Ankyra Sound Once you had a motorcycle, but you couldn't ride it right.

Sugar bent over double, one hind leg lifted to dig her toes at an itch just behind her right ear. When she heard Raleska speak, she dropped her foot and straightened. Rising onto all fours, she loped across the strip of sand to the grotto's mouth, lingering in the threshold a moment before padding inside.

"I can carry one and you can carry the other?" she suggested after a beat, black eyes dropping to the two small bundles. They were growing quickly and it might be burdensome to carry one for long, given her own small size, though Sugar was determined to help, no matter how far they must go.

This was her calling, after all: she fancied herself a nomadic medic (a "nomedic," if you will). Although she'd begun having doubts during her spates of solitude, being here with Raleska and her pups had renewed her enthusiasm for her vocation.