They would be dead before the day was over and the only chance men had ever had to have prowlers as their friends and allies would be gone.

The first rays of sunrise were coming into the room, revealing fully the frail thinness of the pups, when there was a step outside and Julia’s voice:

“Father?”

“Come in, Julia,” he said, not moving.

She entered, still a pale shadow of the reckless girl who had fought a unicorn, even though she was slowly regaining her normal health. She carried young Johnny in one arm, in her other hand his little bottle of milk. Johnny was hungry⁠—there was never quite enough milk for him⁠—but he was not crying. Ragnarok children did not cry.⁠ ⁠…

She saw the pups and her eyes went wide.

“Prowlers⁠—baby prowlers! Where did you get them?”