The Home Front

Scamp nodded his head, the ends of his mouth turning up in a light smile upon seeing a hint of the old fire lighting up his Uncle's eyes. perhaps it was knowing a bit more about the older dog's past that made him appreciate this aspect more then he would have a few years ago.

Funny, on that same note, Ol' Reliable words had a different meaning then they used to. Of course, stories of  Ol' Reliable had been engrained into his puppyhood. No matter how many times they where told, he and his sisters where instructed to listen as if it was the first time. While his sisters had grown accustomed to the trick, he had not. A few strong words from his father and his mother's ability to exclaim disappointment without uttering a single word where usually all it took to corral the rebellious mutt.


"Okay...I won't forget that."

He stood to his four fluffy furred legs, stubby tail wagging merrily.  He had grown to be about Lady's height, and the traits passed on from her where obvious amongst the look charm, and youthful face of his father. He was indeed, his mother and father's son. The only male in the family. While he had not been the most protective or even the most mature of the litter, he still felt a small urge of responsibility as time moved on. A urge that grew over the course of his month home.

"When I get to Priderock, I'll keep my nose to the ground as well. I have a feeling that whatever happens, ol' Shang is not going to be pleased. I'll talk to my friends and see if they are game. If Jim Dear won't lift a finger, then we will."

The old hound felt he had managed to pass along some real wisdom to the young mutt. It gave Trusty no small amount of satisfaction. Even if Ol' Reliable's bloodline wouldn't continue through him, he could still pass the old hound's words along to someone he was starting to reckon a worthy recipient. Of course, it always felt good to tell stories about his grand-pappy without being told he'd already mentioned them.

Especially when he could swear he'd never told Jock, or the Tramp for that matter, what it was he was fixing to say.

"One day, when things here have been settled, we'll face Shang with our heads held high, and answer for why we've done what we're about to do. But, the longer it takes for him to, uh, figure out what's going on, the better it will be for us," he stated. What he would not say to Scamp was that he planned to take full responsibility for what was going on. it was at his request that Scamp was going behind the man's back, after all.

"Now, uh, there is one more thing. This, uh, this talk between us, is, uh, is to stay between us. I am very particular about my own past, and who, uh, gets to hear about it," he declared, gazing sternly down at the younger dog. Despite how much the young mutt had grown, the old bloodhound still loomed head and shoulders above him. And the look in his eyes was as unyielding as it had been the night he'd race after a dog-catcher's wagon to save an innocent life. He had entrusted a close secret to Scamp, and he was trusting the young dog to honor that fact.

The young mongol understood completely what Trusty was asking. Much like he had his own secrets, both in the form of his wishes and longings, and his past. In a way it was much like how he wished to not explain his time in the Great Palace, or how he wished to never discuss the battle that took his life. Somethings where his to tell when he felt it was time. Just as it would be Trusty's to tell when he felt it was his time.

"Of course, I understand." he said with a firm nod of his head. he seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. "I won't tell a soul, I promise!"

The young canine cast his gaze back across the slushy front yard. Nearby a horse-drawn carriage was wallowing in the mud of the streets. It seemed his excuses for not wishing to travel where slowly falling one by one. Yet despite his reservation, he somehow felt a bit better about the whole thing after having spoken with his uncle about it. They had something akin to a firm groundwork in place to bring a few more with them.

"I'll be back as soon as I can. Hopefully with a few more freinds. Is there anyway you think you could contact me should things start to get a bit hairy back here?"

Trusty let himself relax once Scamp promised to keep his story a secret. Scamp had never lied to him before, and the old hound had no reason to suspect Scamp would betray his trust. His personal life, that part which concerned the circumstances surrounding his arrival in Marceline and shortly after, was his most closely guarded secret.

He was shaken from his thoughts when Scamp asked if he could get in touch with the young mutt if he needed to, and he frowned in thought. It hadn't occurred to him that he might need to send a message along to Scamp. Or, on the other paw, how Scamp might get in touch with him. It would have to be done through some means or another that wouldn't draw suspicion form anybody. So, no telegrams, no physical correspondence of any kind. And he could hardly run all the way to Africa.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him.

He grimaced in some haughty disgust. He'd always prided himself on being a good of the utmost breeding. And, as far as he was concerned, no dog of good breeding would use the Twilight Bark. He'd never passed gossip along, not even when his deep, powerful baying could have made things much easier for word to spread. In fact, he'd tended to look down his nose at the whole thing. But it would be the best way for him to get word to Scamp, and for Scamp to send a reply.

"I never thought I would be saying this, but, uh, we can use the Twilight Bark," he stated, a bit reluctantly. He fell silent for a moment longer, looking around as he pondered how exactly to send a message along. His gaze swept across the porch, the slush-covered yard, and out into the street, letting his gaze follow a puttering motorcar as it made its way down the street. Somewhere in the distance, a trolley bell sounded. Then, as the old hound turned his solemn gaze back towards Scamp, he blinked for a moment as he caught sight of a partially buried ham bone, just now showing from beneath the partially melted snow.

"If, uh, if things start to get, uh...hairy, here, then I'll send a message along the barking chain to you, uh, inviting you to stop by on the back porch for a nice chat. Now, if you get my message, send a message back along the chain to apologize for the ham bone you took with you when you left," he instructed, a satisfied look crossing his face as he laid out his plan. Then he frowned in thought again. "But, uh, I'd rather not use your real name, uh, so Shang won't know who my message is for. So, uh, who should I say my message is for?"

