"Arrow!" Tysta lunged forward to knock the bread - dog off of his friend, when Hoffen lunged, and Ty was thrown to the ground. The breath fled his lungs, at his gaze flickered for a moment, ears ringing from the impact.

In this moment, Hoffen was terrifying. The large dog's fangs flashed, a snarl rumbling in his throat. Ty pulled his ears back, uncertain. His heart pounded in his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, when Hoffen told him to run. Tysta snapped his jaws shut. "Thank you," he managed to joke out. The Siberian Retriever struggled upwards, and did the exact opposite of Hoffen's words. He lunged into the battle.

Immediately, his first concern was Arrow, who was pinned to the ground. He lunged at the small corgi, a rare snarl set on his features. He slammed into the smaller dog, attempting to detatch her from Arrow. Ty stumbled, rolled, then got back up. He didn't turn to check what happened to the corgi, if she had recovered and was on his tail, if she was running. Arrow was safe for now, and that was all that mattered.

"Arrow! Get out of here! It's not about food bowls anymore!" He called over his shoulder.

Ginger was in trouble. Kind of, anyway. It was clear she had far more experience than this younger cull, but the Cheif was smart, and she was skilled. Tysta didn't hesitate. He lunged at the Cheif. She hadn't expected him - she had probably assumed Hoffen had successfully killed him. He barreled into her, jaws snapping. They were about the same height, her standing possibly an inch or two taller. But they were even enough in size, and he was able to send her to the ground.

She was up, reacting with such astounding speed it took Tysta a moment to process it. She leapt upwards, darting backwards. Tysta recovered, and started forward. She was far more skilled than he, but she was out numbered. The cull cast a glance at Ginger, then back at Ty.

She lunged at Ginger, who had managed to evade her first blow. Tysta leapt after, burying his fangs into her neck. The cull snarled, turning, unable to choose who to fight.

Kämpe had fought culls before. About once a month, all culls gathered for a two day training retreat, to hone their skills and ensure all were fit for command. Kämpe had walked away the winner for as long as she could recall. She wasn't always faster, nor stronger, nor larger. But she knew how to use her mind to outsmart an opponent. She was skilled, and experienced.

But this cull had years of combat behind her. Years of training, years to build muscle memory and strategy. When it came to a cull, age was only beneficial. The metal in a cull's body was not effected by aging - one only grew with experience, and didn't have to worry about the natural depletion of one's body.

To this cull, Kämpe was young, inexperienced, at least four years younger. There was nearly no way she could win this battle. It was.... unsettling, to say in the least. Nobody bested Kämpe, not in anything. She would have to be more cautious.

As she twisted to address the golden dog, fangs buried into her spine. A strangled breath escaped her lungs, a rare expression of pain. Something between a breath, whimper, and snarl. Kämpe immediately whirled to face the cull, watching golden dog out of the corner of her eye. The cull's face was taut with aggression, but there was something reluctant about her stance.

Kämpe had only ever chosen to attack or defend based solely on her opponent, the situation, the terrain. A fool choose permanent aggression, or defense. And this cull was clearly not a fool.

Up to something. A trick.

So Kämpe did what she did best - remained apathetic, completely emotionless, composed. Despite the fire that burned in her back, where the cull's fangs had sunk.

She then lunged forwards, feinted, managed to sink her fangs into the cull's neck, but did little damage as she was pulled away by another set of teeth.

Golden dog.

His fangs were buried into where were neck met the top of her head - a near impossible position to free yourself of. Pain stabbed into her skull, and her vision blurred. A hiss of pain seized her throat as Kämpe jerked out of his grasph, losing some of her flesh in his jaws. She whipped around, and cracked her tail across his jaw, and lunged to bury her fangs in his throat. She needed to remove him first. She knew she was going to receive another blow from the cull, but she couldn't afford being outnumbered.

Kämpe | Female | Chief Cull (German Shepherd Cross) | 24 | M: All Kilo dogs, Beta dogs, Paran

Kämpe? Who is - me. My name. How could she possibly know, when even I forgot it?

There was a note in the cull's voice, a note of desperation. A plea.

This dog is important to her. I can use him as leverage instead, manipulate her into -

The cull's next words caused Kämpe to freeze. Her jaws fell open, releasing the golden dog from her grasp. She stared at Ginger.

Paran.

Her body twitched, and a flash of blood clouded her mind. Paran. She remembered. She remembered that day. She remembered his scream, she remembered own scream. She recalled her fangs, sinking into his throat, wrestling the life from his body as he screamed. As she screamed with him.

I remember.

Pain.

Pain like no other slammed into her heart. Nothing like she had ever felt before. Internal pain. Emotion. Her programming suddenly recovered. The episode had only been a scant few seconds, but it had been costly. Fangs clamped down on the back of her neck. Golden dog, using her previous shock against her, managed to pin Kämpe to the ground before the call could react. His jaws clamped tighter.

A metallic, snarling sort of scream tore from her lungs. She didn't know if it was the pain from fangs buried into her hide, or, more likely, whatever memory the cull had triggered.

