CC: 3.3

3

"Kingston, right?" the voice spoke. Kingston shifted his head to look over at the fur-covered collie approaching him.

"Well hello there, lad!" Kingston greeted. He slowly turned around to face his acquaintance. "Indeed I is! An this be Ashby!" he introduced once again. "And who be you?"

"Er… Marx. I'm your opponent." Marx replied. He stood on the cold ground, the cold simply slipping off his thick pelt of black and brown fur.

"Nice to meet ya!" Kingston replied happily, standing just feet away from the other dog. "I suppose you'll be a nicer chap to go up against aye? Won't hurt me Ashy at all?"

Marx frowned slightly, confused, "But… This is a tournament. There is no 'nice',"

"See, thas what everybody be tellin' me lately! It doesn't seem that bad. It's quite an exquisite game!"  Kingston assured him.

Marx stared in disbelief, "Are you… Are you kidding? Kingston, do you even know what this tournament is?"

"It be a game!" Kingston repeated.

"No… It's not 'just a game'." Marx began, "it's a population control! It's designed so dogs fight each other to lose their breeding status, or worse, DIE" he growled harshly. Visions of Beyra and his father, and his first opponent along with the rest of the bloodbath flashing through his head.

"Oi calm down there lad," Kingston said, putting an ear back.

"Don't you get it? What use is an old dog to Beyra? She sent me here to finish you off! Is that the sound of something that's 'just a game'??" Marx barked. He began to shake, both angered he couldn't get through the old dogs head, and reflecting on his growing hatred for Beyra.

Kingston cocked his head slightly, this was surely something nobody cared to enlighten him on.

"It had to be luck you made it this far, you can barely walk!" Marx continued, "And if you keep going, you're surely going to die…" he sounded defeated.  The little bird atop the Dane's hat sat intently, almost like she was acknowledging what he had said.

"Well," Kingston began, his tone sounding rather down drawn, "That's quite different. I never looked at it like that."

"Look," the collie started, "If you walk out now, I'll tell Beyra I handled you, and you can get out of this town safely without them coming after you for desertion…" He couldn't do this, he couldn't let this elder dog continue on with the thought of him killing himself, completely oblivious to the true nature of this tournament.

"As much as I'd like to," Kingston sighed, "We Brits do not walk out on things that easy."

"But you'll die".

The pair stood awkwardly silent under the heavy frozen branches, Marx glanced down at Kingston's metallic claws, and his rusted wheels, his bow and his hat. The claws caught most of his attention, however. Though the dog seemed so light hearted, why would he need these weapons? Better yet, who would have given them to him?

"Ashy, what do you think?" Kingston's expression settled, his red eyes looking in the direction his bird sat on his hat. The little finch peeped, almost as though she was talking to him. Marx watched intently. "I see…" King looked back at him.

Marx stood and met his gaze. "How we going to go about this, then?" The Dane asked. The collie thought in his head, unsure how to answer. The spirit in the old dog's voice seemed almost nowhere to be found.

"I… I don't know." Marx admitted, glancing around in search of any form of answer to their situation.

"I suppose we could do something other than fighting? Like a game of eye spy." Kingston suggested, a small smile coming back to his expression.
---

Beyra sat outside of the gymnasium beside the splintered stump where the tree had fallen. The air was solid quiet aside from the echoes of battling dogs in the far distance. She could see her breath escaping her nose and mouth, transforming into mist as it left.

Her saluki aid stepped forward, feet lightly pattering on the cement, almost making no noise at all. "She's all buried," the dog spoke, "It was a little hard to get through the ice, but we managed."

Beyra nodded and sighed, standing up so her paws wouldn't solidify onto the cold ground. "Say," she spoke, pausing the saluki before he could leave. He glanced over to meet her auburn eyes, "You wouldn't mind… Doing me a little favor, would you?"

"I'm listening…"

"Look for the collie, Marx, and his opponent. Make sure they don't sneak out on me, I know his game." She said, "report to me when he wins."

"Who?" The saluki narrowed his eyes.

