“Maybe next time, boy,” Sniffer said.
Tiddles had let out a demonic howl in response.
It was now the end of the third day of tracking, and unfortunately, they had not managed to travel more than a mile at most. Tiddles had been going around in circles, bringing them back to the same spot every time and starting his search again. Sniffer had been offering support to Tiddles the whole time but decided that the trail must be too dispersed for Tiddles to be able to follow it.
“We will find somewhere to stay for a few days before we head back,” He said to Tiddles. “They are paying us a day rate, so we can still claim that even without the bonus for the capture.”
Tiddles was furious with the fact he was unable to track them. He felt as though he had let Sniffer down. He had only ever failed once on a hunt, which was not his fault. The person they had been hunting had ended up coming across a raiding party, and they had eventually tracked the remains of the slave’s body hanging from a tree, where it had been eviscerated.
They had found an abandoned town and made themselves home in one of the few standing buildings, of which few were left from the original town. The place had been fully taken back by nature, and it had been a struggle for Sniffer to get the truck near enough to leave it unattended. Sniffer had spent his time sipping nectar, reading a book he had earned from one of his jobs and making notes. It was a book called Scats & Tracks of North America by James Halfpenny.
The information was not relevant to today’s species of Wild Ones. Still, the principles of the content were the same, and Sniffer had a couple of years before beginning to make his notes and capture details about the various Wild Ones he had discovered. He had a notebook to update with drawings and notes about the different species. It was getting quite comprehensive now, and his zoology skills gradually increased through his studies.
He hoped that one day he would be able to produce a similar book on the modern species but knew that the cost of even considering getting a book made was severe. He was always fascinated by the species that used to exist and compared them to those he knew of today. He had noted that several now seemed to be mutations or combinations of previous animals that had roamed the world before the falling.
Eventually, Sniffer's food supply started to run low after a further six days had passed, even with the extra rations he had found at the scouting party, and he knew he was two days from the factory site, so he decided they better head back. They arrived back at the factory mid-morning, and Sniffer was not looking forward to informing Monty and John of their failure to apprehend the slaves. He pulled his truck up outside Monty’s townhouse and decided that Monty deserved to be told before John. John was, after all, a fat, useless bastard in Sniffer's opinion.
Heckles greeted him at the door, “You look empty-handed.”
“Yep, nothing we can do. Unfortunately, the trail is dispersed. The beast tried his best, but after them using a vehicle, I warned previously that it was not going to be easy, if at all,” Sniffer replied.
“I will get the boss,” Heckles replied.
Sniffer had walked to the cage and let Tiddles down, and he lay at the bottom of the townhouse steps as Monty and Heckles returned to the door.
“Heckles said you failed,” Monty said with anger.
“We have, yes; unfortunately, I did warn that tracking people in vehicles can be virtually impossible, but you did insist.”
“Not much of a fucking beast if he can’t even track,” Monty snarled, flashing a look at Tiddles.
Tiddles turned his head, looking directly at Monty; he did not growl or snarl and just looked. Tiddles had felt bad enough as it was about failing and was no longer in the mood to be ridiculed by the man.
Monty took a step backwards as Tiddle's gaze fell on him. He could feel the malcontent emanating from the beast’s gaze.
“Be careful, he understands,” Is all Sniffer replied.
“I suppose you still expect payment,” Monty said, his anger now mixed with nerves.
“We do. We had an agreement of a day rate irrespective of the outcome of the hunt,” Sniffer said stiffly.
“Fuck, okay,” Monty replied.
“Three stacks per day and fuel, eleven days and fifteen stacks for fuel,” Sniffer replied.
Monty cursed and grumbled as he removed a pouch from his pocket. He did not want to pay the man anything but knew that with the damn beast looking at him the way it was, it was not worth his life refusing. He slowly counted out forty-eight stacks and handed them to Sniffer.
“Thanks,” Sniffer pocketed the stacks. “I also have some information that may be of use,” he continued.
“What information?” Monty asked, frowning.
“We met a scouting party on our journey and dealt with it obviously, but what was of interest is that there is a township local to the region producing fuel. The raid gang is that of Golgo’s,” Sniffer said.
“A township producing fuel, you say. Now, that could be of interest,” Monty replied.
“There is a bioengineer who is producing fuel, and the raiders were looking for them to capture them for their own gains,” He replied.
