Bad Doggy, No Bone

(October 1st, Open to all canines of all sides. I know, lame title is lame and something of the same sort has probably already been used, don't remind me xP)

A gentle breeze swept through the grasslands, gliding over the blades of grass, making them dance in twirl in time with the winds. The golden grass bowed and leapt in unison, making the savannah ripple like the ocean. The golden sun blazed down on the back of a lone dirty pelt, slowly working it's way towards the far-off scraggly-looking tree. Of which was getting closer by the minute.

Salmon tongue lolled out of the dog's mouth, his steps laboured and heavy. He felt like he had been walking for years. He was just so tired. After leaving Agrabah he walked all the way to the Outlands. The German Shepherd was sure that his destiny of redemption could lay there. But it was only minutes before walking into the Animal Villain's camp that he hadn't left a single shard of his pride behind in the Outlands. All of his regrets - all of his wrong choices - were rotting away in the Pridelands. So he headed back towards the very place that he was ashamed to walk back into. No, he didn't plan on joining the heroes, but he did plan on apologizing.

To who, he wasn't really sure, but always trying to be sure of everything - Myrtle's safety, Penny's redemption - was what had put him in this situation, after all. He figured he'd give his paw at trying to be a bit unorthodox, for a change. After he apologized to everyone, he didn't have a clue what he would do or where he would go. Should probably clean myself off, that's what, A small voice chimed in the back of his mind. But that was the last thing of the white-furred canine's mind, at the moment. Apologizing, finding somewhere to stay, a side to pick, all of those were placed second next to simply reaching the shade of that tree and laying down.

And the moment Bolt allowed himself to repose in the cool shade of that tree, he felt the worries of his world slowly melt away. Letting out a heavy sigh, he ran his tongue over his fur a few times before pressing himself into the ground. He was long overdue for a nap. Closing his eyes, he felt sleep began to tug at his weary soul, but moments before he could give in to it's sweet temptations, the white-furred canine heard the footsteps in the distance.

Chocolate brown orbs sluggishly drew open, the German Shepherd raising himself into a sitting position. Cocking his head, he looked around, the long golden fronds of grass and bright glare of the golden sun keeping him from getting a good look whoever may be there. "Hello?" He called out loosely, praying not to get a response back. All he wanted was to sleep.

But the re-occurring sound of footsteps welcomed him to the fact that he probably wouldn't be getting much shut eye.

"Oh. It's you."

At least, Angel thought it was. It was either that obnoxious shepherd she'd seen around camp near the war's beginning, or the lookalike she had noticed once or twice since; she hadn't gotten to know either one well enough to learn how to tell them apart.

The one-eyed pomeranian hadn't been looking for interaction of any sort, really. She had simply wanted to get out of the hero camp for a little while, away from the sense of feeling that she hadn't been completely accepted back. She wasn't usually this paranoid, but even she couldn't help but feel that everyone was judging her for her myriad of mistakes. That was a stupid notion, of course, but still, it was what had driven her to seek solitude out here. Not that, it seemed, solitude was something she'd actually find.

Emerging from the grass that had hidden her from view so well, Angel's single eye traced the American shepherd's haggard form and dirty fur, not looking hugely impressed by what she saw. It confirmed, more or less, that this actually was the original Bolt she was talking to; he was missing the obvious wounds that she had noticed his duplicate possessing. "It's been a long time since I've seen you making a nuisance of yourself around these parts," she pointed out dryly. She didn't really expect the larger canine to have changed, but since he hadn't been a major pain to her the way he had been to some of the dalmatians, she did seem prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt, regardless.

Since returning to the Pridelands, Patch hadn't gone out of his way to interact with much of anyone. He'd hardly given any of his siblings on the heroes side a chance to see him, much less give them a reason to talk to him. Sure he'd seen them around, but Patch hadn't wanted to talk. Not even Perdita had gotten to speak with him. He was going to have to rectify that sooner or later. For the time being, though, Patch was inclined to walk through the grasslands in the hopes of just having a little space.

He caught a glimpse of golden fur ahead of him and looked up from the ground he'd been staring at. There was Angel up ahead, and... Was that who he thought it was? Patch hadn't seen Bolt around in ages, and he couldn't remember what had happened the last time they had actually spoken to one another. In fact, Patch was almost certain the last time he'd seen the white American Shepherd was months ago. Maybe things had changed since he'd last seen the admittedly obnoxious dog.

Patch stepped forward to join Bolt and Angel, frowning with uncertainty as he looked the white dog over, and finally decided to sit down. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" he asked.

