After a night welcoming the new hunter and pups, Jack watched Em'brel and Sare'en play with their new pups while patting a somewhat forlorn Grim in the morning haze. "Don't worry, boy. You haven't been replaced! They'll just need a little extra attention until they learn how to behave around argu'n. You'll be able to join in the fun soon enough!"

Then, as if to punctuate his point, one of the wolgen pups got a little too rambunctious, earning a flick to the nose and the spoken command, "Gentle!"

Grim huffed out a lungful of air as close to a forlorn sigh as Jack suspected the beast could imitate. The human laughed and gave Grim a morsel of meat to lighten the wolgen's melancholy mood. "I hear you, boy, I do! But I promise you, Sare'en hasn't abandoned you! You just want to rough house with your new siblings, which would be fine, except we're trying to teach them to be gentle, so you're gonna have to wait a bit, is all." Grim gobbled down the offering before laying his head back on his paws and huffing again, earning another chuckle from Jack.

S'haar approached the two males with a raised eye ridge. "Is our resident troublemaker having trouble adjusting to his new siblings?"

Jack grinned back at her as he ruffled Grim's thick mangy fur. "He'll be fine. He's just a little jealous of all the attention they're getting from Sare'en and Em'brel. Until now, he's been the baby, and it will take him some time to adjust to his role as an older brother."

S'haar looked at the forlorn not-so-pup and smiled just a little. "And have you thought up any names for the new additions to our convoy? We can't keep calling them "pups" forever."

At this, Angela, who was finishing up her charging, jumped into the conversation via their headsets. "Well, there aren't many mythological dog siblings, Cerberus and Orthrus come to mind, but since these two are females, those names just sound a little odd."

Jack nodded before adding his own thoughts. "Well, what about we go with a mythical breed of dogs instead of specific dogs, so the names are more gender neutral? There's always some bleed-over between dialects, so the same mythological breeds probably have different names in different cultures."

Angela sounded excited at the idea of getting to tap into some of the more archaic databases she was able to condense onto her hard drive. "Ohh, good idea! How about the cŵn Annwn from welsh folklore and cù-sìthe From Gaelic? Those are fun names!"

Jack shook his head. "Too many syllables. We'd have to shorten the names to make issuing commands easier."

S'haar simply looked confused. "Are those names from you people's native language? They sound like you jumbled up a bunch of your usual letters into new sounds I've never heard you use!"

Jack nodded in agreement. "That's because they came from ancient dialects that are rarely spoken these days. Honestly, I doubt I could replicate the pronunciation without a lot of practice!"

Angela sounded like she was pouting a little. "Well, fine, if you don't want the original pronunciations, how about the proto-Celtic version of cŵn Annwn, 'Kunes' and the English pronunciation for cù-sìthe which is 'Kushee?' They even sound like sisters now!"

Em'brel had evidently been listening in because she spoke up while playing with one of the pups. "Kunes and Kushee? I like it! What do you think, Kunes?" The wolgen pup yipped in excitement, though that might be more because of the string on a stick Em'brel was using like a cat toy than the name.

Sare'en was more relaxed with her pup, who seemed content to just lay half in the herder's lap and get some nice scratches. "I guess that would make you Kushee? How's that sound, girl?" The second wolgen stretched out a paw before settling back in to relax a little longer.

S'haar's smile became a little more pronounced before she resumed her role as the camp leader. "Well, now that we have that straightened out, we need to be heading out soon. I'll have someone else break down your tents for you so you can spend a bit more time with the pups today, but you might need to teach them to ride on a sled sooner rather than later, at least until they develop the musculature to walk all day like Grim."

Em'brel held up Kunes, so her front paws were dangling in the air, shaking her back and forth in a way the wolgen pup seemed to think was a great new game. "You hear that, Kunes? You get to go for a ride! Yes, you do! You get to go for a ride! I'm so jealouuus!"

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Kushee watched on with calm detachment while Grim released another forlorn huff.

-

Ger'ron was walking in formation. He pulled one of the lightest sleds these days since his load was divided up among the other guards. Still, it could have been worse. After he'd lost his leg, he would have been just about useless back in the village, but here with this collection of oddly skillful misfits, the old guard was not only still working, he found himself in a position of some import.

