Shownotes
Akachi is all that stands between his village and the lion clans. If the lilies don’t flower this year, it will all be for nothing.
Today’s story is the first of two parts of “Priest of Lilies” by Kayodé Lycaon, one of fourteen stories featured in the award-winning prehistoric furry anthology “When The World Was Young.” Excavate more information at fhfs.ink.
Read for you by Rob MacWolf — werewolf hitchhiker.
thevoice.dog | Apple podcasts | Spotify | Google Podcasts
If you have a story you think would be a good fit, you can check out the requirements, fill out the submission template and get in touch with us.
https://thevoice.dog/episode/priest-of-lilies-by-kayode-lycaon-part-1-of-2
Transcripts
You’re listening to The Voice of Dog.
Speaker:This is Rob MacWolf, your fellow traveler,
Speaker:and Today’s story is the first of two parts of
Speaker:“Priest of Lilies” by Kayodé Lycaon, one of fourteen stories featured in the award-winning prehistoric furry anthology
Speaker:“When The World Was Young.”
Speaker:Excavate more information at
Speaker:fhfs.ink.
Speaker:Please enjoy “Priest of Lilies”
Speaker:by Kayodé Lycaon, Part 1 of 2 The wind rustled through dry savannah grass under a hazy morning sun. Akachi’s ears swiveled forward and stiffened with determination as he saw a lion in the distance.
Speaker:A younger lion—the painted wolf guessed
Speaker:—probably a hunter from the large bow she carried.
Speaker:His paw tightened around his atlatl
Speaker:and he crouched low
Speaker:in the tall grass.
Speaker:Another hunter who had stepped too far.
Speaker:He turned and slowly made his way towards the shade of a broad acacia tree.
Speaker:The Great War between their peoples was over,
Speaker:but his atlatl was carved out of a lion’s thigh bone.
Speaker:He wasn’t done fighting.
Speaker:The lion clans, safe behind the walls of their sprawling cities,
Speaker:were ever reaching out their claws to steal more territory.
Speaker:Everything they saw they claimed as theirs.
Speaker:No tribe, no people could stand alone against them, but he had to try.
Speaker:As long as he lived, there would be hope.
Speaker:Akachi exhaled, reminding himself to focus.
Speaker:He kept his eyes on the lion while his
Speaker:ears turned to either side,
Speaker:listening to make sure she was alone.
Speaker:Then his foot slipped into a hole and he stumbled.
Speaker:The lion’s ears twitched towards him and she pulled out an arrow from the quiver on her hip.
Speaker:The painted wolf froze.
Speaker:He wasn’t ready. Nocking one of his long darts to his atlatl
Speaker:would give away his position.
Speaker:He bit back a curse.
Speaker:She was sniffing.
Speaker:He was downwind, but the wind could change at any moment. This was
Speaker:not something he could solve with skill,
Speaker:but he was reluctant to ask the spirits for their help.
Speaker:The pouch on his belt only held three lily petals.
Speaker:They were precious and he had no way to harvest more.
Speaker:For a moment, his heart despaired;
Speaker:they may be the last he’d ever have.
Speaker:Even so, his life was worth more than any petal.
Speaker:He pulled one out and crushed it between his paw pads, whispering a gentle song as his offering.
Speaker:For a moment, nothing happened.
Speaker:Then blue dragonfly-shaped lily spirits came to flutter around him,
Speaker:hiding him. Where his ears had been, there was nothing more than grass blowing in the wind.
Speaker:It wasn’t much, but it was enough.
Speaker:If he had been blessed, they would have done more.
Speaker:During the war, a single flower held in the paws by a priest of lilies would have summoned cold, malicious mists
Speaker:that rose from the earth as far as he could see.
Speaker:He had done it once, long ago,
Speaker:but those days had passed
Speaker:and Monsoon was not so giving to her priests.
Speaker:He reached the tree and nocked a long dart
Speaker:—one of three his brother had prepared
Speaker:—to the spur of his atlatl.
Speaker:The flint head, two arm-lengths in front of him,
Speaker:was covered in a sticky black paste.
Speaker:The dart’s white feather fletching rippled in the wind.
Speaker:The painted wolf took a deep breath and placed his feet.
Speaker:The atlatl was almost cold in his paw as he held it up.
Speaker:A sudden gust swirled around him
Speaker:and a strand of wind brushed his ear, whispering
Speaker:—seventy-three paces.
Speaker:Then the winds stopped,
Speaker:as if holding their breath.
Speaker:Akachi felt pity. The lion stood there in front of him. She was not a warrior.
Speaker:She had never fought one of the Avoniya
Speaker:—nor a priest of Monsoon.
Speaker:The demons from the mists were nothing but stories to frighten children.
Speaker:If she heeded them,
Speaker:she would have dropped prone at the first sight of a black ear or the sudden stilling of the wind.
Speaker:Now, she would know;
Speaker:then she would die.
