Shrike looked up to see a fancy wee girl with hair so bright he might've squinted. Sometimes this happened — a naïve young lady might escape her chaperone to rough it with the pond life. Such an event was always entertaining to be a part of.

So Shrike followed her instruction and stroked the poodle's fluffy white head. "She is a gud girl; aren't ye Madame?"

He gave a wolfish smile. "I'm well flattered she likes me. Mebbe she smells my aen dogs on me. No matter how prim an' proper these wee things are trained tae be, naen wud say no tae playin' aroond wi' their aen kind."