The Home From Which We'll Never Roam

January 2nd. Open to Scamp and Trusty. It's mid morning, with the location being on the front patio of Trusty's home.

Scamp lay on his stomach, his forepaws crossed in front of him, on the cool wooden wrap around deck of the antebellum styled house. Watching the snow slowly drift down across the front lawn. The mongrel had arrived in Marceline early the day before. Much to the surprise of his owner, who welcomed him with a wide hug before promptly dumping the gray mutt into a bath. Apparently hanging out with in an encampment full of wild animals did strange things to one's hygiene.

It still felt weird to him to be home after almost a full year in the Pridelands. In some ways, it was like waking up from a bad dream...the old scents and sights of he world he grew up in. He could feel the smile splitting his muzzle, digging into his cheeks, as he approached the wrote iron gate that surrounded the Victorian home. Snow making the whole town seem like some cheery Christmas card. Far removed from the war, it provided a sense of welcoming comfort that he had not even realized he missed. Plopping down in his basket in the kitchen, basking in the glow from the nearby radiator, the mongol had without a doubt had the best night's sleep in months.

Even when the large home seemed so vacant without the giggle of his sisters, or the sight of his parents romping from room to room.

Even with the empty baskets stored on a shelf in the linen closit, the names of both his parents on the side of one, and the wicker basket his sisters shared.

Even with the occasional tuft of blonde fur caught in the pillow in his own bed. The lingering scents of a much happier time.

It had only taken Scamp a few moments of padding through the back yard to find the old loose fence post. Strangely, it did not seem as wide as it had two years ago. Crossing the front lawn of his Uncle Trusty's, he climbed the steps out of the snow, and shook himself free of the white powder before plopping himself down on the doorstep. Tucking his hind legs under him, and his forepaws crossed. His tail giving the occasional “thump” on the warn wood. Looking to one side, he could see the drinking tin with “Trusty” engraved on it. The water inside frozen.

He was home! Finally! Shang's message had been delivered, whatever it was, and Scamp was as far away from the problems of the War of the Pridelands as he could be.

So, why did he feel so uneasy.

Despite the holiday season, the decor and festivities, and the Christmas spirit, the days passed with monotony for the old Bloodhound. With all of his friends gone, and his master so tired these days, he was left by himself more often than not. He'd dropped by the Dear house a few times, partially out of some forlorn hope that maybe, just maybe, he'd find that someone had returned from the war. But the empty house had been depressing, and too full of familiar smells for Trusty's liking.

Just as Scamp was passing through the fence and walking up to the doorstep of his house, the old hound, undeterred by the cold, was out for his morning walk. With or without a human, he was determined to get his daily exercise. But he wasn't long in returning after Scamp had settled himself down on the porch, padding through the snow and into his yard. His steps slowed as he saw the tell-tale sight of footprints in the snow, leading towards the porch stairs. Once he reached the prints, he lowered his head, sniffing away.

"I'd know that scent anywhere," he said, grinning as he ascended the steps, knowing who'd he'd find. And sure enough, there was Scamp, looking all grown up. The big hound paused to shake the dusting of snow off his body, loose folds of skin flowing with the motion. Then he crossed the porch, padding to his usual spot, and sat down, looking the younger dog over.

"Welcome home," he said, a broad smile crossing his jowls. Honestly, he'd have thought one of the girls would have been the first one to come back. Especially after he'd heard about Lady. Sometimes, he'd forget completely, only to once more realize he'd never see her again. Well, not in this life, anyways. But soon enough, he'd see her again, and be able to introduce her to Ol' Reliable. "You stayin' in town for a while, or, uh, are you just home for a short spell?"

Scamp's head perked, and a broad smile crossed his maw, chocolatey brown eyes focusing on the old blood hound making his way up the steps.

"Uncle Trusty! Its been a while, huh?"