Though he often wondered if he was the best argu'n for the job. Sure, he knew how to train these young pups into becoming something more than they were before, but that's all he knew. When it came time to discuss formations or strategy, his only real value was pointing out which guards were best suited for the ideas others came up with.

Not that that was a bad thing. It was all the old guard had to do back in the outpost, but out here in the wilds, the leadership of the outcasts often met to discuss possible tactics and strategy in the event of a confrontation with A'ngles' forces, most of which seemed so far beyond Ger'ron's understanding, he was wondering more and more if a younger more adaptable mind might not be a better fit for the role. Then he could just focus on what he did best, training the guards while leaving the technical and strategic thinking to those better suited. Besides, all this marching was really taking a toll on the old guard, and at the end of the day, all he wanted to do was eat some dinner and then find his bedroll rather than sit around and listen to everyone discussing what the future might hold.

Fea'en seemed to pick up on Ger'ron's thoughts as she pulled up next to the old male, hauling her own load with an ease that left the male a little jealous. Then again, he knew from experience that the long hours carrying the lumber her job required had left the Lady more muscular than most females.

The craft master grinned as she spoke. "What's got you so deep in thought, you old churlish? Thinking about retiring again?"

Ger'ron's return smile was full of the exhaustion the old guard felt. "As usual, your ability to cut through my defenses leaves me helpless in the face of your words. Yes, I was. I honestly think Lack'nul would make a better guard captain than I."

The old guard's smile turned a little more genuine as he continued. "Not that I'm ready to fully retire! I wouldn't forgive myself if some youngun got killed in a fight because I wasn't around to drill more discipline and dirty tricks into their minds and bodies. Besides, I gotta keep moving if I'm going to keep up with my Lady's demands during our date nights! I just want to leave the tactics and strategies to a mind more adaptable than my old stubborn brain. I think Lack'nul would do well if given half a chance."

Fea'en raised an eye ridge. "Well, I've no objection to you easing off a bit. You've required every bit as much from yourself as you've expected from kids less than half your age. Just don't go feeling sorry for yourself while doing so. And yes, I expect you to keep yourself fit and useful if you want to keep sharing my bedroll, but you don't have to kill yourself doing so. A grave is not nearly as good at keeping me company during the long nights on the march!"

Ger'ron nodded happily. "Fair enough! Once we get a little more breathing room, I'll speak with S'haar and Jack about it. But for now, we should just focus on making it to the next camp at nightfall!"

-

As Dek'thul wandered through the forest paths on the mountains, he couldn't help but consider the young lord, B'arthon. Until less than a year ago, he assumed the younger male to be an out-of-character charity case for Lord A'ngles. Not that A'ngles couldn't be generous, but usually only when there was some benefit to the village or himself. It was one of the things that made A'ngles such a good leader, do what he said and work toward the betterment of the village, and you would always find yourself taken care of in return.

But B'arthon had always seemed the exception to that rule. Of course, Dek'thul realized that something must have been physically wrong with A'ngles that prevented him from siring his heir, so it was no surprise when he found an orphaned youth to take into his house, but time and again, B'arthon had seemed no more than a disappointment.

At first, Dek'thul chalked it up to B'arthon simply lashing out from his rough childhood, but more and more, it had seemed the young noble would never change. Then, one day the petulant child was replaced with the now disturbingly competent commander who now led the joint force to eliminate the outcasts from the dragon's outpost. It seemed apparent that the young noble's spoiled behavior until now had been mainly an act, but to what ends? Though now that Dek'thul thought about it, he could remember many occasions where the supposedly drunk B'arthon had been sitting in the inn in a stupor while other more reputable workers and nobles had spoken freely around the youth, utterly dismissive of his presence as though he hadn't been a factor. A'ngles seemed always to be several hunts ahead of anyone else, and this was probably far from his only information source in the village, but it was just one more example of why one shouldn't underestimate Lord A'ngles.

Dek'thul was more motivated than ever to ensure his son lived through this ordeal, even if the hunt master had to drag him back to the village, kicking and screaming. If only he could...

That was when the hunt master found what he'd been looking for. A large path filled with dozens of sled tracks. Wanting to be sure, the hunter looked around for the other tell-tale sign. There it was, wolgen tracks. This was clearly the path the outcasts of the Dragon's Outpost had taken. It was time to report back to B'arthon.