He's going to break my spine, her logic howled, but her mind was still trying to recover. She couldn't move without effectively killing herself. What had the cull said? Pain stabbed through her neck, burning pain as his fangs tore though muscle.

I'm going to die.

There was a roar. A metallic, snarling, earth-shattering roar. Then a flash of movement, a cull lunging for him. He didn't have time to run, to breath, to think. Unnaturally powerful jaws seized Tysta's throat, tearing into muscle, flesh, his throat. Pain fired in his skull, rattling through his body. His breaths hiccuped and struggled, and Tysta's eyes widened in fear.

He felt his body being flung aside, his ribs crack and fold as he collided with the ground. He couldn't breath. He could barely see, barely think. He tried to choke out a few words, to say something. Anything. His eyes searched the scene, swiftly finding his attacker. Hoffen. It was Hoffen who had attacked him. A dog he trusted. There was something like betrayal flashing in Tysta's eyes. His eyes, so gentle, so trusting.

He coughed, blood leaking from his maw.

"Hoffen?" His voice was so young, so broken. The cull's eyes were widened, terror evident.

Tysta wheezed out a choked breath. Arrow scrambled up to his side, a rare flash of fear in her face. Of pain, of panic. Tysta didn't want his friend to hurt. It wasn't her fault.

"Hey, Arrow. It'll be alright. I promise." Blood drowned his next few words.

"Look after all of them for me? You can save the world. I know it." His eyes flickered, and he inhaled for a final time.

"It'll be alright."

His eyes flickered shut, and the world tilted, fogging over. The last image in his mind was his best friend, the small, fierce terrier with a heart of gold. Tysta felt the pain fade, and the world shift into a peaceful darkness.

It'll be alright. I'll see Mother again. I'll be free.

There was darkness.

And then light.

Kämpe | Female | Cheif Cull (German Shepherd Cross) | 24 | M: Hoffen, Pfiel, Alta, Rache, Aadya, Hoffen, Kilo dogs

It was only a few heartbeats. A metallic roar sounded, and Golden's fangs were torn from the soft tissue where her skull met her neck. She clamped her mouth, burying a cry of pain. Her neck felt hot. A warm, sticky trickle of blood flooded around her ears, dripping down her face, drenching her neck.

It was so sudden.

A shimmering arc of crimson shattered the stormy winter sky, falling gently on the cull's hide, like a cascasde of rain. The cull whirled as fast as her body was able to move, with her back and neck wounded. A body lay crumpled on the ground. Golden and red, the figure was broken, only barely clinging on to the fragile thread of life.

Hoffen stood next to Kämpe, fangs dripping, coated in an eerie shade of crimson. Droplets of the golden dog's blood where scattered across his face, his neck, his chest. There was an indescribable fear, a terror, the most dog-like expression Kämpe had seen on a cull. Kämpe had seen death. But never so... violent. There was something, a twinge of pain, that the violence, the killing was just innately wrong. Her programming fought for control once more, but was shattered the moment the dying dog muttered, 'Hoffen?'.

Hoffen? How does he know his name?

Her programming began to function again, her mind beginning to analyze the situation.

The smaller dog, the one Aadya was supposed to have neutralized, scurried up to Golden's side. There was something so painfully familiar about her voice, something that made Kämpe want to sink to the ground and never rise again.

Paran, her mind whispered.

The cull started twitching, war raging in her mind.

Hoffen saved me. Because you were stupid enough to get yourself in that position. I didn't have an option. Double teamed, outnumbered, outmatched - you could have won. Had you not hesiated, you could have ended the golden dog, then used your head to outfight the cull. But I didn't. You didn't. I failed. You failed. I owe my life to Hoffen. You owe nothing to Commander Thirty-Four.Hoffen -. Commander Thirty-Four.

Her programming shut down once more, as Hoffen whined. Culls didn't whine. They didn't show emotion. They didn't have emotion. Why did he?

And why - why do I? You don't. I do.

Kämpe didn't understand. She didn't understand this emotion, she didn't understand the war raging as her programming fought to control her mind. Her logic kicked in, and she whirled to face the cull - the enemy.

Who is it? Who's the real enemy?

The golden dog was dead. Kämpe couldn't control her head as the dog and machine within her clashed. There was nothing certain about her stance, nothing authoritive, nothing confident. Only vulnerable, pained. Scared.

"Hoffen?" She managed. As though he might know, as though he could explain both why the small dog had uttered his name, and what was happening. What was happening to her. What was wrong. It was the first time she had ever said his name, or anyone's name. She really hadn't even recalled that 'Hoffen' was his name. She had barely remembered her own. All memories of names were wiped when she became the Chief.

I cannot show weakness.

The cull's eyes flickered, and she suddenly straightened, ignoring the pain in her wounds. Her emotion vanished, fading into a memory. Her body screamed for rest, but Kämpe refused to lean on the wall. Only an indication of weakness, an invitation for that other cull to attack.

"What is this? How did she know your name, Commander Thirty-four?"