The pup stood up, suddenly aware that his uncle looked a bit frailer then he rememberd...smaller too. Allthough that could be because the last time Scamp saw his neighbor, he was still very much a pup. Now, as he stood to his paws, he was all young dog. His gave a soft sniff, taking in the familiar scent of the hound. Suddenly it felt as if no time at all had passed. As if he was only just running about the year yesterday afternoon.

"I'm here on business. Messenger for Simba's army. But I'll be here for some time." The pup placed a paw against his chest, chuckling softly. "Yep, I'm home for the time being."

He couldn't get the smile off his maw. It felt so good to have a friendly face to speak with. His grey furred towsled tail wagging merrily, much like his cocker mother's used to.

"How about you? Must be pretty relaxing around here without all those girls running around!"

Trusty's ears flapped as he nodded in response to Scamp's statement. It had been about a year (or was it longer?) since he'd seen his nephew. Or the rest of his family, at that. All except for Jock. But it had been a while since he'd seen his oldest friend, as well.

"Why, yes, it's been uh, been...about a year, now," he said, glancing about as he put together about how long it had been. Long enough for Scamp to go from rambunctious young pup to confident, but likely brash, if that look in his eyes was anything to go by, young dog. And the signs of his lineage were more obvious as well. His chest almost swelled with pride when Scamp mentioned what he was doing back in Marceline.

"Oh, a messenger? Why, I must say, that's an important job. They wouldn't be trusting just anybody to carry official dispatches," he said, a definite tone of pride in his voice. His long tail thumped a few times against the porch. It felt good to see a familiar face around. "Well, I'm glad you'll be around for a time, at least. With all the, uh, late unpleasantness, it'll be a welcome change."

He paused to give the side of his neck a good scratch, folds of skin rolling up and over his head to briefly obscure his eyes. As he dropped his foot back to the porch, the loose folds of skin dropped back, and he shrugged his shoulders. Truth be told, he often didn't feel very relaxed. Even before Lady had her pups, she and Jock were frequent visitors. Come to think of it, Jock was a frequent visitor before Lady arrived. So things had never been all that quiet.

"Well, uh, I suppose you could put it that way. I reckon some folks would downright enjoy how quiet it's been," he said, but it was likely obvious how he felt about it all. No, it was dull, and definitely a life he enjoyed. After a moment, he just shook his head a bit, pendulous ears moving in time with the motion, swaying back and forth. "Mind you, I'll take the calm and the quiet over war any day."

"Oh, where are my manners? Are you, uh, ready for a bite to eat? Or if you'd rather get in out of the cold, we could step inside," he said, rising to his feet. He could smell the lingering scent of bath soap, so he figured Scamp had stopped back by his house. But that didn't mean trusty couldn't show proper hospitality. Grown as he was, and here on official business, the old hound would have to get used to treating Scamp like a responsible adult.

Good old Uncle Trusty. For as long as he had known him, Scamp knew that Trusty would never be so impolite as to admit to his own lonesomeness. He could see it etched into his face.  To the mongrel himself, Jock and Trusty where inseparable. All through his puppyhood, Scamp had never seen one without to other nearby. The best of friends. With his mother and father there as well, it made life on Snob Hill a lively experience.

With them all gone, it was a very different world. Scamp could feel the emptiness even after having only been home for less then a few days. Mind you, the stillness of winter may have also had a sobering effect on their world. With the departure of his mother from their world, he knew there was an aspect of Marceline that may never return. He had not spoken with anyone else in their family in months. A fact that became painfully evident as he suddenly found himself surrounded by their invisible presence in smell, and their absence in sight.

"Well, having spent so much time outdoors lately, I guess I've grown accustomed to it. But yah, a bite to eat sounds pretty good right about now."

Puffs of steam rolled out ahead of Scamp's mouth as he spoke. It was sorta cruel bit of irony, at one point in his life he would have given anything to live outside. To frolic in the snow and never have to return to the confined world of the home. But the wild dog, while never tamed, had become wise in his years. Too much separated that rambunctious pup from the dog who stood before the blood hound today. He huffed through his nose, ears flopping down.

