The morning air was crisp as Tag stood at attention by the track. She watched Colby pace in front of her with his arms behind his back, his gaze sharply on her. He then stopped, planting himself firmly in place and folding his arms over his chest before studying her intently.
“Tag Barker,” he said, his voice steady but commanding. “Do you want to WIN?!”
Tag blinked, surprised by his sudden intensity. “Uh, yes?”
“Yes what?!” he barked like a drill-instructor, eyes flashing.
“Yes, I want to win!” she said, straightening up, feeling a spark of excitement rising.
“Wrong!” Colby replied, shaking his head and pacing once more. “You don’t want to win. Wanting is for wishful thinkers, and we don’t have time for wishes here! We’re not living in a fairytale where all your dreams will magically come true, you have to have the will to win! Got it?!”
Tag nodded, her eyes lighting up. “Yes, I will win.”
Colby cracked a slight grin. “I’m not convinced! Louder!”
“I will win!” Tag repeated, projecting her voice further.
“AGAIN!” he said, this time louder, making her raise her own volume to match.
“I WILL WIN!” she shouted, surprising even herself with the strength of it.
“GOOD! Because winning isn’t just about skill – it’s about heart! Drive is what keeps pushing you when your body wants to quit, when the track’s wearing down on you, when Sam Whippet’s just barely out of reach! You have to believe beyond any shadow of a doubt that you’re gonna leave him in the dust!”
He stopped pacing again, crouching down so he was level with her. “Now, tell me,” he said, locking eyes with her, “who’s going to win?!”
“I’m going to win!” Tag replied, her voice swelling with a fierce new confidence.
He raised a brow, nodding with approval but wanting more. “And what happens if you feel doubt?!”
“I push harder,” she said, to which he smiled.
“Exactly! Because winners don’t flinch, they don’t second-guess themselves, and they don’t let rivals mess with their heads! We’re here to win, Tag, and that’s just what we’re gonna do! You in?”
Colby stood, extending a paw. She gripped it firmly, meeting his eyes.
“I’m in!”
“Then let’s make it happen,” he said, turning toward the track. “Today, you’re not just driving on that track. You’re at the starting line of making history.”
* * *
“Racing is more than just speed,” Colby said through Tag headset as she did laps around the track to get a feel for the size of the car. “It’s also about strategy, endurance, and trust.”
“Strategy, endurance, trust,” Tag repeated. “Got it.”
“Do you trust me to lead you to victory?” Colby asked.
“I trust you with my life, Colby,” Tag replied, blushing a little.
“...Good to hear,” Colby said, unable to help but feel some heat in his cheeks as well. “A-anyway, now that you’re warmed up, I want you to give it everything you’ve got. I’ll start the timer on your next lap.”
Colby held the timer at the ready, clicking it as soon as Tag crossed the starting line. Tag put the pedal to the medal, doing her best to emulate Colby’s performance on the track last night. She veered a hard right at the first turn and hit the brake, though it was harder than it looked to maintain her speed while attempting to drift like he did. The next few turns didn’t fare much better, and she crossed her first lap.
“Do it again,” said Colby, “drifting is about finding control in the chaos and working with the car, not against it. Just before you get into the turn, give the brakes just a gentle tap, shift your weight, and steer the wheel toward the curve. But this is the tricky part – you have to turn the wheel away from the corner as you slide. It’s called counter-steering, and it keeps you from spinning out. Your first instinct will be to grip harder or hit the brakes, but you need to stay loose. Feel the slide, control your speed, and just guide the car as it glides. The moment you find that balance, you'll stick the drift.”
Tag took a deep breath as she tried to absorb all of this information, giving it a try as she approached the turn. She still had a bit of trouble as she tapped the brake at different pressures and experimented with turning the wheel at different angles, but made some improvement this time.
“You’re a fast learner, Tag, but it’s not quite there yet,” he said. “Let the car be an extension of yourself. From there, it’s all just muscle-memory. Go again.”
“...Again.”
“...Again.”
“...Again!”
Lap after lap, Tag continued trying to master drifting. She imagined Sam Whippet’s car just in front of her, motivating her to push herself harder and harder.
* * *
Colby led Tag to a familiar street in town, notorious for its maze of craters and cracks. It was an old, run-down road, but Colby seemed to have something in mind as he parked at the edge and turned to her with a grin.
“Here we are,” he announced dramatically, sweeping a paw over the battered street like it was some kind of grand racetrack.
“Pothole Road?” Tag raised an eyebrow. “You want me to drive over… this? It’s like… ninety percent potholes!”
“Exactly,” Colby said, unbothered. “I talked to Sgt. Pooch and got the street closed off for us for the next hour, so it’s all yours. And this is going to teach you something important about handling rough roads.”
Tag eyed the bumps and dips with uncertainty. “But... if I hit any of those potholes too hard, I could lose control, right? Or ruin my tires?”
“Not if you keep up your speed.” Colby shook his head. “See, the trick with rough terrain like this is not trying to swerve around every little bump. That’ll only throw off your balance and waste precious seconds. Instead, you’re gonna hit those potholes dead-on – at full-speed.”
Tag blinked. “At full-speed? Seriously?”
“Yep,” Colby replied, nodding. “If you go fast enough, the car’s momentum will carry it right over the potholes without dipping in. and you’ll barely even feel them. But,” he added, raising a finger, “if you’re going too slow, even for a second, you’re just gonna bounce around and end up damaging the car. Obviously, we don’t want that.”
“It sounds… kinda risky.” Tag glanced out at the pothole-riddled road, still not quite convinced.
“Racing’s all about risk,” Colby said with a shrug. “But I promise there’s a method to my madness, you’ll see. I know it’ll be scary at first, but the speed is what’s going to save you. Now, ready to give it a try?”
Tag nodded, gripping the steering wheel, but her brow was still furrowed.
“Okay, so… just drive straight, as fast as I can?”
“That’s right,” Colby said, leaning in. “Let the car do the work, and don’t overthink it. Alright?”