Monty stood thinking for a moment before replying. “I have not heard of anything, but if Golgo is in this area, I may have to get John to do some digging. I know he still knows many of the raiders from his previous roles.”
There was an unwritten rule within the various factions and raid groups that those who used slaves were never to be hit by raiding groups. This would defeat the point of raiders then hoping to sell their captives at the slave markets to the factional leaders if they attacked their primary stack sources directly. You could not resell a slave at the slave markets either if it had previously been collared, and it was always apparent due to the scarring all slaves had on their necks from their initial fitting, even if they tried to remove the collars and then resell them.
A couple of raiding groups had tried this previously to be shunned out of the trade, which lost them their most lucrative income source, and since raiding groups used fuel for their vehicles, they needed stacks to pay for it and stacks in the volume they needed were a rarity in townships. Fuel could only be purchased in the three main fuel hubs in the East, and the volume raiders required due to their continual travel mounted to a hefty sum.
It was strange how so many frowned upon the trades of raiders and slavers. Yet, their relationships wholly supported many of the new industrial areas and more prosperous townships that had started to appear. Without raid groups and slave owners, many townships would not even exist, even if they did not use slaves themselves. It all came down to the circle of needs and that one person’s pain was another person’s gain.
“I better go over and give John the update,” Sniffer said, turning and walking down the steps of the townhouse. Before reaching the bottom step, Sniffer heard the townhouse door slam and Monty cursing and swearing behind it.
“Good boy,” Sniffer said, patting Tiddles on the head as he reached him. “Come on, boy, let us go and see John.”
Sniffer made his way over to the factory gates, and Tiddles walked beside him.
As they approached, the gates opened, and he saw John walking toward them across the yard from the cutting shop.
“No joy?” he called as he got within earshot of the pounders.
“Nope, we lost them, and it did not matter how many new paths we tried. We could not regain their trail,” He called back.
“Shit, I bet the boss is pissed,” John said as he reached them.
“Yeah, he was, but paid all the same, with a look of persuasion, I might add,” Scratching Tiddles behind his ear.
“Ha, I bet he did,” John laughed.
“Golgo is nearby,” Sniffer casually said.
“What?” John stated with a shocked look on his face.
“We met a scouting party, and they told me they were from Golgo’s,” Sniffer replied.
John eyed Sniffer warily. “What do you mean you met a scouting party? They do not meet anyone.”
“Well, more like came up on them,” Sniffer replied.
John frowned at Sniffer.
“You are no longer a raider before you try and say anything,” Sniffer said sternly.
Tiddles took one step forward at Sniffer's words and stood beside him.
John glanced at the beast and looked back at Sniffer, trying to get to grips with the anger brewing inside him. He knew he was no longer a raider and that there was no love lost between most raiding groups, but he still thought of himself as one of them. He took a deep breath before he spoke. “So why are they here?” he tried to ask calmly.
“Searching for a township rumoured to be making fuel,” Sniffer replied.
John’s eyes widened at this, and Sniffer could tell he was starting to calculate the opportunities of finding a township that could make fuel outside the region's only producer. The money that could be made if they had such a facility and expertise to produce it would be astronomical.
“That would be a nice find,” John replied, a slight smile creeping to the edge of his mouth.
“They had not located it and were not even sure they were close. It was only a rumour, after all,” Sniffer said.
“I may have to do some digging,” John replied.
“Anyway, I thought I would let you know; I told Silver so he may speak to you about it anyway,” Sniffer said.
“So, what are your plans now?” John asked.
“I'm going to head into town for a little while, then I need to visit a depot for fuel before I set out again,” Sniffer replied.
“I am assuming you will be visiting Jack’s?” John asked.
“Yeah, I may drop in for a few and a dice game. Anyway, it’s the beast's feeding time, and I don’t want him getting any ideas here,” Sniffer said with a smile.
“I may see you later then,” John said.
“Maybe,” Sniffer replied as he turned and left the factory gates. Tiddles walked casually beside Sniffer and turned back, giving John one last grin and showing him his fangs.
John shuddered.
Sniffer and Tiddles headed into the township. They were both well-known as Sniffer. They would always stop by the township when in the area and check for radio messages. Sniffer pulled up at the stockade gates and waved up to the guard. He leaned out his window, calling, “Hey, Kev. I'm just heading into Jack’s for a while.”
