Short Stories
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Reason to Serve
Timmy was a one hundred twenty-five-pound German Shepherd from Siberia, or so his papers from Europe claimed. In reality, his bloodline had been somewhat clouded over the generations so that there was a smattering of Tibetan mastiff, a touch of Irish wolfhound, a pinch of St. Bernard, a dash of Australian shepherd, and a teaspoon of Arctic wolf. He was, in fact, a stew of genetic manipulation that had resulted in something akin to Frankenstein’s monster.
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The Good Day
Since the Great Gray Wolf had killed his mother, father, and nearly him, he'd had to assume the pack leadership. Max was too young for the job, barely five months old, but he was by far the strongest of the pack, and so the position fell to him.