"I will say, I agree with you there. That war, it's pretty messed up. I mean, like,  really messed up.  It feels so weird to be home again. Almost like, waking up from a really bad dream I suppose."

The triangular flaps perked again, well, one did. The other sorta flicked, the torn end prominent. As if evidince to Scamp's words in regards to the war. Scamp rose to his feet, moving to fallow the bloodhound into the beckoning warmth of the house.

"If it makes you feel any better...Uncle Jock is doing alright. He is sorta dealing with my sisters last I saw..." Trying to fill in the gap that mom left.

Unlike the Dear house, Trusty's way inside was through the dog door that had been added to the side door, near the kitchen. It had been added not long after Trusty had arrived in Marceline, so he could wander outside to lie on the porch at his leisure. He led the way, padding along the porch, and around the corner of the house. Truth be told, he preferred to spend his days indoors during winter.

"Yes, I know what you mean. Many a night I spent outside, tracking criminals through the swamps and bayous down in Louisiana, days at a time, sometimes. Tracking down fugitives and runaway jailbirds with my Grand-pappy, Ol' Reliable. We tracked through all sorts of bad weather, summer and winter, rain or shine," he said, a feeling of nostalgia washing over him as he spoke. Those were the days. He glanced back as Scamp spoke up again, forcing himself not to stare at the younger dog's torn ear.

"Well, you can leave all of that behind you, for a time. Let your head clear. You won't have to worry about, uh, any ruffians here," he stated. Marceline remained largely unaffected by the war, aside from the Dear residence and its immediate surrounds, and it remained as calm and peaceful as ever. He nodded, a small grin tugging at the folds of his jowls. He might have guessed that Jock would be fending for himself all right.

"I'd have figured as much. He always was, uh, well, he's always been, uh, been rather strong-willed," he said, casting about for a fitting way to describe his friend. He's heard Tramp use some rather blunt words to describe the Scottie, and he did have a point, but he definitely wasn't well-mannered about it. Definitely not a gentleman. He stepped up to the dog door, set high enough for the tall old hound to enter without any trouble, and low enough so he wouldn't stumble.

Inside the small foyer, it was only a short walk and a right turn into the kitchen, where a bowl of high-quality dog-food was set out, accompanied by a few strips of beef, and some knuckle bones left over from Christmas. "Make yourself at home."

The grey canine dutifully fallowed the bloodhound inside. The warmth of the house knocking the chill from his furry frame. He couldn't help but softly smile as the hound dog spoke about his time as a tracker. Hearing about "Ol Reliable, while once a chore that his mother insisted they dutifully endure (and act as if each repeated story was being told for the first time...something Annie and Cole where most impeccable at) it now brought back the flood of memories...it was an aspect of his puppyhood. A throwback to happier days.

It was ultimately the strips of beef that caught Scamp's appetite. The mutt plopped down on his stomach and gleefully chowed down.  Slurping, nawing, and chomping at the beef as if it would be his last meal. While in the Pridelands, Scamp had tossed all of his manners to the wind, and fell back on his childish table manners. Realizing how out of place the sloppy display he was putting on was, he swallowed the strip before flashing a slightly embarrassed grin at his elder.

"Oh uh...sorry...I uh...out there, you eat whats in front of you. If you don't eat it. Someone else will."

He continued to naw on the strips, although at a less ferocious rate. Pausing every so often to speak.

"Thank you, I can sure use the time to clear my head...I uh..." Chocolate eyes looked up from his meal and at the bloodhound, as if seraching for any small details in a reaction. "Well...the family hasn't been doing so well since mom died. Last I saw of pop, I pretty much told him that unless he wants to can his lies and prove that he is dog enough to face us, I didn't want anything to do with him. Annie and Cole won't speak to me, and Dani, well...who knows whats up with her. I just needed to get away from that mess."