“Sure, Sniffer, no worries,” Kev replied, waving to the guards below. The township's gates slowly opened, and Sniffer drove in. He continued down the main street until he reached the square. Off to the right of the square was Jack’s, the local bar. Jack was the original owner's name, and it was now owned and operated by Jack Jr., his son.
The township was one of the older ones and had been settled for some time. It had all the amenities that decent townships had, and he could even rent a room if he wished. Its prosperity came directly from the factory and the guards that operated there. Many of the township had members of their families who worked at the site, and the town itself fell under the protection of the factory, meaning that it was safe from raider attacks. The stockade surrounding the township was purely to prevent Wild Ones from visiting, not to stop raiding groups.
Sniffer pulled up in front of Jack’s and stopped the truck. Climbing out of the vehicle, he went to the back and unlocked the cage for Tiddles. Tiddles jumped down and stretched. ‘I am going to have to consider a bigger truck soon’, Sniffer thought. Wendy came walking across the square from the trading post.
“Hey Sniffer. Any luck with your job?” she asked.
“Hi Wendy, and no, unfortunately not. We could not track them in a vehicle,” He replied.
“Damn, I bet Monty was not too pleased,” She replied.
“Nope,” He said.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“Are you staying long?” she asked.
“Not planning on it. I need to check for any messages and then consider heading to New Talisia. The way the beast is growing, I must seriously consider a new truck.”
Sniffer headed towards the bar entrance, and Tiddles followed him.
“Sniffer, the beast,” Wendy said to him.
“Sorry,” He replied. “You are going to have to stay here, boy. You know how scared they get.” He said to Tiddles, chuckling. Tiddles let out a whining sound but returned and jumped into the back of the truck. Sniffer dropped the latch and walked back to the bar.
The bar was a single-story building with a broad front. In its previous life, it had been a shop of some kind; it had seen better days, and the paintwork was faded and flaking like most properties. There was a long counter along the rear of the central area, and six tables were inside. Each could sit six people. The tables were different and had been taken from abandoned houses outside the stockade walls, along with various chairs or stools of different shapes and sizes. In one corner of the bar was a square table with a raised lip or wood attached around it and used for playing dice.
Sniffer walked into the bar, his eyes adjusting to the gloomy interior. It was only lit by three small wall-mounted lights, and the candles on the tables were not lit until nighttime. At this time of day, there were not many people inside. “Hey, Jack,” Sniffer called to the man behind the counter.
“Hi, Sniffer. You want a nectar?” Jack replied. Jack was a balding man of portly stature; his face was round, and he permanently had red cheeks. He wore a long leather apron more at home on a blacksmith than that of a bar steward, but he had always worn the same ever since Sniffer knew him. The apron was worn and faded, and Sniffer knew it had originally been his father's before he passed away.
Sniffer nodded to the man and woman sitting at one of the tables. He did not know their names but recognised them. He perched himself on one of the stools by the counter. “So, any news since last time I was in?” Sniffer asked.
“Nothing special. There have been a few sightings of Wild Ones near the stockade, but nothing of concern. Malcolm told me yesterday that they may send out a hunting party if they become more frequent. Usual suspects by all accounts, Spylore and Jatbear.” he said.
“Jatbear around at this time of year? They don’t normally appear until later in the year,” Sniffer said.
“Normally, but it seems like a family of them has made their home near to town by all accounts,” Jack said.
“Umm, that’s a little concerning. Those things can climb anything. The stockade wouldn’t stop them if they wanted to enter town.” Sniffer added.
“No, that’s why the guard is currently being kept on twenty-four hours. Wendy is worried they may come looking for easy food.” Jack stated.
“Jatbears aren’t a threat, at least just an annoyance. I have had to chase the little bastards off before.” Sniffer said.
“Yeah, but Wendy is worried about the livestock south of town. We know they won’t attack humans, but they have been known to attack livestock.” Jack said.
“Didn’t know you had livestock here?” Sniffer said.
“Freddie retired from the guard trade a season back and bought himself some Keefer’s,” Jack added.
“Wondered where the fresh milk had been coming from,” Sniffer stated, smiling.
“He is providing milk to the township now and also trying to produce Keefik. I have a sample. Would you like to try it?” Jack asked.
