Swiftcurrent Creek preacher's daughter

One puppy, two puppy, thr—

Nope. No, Mae was gone. Again. The man released a low groan and corralled the two that actually listened to, once again, poor Shardik.

He began to track her steps—annoyance spurned by worry when he realized her little pawprints were taking her over the borders and away from the safety of her home, when a crooning howl beckoned him from the direction of the creek.

Wren was there—Mae standing quite proudly at the woman’s feet, and his chest flared with both anger and concern as he came to the girl, muzzle bending low to suss out any injury to the little hellion.

The drift of breeze revealed to him Wren was in the prime of her season—and his gaze flashed toward her, studying her, also. Very much not pregnant with a cowboy’s litter.

He found himself at a loss at what to say to her—and so a stern gaze was placed upon his daughter. “Well, Mae… I can’t wait to hear what I assume is a really good reason why you directly disobeyed my orders and went over our pack borders.”