His gaze met hers, and suddenly she saw behind the eyes of the greatest predator known to her kind.

          Shaila leapt up and started to run for her life, but she came crashing down onto her sore paw with a yelp. She whined in fear and in pain, but then her eyes were glued to her torn paw. It was free of the trap, but bound in thick white cloths that surrounded her paw in warmth and security. She sniffed at it, and almost retched. The hunter’s scent was all over it. What had he done to her last night? Why hadn’t he just shot her right away? She remembered the hard prick that started beneath her skin. Was that what had made her sleep? Her unbound paw searched for the wound the strange pricking had left, but then it found rope.

          She tugged at it, and realized she was tied to a tree like a dog on a leash. She was trapped again.

          A single tear slid down her cheek.

          She whirled around in desperation and started chewing on the rope, but her mouth responded with an ache that convinced her the rope was not made of threads but hard metal. She spat into the dirt, and then flung herself back against the tree.

          The hunter was standing over her with a smile she thought looked malicious and distrustful. “Easy now,” he said, “You’re going to be all right.” He hesitated, and then slowly extended his hand.

          Instinct flared up inside Shaila, and with a wild-eyed stare she nipped him on the fingers.

          “Ow!” He jerked back his hand into a cupped palm, and then chuckled softly. “That was my own fault. You’re not tame, not like my dogs. You’re wild. But maybe you can help me yet.” He grinned hard at her, and Shaila felt herself quiver all over. What was he talking about? And he had…dogs?

          A shrill whistle from his lips brought three mutts running from the underbrush to his side, panting and wagging their tails and licking his hands and coat. At first Shaila thought they were huskies, but on closer inspection she noticed their ears drooped like a hound’s, and their fur was slightly thinner than a dog of northern breeding’s should be. She watched them warily, and one by one their brown eyes fastened on her, weighing her up against them.

          “You four get acquainted,” the hunter said, “You be careful, though. This one’s a nervous wreck.” He tapped his bitten fingers, shook his head, and trudged away.

          Shaila looked around with wide eyes at the three canines staring at her. She backed up as far as the short rope would let her and pressed herself against the trees. Her heart pounded inside her ears.

          One of the dogs, a dark gray and white male, let out a short laugh. “This is the big bad wolf? I’ve eaten things that looked scarier.”

          “Well, we do know you’ll eat anything,” the white female said drily. She sniffed Shaila’s scent carefully.

          The male raised his eyebrows at her. “What is this, amateur hour?” But then his tone softened, and he looked sympathetically into Shaila’s face. “Hey, don’t be scared of us. We’re off-duty now, we won’t hurt you. My name’s Bullet.”

          “Oh, yeah, that ought to make her feel a lot better,” the female commented.

          Bullet shrugged. “It’s only because I’m fast.” He turned and shot around the clearing within a few seconds, and came back with his head and tail raised high. “Fast as a bullet, get it?”

          “Fast, yes,” grunted the old, steel gray male curled up on the ground, “But about as deadly as a half-inch paper cut. Now stop running around like a chicken with a bad haircut!”

          “Huh?” Bullet and the female stared at each other in perplexity. Even in her situation, a smile darted across Shaila’s face at the mixed-up sayings.

          Bullet saw it, and he grinned. “See? Nothing to be scared of. That’s Moody Blue. Even though he’s old and mangy and completely mixed up in the head, he’s actually a pretty good hunter.”

          “I’m sorry, did you want a word of thanks or a slug in the gut?” Moody Blue asked sarcastically, “I’m confused.”

          “Bullet!” the female exclaimed disapprovingly. “Do you really think she wants to hear anything about hunting? Don’t listen to anything he says,” she told Shaila, “He’s the most conceited airhead you’ll ever meet. Sometimes I’m surprised he doesn’t just up and float away.” She smiled with genuine warmth. “My name’s Angel.”

          “Don’t read anything into it, though,” Bullet said, “If she had been a boy, Jake was going to name her Demon.”

          Angel glared at him. Bullet shrugged and raised his eyebrows as if daring her to deny the truth.

          By this time Shaila had managed to calm herself, even though her heart still thudded quickly against the inside of her chest. Her curiosity had grown, too, listening to their banter, and so she gathered her courage and said softly, “Why is your owner keeping me here?”

          “It speaks!” Moody Blue muttered gruffly.

          Bullet flashed her a quick grin. “Who, Jake? Uh…” He and Angel exchanged glances, an action that didn’t escape Shaila’s notice. “…I don’t know.”

          For the first time there was an awkward silence between the group. Shaila felt herself grow hot and then cold, cold as ice. There was something they weren’t telling her, and it made the fire in her bones flare at the thought of running free from this place where her future was uncertain.

          “You probably want to know how you got here,” Angel said suddenly with a dry chuckle, “Who wouldn’t? Well, Jake was going to take us hunting (sorry) last night, but then it started to snow. Now, Jake hadn’t seen game for the past few days, and the snow would make all the scents cold, anyway. So he gave us the night off.”

          Snow. Relief coursed through Shaila in a welcome stream. The trail of blood was covered; the others were safe. That was all that mattered.

          “So Jake decided to go out and check his traps,” Angel continued, “And he came back carrying you. He bandaged your paw, tied you to that tree, and told us to leave you alone until you woke up. And he must have tranquilized you or something because you were knocked out. You didn’t even flinch when he tightened the bandages around your paw.”

          “I don’t know why he’s keeping you here, or why he didn’t just let you go,” Bullet said. He ignored Angel’s warning glance. He jerked his head towards Jake, who sat carving something by the small fire. “I mean, we have enough furs…”

          Suddenly Shaila’s blood froze over. On the hunter’s back, its red-brown hairs capturing the firelight and glinting gold at the very tips, was Kestra’s pelt.

          The acids in Shaila’s stomach churned wildly, and a sour taste gathered at the back of her mouth. The world began to blacken and spin, and she closed her eyes. The awful realization bit at her brain: this was the hunter who had killed her brother’s love. These were the dogs who had seen it all.

          “Whoa, are you okay?” Bullet said.

          Shaila shuddered and opened her eyes. Bullet and Angel looked worried, but right now she didn’t feel she could trust their concern. “Yeah,” she said quietly. She sighed, and remembered Shade telling her about Kestra’s last day. “Isn’t there one more of you?” she asked wearily.

          Bullet brightened. “Yeah. Teke! We grew up like brothers. Well, almost; we had the same mother, but he had a different father.”

          Angel smiled at Shaila’s surprised expression. “Jake did some experimenting with breeding. He wanted the ideal hunting dog for Alaskan weather, so he got us. Husky-hounds, he calls us. Nose and ears of a hound, fur and strength of a Siberian husky. The perfect hunting dog.” She wrinkled her muzzle. “How did you know about Teke?”

          Shaila lay down and rested her head on