Keefik was a strange concoction that was distilled milk, semi-fermented and then had fuel added, creating an alcoholic syrup. It was rare to find producers due to the cost associated with fuel costs inhibiting it as well as the danger during the mixing process. Even though fuel was the primary energy source these days, it was exceedingly dangerous to handle due to its low ignition point. Over the years, there had been many accidents with generators exploding and even vehicles. When Sniffer went to fill the vehicle, the fuel was always provided in plastic bottles and never metal. They would not change a spark being created while refuelling.
“Sure, I will try one,” Sniffer replied.
Jack pulled a bottle from behind the counter. The liquid inside was a white fluid with silver flecks in it. He took a shot glass from a stack and popped the top off the bottle. He slowly poured a small quantity into the glass. The liquid poured from the glass with the viscosity of runny honey; it was pretty thick and could not be thrown back. Jack pushed the glass to Sniffer.
Sniffer picked the glass up and smelt the content. It had a sour smell from the combination of the fuel and fermented milk. He placed the glass to his lips and tilted it. The liquid slowly ran into his mouth. It hit his tongue, and immediately, a tingling sensation spread through his entire mouth. It tasted sweet from the fuel yet sour from the Keefer milk, and he started to heat his mouth. He briefly held the liquid in his mouth, allowing the mixture's heat to warm him before swallowing it. The liquid felt like it had coated his mouth in a glaze, and he could feel it travel down his throat and into his stomach as he swallowed. It left a soft burning sensation behind but not unpleasant, which was more pleasant and warm.
“Damn, that’s smooth but strong. It must be one of the better ones I have tried.” He tilted his head back, allowing the last of it to run into his mouth.
“Freddie hopes he can sell it in the future but only make small quantities at a time. He does not have a proper setup as yet.” Jack replied.
“How much for the bottle?” Sniffer asked.
“I can’t sell this one. Sorry, it is the only bottle I have at the moment.” Jack stated.
“That’s a shame. It would have been nice to take on the road.” Sniffer said.
“Nectar?” Jack asked.
“Please,” Sniffer replied.
Jack grabbed one of the nectar bottles from behind the bar, took the lid off, and handed it to Sniffer. Sniffer took a deep swig and sighed. He could still feel the Keefik in his stomach, and he was sure it was already affecting him as his head felt lighter. He knew he was going to regret this in the morning.
Several hours later, Sniffer had returned from the bar. Tiddles watched him as he stumbled down the steps and started to fumble for his vehicle keys before he managed to open the truck door and climb inside. If Tiddles could tut, he would have. Sniffer always drank too much nectar when in town, and he snored so loudly when drunk it even kept Tiddles awake. He whined under his breath and tried to settle down again in the back of the truck. Not long before, he could hear the deep rumbling snore from Sniffer in the front, and he placed his head on the truck floor, trying to cover his ears. It was no use. It would be a long night, he thought to himself reluctantly.
The following day, Sniffer woke with a pounding head. After the initial Keefik and a couple of nectar bottles, several factory guards had turned up, John included, and the drinking session had started. John could seriously drink nectar and was polishing off two bottles to everyone else’s. They decided to play dice a little later, and Jack pulled out the Keefik again. That was the last that Sniffer could remember. He groaned as he sat up in the truck. He dug his hands into his pocket to check how many stacks he had spent last night. He was pleasantly surprised to find he had ten more than he started with. He must have got lucky at dice but could not remember winning. ‘Shit, I need to stop doing that’, he thought. He slowly climbed down from the truck and made his way to the water pump in the square. Leaning forward, he placed his head under it and reached to pump the arm. After a couple of pumps, a cold jet of water cascaded onto his head. He kept going for a minute before stopping the numbing sensation of the icy water, reducing the pounding in his head to a small degree. He needed to go and get some breakfast but knew that Jack would not open for an hour or so yet.
He walked back to the truck and looked at Tiddles. He had a disgruntled look, which Sniffer recognised every time he drank too much. He opened the cage and let him out. “Sorry, boy.” He said apologetically. Tiddles ignored him, facing the town gates. “I suppose you want some breakfast”, he said, walking with Tiddles towards the town gate. On arriving at the gate, he asked the guard to open it and let him out. The guard obliged, never taking his eye from the beast. “Straight back.” He called to Tiddles as he bolted off towards the treeline.
