile," Hunter commended, placing a hand on the other's good shoulder.
The husky, however, said nothing, and didn't seem to appreciate the revelation of his suggestion.
"You know what to do, Rovers," the Master said. "Find Parvo…and stop him."
"Yes, sir!" the leader answered for the rest of the team. Turning to the other canines, he said, "Let's head out, Rovers!"
With a group howl, the team made their way to the vehicle hangar. But Hunter hung back with the Russian member for a moment. "Hey, Exile," he began, "maybe you should -"
"I am going," Exile responded resolutely.
The retriever frowned. "You really oughta get some rest."
"I am fine." A fire burned in Exile's icy eyes as he looked at the other. "This time… is personal."
Still somewhat hesitant, Hunter then nodded in understanding. "All right…but be careful, okay? Take it slow."
Exile didn't answer and looked away.
The roar of the jet echoed across the mountains, the blanket of snow gleaming beneath them in the sunlight. The trees danced as they passed overhead, shaking off the ice crystals that gathered atop their leaves. At first glance, there didn't seem to be any problems in the encompassing region. However, as they approached their destination, they could make out the throng of people gathered around the base of a mountain, and the empty sleds scattered about the area.
Colleen finally stated the thought on all their minds; "Looks like we're a little too late…"
Hunter carefully landed the jet in an open section, mindful of the approaching humans. As the engines died down, the aircraft's door slid open for the six canines to step out into the crisp wintry air.
Blitz hugged himself as he shivered. "Why can't we ever get sent to a nice beach somewhere?" he complained. "Where they serve dhose drinks with de little umbrellas… But noooo…it always has to be someplace where my tooshie freezes!"
Exile rolled his eyes, deciding to overlook the Doberman's exaggerations this time. Instead he inhaled deeply, enjoying the sharp air that filled his lungs. Honestly, they weren't often sent to cold regions like this. Normally they were sent to much warmer locations, and while he never complained, he usually felt more at ease in cooler temperatures. Actually, he felt he worked much better in places like this.
Unfortunately, while he generally felt fine being in the cold, the chilly atmosphere did nothing to help his injuries. His head and shoulder were beginning to throb with a growing pain as a frosty wind blew around them.
Doing his best to ignore his ailments, he tried to focus his attention on the conversation going on between Hunter and a nearby person. "So they just ran off?" he heard the leader ask.
"Yeah," the human replied in a heavy tone, his body stiff - and they knew it wasn't from the cold - as he slid his hands into the pocket of his thick brown coat. "You can ask some of the other mushers too, but it's the same for all of us. While we were running the race, the dogs all just stopped for no reason. No matter what we did, we couldn't get them to go; they just sat there, and nothing happened for a good few minutes. Then they suddenly got out of their harnesses and ran off."
"Were they acting strange at all?" the retriever wondered.
The musher combed through his thick beard as he tried to recall. "Not that I noticed…though they seemed to be looking for something before running away."
Placing his hands on his waist, Hunter turned to the Siberian Rover. "Whatcha make of it, Exile?"
The husky frowned. "It's nyet nothing," he commented. "Dogs must have heard The Whistle."
"Whistle?"
Exile nodded. "The Whistle is probably what make dogs stop in middle of race. It sounds like it's calling you, and you must find where it comes from. The louder they hear it, the more they are wanting to find it."
"You heard it?" Hunter asked. This was part of the story the husky failed to mention before.
"Da. I hear it before I see Groomer."
"She must be using it to gather all the sled dogs," Hunter mused. Turning back to the musher, he said, "How long ago was this?"
The man checked his watch. "Three…maybe four hours. A bunch of us just got back from the route after the dogs ran off."
"Well, she's got a heck of a start," the retriever quipped. "We're gonna hafta haul tail if we're gonna catch her."
Colleen suddenly cleared her throat, and when Hunter glanced at her curiously she motioned her head to the Russian native. The husky subconsciously rubbed his injured shoulder, staring at the snowy ground with a distracted look in his icy-blue eyes. Turning back to the collie and noting her concerned frown, Hunter nodded in agreement, recognizing what she meant.
"Okay, Rovers," he began, the authority that made him leader easily slipping into his tone, even as his mind rapidly worked to think of a plausible excuse to use. "We better split up. Colleen, Shag and I will take the Tank Rover to scout around."
"Roger, 'unter," Colleen replied before she and Shag went to get the vehicle he called for.
Turning to the remaining three, Hunter continued, "Exile and Blitz, you two stay here with Muzzle for now and keep an eye on things."
Muzzle hopped around in his stretcher, grunting out a wordless affirmation. Blitz exhaled a trail of steam as he sighed. "Fine," he grumbled, still trying to keep himself warm.
Exile, however, frowned as he looked at the leader suspiciously. "Why I stay here?" he wondered.
