The two little dogs stared at the newcomer in silence, saying nothing, only watching.

  Every now and then, Sun lifted his neck from the pup, checking to see if he was still alive.

  Once reassured, he gently tucked him back beneath his throat.

  But the little girl stood up without a word and began to walk—slowly, aimlessly, not knowing why.

  No anger. No joy. Not even fear... Only the weight of absence stirred in her tiny heart.

  It was as if a dark weight hung from her chest, dragging her steps down.

  She whispered to herself, “Where is Mother? Why did she leave? Didn’t she want us anymore?”

  She wasn’t walking to get somewhere—she was walking to escape.

  To flee the question of why her mother was gone.

  To run from a home that, without her, was no longer home.

  Her steps carried her into the stream, where the cool water kissed her little paws.

  She came to herself. Looked down. Saw herself—and the moon—both trembling.

  It was her tears that had set the moon trembling.

  Moments passed. Then, all of a sudden, she barked at the moon and bared her teeth.

  She had gone mad.

  With her little paws, she tried to pull the moon down—why, I don’t know.

  Maybe she wanted an answer from it... After all, from up there, it must’ve seen everything.

  Still caught in that state, she heard the sound of some puppies.

  She turned and saw them—snuggled up against their mother, warm and sweet.

  She calmed down a little. No longer fighting—just watching.

  Then she began to move. Reached the edge of dry land.

  Shook herself and ran—toward the pup who was no longer alone.

  He had a family now—The Old Dog, her, and his brother.

  She reached them. Looked at them.

  Slipped her head under her brother’s neck, took The Unbounded in her mouth, and set off—to bring him a share of that motherly milk.

  A spark lit up her blue eyes.

  After days of fear and rage nesting inside her, this new responsibility filled her with joy.

  She took The Unbounded to the first unfamiliar mother.

  Heard a growl, but didn’t give up—kept going, still full of spirit.

  She knew there were many mothers in the dog tribe.

  Surely one of them would give this little pup some milk.

  So she went on and found another mother.

  But she too walked past her, making it clear—her milk was for her own.

  The little girl set off again, but this time her tail didn’t wag.

  She saw many mothers among the trees and went to each of them.

  But again—no luck.

  There was even one mother willing to share her milk,

  but her pups bit The Unbounded and pushed him away.

  Their mother’s milk was theirs—and they wouldn’t share it with anyone.

  The little girl was angry now.

  She took The Unbounded in her mouth and moved on.

  She was still full of fire—but it no longer burned with joy or hope.

  It now burned with a quiet rage, slowly rising inside her.

  Finding milk was no longer a task—it had become a battle she had to win.

  She moved through trees and thickets. The wind rose and pushed against her.

  That moonlit night was growing darker and darker for her. Still, she kept going.

  The wind had grown fierce.

  It hurled dust and debris, slapping them into faces.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  The other animals had retreated, each curling into a corner, their eyes tightly shut.

  But the little girl kept walking—directionless, restless.

  Her eyes were open, but her gaze was lost—perhaps wandering through dreams,

  or in a forest only she could see.

  But she was too sad, too angry, to dream of anything happy.

  She had wandered far from home.

  She heard a faint sound—it was the pup’s whimper.

  She came to herself and realized her jaw had tightened without her noticing.

  She gently laid him on the ground, licked him,

  and looked into his shut eyes—eyes too tired to open.

  The pup brushed her face with his tiny paw.

  He wasn’t angry about the wound—he was helping.

  Maybe he understood her better than she understood herself.

  Or maybe, it was a shared pain that had bound them together.

  She picked him up in her mouth once again and moved on—

  until she saw a mother dog nestled beneath a rock, holding her pups close.

  She walked toward her and set the pup gently on the ground.

  The mother dog barked at the pup and pushed him away with her snout.

  She didn’t like the look of him.

  The little girl bared her teeth at once, barked, and lunged at the mother dog.

  She couldn’t take it anymore.

  She leapt at the mother dog’s head.

  She was smaller and weaker—but she was furious.

  So angry that all she wanted was to fight.

  She sank her teeth into the mother dog’s ear and bit down hard.

  The mother dog’s scream filled the night.

  The world had pressed down on her for too long.

  She was supposed to be playing—but instead, she had started a war.

  She was just a pup, and she had carried another pup in her mouth.

  She couldn’t bear it anymore.

  The mother dog gave a sudden shake and threw her aside.

  She rolled over immediately and dug her claws into the ground, bracing herself.

  She expected to be thrown again.

  Ever since she had taken her brother in her mouth, she'd been bitten and tossed aside.

  So she bared her teeth once more—and howled, for the first time.

  She was growling now, circling her opponent, ready to strike again.

  The mother dog was frightened; she had gathered her pups beneath her belly.

  On that dark night, as the wind shook the trees and branches,

  she had become a prisoner of the storm.

  The little girl ran again, ready to land a decisive blow—

  then suddenly stopped. Her older brother stood before her.

  He had come looking for his sister.

  He nudged her head gently with his snout, calming her just a little.

  But the little girl was still barking.

  Sun gently pushed his sister back.

  He pointed toward the lone pup—shivering under the wind.

  The little girl quickly took The Unbounded in her mouth.

  The mother dog lay down at once.

  She placed the pup beside her. At last, she calmed down.

  But the pup wouldn’t nurse.

  The mother dog nudged The Unbounded’s mouth to her breast,

  but it was no use. He wouldn’t drink.

  Sun picked up the pup and started walking.

  His sister followed behind them...

  They walked through the forest.

  Both were yellow, but the brother was a shade brighter.

  Sun held his head high, tail wagging.

  But the little girl walked with her head down, lost in thought.

  Maybe he had thrown her off—so she wouldn’t realize what had happened that night.

  She had delivered her first bite—but not to an enemy.

  To a pup who had been trying to protect her...

  At last, they reached home.

  The Old Dog cast a glance, then closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.

  All three lay down—but the little girl was restless.

  She longed for her mother—a mother to coddle her, to spoil her, to protect her.

  But sadly, what her heart desired was no longer there.

  The starless night was slipping by—

  a night filled with wind, rustling leaves, and the distant howls of wolves...

  The Unbounded learned a great lesson that night.

  That night, The Unbounded became part of a family—

  and for the first time, he understood what that meant.