Zeek continued to take a lackadaisical approach to Papa's instruction not to wander. At four months old, even the pudgy pup had been made somewhat lanky by the spur of growth upon him. He was utterly confident that soon, very soon, he would be tall as Papa — no, taller than Papa! And the Big Bad Wolf would run scared from Zacharie. It all made sense in his head.

Between the buffets of wind, a sound pricked his ears. Zeek's curly tail gave a wag at the high-pitched howl, the irresistible impulse to answer welling up in his throat in quick reply. His gravelly little song echoed off the grey mountainside, and he bounce-ran after the first voice. Maybe this would be a new playmate- er, practice-mate! For battle! Yeah!