The forest at night was alive. Beetles chittered in the cool of broad leaves. Sleek mice scratched for grubs. Sweet and savory, a night breeze wafted in and out of trees. Kip snuffled in the short grass.

The pup loved his late night runs with his man. His legs were not so big but his man ran so he could keep up. In and around the trunks, they chased. Each night they played until his man’s woman arrived.

Kip would explore the darkness while his man held his woman in the heart of the woods. He was a keirwolf. Someday Kip would grow nearly as tall as his man. Someday Kip would be able to run faster than eyes could track. Kip would be a fierce hunter one day but today he was stalking a short eared bunny.

The keirwolves were the traditional protectors of the dragon soldiers. Kip didn’t know about tradition. He was focused on the soft thumps of a rabbit across the moss. Each night Kip would bring his catch back to his man. Kip looked forward to his man’s praise. The pup loved curling asleep against the side of his man.

The pup didn’t care for the woman. Kip didn’t like to share and she smelt different. Once he got used to her she was all right. He grew to miss her during the day. The woman smelt of his man. Now they were both his dragon soldiers.

Suddenly there was a new smell: danger. Kip froze. Humans, seven no eight, were approaching. Kip gave a low low bark that only dragon shifters could hear. Sulphur from two dragon soldiers spiked the night air. They were alerted.

Kip was only a pup. His fangs descended as he turned to stalk the humans that hunted what was his to protect. Fur bristling, Kip turned the color of night. Kip was a pup who bites.