In the beginning, his eyes were closed, his nose was plugged with some wetness, and his legs were soft and floppy. She had licked. She pushed him towards her, encouraging him to drink until his belly was round with fullness and warmth. He slept beside her in a ball with his brothers and sisters as they wriggled and grunted towards mother and her milk, sensing her love and safety before they could even see her. They perceived her, each other and the edges of the whelping box, their world, which felt secure and perfect, filled him with contentment.

Tinkerbell, the humans, had called her. She was his mother. First, she taught them touch with her nose as she pushed them towards her warmth in the formidable first week of life, then she taught them to taste as their round tummies became plumper and plumper, fattened on her milk as Albus and the other puppy rolled and squeaked. Their hearing became sharpened in the black as they listened for calls, teaching and guiding them, and their nose became the most important sense of all; with their nose, they could find anything, nothing could escape them. Mother had called it ‘The Hunt,’ it was the song of the chase, the music of his bloodline and the guardian's voice. Albus and the other puppies learned the song from their mother. She told them tales of herding livestock. She could smell their anxiety and anticipated their next actions, bending them to her will with her voice. This was the job of a Guardian dog, taught to him by his mother and passed down through generations, and this Albus knew because he was a good boy.

Albus loped through the tall grassy plains, he had to move quickly, or he would lose the scent of his mistress. The last time he had lost her scent, Albus had wandered into a group of prairie chickens. He loved chickens! In his old home, Albus had gone for many walks on this ropey thing attached to his girl, so she did not get lost. He had yearned to chase those chickens, but his girl was not fast like he was and could not keep up. So when these chickens had erupted around him, he was delighted and pursued, sounding the hunt like his mother had taught him when his eyes were still closed.

He felt alive, strong! His legs carried him swiftly across the grass as he galloped towards the most giant chicken. A worthy opponent! Come on, chicken, come and face your doom! Albus howled, the taste of the hunt sharpening his senses. He was a wolf! The ultimate apex predator with sharp claws and bone-breaking teeth. He was a…. What were those chickens doing? The leader had turned to face him, and the rest gathered to him, forming a line of mouth-watering drumsticks. Curious, these birds must not have been gnawed on before.

Suddenly, the leader of the chickens squawked! Albus had never heard such a noise in his life! The squawk was magnified like ‘Boom Bark,’ but it didn't sound like that bird anymore; it sounded like a dinosaur!

He knew dinosaurs. His girl watched them in the moving box, big, featherless chickens in the pictures that let out terrifying screeches that made him run from the room. He had to run! His dog bed was in his girl's bedroom, and it needed to be checked in case it was frightened.

But that had been hours ago, or was it? Time was never easy for a dog. Albus lived to smell the wind as it brought him new and exciting information. Sometimes he didn’t know what a new smell was. In that case, he thought he should leave a message of his strength, warning whatever might be out there to stay away.

He peed on another plant, a dandelion plant that was tall and orange, it smelled peppery, and that made him sneeze. It was still a pleasant smell but strong that was good for a flower. It must be powerful too.

His mistress's smell was faint, but it lingered with an acrid smell of smoke, ash, and blood. His nose was even better now. A voice had told him he had levelled his scent. Albus knew the voice was important, it talked to him, and something would change. His bark was more powerful, and his smell was sharper. He could probably find more chickens if he wanted to, but of course, a guardian was always busy. She needed him.