“Alright…” she muttered, still a little nervous.
“Whenever you’re ready!” Colby backed away from the car and gave her a thumbs-up.
Taking a deep breath, Tag revved the engine and then hit the gas, zooming down the road toward the minefield of potholes. Instinctively, she flinched as the first big pothole came up, but she kept her paws steady, just like Colby had said.
To her surprise, she barely felt it – the car jolted just a little, but instead of dipping down into the hole, the momentum kept it gliding over with minimal impact. Tag’s eyes widened.
“See?” Colby called after her. “Now keep going – don’t slow down!”
With growing confidence, Tag continued down Pothole Road, feeling the car ride over each pothole more smoothly than the last. She started to laugh, the thrill of it overcoming her initial hesitation.
When she reached the end of the street, she whipped around and drove back, pulling up to Colby with a huge grin on her face.
“That was amazing!” she said breathlessly. “I hardly felt them at all!”
“Told ya,” Colby replied, looking pleased. “Now do it again.”
* * *
“Alright, Tag! This lesson’s all about drafting!” Colby yelled back as he leaned out of Paw’s car parked in front of Tag, which he’d gotten permission to borrow for a more paws-on drafting lesson. “Stay close behind me, but don’t pass until I give the signal!”
Tag gave him a thumbs-up as she sat behind the wheel of her car, her eyes focused and determined.
Colby hit the gas, and they were off. Tag followed closely behind him, keeping her distance but feeling the pull of the draft. She could already feel how being tucked behind him seemed to cut the air resistance. The drive was easier – lighter somehow – and her car seemed to glide forward with less strain.
Colby spoke through the headset in her car, his voice clear and encouraging. “Alright, Tag, feel that? You’re in my slipstream! Let the air do the work for you.”
Tag grinned. “I feel it! It’s like I’m getting pulled along!”
“That’s exactly what’s happening! Drafting cuts down on the drag, making it easier to pick up speed with less effort. But it’s not just about being behind – it's about when to leave it.”
They rounded a curve, and Colby adjusted his position, pulling slightly ahead as the track straightened out again. Tag maintained her distance but could feel the extra pull of the slipstream as they moved in sync down the straightaway.
“Now, here’s where it gets fun,” Colby continued. “When you’re ready to pass, the draft’s gonna give you a boost, like a slingshot. It’s all about timing. Wait for my signal, and then take the shot!”
Tag’s grip on the wheel tightened as she readied herself. Colby raised his arm out the window, then dropped it with a snap. “Go,Tag, go!”
Tag floored it, feeling her car surge forward as she slipped out from behind Colby’s. The draft caught her, giving her the boost she needed to slingshot out and around him. She zoomed past his car, the force of the tailwind practically launching her forward.
“YES!” she shouted, pumping her fist as she sped ahead. “That felt incredible!”
Colby chuckled over the headset. “See? With the right timing, you can get an edge on anyone in front of you – even Sam. Just be patient, and when the moment’s right, take it.”
They pulled back around to the starting line, and Colby parked next to her, hopping out of Paw’s car with a proud grin. “Great job, Tag. You’re really getting the hang of this.”
Tag beamed, her tail wagging as she let the engine purr down to a soft idle. “I never would’ve thought of that on my own. It feels like using my opponent’s own speed against them!”
“Exactly,” Colby said, giving her a playful nudge on the shoulder. “And with practice, it’ll feel second nature.”
Suddenly, Tag looked sullen.
“What’s wrong?” Colby asked.
“I just… don’t understand why Sam never taught me any of this stuff himself,” she said with a sigh. “I-I mean, I’m glad you’re teaching me these things, and I love spending time with you, but… Sam is supposed to be my mentor. Me, and all of the other Race Cadets. But I’m starting to realize that he hasn’t taught us… anything!”
Her expression quickly switched from sadness to anger as she began pacing back and forth, her words spilled out of her.
“He made us go on a scavenger hunt for his missing car keys, he had us shill his sponsored cookies – which, if I’m being honest, don’t taste that good – and he had Wind and I compete in a lasagna-baking competition to decide who would be his new crew-chief! In what universe does that make any sense?! All that time I spent hanging around him, asking him questions, trying to learn from the best, hoping he’d throw me even a scrap of advice – and he never gave me a single tip! Not one! I’ve learned more about racing from you in a day than I’ve learned from Sam in months!”
Colby stepped back a bit to give Tag some space, shocked to see her this furious. She walked in a figure-eight with her fists clenched tightly, her voice cracking as her thoughts bubbling up in a furious rant she couldn’t hold back anymore.
“And I thought maybe it was some kind of tough-love thing, like maybe he wanted me to figure things out for myself, right? But now – now I see he doesn’t care about my racing career at all! He didn’t want me to learn anything actually useful! He just wanted me to stay put under his paw, so he could keep being the top dog while I just trailed behind him, worshipping the road he drove on like he was some kind of racing legend!” Her jaw clenched, and her voice turned even sharper. “He never once asked me how I wanted to race, what I thought my best strengths were! It was always about him! And you know what?! Now that I’m thinking about it, he never gave me any actual respect, either! This whole time, he’s looked down on me like I was just a lost little puppy trying to race with the big dogs. Well I’m not a puppy, I am a DOG!”
She stopped, taking a breath for a moment. Colby was about to say something when Tag had one more thing to get off her chest.
“And his mustache… is… STUPID!”
She grabbed the race-flag tag hanging from her collar, pulling it off and angrily throwing it on the ground at her feet before stepping on it like a bug. The tag that Sam had given her as a puppy meant nothing to her now; in fact, she couldn’t bear to ever put it on again. It was time to make her own identity.
Tag took a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling as the anger faded away, leaving her almost dizzy with relief. As Colby watched her panting as she came down from her emotional tirade, he couldn’t help but enjoy seeing this fiery side of her.
“Feel better?” he asked.