Wizzer was walking through the grass lands hoping for a little bit of fun. Tones was off doing something else, so he thought maybe he could take a tour of the grass lands and maybe find Patches or something. He had hoped Mooch wasn't around. He had really done nothing to Mooch other then join the villains. But, for Mooch I guess that was a good enough reason to hate someone. He walked over to Patch. "Hey, Patch what's up"? The one eared Dalmatian said sitting not far away. "Hey, I know you, you're Bolt right?" Wizzer said remembering this annoying dog from way back when Cadpig was actually a friend of his, and not a foe.

"Angel lassie! There ye are!"

Jock'd heard from Scamp that Angel was here. Despite her background and history, Angel had still become a member of the Tramp-er-Lady family. She was a poised little girl, polite and kind when she was clean and off the streets. Though she turned out to be Scamp's sister and Tramp's daughter, causing the little scottie to lose his mind at Tramp after she left and went back to war, Jock still was worried about her, though not as much as Scamp or the girls.

Scamp's been shouting, ranting and raving about some kind of bloody dalmatian that Angel'd been with and was 'dating.' Though Jock barely believed in 'dating' among canines (for him it was mates or you just weren't together)he still told Scamp he'd look out for the lass' new beau.

"Angel, lassie, Scamp told me ye were here. I dinnae doubt it obviously. Oh, I'm sorry, I'm nae interuptin' anything am I?" He smiled until he saw her state. Covering in scars. Missing an eye. He gasped. "LASSIE! WHAT HAPPENED T'YE?!"

Letting out a pained sigh, Bolt, shifting in his place, raising his eyebrows slightly as a familar pale-furred female appeared from the grasses. "Hello to you, too," He grumbled, voice heavy as he offered the ghost of a smile. Flicking his ear, he allowed his chocolate brown orbs to go wide as he took in her full appearance. Well, the 'not exactly full' part was what brought the shock to his face, but that's besides the point. "I was on hiatus for a bit," The mangy looking canine offered along with the shrug of his shoulders. He honestly didn't have that much to say regarding his long-term disappearance.

"I'm guessing the war hasn't treated you too nicely, either?" Bolt asked, a weary understanding lacing his partially joking tone. Although, his head abruptly turned as he spotted, well, spots. Fear sliced through him like a diamond sword until he was able to make out exactly which of the pack it was. A relieved smile graced his white features as he dipped his head in recognition to Patch. "Definitely a long time no see," He affirmed, wrapping his tail around his paws. "You two been-"

"Hey, I know you, you're Bolt right?"[/b]

Swallowing hard, the dirt-covered canine hesitantly turned to take in the source of the voice: another Dalmatian. Although, this one he didn't recognize, and it was this fact that lead him to be unsure of whether he should be worried of relieved. "Uh, yeah, I'm Bolt," The German Shepherd confirmed after a moment, raising an eyebrow. He went to ask who the newcomer was until yet another unfamiliar voice sliced through the dry Savannah air.

Chocolate brown orbs growing wide, Bolt watched as the tiny, grey-furred dog waltzed right up to the small group. Opening his muzzle, he was going to confirm to him that he was basically interrupting, but held his tongue. You're making right, 'member, Bolty? He reminded himself with an inward sigh. Although, the yelling voice caught the exhausted dog off guard. Blinking a few times, Bolt stumbled back as the newcomer yelled at Angel. Shaking his head a few times, the white-furred canine absentmindedly pawed at his ear, caught completely off guard by the Scots' vocal power. "Well, I'm assuming you two are already acquainted," He joked as he sat back down, looking from Angel back to the Scottish canine.

Well, he wasn't trying to hit on her anymore. That was an improvement, at least, and so Angel decided it wouldn't hurt to keep talking. "You could say that," she replied, almost enjoying the somewhat comical look of shock on the other dog's face. You had to take what small amusement you could in a bitter war like this, after all. She shifted to one side a little to make room for Patch as he approached, giving the spotted canine one of her genuine smiles. How she could have ever wanted to kill him was quite beyond her now.

