Ankyra Sound "If."

Boy, the wolf addressed him, and the coywolf, pitiably small in comparison, thought to wither for a second. But though he didn't know her at all and wouldn't so much as recognize her face these days, Ephraim was his mother's son. Somewhere within him was a cunning and clever knave with a crocodile's fierce heart. With training and discipline he might learn yet to master his timidity and face an unknown foe without twitching a whisker to betray his nerves. But he was still a boy, unable to control himself quite that well, especially around kids his own age.

The man asked about his master, and the grumpiest part of his personality surged to the fore. "I'm my own master," he asserted, pinning up his ears in an effort to seem larger and more impressive than he was. He had Heda, whose orders he diligently followed because she commanded respect with ease and had given him a life he might have lost had he been turned away. She had taught him their ways and tutored him even now so that he might become the best he could be. Drageda was a tough bunch of wolves demanding loyalty and strength of character, but the life he might otherwise have had was rougher still. But Ephraim didn't consider her his master.

"No," he answered simply, "but I wouldn't stay here if I was you. Heda wouldn't like it and she's not one to cross." Jabbing his snout toward the cliff towering over the beach, Ephraim said, "she rules the wolves up there, and they're strong." Stronger than you, he wanted to add, but he refrained. Instead, thinking he was quite sly indeed, he tacked on, "only the best wolves run with Heda. I bet if you impressed her, you could spend as much time as you wanted down here."