We walk. We are a column. Obedient First Eyes in point, the pups and then me in First Eyes’ position. Watching her walk proudly, confidently on this Sour-soil feels like a night-walk. She is still confident we made the right choice. She says there must be some sentient beings not far from here. Until we find them, we will be Pack. The pups are Wild, not Set or Rise. They will be the First Eyes of the future of dogs. Dogs who smell Pack as including all creatures, who are kind to all and look after all of them as First Eyes should.

Obedient First Eyes’ high hindquarters are quivering. She is still not at full strength. The whelping was harder than most dogs endure with whelp-provision, medication and the support of Pack. The pups will be dependent, at least partially, on her for another quarter-season^ but then I can fully take over. Without whelp-feed I can’t bring my own milk in. Obedient First Eyes is a mighty warrior. I know she will be well soon. We are all dependent on her now though. She is the First Eyes of this new aroma.

Pack must know we are gone by now. No-dogs would stay in a whelp-den for an eighth-season without a QD^. I wonder if any-dog has figured out how we did it.

I smell her annoyance. Small Runt^ Wild and Boisterous Wild are whining. They only opened their eyes fortieth ago; they should not have to travel this early. They are swaying and wandering very much at random. We carried them all in cache-pouches for their first tenth-season. Obedient First Eyes wanted to travel immediately. I would have preferred them all having some recovery time. She smelled of fear. I knew we couldn’t wait. I go to the pups and pick up Boisterous and bring her to First Eyes with me. I lick her head when I put her down. She has stopped whining. She is more interested in chasing Daring Wild’s tail as he wiggles along. Small Runt is still whining so I scoop him into my cache-pouch. I hope he can hear my heart as I send him waves of calm, safe, Pack. He continues to make small sounds, but he eventually settles. He is tired, they all are. In truth, so am I. I am not practised in travelling with such stamina. Obedient First Eyes is not radiating exhaustion, but I know she must be feeling it too.

( We will den here for the night. ) She feels weary in my stomach, ( I will provide, you dig us something suitable. )

“Of course, my Soil and World,” the familiar words already seem impossibly old. I park the pups, who start tussling in the undergrowth, and begin to clear an area. I dig a temporary den for our new Pack. I am getting faster and better at it each night, having dug something completely unsuitable that first night when we carried the pups as far as we could from where they were whelped. Soon enough I have something that would keep any rain off our backs if it ever rained here. I groom Small Runt a little. I haven’t told Obedient First Eyes, but I dug some earth from the tunnel into my cache-pouch. They may never have a comfort-unit but if they wanted to have a scent of comfort, there is something. If it will work when they didn’t stay immersed in it for at least a tenth. A few bits of debris have stuck to him from riding on it in my cache-pouch.

He is clean and running to play with his litter-mates when Obedient First Eyes returns. I can smell her excitement before I see her. She is scent-skipping, tiredness gone. She is carrying a decent sized reptile that smells like an ungulate^. I would not normally be surprised at her bringing down a prey-animal (of any size), but she is tired. And feeding. And still recovering. And hardly well-fed from days of little available prey and my terrible attempts at providing. She sends excitement down the pack-bond and I realise it is not because of her prey. She has found something. She drops the prey and flops down before the pups can swarm her, asking to be fed. They start to find nipples and settle down. Small Runt, unsurprisingly, is unable to find somewhere to latch on. Obedient First Eyes has kept her Runt-nipple, (closest to her head – most easily monitored and defended), free. Once he has latched on and they are all happily suckling, she sends me pack-images. Large tortoise-like footprints. The smells of herbivorous reptile. The still-detectable warmth in the footprints even though the individual left some time ago.

( A tortoise, already! ) I prompt her to use audible language, we are trying to ensure the pups get the best chances to learn all communication. She leans round the pups to chat with me. “I thought we could be walking a half-season before we found evidence of tortoise civilisation. I have no idea how these tortoises strategise. Maybe they are patrolling in case of attempted military action. Maybe they are trying to figure out the barrier. Maybe tortoises may go where they please.” Her voice has more confidence than since she announced her intentions (really only days ago but so long ago and far away). She is alive and shimmering to all senses. The relief I smell tells me that she had not been as certain that we would survive as I had thought she was.

“Excellent. We can fill our bellies tonight and den here. Then set off after the tortoise in the Rise.” The warrior in her wants to head on tonight while scents are fresher, but the tired dog in her knows I am right to rest and grow strength. She lies back as the pups begin to fall asleep against her, still latched on. She releases into the pack-bond and lets me feel the utter hormonal contentment and rightness that comes at this time. It does not last. Pups normally leave to creche after a third and are in training by the time they have completed one or two cycles. We have only smelled our first pups once since they went to creche, a cycle ago. Most of them are moving on to training this cycle on World. I wish them well, but I can’t recall having this level of fierce connection to them, even though we must have done.