Tag blinked, caught off guard. Then a slow, surprised smile crept onto her face.
“Yeah… I actually do.”
“Good.” Colby nodded approvingly. “Hold onto that. That fire is what you’re gonna need out there on the track. It’s like fuel. When you’re up against Sam, let this feeling remind you why you’re doing it.”
“I will.” Tag’s smile turned fierce as she nodded.
Colby paused, smiling as an idea suddenly came to him.
* * *
“So Tag, why do you think we’re watching this?”
The two sat side by side in Pawston Pawtomotive’s back room, eyes fixed on the screen as a compilation reel of Sam Whippet’s best races played before them from a projector. Tag’s paws fidgeted on her lap, her ears perked with intent as she watched Sam whip around corners, skim by opponents, and blaze past the finish line with flawless precision.
“So I can… learn to race just like him?” Tag guessed, glancing up at him.
“No.” Colby shook his head.
“Then... what?” Tag tilted her head, confused.
“Not to race like him, Tag. To race like you.” He pointed to the screen, where Sam did a 180-spin and began to drive backwards to flaunt his skills to his opponent. “Sam’s style may look flawless, but it’s far from invincible, and I’d say he can even be downright sloppy at times. And that’s where you come in.”
Tag squinted at the footage as she tried to process this.
“You mean… like, look for where he messes up?
“Exactly. Don’t get me wrong – Sam’s fast, and everyone knows it. But he assumes he’s going to win before the race has even started, because winning is all he’s ever known. So he’s gotten lazy, thinking he can take it easy in those final laps. He’s used to setting the pace, but what if you forced him to follow yours?” Colby leaned forward, rewinding the footage to a part where Sam left a clear opening mid-spin.
“Huh, he did that same move when I almost caught up to him…” Tag stared at the screen, eyes widening with realization. “So... I don’t have to beat him at his own game… I just have to play mine?”
Colby smiled, giving her a proud nod.
“Exactly. You’re not out there to be another Sam Whippet. You’re out there to be Tag Barker – one-of-a-kind and ready to use his own confidence against him.”
Tag’s tail wagged with new confidence as she turned back to the screen, watching Sam race with a whole new perspective.
“Y’know, I never thought to ask before,” Colby said, curious. “But what exactly happened out there last time? How did you end up flying through the air like that in the first place? Whatever it was, we need to make sure that never happens again.”
“I guess I don’t really know for sure…” Tag sighed, leaning back into the couch. “One minute I was racing just fine, and the next, my rear wheel started wobbling like crazy. And then, the lugnuts had all popped off!”
“All of them?” Colby frowned. “That’s not something you see every day, lugnuts shouldn’t pop off like that so easily.”
“Mhm. It was weird,” Tag said, scratching the back of her head. “I’m usually always so thorough with double-checking my car the night before a race. After that, well… you know the rest.”
“Hmm…” Colby’s expression shifted as he mulled it over, wondering if maybe there was something more to it that he wasn’t seeing. He noticed Tag kept scratching at the same spot behind her ear vigorously. “...Everything alright?”
“Y-yeah, it’s just-” Tag grumbled as she raised her leg up to scratch behind her ear, a frown scrunching her face. “Ugh, I think I might’ve picked up a flea from my helmet or something… it’s driving me crazy!”
“Here, let me help,” he offered, gently reaching out. His fingers found the spot just behind her ear and scratched in slow, steady circles. Tag’s eyes grew wide, and she froze, her ears and tail perking up involuntarily as a wave of pure bliss washed over her. She could barely hold back a soft whine as Colby’s scratching hit just the right spot.
“Ah – o-okay, that’s… way better…” she mumbled, feeling her cheeks heat up with embarrassment even as her whole body practically melted into the sensation.
Colby felt around for the flea as he rubbed behind her ear, eventually plucking it out and zapping it to dust with plasma between his fingertips before pulling back. “Feeling any better?”
“Uh-huh…” Tag nodded, feeling a little dazed, still enjoying the lingering tingle from his scritching.
“You know,” he said, “this might be a good time to switch up your helmet. How about a closed-face one? It’d help keep things like bugs and the wind current off you.”
“A closed-face helmet?” Tag tilted her head, trying to shake off the little afterglow of comfort. “Won’t that make it feel stuffy?”
“Not if you get a custom fit,” Colby replied. “Plus, it’s going to make you more aerodynamic. Better wind resistance, which means you get to pick up even more speed without drag slowing you down, or the wind getting in your eyes.”
“You had me at more speed!” Tag’s eyes lit up as she shot him a grateful smile. “Thanks for… everything. The scratch, the advice, all of it.”
“Hey, what are friends for?” he replied, giving her a gentle nudge as they both headed back toward the main area of the garage.
* * *
As Tag dug through a box, she suddenly paused, frowning. “Oh, shoot – I forgot where Grandpaw keeps the helmet padding. I’ll go ask him real quick.”
Colby looked up from the workbench and nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll keep working on the blueprint while you’re gone.”
With a quick wave, Tag trotted out of the garage, the door swinging shut behind her. Colby returned to his work, trying to sketch the design for a helmet suited for a dog’s head-shape.
A moment later though, he heard the soft creak of the door again. “Tag, back already?” he asked, not looking up.
“No, not Tag.”
Colby glanced up, surprised to see Tag’s little blue terrier friend Scooch standing by the door, his arms crossed and a guarded look on his face.
“Oh, hey, Scooch.” Colby greeted him casually, setting his pencil down. “What’s up?”
Scooch didn’t answer immediately, his gaze flicking around the garage, as if he were assessing the place. Then he looked directly at Colby, his expression hardening.
“We need to talk. About Tag.”
“Alright… what about her?” Colby raised an eyebrow.
Scooch crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing.
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing with her, or why you’re suddenly her new best friend. But I do know one thing: you’ve got… powers. And I don’t think anyone else around here knows about it, do they?”
Colby stiffened but tried to stay calm. “Have you been spying on me? Anyway, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m just here to help Tag. Because I care about her.”