"Marx."

---
The two dogs, instead of battling it out like Marx had initially thought it would lead to, were instead walking the frozen grounds of the now empty ferris wheel, Marx telling him the story of his father and how it tied with Beyra, and his personal goal of revenge against his father's demise. Kingston listened intently, taking in the words of his enlightener. He wasn't as cheeky as he had originally been, both fatigued from the cold coating his lungs, and the idea Beyra was trying so hard to get rid of him.

"And Trinity, my one friend who came here with me," Marx continued, "She's gravely ill… I need to do whatever I can to stay with her through this, whether she makes it or not. And Piba, I have to be there for her even more so…"

"Is there anything your mate could get help, the bird?" Kingston spoke up as they slowly walked past the rail of bumper cars.

Marx kept silent for a moment, "No… No there isn't. Not here."

"Aye…" Kingston nodded, "I dunno what I'd do if me Ashy was that sick, she be injured a bit yeah, but she's coping quite alright it seems." Marx glanced at the pastel blue bird that was keeping a close eye on him as well.

"Ok, Kingston…" Marx began, interrupted, halting, "Please, if you let me move on, I'll tell Beyra I dealt with you so you won't get hurt. I have to do this…"

Kingston stopped beside him, glancing down at his new friend once again in thought, then nodded. "Alright, mate…" he said.

Marx blinked, slightly surprised the old dog acknowledged easier this time.  "But you said—"

"I know, but it seems this tourney means more to ya than me, ya know what you're doing. And you beat me at eye spy, so that could count!" the Dane smiled. "Help your friends."

Marx looked up at the Dane's old eyes, reading them enticingly. Could this be a trick?

Another different voice interrupted his thoughts, however, causing the two to look over. "Excuse me." The voice spoke, the saluki appearing from behind one of the trees. "I hate to interrupt the little love fest, but you know what you're doing is illegal, right?" the slim dog said showing his teeth. "You were given instructions, Marx."

"Look, we—"

"No excuses, if you don't deal with him this instant, I'll have no choice but to report to Beyra about it and have you both disqualified!"

"Beyra sent you?" Marx growled, irritated. He should have known the ratty beast wouldn't trust him, it felt insulting, almost. The saluki merely locked eyes with him, giving his answer. Baring his teeth, Marx continued, "I'm not killing him! He's done nothing wrong, and he didn't even know what he had gotten himself into! It isn't fair to him."

"I'm sorry, I don't really care for sob-stories." The saluki said. "If you won't, I'll do it myself."

"Isn't that illegal too? Aid interference?"

"What Beyra doesn't know won't hurt her, I'd be doing you both a favor."

Marx couldn't believe what he was hearing. One, it was simply a saluki, one of the thinnest and most meager breeds he had come across aside from a whippet. What could this dog possibly do to them? Second, the aid offering to finish the old dog for him. This town was more ruthless as each day came and went.

Within moments, the aid lunged forward at King, barely giving any warning. The Dane flinched backward as the saluki locked it's teeth tightly against his throat. Kingston, both confused and nearly terrified, used what little reflex his old mind could do, lifting his talons and managing to shove the smaller dog off of him, leaving light scratch marks on his white fur.

Angered, and blinded by instinct, Marx proceeded to intervene and managed to knock the Saluki backward before he could make a second blow, smacking his feeble body against the frozen tree. Crack. The saluki gritted his teeth, standing up slowly once again.

Ashby was flittering wildly around her friend, seeing the thin puncture wounds dripping down Kingston's neck. "Aye, it's ok Ashy… Just give a moment." He said, wincing.

Marx, fur raised up his back, stood before the saluki, ready for another attack. "Lay off of him!" He snarled at the frail dog.

A groaning sound above them began to emit through the echoing area, a familiar sound of snapping branches and falling wood. Another moment, the tree directly behind them began to fall, time around them seemed to slow. Kingston fell back, almost like he had been pushed, squeezing his eyes shut as thin branches enclosed him, leaving stinging all across his back and neck.

Then there was silence.