Some wild dogs licked their jowls and panted. The few who had cowered under Shep’s gaze now looked up at him, their eyes black slits, their tails flicking. Zeus’s head hung low and there was no wag in his tail. There was a gash in the fur on his shoulder. “Please, no,” Shep whimpered, the noise escaping his muzzle before he could think better of it. Zeus’s ears pricked up immediately. Every hair on his body trembled at this expression of weakness. “What?” he growled. “Do you yield?” He stepped one paw closer to Shep, his jowls trembling. Shep regained his stance — chest out, ears alert, tail up. “I do not yield,” he spat. Shep’s heart pounded inside his chest. He could not abandon the other dogs to these mongrels. But to have to fight Zeus to protect them? Kill his best friend? Not wanting the wild pack to see his teeth chatter, Shep locked his jaws. He had to stay strong. Everything could change in a heartbeat and the entire pack would be on him. Zeus moved a stretch closer to Shep.