Scooch gave a cold smile. “Yeah, well, you’re not the only one who cares about her. I’m Tag’s best friend, I’m her crew-chief, and I don’t want someone like you getting in her head or putting her in danger with… whatever it is you are.”
Colby took a steadying breath. “Scooch, I’m not putting Tag in danger. I’m just trying to help her become the best racer she can be.”
Scooch’s gaze turned calculating. “Maybe. But I don’t think everyone else would feel so safe with you around if they knew what you could do. I bet they’d want you far, far away from Tag. Or better yet, far away from Pawston.”
Colby’s jaw clenched as he realized what Scooch was implying, the air-pressure sharply increasing around them as his eyes began to flare a vivid green. “Are you… threatening me?”
Scooch shrugged. “Just giving you a heads-up, “Colby”, if that is your real name. If you get too close to Tag, if you put her in any kind of danger, then I’ll make sure everyone in Pawston knows exactly what you are. And I don’t think they’d be nearly as understanding as Tag is.”
For a moment, Colby didn’t respond, his eyes hardening as he held Scooch’s gaze. But then, slowly, he relaxed, letting out a quiet breath as he suppressed his energy. This was just a mere pup, after all. “Scooch, I understand you’re worried about your friend. But real friendship isn’t about threats or jealousy. It’s about wanting the best for her, no matter what.”
The terrier scoffed.
“I don’t know you. And I don’t think Tag really does, either. She thinks you’re a superhero, but you could just as easily be a villain, for all I know. I do want the best for her, and I won’t let her get hurt because of you.”
“And she won’t. But if you tell everyone my secret out of some misplaced jealousy, it won’t make you her hero. It’ll only drive a deeper wedge between you. If you care about her, you’ll know that she deserves to make her own choices, to-”
“I don’t just care about Tag, I LOVE her!” Scooch blurted out angrily. Then, his anger faded, doubt flickering in his eyes as Colby’s words finally settled in. He looked away, his posture slumping just a little. “I just… don’t wanna lose her.”
Colby’s voice softened, crouching down to Scooch’s level. “You’re not going to lose her. Just because she’s spending time with someone else doesn’t mean you mean any less to her than before.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Scooch replied, “You’re the one who stole her away from me.”
Colby laughed dismissively – and a bit louder than he probably should have.
“Hahaha, what?! Listen, little buddy, I’m just her tutor and her friend, nothing more. I’m definitely not trying to ‘steal her away from you.’ That being said…” Colby’s expression turned serious as he spoke sternly. “You need to understand that you don’t own her. No one does. No one can. What she does – or who she loves – are not your decisions to make, and you’ll only end up pushing her away by trying to control her. Got it?”
Scooch sighed, looking down. He wordlessly nodded in shame.
“She needs you too, Scooch, that hasn’t changed. Trust her,” said Colby. But before either of them could continue the conversation further, Tag returned through the door.
“Turns out the padding was up in the loft the whole time! Oh, hey Scooch!” she said, giving her best friend a cheerful wave as she approached him. “Wanna help me and Colby make a new helmet?”
For a moment, Colby simply stared at her, his emotions waging war inside him. Scooch looked at Colby, and Tag looked back and forth between the two of them as they all stood in awkward silence.
“Did I miss anything?” she asked.
“A-actually,” Colby interrupted as he forced a small smile and shook his head, “We’ve had a good long day already, so I think we should be done for now. We can get right back into it tomorrow, you two go outside and play or… whatever it is you do together.”
“Aw, you’re not coming with?” Tag asked, a clear look of disappointment on her face.
“Nah… I can finish up the helmet on my own. I’ll see you tomorrow, Tag.”
“Okay… see you,” Tag replied, reluctantly heading back for the door.
Scooch looked back and gave Colby a humbled nod of gratitude, then turned and left the garage with Tag.
As the door closed behind them, Colby let out a quiet sigh. He knew things with Scooch weren’t entirely resolved, but he also knew he’d given him something to think about. And maybe, Scooch would come to realize that Colby wasn’t a villain after all.
Now completely alone, the yellow Labrador leaned back against the workbench, exhaling deeply. The tension in the room lingered as he rubbed the back of his neck, staring down at the scattered tools and parts in front of him. Scooch’s words echoed in his head:
“I don’t just care about Tag, I LOVE her!”
Colby’s chest tightened. He’d brushed off Scooch’s jealousy as just that – simple, childish jealousy. But now, standing there alone, he couldn’t ignore the knot of jealousy towards Scooch twisting inside him as well.
‘Am I a hypocrite?’ Colby thought. ‘Am I… am I in love with her too?’
He glanced at the door where Tag had left, remembering how she was throughout the short time he’d known her: her infectious energy, her determination to learn, the way her eyes lit up when she finally nailed a technique. Every moment he spent with her felt… brighter. Lighter. More alive.
And that terrified him.
‘She’s your student,’ he reminded himself firmly. ‘And she’s just a puppy. A kid. Your duty is to help her win this race, not… whatever the fuck this is turning into.’
But the harder he tried to push the thought away, the stronger it came back. He thought of the little things – the way her floppy ears twitched when she was deep in concentration, her expression of determination when something didn’t go quite as planned but she refused to give up. The way she’d look up at him sometimes, with trust and admiration that he felt he didn’t deserve.
Colby clenched his fists. ‘You’re only here to help her, not complicate her life. You know what happens when you get too close, when you care too much. It always ends the same way.’
But then, there was the way Tag made him feel like he belonged somewhere for the first time in thousands of years. Like he wasn’t just some aimless drifter hiding from his past, but someone who could actually make a difference. Someone who mattered.
‘Focus on the race’, he told himself as he went to the workbench and resumed working on her helmet. ‘Focus on helping her achieve her destiny. That’s what she needs from you. That’s all she needs from you.’
He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. But as he glanced at the door again, secretly wishing she would reappear, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was lying to himself.
