Gypsy was galloping towards the rising sun when she finally smelled the first trace of dog. She had traveled for a day and then some, after escaping the shelter.

The white Pitbull perked up her ears as she caught the distinct scent of three dogs. Just enough to make a pack. She sped up until her paws were pounding against the earth, flinging dirt behind her as she ran.

The dog-scent grew stronger as Gypsy crossed a road, narrowly missing a car that screeched as it swerved around her. With a careless sideways glance, the female slowed.

She could see bodies moving between the trees. The distinctive four-legged canines were blurred and obscured by the thick trees surrounding them, but from up on the hill Gypsy could still clearly tell there was at least two of them down there. And a big, shining lake right in the middle of the copse of treeland.

With a deep breath of calm authority over herself, the Pittie walked down the hill and into the trees.

Is it wrong to approach them outright? Will they attack or run away, or just... welcome me?

The Pitbull had hardly interacted with dogs other than Ace and her long lost mate. Of course she had always been interested, but leashed life didn't offer the chance to meet any new dogs. Her owners hadn't been Dog Park or day-care people, either.

So Gypsy found her tail wagging, and an impeccable hope that nothing would go wrong while meeting these new dogs.

The morning sun was beating down on two large-breeds when Gypsy approached. The larger one didn't notice her at first, but the dark one whipped around and exploded into a flurry of barks.

"Who are YOU?" The tall black dog was another female. She looked Gypsy up and down distastefully, a tiny white smear on her chest being the brightest thing about her.

"My name's Gypsy, and I want to join this pack."

"Ha!" The black female sneered. Her curved muzzle showed pearly white teeth beneath. "As if you could call this a-"

"Hello, Gypsy. We welcome you."

The female dog was forced aside as her larger companion brushed past her. Her eyes flashed with jealousy and spite, but Gypsy was too busy taking in the new dog to notice.

She'd never seen a dog with such thick fur. Even a husky was incomparable to this male's pelt. He was golden-brown with a white chest and muzzle. His darker-tipped ears hung on the sides of his face and were triangular, whilst Gypsy's were upright and and boomerang-shaped.

His feathered tail, full of burrs, whisked back and forth in a slow wag. The male's voice was deep and charming, like the calmest of river waters. His brown eyes were pools of soft bark, and he had a heft in his step as he walked- proving to Gypsy that his weight wasn't all just fur.

"I've never seen a dog as big as you before," Gypsy commented without thinking. The jet-black female looked pointedly at the brown one, as if expecting him to scold Gypsy for that. However, when he just laughed, her eyes grew twice their size. With a huff, she turned away.

"Well, that's North. She's a bit prickly but ultimately, it's my decision if you can join- since I'm the leader. And I say.... yes." The male winked.

He'd sounded a bit boastful as he spoke, and lifted his head proudly. Gypsy's tail wagged in appreciation. This is so exciting!

"Thank you! How many other dogs are there? I saw a third under the trees from the hilltop." Her tongue flopped out in a grin.

"Just us, North's puppies and my gran-dog. He's been around since before the trees were here, though....so he hardly counts." The shade flung patterns across his back, distorted by the light-filtering leave above.

Gypsy looked around the small clearing for North, but the young shepherd mix had gone. She assumed North's puppies were settled in a den somewhere.

At first, she was inclined to be dissapointed at the small number of dogs here. Then, she remembered hello, puppies to play with? And besides, Gypsy had just barely begun meeting these dogs. Just because they were a small pack didn't immediately make them boring or inadequate.

"Can I meet him too?" Gypsy disregarded the comment about the old dog not counting as she looked around.

"I can see someone's eager," He barked gruffly with a short tail-wag. The she-dog returned the gesture with a flick of her ears, acknowledging that yes, she wouldn't like to wait.

"Alright, walk this way. He likes to sleep under an old tree over here."

It wasn't long before Gypsy saw the old, brown dog from a distance between the trees. He looked almost nothing like the leader-dog, reminding her again that he was the leader's grand-dog, not his father.

Gypsy had seen old dogs like this in the shelter before, but nowhere near as skinny. She almost second guessed herself that it WAS a dog, not just a rotting branch below the tree.

The old dog barely lifted his head as they padded up. Gypsy saw his old, milky eyes flash with intelligence, however.

"Hi! I'm Gypsy and I'm the new dog of the Pack, so... I'm sorry, what's your names?" Gypsy turned back to the livestock guardian dog with thick fur.

"My name's Bronx. And he's Obelisk."

"I've got a tongue and a mouth to speak for myself, you know." Said the old dog creakily. He looked up at his grandson with a challenge in his eyes. His ribs jutted underneath his pelt as he moved.

He needs fed badly, Gypsy thought but had the sense not to say it out loud. She just looked on silently as the two family members bickered. Then the old dog flicked his silvery face towards her.

"Hey, new dog. Watch your back around here."

Startled, Gypsy looked down at his resting figure.

"What for?" She asked, but Obelisk's eyes began to look distant. He focused on something over Gypsy's shoulder. Weird... she turned around, expecting to see Ghost. But it was just Bronx standing there, wagging his tail innocently.

"What was I talking about?" The old male grumbled. "Well, anyways, have a nice evening Gypsy." She glanced around again as she realized it was nowhere close to evening. In fact, it wasn't even noon yet.

"He's forgetful," Bronx excused with a flat tone. Gypsy nodded but dipped her head to the old male respectfully before turning.

"Oh, and hey," he muttered towards the dog's retreating tails. "If you ever get the chance, bring me a dead squirrel, would ya?" He seemed to be talking to neither of them in particular, and was looking up at the sky as he spoke.

Gypsy didn't know why, but she felt a little uncomfortable. There was one thing she wanted to know, however.

"Does he ever get up from that spot?" She murmured worridly. The brown male had appeared flat as a pancake before he'd lifted his head up.

But Obelisk's grandson shook his head. "No, he stays there day and night. I'm almost sure there's an Obelisk-sized imprint on the ground below him, but we'll never get him moved enough to find out," the large male commented with a little amusement in his tone. But Gypsy was too unsettled to laugh.

"Then who feeds him? He's so thin. Surely he must... Well..."

"Die soon?" Bronx shook his thick pelt out, and looked at her sympathetically.

"Yes, I know. We all do, even the pups... but I'm feeding him every day. He forgets that he's eating just a few moments after, though." His furry face drew closer to hers.

"It's strange. My father had a word for it, but I've since forgotten. It's a sort of delirium that occurs in super senior animals."

Gypsy was settled by this response. She followed the male dog back towards the area they had met in, then faltered.

"Then why is he so thin? The dogs at my shelter... where I came from before I found here, weren't that thin."

Bronx was quick to answer, and without hesitation. He flicked his tail breezily, peering sideways at Gypsy with chestnut brown eyes.

She returned his gaze as the lush treetops swayed gently above them.

"We have fleas out here, and other parasites. I don't assume that his old age helps much... and that the fleas' blood-sucking has left him weak and thin."

Gypsy privately thought his reply was too drawn out. She felt the stirrings of suspicion, but had to crush it down soon after.

What kind of dog wouldn't feed their family member? Besides, perhaps one dog wasn't enough to feed poor Obelisk. The white Pittie could take it upon herself to feed the old male, now that she was a pack dog. North was too busy with her pups anyway.

A pack dog... who can help my pack members and make them start to care about me. Pretty soon, everyone here will love me. Even North! Gypsy wagged her tail.

Suddenly her doubts had all vanished into thin air.

_______
North