∆∆∆
Tiddles was still annoyed at Sniffer; he had done it again, got drunk, and even forgot to let him out to go hunt last night. Tiddles took an angry bite of one of the small Wild Ones he had caught; he tore a chunk of its flesh off and swallowed it whole. It had taken him less than an hour to catch his breakfast. There had been a small herd of five Newlts grazing in a clearing in the woods that he had tracked and slaughtered them all. They were not as fast as him, and he had easily caught them when they tried to flee after his initial pounce killed two. They only stood about two feet high and about three feet long. They did not have much meat, so Tiddles was devouring his third one. He was starting to feel better now that he had food in his stomach and decided he had enough for now. He went back to the fourth one and picked it up loosely in his mouth; he would take it back for later, leaving the fifth to any other scavengers in the woods.
Sniffer had waited for Jack’s to open on letting Tiddles out and got himself breakfast and a pot of Kloe. Kloe was a herbal drink that most townships produced, and it was terrific at reducing the effects of hangovers, which he sorely needed this morning. He loved his nectar; usually, it was not too bad, but the Keefik had taken its toll. He wished he did not drink it so much sometimes. He had then left the bar, headed to the trading post, picked up some new supplies, and dropped the two clubs he had collected from the raiders at the guard post. He was repacking the back of the truck when one of the guards came trotting over to him from the gate.
“Your beast is back.” He said.
“Let him in then,” Sniffer said.
“Not without an escort, Wendy’s orders.” He said.
“All right, I will come and get him,” Sniffer replied, groaning.
He followed the guard back to the gate, and it was opened. Tiddles was standing outside with a small furry-looking Wild One hanging from his mouth. It did not look large enough to feed Tiddles, but if he had returned, he must have had enough. Tiddles entered, followed Sniffer back to the truck, and hopped back into his cage, taking his meal. Sniffer finished what he was doing and then counted out his stacks. He had sixty-five stacks with the five he had on him, the two from the raider, the earnings from the factory job, and the winnings. He never carried that many stacks, so he kept the original five, placed them back in his pocket, and went round to the cage.
At the rear of the cage was a tool chest, and squeezing past Tiddles, who was now sprawled across the cage floor, he unlocked it, opening it up. Taking some tools out, he removed a false base in the chest and added the stacks to the sum he already had. In total, he must have just short of two thousand now. In terms of ordinary people, he was pretty rich. He never went short of food or drink. If he needed something, he always had the stacks to buy it. He did not like using the savings in the chest, though, and had a rule that once they went in, they did not come out unless for a specific reason. He had always been good at saving, even with his nectar-drinking habits. It was the safest place to keep anything as no one was stupid enough to enter a cage due to the chance of being locked inside, never mind one home to a beast.
He needed to go and check with the radio operators to see if any messages had come through for him. He patted Tiddles on his head as he squeezed past him again. “Be back in a few minutes, boy, and we will get back on the road,” he said. He made his way to the radio tower; it was from before the falling and an old metal structure that stood at the southern end of the township. At the base of the structure was a small building, which Sniffer walked towards with a tower that reached at least a hundred feet into the air. As he approached the door, a man came running out.
“Fucking rats.” He shouted as he chased a giant rat, trying to hit it with a bat as it scurried off into the bushes at the tower's base.
“Hey, Lou,” Sniffer said as he walked up.
The short, grumpy-looking man looked up and, squinting through glasses held together by bits of string, recognised Sniffer and his frown was replaced with a smile. “Hey, Sniffer, I did not expect to see you again so soon,” Lou said.
“Jobs finished, so just checking messages before I head out.” He said.
“Sure, I have not been on the last few days, so I'm unsure. I will have to check the logs.” Lou replied.
“Where is Tom?” Sniffer asked.
“He has a few days off now. He had to pull extra shifts as I was ill last week.” Lou said.
“Sorry to hear. Are you okay now?” Sniffer asked.
“Yeah, had the serious shits. I thought my arse was falling off. I am sure Jack tried to poison me because I criticised his nectar.” Lou replied.
Sniffer laughed.
“I'll grab the log and check for you. Come in and grab a seat,” Lou said.
Sniffer followed the small man into the building. It only had two rooms. The first room they entered was full of radio equipment and had wires running everywhere, and there was a small table set up with a handheld microphone and a pair of headphones resting on it. The kit gave off a continual white noise. On the table were also piles of message pads. The back room was only large enough to fit a small camp cot where the radio operator slept.
