+Mimic+

Chapter 3.

"March!" Nevada called, and stood, cream shoulders squared and head held high, he pricked his ears, giving him the air of importance that was expected of a general. He watched the troop march past him before giving an approving nod.
"Halt!"

He turned and met Ridga's eyes, the older kelpies brown ones were hard set, and he nodded, "You fit this role."

"I know," Nevada replied curtly. He looked behind him, he guessed that between the three fleets there would be roughly two-hundred-and-fifty soldiers.

"How are you going to choose seven out of this group?" Ridga asked, Nevada tensed as he heard the Admirals tone soften, he was not ready to forgive and forget, not after what had happened the other week. It had come as a surprise to everyone when Nevada had passed his Generals test first attempt. It appeared everyone had assumed he would simply let himself go, but despite his disappointment he had trained every day, and his fitness had only improved since he'd led Fleet 6.

"I have a plan." Nevada replied, and let a crooked grin fall across his face. "Lieutenant, take the troops to the drop zone, I will meet you there with further instruction." Nevada nodded to the black and white border collie who hollered orders, leading the Fleet away from them.

"Outside?" Ridga asked, his jaws tensing. Nevada felt a twinge of pride, he was considered to be ranked higher than the admiral, although he was still addressed as General Nevada, he held the Regale name, and was leading a mission that Ridga did not know anything about, and that Ridga had not been considered for.

"Yes, outside. How else am I expected to know of their skills?" Nevada turned and walked away without any further attempt at acknowledgement. It's petty, yes, but does it look like I care? He walked out the big, decorated wood door at the front entrance, marvelling at how the gold trim glinted in the moonlight as he walked through it.

He breathed out, smiling at the fog it left in the air. Winter was coming, that would be perfect, stealth was easier in the snow, it made dogs relax. As he approached the drop-zone he heard the slight sound of hushed conversation.

"Prince Nevada, this is Lady Rio Aceita, reporting for duty sir!" Nevada laughed as his dark brown and tan friend fell into step beside him.

"Are you ready for your test, my Lady?" He asked, a smirk playing on his expression.

Rio narrowed her eyes at him, "I expect more grovelling at my awesomeness," she sniffed, looking down her nose disdainfully. Nevada barely contained his laugh as they stepped into the crowded fenced area. The drop zone was where they had sent air vehicles in the old days, now it was useless, except to gather large groups.

Nevada leapt up the rusted metal ribcage of a fallen aircraft, sticking out of the earth like some prehistoric creature. He breathed in and smiled down at the troops.

"For your test!" He called, throwing his voice out into the night air and letting the stars see it, and accept his presence. "The mission requirements are stealth and strength, so your challenge is to find me, I will hide in the woods, the first twenty to find me will be asked into the next round, and those who don't will return to their barracks. When you hear the ring of a bell, that's your mark to start, and my howl is your mark to end. If you find me, return to base and meet me in Hangar 3." He paused, looking out across the attentive faces, "Understood!?"

"Yessir!" The crowd chorused back at him. Nevada nodded, then nimbly made his way down from the aircraft remains and darted out a small hole in the fence behind him. He wasted no time in lunging up the closest tree. He leaped North nimbly from tree to tree for about five minutes, putting as much ground between him and the grounds as possible before dropping from a low branch, right into the brown stick of mud. He smiled to himself, perfect, and lay down, rolling a few times in the gritty liquid until his cream fur was brown. He then turned East padding carefully through the undergrowth until he finally came upon a tall pine. He made his way up, going slower this time, one branch at a time, being careful not to dislodge any bark. Nevada had just settled himself when he heard the ringing of a bell to the South. He smiled and shrank back as far as he could, nestled neatly out of sight in the fork of a few of the branches.