He lowered his head to take another bite out of the beef strip. He didn't want to burden Trusty with too much information, some thing the old tracker could possibly be better off not knowing. Dani's involvement with Nuka's rebellion, and Angel's pregnancy especially where two subjects he wanted to steer clear of.

"I dunno...it's all so confusing and it's so stupid. Plus, that war is getting worse and worse. I've seen some crazy stuff I just want to wash away."

Trusty was unprepared for the way Scamp attacked the beef strips in the dish, and all he could do for a moment was stare. The only thought that crossed his mind was wondering if the soldiers on the front were getting fed properly or not. Then he cleared his throat, and gazed down at Scamp in disapproval. But the expression faded when the younger dog apologized for his bad manners, and slowed down.

His body stiffened, and his expression hardened into a look of cold disdain when Scamp mentioned his father. He'd never forgive the mongrel for what he did to Lady. As far as Trusty was concerned, Tramp couldn't be more responsible for Lady's death if he'd set his teeth to her throat. His infidelity, and his lies, had surely driven her to her demise. He drew a deep breath, then released it in a sudden snort. He wouldn't speak ill of Tramp, especially in front of his son.

As Scamp continued talking, Trusty sighed, and shook his head slowly. He'd never approved of Scamp and his siblings all running off to join the war. Of course, he'd never quite understood why they'd wanted to in the first place. And, whatever had happened over there, it certainly hadn't helped clear the air. "Well, I don't know that I can really offer any advice, seeing as I don't rightly know what you've all been through. But, uh, I'm willing to lend an ear, if you need it," he said. Talkative as he could be at times, if not dare he say garrulous, he was perfectly capable of listening to someone else voice their woes. That was, if they cared to.

"Of course, if you'd rather keep your mind off of, uh, off of all of that uh, unpleasantness, that'd be just fine," he added after a brief moment.

The grey mongrel sat down on his haunches, his forelegs planted firmly in front oh him. His mouth slanted as he though of weather or not he should actually lay his problems bare. Some stuff, he felt, would be better kept close to his chest. Mainly the problems with his insomnia, and his dreams. Although, at this point he was rather optimistic that he had left those problems at Jim Dear's iron gate.

"Well, you ever felt like no matter where you went, you didn't belong, didn't fit in. That place can be so beautiful," His tail started wagging, and the hint of a genuine smile caused the ends of his maw to curl into his towsled muzzle fur. brown eyes showing a bit of mischief. "The land, never have I seen so meany hills and grasses...stretching as far as the eye can see! It takes days to walk across it, days to ride across it on a train! It is such a beautiful landscape. I can go one and on about it! It felt so...free."

As he spoke the excitement rose in his voice, and he stood up, leaning forward, one of his forepaws held slightly off the floor. But just as soon as it came, it vanished. The dog slowly lowering himself back to the floor. This time, laying on his stomach, feeling the cold tiles of the kitchen, set against the warmth of the near by radiator.

"But, I wasn't there to fight anyone's war. I never wanted to fight a war." A soft sigh escaped from his nose, his eyes closed, as if gathering thoughts before him. Opening again to reveal a more somber look to the irises. The look of a lost innocence.  "There are so meany good people out there, and I feel like I abandoned them by coming here. But I am so happy to be home. In the end, that place may have been beautiful, but it's stained with blood."

My mother's blood, My blood. Angel's blood, Mooch, Tani, Gurri....His thoughts placed their names and faces before him. 

"Whoo, I am so happy to be home, it feels so weird. Like I shouldn't even be here. Like this is all another dream and I'm going to wake up in the supply tent again."

Trusty in turn mulled over whether or not he should share some of his own past experiences. The truth was, he had indeed felt out of place before. Particularly when he'd first arrived here in Marceline. It had been quite a change compared to what he'd been used to. At the time, he'd firmly refused to admit to himself why he'd been retired early. Even now, he wouldn't admit that fact to anybody, even those he suspected already knew. But he'd grown to like it here, especially after getting to know Jock.