"Uhh..."

A grey paw was drawn along the floorboard as Scamp thought of a name. He had been debating using the Bark as a way to get in touch with Mooch or one of his friends back in Priderock, just to see how they where doing. But using the canine equivalent of an open wireless to transmit a sensitive message was a different matter.  The Twilight Bark was an open gossip chain, and passing sensitive information along it was akin to dropping a note in a bottle. Anyone could pick it up and read it, just by the nature of the bark, it would be passed along by multiple voices. It only took one set of ears in Agrabah, or in the Outlands to catch the transmission. Scamp found himself suddenly wondering if it would be simpler and more effective to use a morse key and telegraphy line.

Of course, all it took was one fallen pole to cut a telegraph line.

"Patch," The mongrel finally blurted.

As much as he detested the dog, takeing Patch's name had been a stroke of luck. As far as Scamp knowledge went no one on the Human alliances knew of him as anything else. Protecting his real name may have it's advantages, and keeping the false identity seemed to be the smartest course of action.  Especially when using an open line such as the Twilight Bark.

"Yah. Patch. It's sorta the name I picked up along the way. Sorta, you know;" A sly grin split the young canine's maw. "A spy alias!"

Trusty understood Scamp's apparent reluctance to use the Twilight Bark very well. There would be no way to prevent any dog from hearing what they were saying. But they wouldn't be saying anything that would reveal what they were really saying. Much like the abbreviated speech he and his fellow hounds had used when on the prowl. To any dog not familiar with their slang, their words were a meaningless jumble of words and phrases.

The same kind of system could be used to pass secure messages along the barking chain. Especially if they were to have their own miniature Barking Chain. That would eliminate any chance of the message getting distorted as it passed from dog to dog. If Scamp brought enough of his friends along, they could pass messages from one side of Marceline to the other, and plenty of places in between.

He blinked in mild surprise when he heard Scamp's chosen alias. It almost seemed like the young mutt had simply plucked the name out of thin air. Why, he had no idea. But it really didn't matter. As long as it didn't reveal the young mutt's real name to anybody who might be listening, it would do.

"Well then, I'll make certain to send my message to Patch if there's any need for haste on your part," he confirmed, nodding his head. He hadn't planned on using a pseudonym for himself, but, just maybe, it would be a good idea. Or perhaps it would be an unnecessary complication. He wasn't known to any members of any army outside of his family, and he doubted any of them would react if Scamp were to send a message along apologizing for helping himself to a juicy bone upon his departure.

"Now, there's no reason for you to use any sort of, uh, alias for me at this moment. Not for so simple a message as you may send," he stated. "Remember, it's important Shang doesn't know you, and whoever you convince to join you, have all left together. The longer it takes for him to know you've left, the better for us."

Scamp took a second to digest all of this. There was still a thought in the very back of his mind that Shang might not take very well to whatever decision that Jim had made, and perhaps send a small out-posting of solders to the town...in open violation of the town's neutrality of course. But stranger and wronger things have happened in this war. But with enough issues already forced to the forefront, he decided to leave that to speculation untull it was more obvious an occurrence.

"Okay, so. That settles it. I'll do my best to find out anything more, and I'll be back soon. Hopefully with more answers then questions!"

Scamp's nails clicked on the wooden floorboards as he moved towards the edge of the porch, takeing one step down from the porch itself to the top step of the stoop. Stubby tail raised high and a more confident stance to his walk. As he stepped down, he looked over his shoulder at the older bloodhound. Family stretched further then blood, and having grown up with them, Jock and Trusty where as much a part of the landscape as the birdbath and white picket fence.

And like everything else about his old home, Scamp was coming to appreciate them more by each drawing day.

"Uncle, Trusty....Thanks for everything." 

A youthful smile and a bow of the head fallowed the mongrol's kind statement. Despite all his wild dog ambitions, roguish nature, and stubbornness. Scamp was becoming a young gentleman. A little of Lady's politeness shining through a clearly Trampish facade. The young mutt then dropped down into the snow, and began to pad across the yard, fallowing the tracks he had made earlier.

Trusty watched without comment as Scamp turned and headed for the stairs leading down from the porch, a small smile gracing his loose features. In all honesty, he wished he could be heading to Africa beside Scamp. Despite his advanced age, and the fact that he was really past his prime (but only a little) he missed being in the middle of the action. Sure, he was satisfied enough with retirement to be content, usually, he did prefer action over words. And, garrulous as he was, that was saying something.

"It was my pleasure," he returned, sitting straighter as the young dog addressed him, the pride he felt in his adoptive nephew evident in his voice, expression, and posture. "Your mother would be proud of the dog you've become. As am I."

While he wished Lady could have been there to see Scamp with her own eyes, he was confident that she was even now looking after her family. The thought of her seated beside Ol' Reliable brought a warm stirring to his heart. He could almost see the grand old hound, sprawled at ease on a sunny, grassy knoll, with a beautiful, graceful Cocker Spaniel seated beside him.

Soon enough, Miss Lady, I'll be there too. My trail is almost at its end, and my time on this earth will be over. I'm certain you already know, but I still intend to let you know what a fine son you have. We have the makings of a grand yarn stirring here.