* * *
The days blurred into weeks as Colby, Tag, and Scooch settled into a steady rhythm of training, working, and bonding. Each morning, Colby and Tag would meet at the racetrack. Thanks to Colby’s dedication and thorough instruction, Tag’s skills steadily sharpened with each passing day. She drove tighter turns, mastered every square inch of the track backwards and front, and learned to harness the tailwind like it was second nature.
After hours of grueling practice, the atmosphere always softened later in the day. Some afternoons, Scooch would join them at the garage, and Colby found himself getting to know Tag’s best friend on a deeper level. Scooch had a boundless enthusiasm for chickens, pirates, baking, photography, and something he called "Tail-kwon-do," which Colby learned was this world's own quirky take on martial arts. Scooch proudly introduced Colby to his beloved plush chicken, Cluckles, treating it like an honorary member of their group. Over time, Colby came to understand that Scooch’s level-headed but playful personality rounded out their dynamic, which he’d come to appreciate more than he expected.
Other times, it was just Colby and Tag. Those afternoons often carried a quieter, almost intimate energy as they tinkered with the car, reviewed racing footage, or talked about their dreams. Tag’s boundless enthusiasm often brought out Colby’s softer side, and moments of comfortable silence between them were filled with unspoken affection.
Then there were days when Colby stepped aside to let Scooch and Tag have their fun alone. He occasionally watched from a distance, amused by Scooch’s clumsy attempts at flirting with Tag as he tried teaching her about pirate history, or his original recipes for all the new kinds of pupcakes he’d been trying to bake. Scooch was so different from Colby in so many ways, but Colby could tell the pup had a good heart.
And slowly, without realizing it, Colby became closer to Scooch as well. The young terrier’s initial wariness of Colby began to fade, replaced by a begrudging respect as Scooch realized Colby wasn’t just some outsider taking up Tag’s time. The two often found themselves quietly working side by side, Scooch holding a flashlight or grabbing tools while Colby painstakingly explained to him the inner workings of Tag’s car – something that Scooch, as Tag’s crew chief, should be more familiar with.
Day to day, evenings were usually a mixed “doggy-bag” of events – sometimes a casual meal at the Big Bowl Diner, sometimes a trip to the Amusement Bark to go on the rides or to see Cheddar Biscuit’s circus act, and other times a simple stroll through Pawston’s bustling town square, where Colby learned more about life as a dog. Tag taught him everything about Pawston, from how to play the national pastime of fetchball to all the hidden secrets of the town’s famous hedge maze.
Tag’s family often got involved in Colby’s daily life as well, roping him into silly antics like “family stunt night” or life-sized board games like “Treat Peak”. But they would always invite him for dinner afterward, making Colby feel welcome amongst them.
As the month of May came to a close, Colby couldn’t deny it anymore – he wasn’t just training Tag to be the best racer she could be anymore. He was becoming part of something bigger: a circle of friends, a town that felt like home, and maybe even a family to call his own.
But every night, as he lay alone in his makeshift sleeping spot on top of a tree beneath the stars, he couldn’t shake the growing fear that it wouldn’t last.
‘They all deserve better than someone like me,’ he thought as he closed his eyes. ‘Especially… her.’
Still, for now, he let himself believe that he might have a chance for his story to get a happy ending after all.
* * *
It was May 30th, and the sun was dipping low in the sky as Tag parked her car inside the garage after a long day of racing practice. She hopped out and stretched, her tail wagging faintly despite her exhaustion. Colby got out and leaned against the car, wiping his paws on a grease-stained rag.
“That was solid work today,” Colby said, offering a small grin of approval.
“Thanks! Only two days left until the race…. I’m kinda nervous.” Tag replied, bouncing slightly on her paws. “Okay, maybe extremely nervous. Sam’s probably on his way back from Colliefornia right now.”
“Don’t be,” Colby insisted, “You’re doing great out there, Tag. You can do this.”
She hesitated for a moment, then blurted out, “Hey, uh, what are you doing tonight?”
Colby raised a brow.
“Probably sleeping, like I do every night. Why?”
“Haha, very funny.” Tag grinned nervously, scratching the back of her neck. “Well anyway, there’s this Roller Skate Night thing happening tonight at the park. They do it only once a year, and I thought… maybe you’d wanna go with me?”
Colby blinked, caught off guard.
“Roller-skating? Sounds... lively. Is Scooch coming too, then?”
Tag shook her head.
“Nah, he’s been out of town with his mom visiting his grandparents, but he’ll be back tomorrow. So tonight, it’ll just be the two of us.”
For a moment, Colby didn’t respond, his eyes narrowing in thought. Then he shrugged.
“Alright. Could be fun.”
Tag’s heart leapt, but she kept her excitement contained.
“Great! Just give me a bit to get cleaned up and then we’ll go together, okay?”
“Sure,” Colby replied.
Tag skipped off, a grin spread across her face. She couldn’t help but feel like tonight was going to be special.
‘It’s not a date,’ she thought, her tail wagging a little faster as she hurried home to get ready. ‘But maybe it’s close enough.’
Colby spent a few minutes tidying up a bit around the garage while Tag got ready. Noticing he had an unsightly amount of car grease on his arms and legs, he decided he needed some washing up too; thankfully, the garage had a makeshift shower for just such occasions.
Colby twisted the slightly rusted handle of the shower, and a stream of cool water sputtered out, splashing against the concrete. He stepped under the spray once it was warm enough, tilting his head back and letting the water rinse away the grease and grime clinging to his fur.
Grabbing the bar of soap from the shelf, he scrubbed at his arms, the pleasant scent of patchouli cutting through the oily residue. The water darkened as it pooled around the drain, taking the day's efforts with it. He smirked slightly, thinking of Tag's progress and how proud he was of how far she’d come in the month they’d spent together.
The spray softened as the pressure dipped, and Colby leaned his head against the tiled wall, letting the last of the water trickle down his back. He sighed deeply, enjoying the fleeting quiet. Moments like this, away from all the noise and movement, gave him space to think – to sort through the exhilaration of racing, training, and... Tag.