Before she could elaborate on her response to Bolt, however - if, in fact, she'd even been planning to - another familiar voice sounded out, and Angel inwardly grimaced. It wasn't anything against Jock personally, but she'd been hoping to avoid contact with anyone related to Scamp's family for the time being; that eye was going to take a hell of a lot of explaining, after all. Obviously, that hadn't worked, so she reluctantly turned to face the small Scottie, unintentionally giving him the full view of her hastily-patched eye socket. "Hey, Jock," she replied, a completely inadequate response to his yelped exclamation. "I tangled with a pregnant hound in the Outlands... long story," she muttered. She seriously doubted Jock, or any other dog for that matter, would approve of her human transformation - looking back, she wasn't even completely sure what she'd been thinking when she'd arranged it either, for that matter - so Angel neglected to mention that part. She'd rather leave out that it had been during a badly-planned attempt to 'rescue' an enemy she hadn't even known would want to come or not that she'd recieved the injury, too, if she had any say in the matter.

"What are you doing here, Bolt?" The voice's tone was dry and dull, with a tiny hit of cold rage. Strike was taking break from his constant training, when he spotted Bolt. The last time the German shepherd and the Dalmatian had met, the circumstances had been less than pleasant.

Strike was pissed; this idiot and his little group had been nothing but trouble since he showed up, but in spite of that the heroes let him stay in their camp and had even saved his ass a few times.

Then mutt switched sides for unknown reasons and worst still to the one headed by genocide committing scum bags, but there was another reason why Bolt’s presence was putting Strike on edge. Back during their brief fight in Agrabah, Bolt had acted strangely. As in he had been his ordinary stupid self one moment and then was a bloodthirsty killer the next and it happened like flicking light a switch.

Strike had meet a lot and I mean a lot of people who were mental unstable, or at very least possessed bent physics. He wasn't sure what was exactly wrong with Bolt, but Strike had reasons doubted the shepherd’s sanity and there was no way he was going to let a potentially dangerous individual and traitor wonder around, without at least knowing what he was up too.

"Oh, Lassie." Jock shook his head and offered Angel the same sympathetic look he gave when he told Lady about Trusty's sense of smell. It was a dipped frown and large eyes which turned towards the white dog.

"Aye," Jock said, fluffing his fur up as he stepped slightly in front of Angel, "And who might ye be, laddie? A friend, or a foe?" It seemed he was answered as Strike gave an angry snort towards Bolt. He tilted his head to the side and whispered to Angel.

"Is there somthin' I should know aboot that dog, lassie?"

"It was probably my own fault," she hastened to add, dismissing the little terrier's sympathy with a shrug. Marching into the Outlands the way she had, she'd been pretty much asking for some sort of serious injury, and she'd had plenty of time to come to terms with the wound. She supposed she ought to feel lucky her loss hadn't been more debilitating.

She glanced at Jock again as he enquired about Bolt. Again, a shrug rippled her shoulderblades. "He has a reputation as a world-class self-centerd whiner," she informed him in an equally low voice. "But he's not a villain or anything. Just a nuisance." At least, he hadn't been a villain as far as she knew. Defectors seemed to change sides with frequency in this war, so who was she to say that he hadn't hooked up with Scar or Shan-Yu in his absence? Though it didn't seem likely either army leader would have tolerated the behaviours that Bolt was infamous for.

"So this is him, this is the infamous Bolt?" said the young Dalmatians Sparky from his tree above the group. Finally breaking the silence he had been keeping to see if he could figure out anything he didn't already know about this k-9. His brothers and sisters had told them about him but he never met this dog in his life, he sure didn't look the way they had described him, though that may be in part due to the large amount of dirt on his coat.
Sparky had been boarded of sitting around camp waiting for his leg to heal from his little climbing accident and decided that he should go ahead and test how well it was healing so he headed out to the grasslands. He had found a tree and decided that that might be slightly safer to climb than cliffs. So he had climbed the tree and had ceased up with pain. So he laid there and waited, and waited, and waited for the pain to go away until he saw a shaggy coated Shepherd coming towards his tree. Then he saw Angle and Patch and Wizzer all show up and caught the word, Bolt in their conversation, and decided it was time to break his silence

Patch could have added in his own thoughts on Bolt's past actions, as he still remembered how Bolt had acted during Penny's funeral and Lucky's return to the Pridelands, but he held his tongue. It wasn't really his place to be calling Bolt out anymore. After all, he'd been an outcast just like Bolt seemed to be now. Patch may not have known the full story behind what Bolt was even doing anymore, but he had enough sense to guess that the Pridelanders still didn't think too fondly of him.

"So... What have you been up to recently?" Patch decided to ask. It was a bit awkward, he realized, but how else was he going to learn about anything that had happened with Bolt in the time that he'd been with the animal villains? Patch couldn't think of many other alternative methods for asking that particular question. So, he just rolled with that and hoped it worked out well enough.