Seaside Moors People ought to stick together, that's the way to make a crowd.

Unlike her brother, who'd been mostly quiet throughout the journey, the hooded youngster complained. Often. Loudly. She hadn't appreciated being plucked from the only place she'd ever really known to be carried by the grip of unfamiliar jaws for miles.

Where was the provider? Why wasn't the milk bar available on demand? Most upsetting of all, she was mostly separated from the one constant thing she could rely on for comfort: her brother.

Sometimes, too exhausted to carry on, she wailed herself to sleep - much to the relief of her suffering guardian's ears, no doubt. When jostled awake again, however, the mewling begun immediately and with renewed vigor

At last they stopped and, settled on the ground alongside her littermate to whom she pressed her little body against. She trembled, fearful of being out in the open and in a foreign place.