With the dawn’s light, they both awakened.  McDougal stretched and led his mistress outside to a nearby stream to drink and for her to wash.  Cragger stoked the fire and readied a meal.  It would seem to an outsider that they had done this forever they looked so comfortable with the routine. 

     McDougal surprised them by catching three trout.  He would pounce in the stream, his head disappearing under the water, and reappearing with a trout in his jaws that he would drop on the bank next to his mistress’s feet.  She promptly set to cleaning the fish using a small blade that Cragger gave her to replace the crystal one he now had in his keeping.

     Cragger had oats boiling over the fire and raised an eyebrow at their fortunate addition to their breakfast.  “You caught these?”  He asked as he took them from Mavelle’s hands to cook.

     “Not me, McDougal.”  She laughed when Cragger turned to stare at the dog who sat nearby wagging his tail.

     “Handy creature, this giant of a hound.”

     “You have no idea how handy he is.  This one was trained for war from birth with the rest of his litter.  Unfortunately, for my father’s trainer, McDougal prefers to be with me.”  She threw her arms around the dog’s neck.  “He’s my baby.”