"Well," Hunter said slowly, "if Groomer and her pets are still close by somewhere, we need to make sure she doesn't cause any trouble with these people around. So in case she shows up and tries something, I need you and Blitz here to protect everyone." It was the only thing he could come up with so the other wouldn't be offended, and he hoped that it sounded believable.
But Exile didn't look convinced. "Why for she'd come back here if she already took all dogs?"
"Well…" The retriever rubbed the back of his head. "You never know with Groomer. It's better to be prepared."
The Siberian Rover crossed his arms. "You want me staying because I am hurt."
Hesitating for a moment, Hunter then sighed. He thought himself a pretty good actor, but it was much harder for him to outright lie. "Look, I know you wanna get her for what happened, but you need to take it easy, Exile," he said.
"Bolshoi," Exile protested. "I am all righty to go."
Hunter didn't look persuaded, but still placed a hand on his friend's shoulder and said, "Maybe so, but you had a long night. You stay here and rest up, so you'll be ready when we really need you."
At first Exile said nothing, his ears folded back against his head as he looked away from the leader. He was obviously not happy about this decision. But not wanting to argue, he nodded anyway.
Seeing that Colleen and Shag were waiting for him, Hunter patted the husky's shoulder encouragingly. "Don't worry," he said. "We'll probably need backup anyway, so if we see her, we'll call you."
Exile watched as the retriever ran off and hopped into the Tank Rover, looking on as his three comrades headed out into the snowy wilderness. As the vehicle disappeared, he placed a hand to his throbbing head. Even though he really did want to find Groomer and help all those other dogs that were taken before, he knew that Hunter was right; he needed some rest.
The way he was now, he wouldn't be much help at all.
Despite the Tank Rover's usefulness in snowy terrain, the problem was its design lacked a covertness that would otherwise help them sneak up on the Groomer if they ever did find her. Unfortunately, the helicopter mode would make it easier for Groomer to see them before they found her, and the sled mode didn't have a means of maintaining momentum.
In normal circumstances, Hunter and Colleen would just take the Sled Rovers and have the Tank Rover waiting as a base nearby in case they ran into trouble. However, the leader didn't want the sheepdog by himself in the off chance that something happened. That usually wasn't a problem…but since Exile wasn't with them this time, they couldn't afford that risk.
So instead, the Tank Rover plowed through the snow with Shag at the wheel, while Hunter and Colleen kept watch for any signs of Parvo's right-hand lady.
For a while, nothing was said between the three Rovers as they concentrated on their tasks. But the silence was finally broken as the retriever muttered, "I just don't get it…"
"Don't get what?" Colleen asked.
"What Parvo's up to…" The leader scratched his head as he looked toward his two teammates. "He doesn't usually go after one type of dog."
Shag mumbled an incoherent question, but after a moment of thought Hunter shook his head and waved it off. "That's not really the same thing," he replied. "When Parvo captured those Shiba Inu, he only took…what? Five of 'em? But this time, he's capturing who-knows-how-many sled dogs. And even if they're different breeds of dogs, they still have that in common." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "What is he up to…?"
The sheepdog offered a garbled suggestion, and Colleen couldn't help but roll her eyes. "I don't really think Parvo's the sort for a sleigh ride through the mountains, Shag," she quipped. "And even if he was, he wouldn't need all those sled dogs." Turning to Hunter, she added, "Maybe he needs these sled dogs for a particular purpose."
"Like what?" the leader wondered. "Pulling sleds?"
The collie shook her head and sighed in exasperation. "Is that all you think Exile is good for?" she retorted.
Hunter felt himself wince a little, somewhat surprised by the bite in her accusation. He was only kidding, after all. Then again, maybe this wasn't a time to be making jokes…especially about a matter that personally involved one of their own. With an understanding nod, he urged her to continue.
"Sled dogs are used for pullin' sleds," Colleen confirmed, "but they also need the strength to do so. Sled dogs are also known for their endurance to travel the distance to transport their load, and the speed to get to their destination in a reasonable time."
Hunter and Shag exchanged questioning glances before turning back to their female teammate. "Did you get all of that from the race on TV?" the retriever asked.
Colleen smirked. "I guess you miss a lot when makin' bets, huh?"
"I guess so…" Hunter replied, rubbing the back of his head. "But that still doesn't tell us what he's up to."
"It might be better if we never find out," Colleen pointed out. Shag whined softly in agreement.
But all Hunter could think about was the intense expression on Exile's face before they left headquarters, and he answered somberly, "I wish we had that option…"
The Tank Rover continued en route, treading through the blanket of snow and weaving around the thick cluster of trees. But behind the dense foliage, the passengers inside the armored vehicle did not notice the large van that stealthily drove out, following their tracks back to where they started.
TBC
[Chapter 4]