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August glanced over at Silver, looking for some sense of fear or bravery or something of the sort. He couldn't detect anything, however, and instead just turned his attention back to the dog. It hadn't gotten any less angry; in fact, it looked as if its snarl had grown deeper and the eyes had filled with more intense hatred than before.
When the dog took a slow, daunting step towards them, he froze completely with his eyes open wide and pupils dilated. He wasn't ready to die, but Silver had more going for her than he had. He was nothing but a dirty street-rat of a tom who never had anything better to do than survive. Silver was still young, and still beautiful. He couldn't let a cat as precious as herself be torn to ugly bits by an even uglier animal.
Just as his claws unsheathed to prepare for a futile battle promising certain death, Silver stepped up beside him. He couldn't say that he'd thought she would stay behind him like he'd wanted her to; she didn't seem like that sort of she-cat. He knew from the moment he saw her that she was... Different, but in the best way. He knew, from the second the dog came running in, that she wouldn't just stand back and let him fight.
He caught her glance from him to the leash, puzzling over what she meant for a moment. In his desperation to live, her idea came to him within a split second and he knew what they had to do. August pranced out closer to the dog, head held high in the defiance of fear that he knew dogs hated. The dog's bleak, black eyes switched over from Silver to August, growing lowly. He pranced for a moment, but when the dog turned completely and began to speed up, August flashed a quick look at Silver that he prayed wouldn't be his last and sprinted off down the grass, the dog in hot pursuit.