Shaking off an intrusive thought, he turned off the water and dried himself off with a full-body shake. He glanced down at himself, noticing how his fur was now fluffled out slightly. A chuckle escaped him, low and uncertain.
‘Did I really just do that?’
It wasn’t the first time he’d caught himself acting more dog than human, but this... this felt different. Natural, even. Colby paced toward the garage's side mirror, looking at his reflection. The face staring back wasn’t the human he once knew: his yellow fur was damp, his brown floppy ears dripped with water, and his emerald eyes seemed sharper than ever. He raised a paw and flexed his four padded fingers.
The truth was undeniable. He was more dog than man now. Not just in appearance, but in instinct – how he moved, how he felt. And oddly, it didn’t bother him anymore as much as he thought it should. Pawston had started to feel like home, and the things that used to ground him in his old human life now felt... distant.
Colby straightened up, shaking off the lingering introspection like he had the water. Just in time, Tag returned, her roller skates clinking softly against the concrete floor as the evening sun illuminated her from behind. Her fur had been brushed to a silky sheen, she was wearing a bedazzled purple collar in place of her usual nylon one, and a subtle shimmer of peanut butter flavored lip gloss caught the light when she smiled, adding to the playful confidence and unshakable energy she carried herself with that made her look... radiant.
“Ready to roll?” Tag grinned, striking a pose with one paw on her hip.
Colby’s jaw worked, but no words came out. His brain seemed to short-circuit as he scrambled for something – anything – to say.
“You, uh… you clean up nice,” he said, instantly regretting how awkward it sounded coming out.
“You like it?” Tag giggled, skating a short circle in place. “Thought I’d look the part for tonight. Gotta keep it stylish, right?”
“Stylish…” Colby echoed under his breath, trying to snap himself out of the daze. Tag had always been vibrant, but tonight, she was something else entirely. “Y-yeah, looks good.”
“Wow, such glowing praise.” Tag tilted her head with a sarcastic smirk and skated over, playfully tapping him on the arm. “C’mon, we’ve got a rink waiting for us! Go, dog, go!”
Tag glided toward the door, and Colby shook his head with a smile as he followed her out, his thoughts a tangled mess of both eagerness and reluctance.
* * *
The roller rink buzzed with colorful lights and upbeat music as dogs of all kinds skated around in rhythmic harmony. Colby hesitated at the edge of the rink, staring at the wheels strapped to his feet with visible uncertainty.
"You're going to have to step onto the rink eventually," Tag teased, gliding effortlessly backward in front of him. Her lip-gloss shimmered in the neon glow, and her smile carried just enough mischief to tug at the corners of his own lips.
"I’ll admit, it’s been… a while… since I’ve done this," Colby muttered, wobbling slightly as he stepped forward.
"Come on, Mr. Tough-Dog Racer," she said, reaching out a paw. "How are you able to teach me to handle curves on the track if you can’t even skate in a circle?"
Colby took her paw hesitantly, and as soon as he set foot onto the rink, his legs shot in opposite directions. Tag laughed, tightening her grip to steady him.
"Okay, so maybe you need me to teach you for once," she said, her tone playful but warm.
"Don’t get used to it," Colby grumbled, his face flushing.
Tag skated alongside him, guiding his movements with surprising patience. "Bend your knees a little more – like that! And lean into the motion, don’t fight it," she instructed, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm.
"I’m not fighting it," he said stubbornly through gritted teeth as he flailed to regain balance, narrowly avoiding a tumble.
"You totally are." Tag’s grin widened as she slid closer, placing her other paw on his arm for extra support.
The proximity made his thoughts stumble harder than his feet. He felt the warmth of her touch and caught the faint, sweet scent of her fur. For a moment, it wasn’t just the skates that made him feel off-balance.
After a few shaky laps, Colby finally managed to stay upright without clinging to Tag like a lifeline.
"See? Now you’re getting it!" she cheered, beaming at him.
"Don’t sound so surprised," he replied, his tone feigning confidence but his eyes betraying his relief.
"You’re still kinda stiff, though. Here, let me show you something," Tag said, suddenly pulling him into a spin.
"W-whoa, wait, Tag!" Colby’s protest turned into a startled laugh as she guided him through the movement, her infectious joy easing his nerves.
When they resumed skating, both were slightly out of breath, their faces flushed – whether from exertion or something else, neither dared to say.
"You’ve got potential, Colby," Tag said softly, her voice teasing but genuine.
"Thanks," he replied, his gaze lingering on her a second too long. "Guess I have a good teacher."
The next song that blared through the roller rink speakers was a pop anthem, upbeat and infectious, with a rhythm that seemed to demand movement. Tag’s ears perked up as she recognized the tune, her tail wagging in time with the beat.
‘I could be the one, be your new affliction,
It’s all in my head, but I want non-fiction,
I don’t need the world, but I’ll take this city,
Who can blame a girl? Call me dog, not kitty!’
"I love this song!" she exclaimed, grabbing Colby’s paw and pulling him further onto the rink.
‘Maybe, do you like this treat?
I made it so you’d dance with me,
It’s like a hundred ninety-nine Frisbees
When you’re chewin’ it with me, chewin’ it with me!’
“Uh, yeah, it’s... catchy,” Colby chuckled nervously, still a little uneasy on his skates.
‘G-O-D-O-G-G-O,
Romp and nap and lick your nose!
Raise your paws, now body-roll!
Shake it out, now go, dog, go!’
“Come on, you have to move to the music!” Tag said, her enthusiasm impossible to resist. Before Colby could protest, she grabbed both his paws and started swaying, guiding him into a clumsy but endearing attempt at dancing on wheels.
‘G-O, D-O-G, G-Oh,
We can make it, go, dog, go!
‘G-O, D-O-G, G-Oh,
We can make it, go, dog, go!’
