Her back was bruised where the bony boy had flung her into the canoe. Her legs ached from being tied in one position. She needed to drink, to howl. But she was tied too tight to move.
She sniffed the salt water, trying to find familiar smells. It wasn’t right to be out here on the sea. It wasn’t right to be tied up either, or to be alone away from the other dogs, with just a boy. Bony Boy, she thought, not a pup but not grown up either.
She wriggled to ease the pain in her legs. Suddenly her muzzle felt a sharp edge on the canoe. Cautiously she rubbed her nose along it.
The rope moved, just a little.
If she could get the cords off her muzzle then she could bite through the cords that held her paws. She could bite Bony Boy too.
She could be free.
But first she needed to move the cords. She rubbed again, slowly, keeping her eyes on Bony Boy as he paddled.