Lucky had been nipped in play-fights, but never like this. The pain still surged at his neck but he tried not to show it.

Wiggle didn’t mean to hurt me—he just doesn’t know his own strength. And it felt like his fangs are starting to come through. . . .

“I’m fine,” Lucky murmured, giving Wiggle’s ears an affectionate lick. He beckoned the pup’s littermates to come nearer. They sat in front of him. Lucky spoke softly, but he was sure to make his voice loud enough for Sweet to hear. “As you get older, you will develop fangs. They’re going to be very important for you; they will help you catch prey, and to defend yourself against an attack. But they can also cause great damage if you’re careless. Can I trust you to be careful when you play with one another or other dogs? Remember not to bite too hard.”

Lick and Wiggle yipped their agreement and, after a moment, Grunt gave a nod.

“Good,” said Lucky. “Once all your fangs have come through, it’ll be time for you to choose your proper dog names.”

“Really?” yipped Wiggle.

“Yes. Every Wild Dog I’ve ever met has chosen their name when they grew up. Leashed Dogs are named by their longpaws.” Lucky shook himself. It wasn’t an entirely good memory for him—the longpaws he had lived with as a pup had never cared for him the way the Leashed Dogs’ longpaws did.

“Anyway, you’ll be all grown up soon enough,” said Lucky, surprised to feel a bite of sadness in his belly.

Martha appeared from the edge of the camp, padding languidly on her webbed paws. The pups pounced and yipped in excitement, bounding toward her and nuzzling her legs. She greeted them by licking their ears and turned to Lucky.

“I thought I might take these youngsters off your paws for a while. I’m going on patrol with Moon and her pups; maybe Lick, Grunt, and Wiggle would like to help? Only the cleverest dogs with the finest senses are invited to go on patrol.”

The pups started running in excited circles.

“Yes, please!” yapped Lick.

“We’ll be the best at patrolling!” added Grunt. “No dog has senses as good as ours!”

Lucky was touched by their enthusiasm. “What a good idea,” he said. He sat down to wash his paws as Martha went to join Moon, the pups bouncing and scampering at her side. His neck still stung where Wiggle had bitten it, but he did not think it was bleeding.