As the music picked up, Tag let out a laugh and spun herself, her orange fur catching the neon lights like a prism. Colby, emboldened by her energy, tightened his grip and spun her again, this time lifting her off the ground and swinging her around in a circle. Tag yelped in surprise as she held on, but her laughter only grew as she twirled weightlessly in the air.
For a fleeting moment, Colby forgot everything – his clumsiness, his worries, even his tragic past. All he could focus on was Tag’s radiant smile and how free she looked, her paws in his as if they were the only two in the world. His chest felt light, his heart full.
And yet, in the back of his mind, he insisted it wasn’t love. It couldn’t be.
‘You don’t have to stare, come here, sit with it,
No one’s pet me there in a darn hot minute!’
Just then, a loud bark interrupted them.
“No horseplay on the rink, please!” They turned to see Mayor Sniffington, a short, rotund purple dog gliding toward them with a no-nonsense scowl. “This is a safety area, not a stunt show. First and final warning.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” Colby said immediately as he set Tag down, instantly pulling his paws back from her and standing stiffly at attention.
"We’ll be good," Tag added, her ears flattening in remorse.
Satisfied, the mayor skated off, grumbling something about reckless youth.
Tag looked at Colby, biting back a giggle. “Guess we’re grounded.”
Colby relaxed, giving her a sheepish smile. “Yeah, probably for the best. I don’t think I’m ready for the advanced moves just yet.”
As the next song began, they fell into a quieter rhythm while skating side by side, their paws brushing occasionally but not quite holding.
‘I’m only gonna break, break your,
Break, break your heart…’
* * *
Later that evening, after they’d had their fill of skating and had their fill of dinner with the Barkers, Grandpaw shuffled over to Colby with a photo album tucked under his arm.
“Colby,” he said with a twinkle in his eye, “you’ve gotta see these. Tag was the cutest little thing when she was just a pup.”
“Grandpaw,” Tag groaned, “does he have to?”
“Oh, absolutely!” Grandpaw grinned, plopping the album onto the table and flipping it open. There on the first page was a picture of a tiny, round Tag covered in mud, her tongue lolling out in a happy grin. “This was her first time playing in the yard. She headed straight for the flower beds, of course.”
Colby leaned closer, studying the image. “Wow, you were…” He hesitated, a rare softness flickering across his face. “...adorable.”
Tag’s cheeks flushed under her fur, and she gave him a sheepish look.
“I mean... okay, I guess I was pretty cute as a puppy.”
Her brother Gilber, who had just finished putting his bowl in the sink, piped up with a snicker. “She still is a puppy. Just taller.”
“Am not!” Tag snapped, crossing her arms. “I’m a grown dog now!”
“Sure, sure,” Gilber said, smirking. “Keep telling yourself that.”
Before Tag could retort, Colby chuckled under his breath, breaking the tension. “You’ve definitely grown into your own, Tag.”
Tag blinked at him, the compliment catching her off guard, and she mumbled, “Thanks.”
Grandpaw flipped through more photos, showing off Tag learning to read from a Track and Tires magazine, her cheering on Sam Whippet at his debut race, and the first “car” she’d ever built out of a wagon and a teapot. He turned another page in the album, revealing a photo of baby Tag asleep on the couch and hugging a little toy car. Her fur was a fluffy mess, and a small blanket covered part of her.
“She used to fall asleep like this every night,” Grandpaw chuckled. “Couldn’t keep her awake past dinnertime, no matter how hard she tried.”
“Why are you telling him this?” Tag whined, hiding her face in her paws.
“Because it’s cute, that’s why,” Maw chimed in with a laugh. “And look at her little racecar! She wouldn’t go anywhere without it.”
Colby smiled faintly at the picture. She truly had been destined for racing from the start. “Everyone’s got their comforts, I guess.”
“Oh?” Paw leaned forward. “What about you, Colby? What’s your comfort?”
Colby hesitated, caught off guard. “Uh... I guess I like the stars. Quiet nights.”
“Wait, what do you mean?” Tag tilted her head. “Now that I think about it, where do you go at night?”
The question caught everyone’s attention. Maw, Paw, Cheddar Biscuit, Gilber, Grandmaw, Grandpaw, and even Yip all looked at Colby expectantly.
“Well, I… usually just sleep on a tree.”
“A tree?!” Maw exclaimed.
“Y-yeah, it’s… not that bad,” Colby said quickly. “I’ve seen some other dogs nap on them during the day. The branches are sturdy, and it’s got a nice view.”
“That may be, but that’s no place for any respectable dog to live, let alone family!” Paw protested. “We can’t in good conscience let you sleep outside like that, all alone!”
“Exactly,” Maw agreed. “Colby, you’re staying here with us tonight. End of discussion.”
Tag’s ears perked up, and she beamed. “Yeah, you should! We’ve got plenty of room.”
“It’s settled, then.” Grandpaw grinned. “You’ll sleep here tonight. No more tree branches for you.”
Colby sighed. There was that word again… family, echoing in his mind like a distant, painful memory. His heart began to race, his breaths coming quicker as a wave of anxiety tightened his chest. For a moment, his vision blurred – not from tears, but from the storm of emotions he fought to suppress.
The warmth of the Barker family’s home felt stifling now, every kind offer they’d made pressing on him like a weight he couldn’t bear. Memories of his own family flickered in his mind – laughter, safety, love – and then the ache of their absence, sharp and raw. He clenched his fists, grounding himself, unwilling to let anyone see the crack in his armor.
“Colby?” Tag’s voice broke through the haze. Her tone was gentle, her eyes full of concern.
He forced a smile, nodding faintly. “Yeah, just… wasn’t expecting this. You all don’t have to do this for me, really.”
Grandpaw chuckled, his voice a soothing rumble. “Ain’t about ‘have to,’ son. We want to. Dogs look out for their pack, and I’d say you’re part of ours now.”
“Yeah! As far as we’re concerned, you’re a Barker,” Cheddar Biscuit added.
