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His master was a shy boots, especially about the females. White Paw nudged Birger’s thigh with his nose and giving a low growl, sat smartly on his haunches, one paw on Birger’s knee. His tail swish-swished back and forth on the wooden floor.
Tugging at Birger’s breeches with his teeth, White Paw pulled him toward a bench nearer the fire. One very near the chair on which the woman sat. There was something particularly intriguing about her his nose told him. And he felt an instant liking for her, a trust. White Paw sat leaning against the boy’s legs once again, but his eyes were fixed on the woman; his gaze following her every move.
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