"Well, it's a right shame you had to, uh, to see such a place, uh, marked by war. If it weren't so far away, and, uh, well, you know, uh, right in the middle of a bunch of ornery critters fighting one another, I'd like to see it myself," he said, tail thumping a bit as he smiled, caught up a bit in Scamp's brief moment of happiness. But he sobered when Scamp continued speaking, hurting inside to see such a look in the younger dog's eyes.

"I know how you feel. I felt like I was abandoning my duties, and my old comrades, when I first came here," he stated. "But, uh, it's not like you, uh, abandoned them, or anything like that. It's not like they can blame you for, uh, needing to deliver messages to your own home town," he added, a small grin crossing his face. He stretched his forelegs across the kitchen floor, sliding until his belly rested against the floor.

"Well, give yourself some time. You haven't been back but for, uh, for...uh, just when did you get back? Surely not more than a day or so," he said, leaning his head closer to Scamp as he realized he didn't even know how long Scamp had been in town. For that mater, he didn't even know how long his nephew intended to stay. Or would be allowed to stay.

Scamp leaned his head to one side as he reached with one of his fore-paws to softly scratch at his torn ear. Fir some reason, the tare had been bothering him the last few days. Perhaps it was the New England winter, or more then likely (at least in his mind) the bath with it's cold bathwater and scratchy combs.

"I blew in yesterday morning. Made some pretty slick time on the way too. Only took me three days riding a few different trains. Like I said, I'm here on business. One of the generals wanted to send some sort of message to Jim. Said it was very urgent and not to come back untull Jim Dear had some sort of response."

Scamp rolled his eyes. Obviously discontented with the secrecy. Sure, he had thought to open it up and read it, even came close a few times. But between the wax seal on the scroll, and the look of trust that Shang gave him (Okay, mostly the wax seal) the scroll had remained unopened upon delivery. Not that he had time to mull it over. he had to admit, he had been so excited to go home, and so ready to get away from his Angel problems, that he had not given a whole lot of thought as to why he was being sent to the little New England town.

"Maybe that's whats bothering me. Why on earth would I have to deliver a message here? Don't get me wrong, It's awesome that I'm home, and I really did need this..."

The itch on his ear had grown too much. Scamp plopped himself down, and hit at it with a hind leg. Three scratches and then a quick shake of the head that sent both ears flopping. He ran his tongue across his lips before looking back at the blood hound and continuing.

"But still...it's weird."

With all the attention Scamp was giving his ear tip, Trusty could get a better look at the injury the young dog had picked up without staring. It still looked pretty nasty, but not severe. The old hound nodded, a bit ponderously, as he considered what such an urgent message could mean. The war hadn't spread to the Americas, and, aside from the volunteers that had crossed the ocean to fight, they weren't involved at all.

"Well, that's certainly rather, uh, peculiar," he mused, mulling over every possible reason he could think of to explain such a secret missive, and most especially, why it would come here. But he wasn't well-versed in either politics or war, so he couldn't come up with any ideas that made sense. After a moment, he was forced to admit he was as clueless as the young mutt in front of him.

"Well, I hate to admit it, but I really can't offer any ideas. But, uh, we can hope it takes a while for Jim, uh, to write a letter in response. In the meantime, we can keep our noses to the ground, and see if we notice anything out of the ordinary," he said, nodding slightly. He wasn't one to listen to gossip, or pay much attention to the rumor mill, but, next time he was out for a walk about town, he'd have to listen to what was being said.

"But, uh, in the meantime, I reckon it's best you don't worry about it too much. I'm certain you'll find out what this is all about, uh, before too long," he stated. Any military operation in or near Marceline would more than likely be noticed before it was even fully set up. He and Ol' Reliable had worked alongside Army folks before, down in Louisiana. They seemed to take forever to do anything.