Colby’s throat tightened.
“I’m… a Barker?” He stood, for a moment ready to retreat to the safety of solitude. But then, he saw Tag’s earnest expression, her tail wagging expectantly.
“I’m… a Barker.”
Finally, he exhaled a shaky breath and nodded.
“Okay. I’ll stay.”
* * *
"Wait... you all sleep here?" Colby asked, raising an eyebrow. Before him was a massive, custom-built bed that took up most of the Barker family bedroom. It was like nothing he had ever seen before.
"Yup," Grandpaw said proudly, settling into the furthermost edge of the oversized bed. "Big family means big bed.”
Tag's mom chuckled. "It’s tradition for us Barkers. Cozy and warm, like a family should be."
Colby nodded slowly, feeling a mix of curiosity and awkwardness. The idea of sleeping in the same bed as everyone else was… unexpected. He wasn’t about to object – after all, he was the guest – but it certainly wasn’t what he’d envisioned when he agreed to stay.
As the family settled in, Colby hesitated, awkwardly lingering near the edge of the bed until Grandpaw gestured to the empty space at the end. "Plenty of room, son. Make yourself comfortable."
Colby slid into the spot furthest from the center, carefully keeping his distance from Tag, who ended up positioned next to him. Under the covers, he kept his body rigid, staring at the wall as the family murmured their goodnights.
"Goodnight, Colby," Tag said softly from his side, her voice warm yet almost… longing.
"...Night," he replied flatly without turning around.
As the room fell into quiet darkness, Colby focused on keeping his breathing steady, trying to ignore the faint rustle of Tag shifting beside him. He made sure to stay in his zone, far from the invisible line between them. It felt strange to let himself relax in the presence of so many others, but the comfort of the big bed and the gentle rhythm of the family’s breathing eventually lulled him to sleep.
Suddenly, the familiar roar of engines and the scent of burning rubber filled the air. Colby found himself standing among the crowd at a racetrack, dogs cheering wildly all around him. He didn’t recognize anyone, yet everything felt eerily familiar.
The announcer’s voice boomed above the noise: “Go, dogs, go!”
Colby’s eyes locked onto a sleek car streaking ahead – Tag’s car. His heart surged with pride… until it all started to go wrong.
A sharp metallic clatter echoed across the track. The wheel from Tag’s car flew into the air, tumbling end over end. Colby’s stomach dropped. He froze as Tag’s car swerved violently, spinning out of control. The crowd gasped, their cheers replaced by horrified commotion.
“Tag!” Colby shouted, but his voice was swallowed by the noise.
But it was too late, and the crash was deafening. Her car tilted over itself and shot into the air as sparks flew. And then… the car landed upside-down, crumpling like aluminum with a sickening crunch before bursting into flame. He pushed through the crowd as smoke began to billow on the track, desperation clawing at his chest.
“Why isn’t anyone helping her?!” he demanded, but the crowd stood frozen, their faces blank, as if they weren’t truly there.
When Colby reached the crash site, his legs turned to lead. The mangled remains of the car sat motionless, with Tag nowhere in sight. His chest heaved, panic constricting his throat.
“Why didn’t I save her? I should’ve been there!”
Suddenly, a deep, resonant voice cut through the chaos.
“...Then why weren’t you?”
Colby turned sharply. A distorted golden figure stood behind him, tall and featureless, its form shifting like an illusion.
“You… I feel like… I know you…” Colby said, his voice shaking.
The figure didn’t answer directly.
“Your destiny isn’t to stand by and watch,” it said. “The power you have been blessed with isn’t for yourself – it’s for others. To save them. To protect them. Or have you forgotten that already… Marcus?”
Colby tried to respond, but his words wouldn’t come. The figure hovered closer, and Colby felt an overwhelming sense of gravity, as if the weight of the entire world – no, the universe – rested on his shoulders.
“Remember,” the figure whispered. “You are the difference between salvation… and ruin. Your journey is not over. Not yet... not yet... Not. Yet.”
“Not yet… not yet…”
Tag blinked awake, her ears twitching at the sound of mumbling. She turned her head to see Colby, his breathing uneven and his limbs limply twitching under the covers. Concerned, she whispered softly, “Colby? Are you okay?”
“Not… yet…”
His muttering stopped, but his restlessness didn’t. Before Tag could call to him again, Colby rolled over towards her. Still lost in his dream, he reached out and pulled her close, wrapping his strong arms around her as though she were his lifeline.
“C-Colby?” Tag’s voice was a quiet gasp against his chest, her cheeks flushing under her fur. She stiffened momentarily, her heart racing.
But then she felt the tension in his hold, the desperation behind the embrace. He clung to her like she was the only thing keeping him anchored. Her surprise softened into understanding.
“It’s okay,” she murmured gently, her voice barely more than a breath. “You’re okay.”
Carefully, Tag placed her arms around him, returning the hug. Her touch was warm, steadying, and within moments, Colby’s breathing began to calm. The lines of worry on his face eased, his body relaxing against hers.
Whatever storm raged in his dream ebbed away, replaced by peace. His grip loosened slightly, and he let out a soft sigh, his chin resting against her head.
Tag stayed still, her mind spinning. She felt a strange mix of emotions – concern, protectiveness, and something deeper she couldn’t quite name. But for now, she focused on Colby, holding him until she was sure the nightmare had passed.
In the stillness of the night, she whispered as she fell back asleep,
“Sweet dreams, Colby.”
![[Fanfic] Love is Driven - Ch. 3 - Hazard Lights](https://va.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/5232/5232418_DeltaFlame_ch3-title_lid_noncustom.jpg "[Fanfic] Love is Driven - Ch. 3 - Hazard Lights")
![[Fanfic] Love is Driven - Ch. 7 - Go for Gold](https://va.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/5356/5356726_DeltaFlame_ch7-title_lid_noncustom.jpg "[Fanfic] Love is Driven - Ch. 7 - Go for Gold")