Lou walked to the table and sat down, ushering Sniffer to an empty seat by the doorway to the back room. Lou started to flick through the logs, pushing his glasses back onto his nose as he squinted at the messages.
“Since you went out, it doesn’t look interesting. A slave escaped from a factory at Tarboro, but a couple of logs later, it looks like they got a tracker in.” Lou said.
“Did it say who?” Sniffer asked.
“Pablo.” He replied.
“Fuck, I hate that prick. He has stolen so many jobs over the past few months.” Sniffer replied.
“You wouldn’t get to Tarboro easily anyway. I have heard all the roads are pretty fucked up around there, and there were reports of raiders hitting some of the main trunk roads recently.” Lou said.
“Raiders on trunk roads? That is unusual. They only ever aim for townships. Why the hell are they hitting roads?” Sniffer asked.
“Rumor is that they hit a fuel run being moved to New Talisia. After initial comments on the radio, though, nothing else came out,” Lou said.
“Damn, that is a brave move if they did. Those fuel runs have armed guards.” Sniffer stated.
“Yeah, definitely not normal for raiders,” Lou replied. “We hear a few reports of raiders now and again, but most places they hit are always easy targets, and many of these do not have radio communications, so they cannot even warn others. We only hear about them when someone gets back on the net about it after trying to visit one of the hit townships.”
“Oh well, if nothing else is being mentioned at the moment, I think I will hit the road again and go to refuel,” Sniffer said.
“No problem. I will drop a message on the net if I get any info.” Lou said.
Sniffer replied, “Thanks,” reaching into his pocket, pulling out a stack, and tossing it to him.
“No problem. When do you think you will be around next.” Lou asked.
“It will probably be a few months after I have done my usual route, but I was thinking of heading to New Talisia anyway,” Sniffer added.
“What are you heading there for?” Lou enquired.
“Beast is growing so fast I may need to upgrade the truck.” He replied.
“Cool, ok, man, safe journey,” Lou stated.
“Thanks, see you,” Sniffer said leaving the building.
Sniffer was getting frustrated with Pablo. He disliked the man. He was aware of only four trackers who worked on the East Coast full-time, although he knew that a couple may occasionally come in from the West. Pablo did not use a beast for tracking and went by his skills. He was renowned for his violent behaviour and had no problems executing his targets if under kill orders with his bare hands. He also owned a rifle with which he was supposed to be a dead shot. Sniffer knew that due to his reputation, he was the main one many would ask for. However, Pablo had recently been muscling in and seemed to be picking up regular work, which frustrated Sniffer.
Sniffer knew that he could not possibly complete all the work as the travelling time between locations could take several days, if not longer, depending upon the distance and roads between townships, but it still frustrated him. Success on a tracking event was increased substantially the earlier you could commence after a person disappeared. Any tracking job that took place over a week after the initial escape was mostly unsuccessful. There had been a few exceptions when escapees had stayed close to where they had escaped from, meaning that their scent remained traceable, but most would travel as far away as possible.
He normally travelled a regular circuit, stopping off at the radio townships he knew of on route, but if the right job came up, he would break his routine. The course he followed was the East Coast heading south, and then he would journey inland before heading up North again. Sniffer didn’t have his own place or township that he called home. Once he left the bioengineering site as a beast handler, he sold his uncle’s house. The stacks from the sale made up a good chunk of the stacks he still holds in his truck today, along with his savings since moving into the trucking business just over six years ago. He hoped he would have enough with a trade-in of his current truck to purchase what he needed in New Talisia.
He reached the truck again, “You ready to hit the road, boy?” he asked Tiddles.
Tiddles lifted his head slightly and growled.
“Ok, boy, let’s refuel then back on the circuit.” He said.
Sniffer jumped into the truck and started the engine, heading toward the town gate. The gates opened as he approached, and he waved to the guards as he drove through. He enjoyed visiting townships and using their amenities but loved his freedom and road travel. He turned east, heading toward the closest refuelling depot. It would be two days before he arrived and then be able to head back on the primary circuit.
Tiddles rested in the rear of the truck. He did not need to be driven anywhere as he could easily keep up with the truck if he were out of the cage, but some days, he did enjoy just being lazy and relaxing. The sun was high, and he bathed in its warmth as the truck bounced along the road, listening to the Wild Ones calling as they drove along, deciding what he would hunt later for his dinner. 'Perhaps some nice juicy Spylore,' he thought.