Jenny: Dog-Teeth

The young Jew watched Aithne toss a sweetmeat to the shaggy damp dog that had come thrusting up between them. Underneath the ragged fur and broken sprigs of bracken, he saw a fine creature with a clever head and a full chest to house a good heart. It had good legs on it, built for hard hunting and the long march in the hilly northern mountains where the mists would come in off the sea of a sudden and turn the world dark and damp. And in a kindly sort of way, he remarked, "It is a good dog - he has the marks of fine breeding underneath that coat. Struan's bitch just had a litter by Jason's Frip two months past - I was not here at the time - and promised a pup to Artos." Nodding at the dog between them, he added, "He might sire some good pups, I'm thinking. If there is one thing we breed out well," he said with a little smile, showing his own canines, "it is dogs, here in Britain."