I want to roll in this feeling, but I know we will not eat if I give into it now. I drag myself away from our pups and their radiant whelper and try to break off a limb of the reptile-ungulate for Obedient First Eyes. I hope she doesn’t feel infantalised. But she seems so content under the pile of pups. I don’t want to disturb any of them. The skin of this reptile is much thicker than any I have previously found. How did Obedient First Eyes bring this down? After mauling a lot of the flesh on this creature’s well-developed rear limbs, I manage to shake and tear a limb from the torso. I take it to Obedient First Eyes who has been watching me amusedly from her snug position. She starts to chew, peeling back the thick skin as she goes, like a hide-worker. These scaled pelts are very tough. Pack would have many uses for this hide.

I return to the prey and manage to wrest a smaller limb off for myself. Obedient First Eyes and I lie in amicable silence sharing the glow of her hormones^. Once our bellies are full, I quickly dig a cache for the rest of the provision and we sleep-pile. I let her deep-sleep while I skim the edge of sleep. I am no warrior (I could not manage going without sleep for more than a day), but as a Soil parent I sleep very lightly for night-shifts denning with creche-pups.

A reptilian scent! I drift closer to the surface of sleep. I hear an animal approaching. It is not hiding its progress to any senses. It is on the trail of something. Headed this way. I check all the pups are here. I can’t find Bright Wild. I drop my nose and sniff around for him. I pick up his scent quickly and follow it closer and closer to the approaching lizard. The thunderous sound of it breaking through foliage makes me aware of how large this creature is.

I make as much noise as I can – hoo-calling, screeching and chittering. I scream into the pack-bond. I feel Obedient First Eyes come awake. She is up and coming towards me. She sends commands and questions,

( Who is missing? If this thing is tracking the pup, I will persuade it to follow me instead. Do anything to confuse the scent trail of Bright. Get him and get Pack to safety. I will defend Pack. )

I run, panicked towards where I can smell Bright. He is staggering and yelping in fear. I can’t see him. Mostly I hear the rustling of four beings moving round each other in greater and greater states of arousal. Bright’s yips are confused by this cacophony. I reach him at the same time as I see the terrifying reptile-horror break into a run towards him. I am closer to him. He is heading towards me. We will not outpace it for long.

I grab him clumsily and run. I run towards the temporary den. I hear the thing tearing through vegetation, following. I hear Obedient First Eyes’s howl-scream and hear the thud of her landing on the thing’s back. It snarls and screams. I hear savagery that chills my blood colder than the reptile’s. I keep running. I get to the temporary den. It was stupid to return here. There is now a wide trail of fear to lead that thing here if Obedient First Eyes…doesn’t stop it. Cursing myself, I grab the cache-pouches and try to get the pups into them. Bright is crying. That attracts the others. I put him in with Small Runt and Cheerful. Quiet, Nosey and Boisterous in the other. Daring and Tunnel First Eyes begin to run. I chase after them, scent-masking. The pups won’t be scent-masked but the harder it is to follow the better.

I hear screams and howls in the night. I reach down the pack-bond to Obedient First Eyes. I find her in her fighting state, still and calm. She doesn’t panic. She reaches a state where she can see every bite and swipe that is needed to leave her standing. Best not to distract her. I find an area with large roots sticking out of soggy ground. I lead the two running pups to it. We get in amongst the roots. That thing would have issues getting to us. I just need to make sure we don’t drown. Daring has travelled a little further ahead, apparently not knowing dogs do not swim. He gets onto a softish, but drier, mound under a canopy of roots, and hoos. I scramble over the roots with my cache-pouches and tip them out. I turn to find Tunnel First Eyes. She is making her way over after me, not forgetting that dogs don’t swim.

I splash over to her, scruff her and dump her amongst her littermates.

“You are First Eyes, guide the others” I know she doesn’t understand but I wanted to tell her something. I then rush a Packs-length away and un-mask, dumping hormones everywhere, running at random, but further and further from the pups. I can hear a quiet hoo and the scrambling approach of the reptile. I loop back to the temporary den, trying to join up the scent of fear and hide the pups. As I clatter back, I hear a sickening sound. The tearing and devouring of flesh.

I can’t help but howl. The thing stops eating and listens. I flatten myself and hope I can remember anything from basic training. I get myself as far away from the root-den, the pups and that thing as fast as I can.