Not So Proud of Our Fleas

She wasn't liking this.

REALLY wasn't liking this.

It wasn't the dirt or grime or anything of that nature that was bothering Sophie - hell, she'd roll in a mud puddle if she had a good enough reason; dirt wasn't a problem to her at all - it was the sense of being all alone. She'd never, ever been so far from her father that she couldn't go running to him when it suited her purposes. But here there were no adults in sight, and Sophie knew it was only a matter of time before she ran into someone she'd wronged back home who would want revenge. She'd already detected the familiar whif of Doberanian-mix around the junkyard; if Jinx or Misten was here... while she'd taken beatings at Jinx's paws many times in the interest of getting the older girl into trouble, without Scamp around to put Jinx in her place, Sophie felt as good as dead.

Jinx wasn't the only one who had reason to want to see her hurt, either. And frankly, Sophie was terified. Any of them might be here; she'd picked up enough of a mixture of scents to be uncertain just who was around, but enough reminded her of pups who had got on her bad side to put her in a constant state of being on her guard. So when the smell of nearby canines reached her nose, even if only one of them was familiar - and then only mildly - the dal-mutt cross was instantly on the alert. "Wh-who's there?" she yapped out, trying not to sound as afraid as she felt.