Forepaws slid crossed again, back on his stomach. Even as an adult, Scamp could never sit still for too long. His tail gave even "thumps" against the tile-work. He had unloaded his bags at the house, and handed the scroll over to Jim without a second thought to the perplexed look his master had given him. Trusty was right, it would take some time for whatever Shang had to say to be reveled. Heck, to his knowledge Jim had not even read it yet, for it sat, wax seal in place, on the writing desk by the front door.

"Yah, no hint of the war here, thank goodness...yah...no hint." Scamp thought those words over, not sounding too convinced himself of their validity. No, it wasn't true. There was a small, tiny hint of the war in Marceline, and it caused a dark cloud to drift over the mongrel dog. One little speck of Simba's army....

...Himself.

"May...maybe I ought to you know...destroy the message, and just not go back. Just stay here."

His voice was low, gaze falling down to his two forepaws, as if afraid that someone may be listening. However, only the soft ticking of a nearby mantel clock, and the hiss of the radiator could he detect. His eyes moved to the window, at the slowly falling snow outside. Marceline suddenly didn't feel so safe and comforting.

Trusty was completely taken aback by Scamp's suggestion. Destroy the letter? Abandon his duties? For a moment, he just stared, too caught off guard to react. Then he pressed his forelegs against the floor, sitting up and looming over the younger dog as he shook his head in disapproval. Desertion would only bring trouble, and destroying an official letter could be worse. Especially since neither of them knew what was in it.

"That wouldn't stop your general from simply sending another letter, and if, uh, they figure out you, uh, decided not to go back, well, they'd consider it a serious crime. Some of the folks me and my Grand-pappy hunted down was Army folks decided they didn't want to be soldiers any more," he said. He really couldn't blame Scamp for being tired of fighting a war that was by what small account he'd heard, was going so poorly. A year passed, and nothing to show for it. But he wasn't about to condone a course of action that could land Scamp in serious trouble.

"Besides, surely you don't mean to, uh, to abandon the folks you met over there," he added. But as he spoke, something occurred to him. If Scamp really needed some more time off, time to think, and clear his thoughts, then there might be a way to get him some more time. "But, uh, like I said before, there's still time for you to think things through. If, uh, if by the time Jim, uh, has a message for you to return to your, uh, your general, you feel you still need some more time away, then I'll deliver the message myself, and explain that you were, uh, indisposed," he stated.

While he had never been to Africa, he'd be hanged if he couldn't manage to track down an entire army. And if it was what Scamp needed, then the old hound wouldn't hesitate to set out into lands unknown. He there was nothing Lady wouldn't have done for her pups, and he couldn't in all honesty do any less.

Both of his triangular ears fell back, and the canine bowed his body down submissively as the blood hound shook his head in disapproval. His tail curling instinctively between his legs. His uncle was right, of course. To willingly destroy army correspondence was tantamount to not only a dereliction of duty, but in some ways, treason. Never mind desertion.

Yet, he still felt as if he had brought a Pandora's box to the Americas. Right in his own home town, in the parlor where he and his sisters romped and played as pups. Next to the Christmas tree.

But it was the comment about abandoning his friends that struck a cord. 'Tani hadn't spoken to him since he had broken things off with her, and Mooch, while still standing by him, was more then unhappy with the Mongrol's relocation. Then, there was Angel. Angel, and her two pups. Little Jinx, and little Misten. He would do anything to protect them.

Still, the fear that he had brought the war, neatly curled in a scroll and sealed with wax, right to his own doorstep on his own back was more then just a little unsettling.

However, he was snapped out of his submission, head jerking up and eyes wide, reeling, as Trusty suggested he could deliver Scamp's message for him.

"What? Oh no, you needn't do that. I couldn't possibly let you go out there. It's my job afterall, and I will not let my burdens fall upon my family..."

He gave a curt nod of his head. His bang flopping before his eyes.

"You should stay here, and rest. You've done your service already."