A Birthday and a Burial
I still remembered the year Carly was first brought home. Her past was so tragic that our entire family treated her like something precious. I was only six years old at the time.
Dad told me, "She's your younger sister now. Protect her as you would protect your own eyes."
I nodded firmly, making sure to engrave those words into my heart, one by one. Carly had been rescued from the ruins. Dad and Jacob had brought her back during one of their missions.
She was the only survivor of a dying litter of rogue pups. Everyone called her resilient, saying she was a divine blessing—a pup favored by the Moon Goddess. I believed it, too.