Bearclaw Valley Ye'll tak' the high road, and I'll tak' the low road,

Good, Fraser said succintly, allowing himself to smile just barely. They were allied, then—brothers in arms. What arms, exactly, the deerhound didn't know. But they protected this valley, and they protected Merrick. They were woven tightly together now. . .unless (until?) one or the other betrayed their oath.

He relaxed a hair. I'm Fraser, the dog introduced himself, giving a little wag of his wiry tail. And you? He was impressed by this rugged specimen of a wolf, the kind of animal only borne from the most wild of places. Would he grow this hardy, with time? With practice?

He still felt very much like a stranger in a savage land.