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hunting. Mother snarled when Hungry tried to lick her lips, hoping for a meal, and we all got the message. We went out often, hiding from sight, desperately searching for food. I felt tired and weak, now, and didnt even try to challenge Fast when he stood with his head over my back, thrusting his chest at me. Fine, let him be the boss. As far as I was concerned, my short legs were better suited for the low, slinking run our mother had taught us anyway. If Fast felt he was making some sort of point by using his height to knock me over, he was fooling himself. Mother was the dog in charge. There was barely room for all of us underneath the tree now, and Mother was gone for longer and longer periods of time. Something told me that one of these days she wouldnt come back. We would have to fend for ourselves, Fast always pushing me out of the way, trying to take my share. Mother wouldnt be there to look after me. I began to think of what it would be like to leave the Den. The day everything changed began with Hungry stumbling into the culvert to lie down instead of going on the hunt, his breathing labored, his tongue sticking out of his mouth. Mother nuzzled Hungry before she left, and when I sniffed at him his eyes remained shut. Over the culvert was a road, and along the road wed once found a large dead bird, which wed all torn into until Fast picked it up and ran off with it. Despite the danger of being seen, we tended to range up and down this road, looking for more birds, which was what we were doing when Mother suddenly raised her head in alarm. We all heard it the same instant: a truck approaching. But not just any truckâ€”this same vehicle, making the same sounds, had been back and forth along our road several times the past few days, moving slowly, even menacingly, as if hunting specifically for us. We followed Mother as she darted back to the culvert, but for reasons Ill never fully understand, I stopped and looked back at the monstrous machine, taking an extra few seconds before I followed Mother into the safety of the tunnel.

Those few seconds proved to make all the differenceâ€”they had spotted me. With a low, rumbling vibration, the truck came to a stop directly overhead. The engine clanked and went quiet, and then we heard the sounds of boots on gravel. Mother gave a soft whimper. When the human faces appeared at either end of the culvert, Mother went low, tensing her body. They showed their teeth at us, but it didnt seem to be a hostile gesture. Their faces were brown, marked with black hair, black brows, and dark eyes. Here, , one of them whispered. I didnt know what it meant, but the call seemed as natural as the sound of the d, as if I had been listening to men speak my whole life. Both men had poles, I now saw, poles with ropes looped on the end. They appeared threatening, and I felt Mothers panic boil over. Her claws scrabbling, she bolted, her head down, aiming for the space between the legs of one of the men. The pole came down, there was a quick snap, and then my mother was twisting and jerking as the man hauled her out into the sunlight. Sister and I backed up, cowering, while Fast growled, his fur bristling on the back of his neck. Then it occurred to all three of us that while the way behind us was still blocked, the tunnel mouth in front of us was now clear. We darted forward.

Everyone Will Need One