Speaker:Akachi stepped forward, turning his body and swinging his arm—driving the dart forward.
Speaker:Then he snapped his wrist to complete the throw.
Speaker:The dart flew true
Speaker:and buried its flint head low and deep into her belly,
Speaker:just inside the joint of her hip. She screamed and dropped to the ground.
Speaker:The painted wolf knelt beside the tree, waiting.
Speaker:It didn’t take long for the lion to stand up, highlighting her form against the clouds.
Speaker:He huffed out through his nose.
Speaker:Pity gave way to contempt.
Speaker:She was as foolish as she was young.
Speaker:Contempt turned to hate in his heart; not at her,
Speaker:but what she stood for
Speaker:—the ignorance and arrogance of her kind.
Speaker:Then he felt shame.
Speaker:He knew better. Nature was harsh
Speaker:and unforgiving, but not vengeful.
Speaker:All life was sacred and his duties as a priest came before those of a warrior.
Speaker:He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then he
Speaker:pulled out his dagger.
Speaker:Akachi stood up and left the shade of the tree.
Speaker:He waded through the grass, trusting the spirits to hide him.
Speaker:When she fell, he would be there.
Speaker:The lion broke off the haft of the dart and staggered towards a cluster of trees.
Speaker:Akachi walked forward
Speaker:as her cries for help became weaker.
Speaker:Slowly, the poison seeped through her.
Speaker:Her left leg was the first limb to become rigid.
Speaker:She fell, but could no longer draw the breath to scream.
Speaker:When he reached her, she was writhing on the ground, back arched as every muscle pulled tight
Speaker:—no longer able to fight.
Speaker:If he did nothing, the poison would take hours.
Speaker:He knelt beside her and grasped her ear,
Speaker:turning her head so she could see his face.
Speaker:In her eyes, he could see the terror and the pain.
Speaker:He hoped she could see there was no longer any malice in his.
Speaker:Gently, in her own tongue, he whispered,
Speaker:“May we find peace when we meet again.”
Speaker:With a single cut,
Speaker:the lily spirits flew away,
Speaker:abhorring the taking of a life.
Speaker:The painted wolf closed her empty eyes and said the prayers that would guide her soul to the world beyond the veil,
Speaker:but he could not bring himself to continue.
Speaker:He stayed beside her,
Speaker:repeating the prayers under his breath,
Speaker:her blood staining his fur and loincloth.
Speaker:Eventually a vulture croaked overhead and he looked up.
Speaker:Three of the sacred birds waited,
Speaker:impatient. The painted wolf picked up his knife.
Speaker:He would fulfill his duties to Monsoon and then let her winged servants take care of the rest.
Speaker:Hours later, with the sun high in the sky,
Speaker:Akachi returned to the valley with a pelt over his shoulder and his darts in a paw.
Speaker:Each step felt heavier than the last.
Speaker:He reached the stone path and walked past three jackals standing guard on the wall protecting the entrance to the valley.
Speaker:They looked up from whatever game they had been playing to thump their clenched fists against their chests in respect.
Speaker:He thumped his chest in return but didn’t wag his tail
Speaker:like he usually did.
Speaker:Where the well-trodden path came down beside the river, the welcoming scent of clean water
Speaker:and wildflowers surrounded him.
Speaker:Despite the heaviness of his heart, it sang when a lily spirit brushed against his muzzle.
Speaker:Even stained with death, lilies had welcomed him;
Speaker:he was home. He dropped off the lion’s pelt at the tanner’s hut and continued down the road,
Speaker:where trees gave way to broad fields with round mud houses.
Speaker:A few jackals looked up from their work to thump their chests in respect as the guards had, and he
Speaker:returned the gesture with his now free paw.
Speaker:It was good to be back.
Speaker:Thousands of jackals lived in the valley and everywhere he looked, they prospered.
Speaker:Even the poorest family had a field they called their own.
Speaker:On the far side of the valley, at the end of the stone road, was a towering red mesa
Speaker:with a village carved into it;
Speaker:but it wasn’t just a village and a home, it was a fortress.
Speaker:Each of the four tiers were carved deep into the rock, with only narrow steps connecting the increasingly higher
Speaker:and smaller levels.
Speaker:On the third tier,
Speaker:deep caves held enough grain for three years
Speaker:and sheltered a spring with cold, clear water.
Speaker:It would be an extravagance,
Speaker:if not for the grasping claws of the lion clans.
Speaker:These walls were all that stood against the further enslavement of their kind.
Speaker:After he reached the first set of narrow steps, he was greeted with a course of yips
Speaker:from the six jackals standing behind a wooden palisade.
Speaker:When he got to the top,
Speaker:they set their large wicker shields and short spears aside and ran over, tails wagging.
Speaker:The painted wolf knelt to avoid leaning over them and nuzzled their jaws in the traditional greeting of his own people.
Speaker:Jackals were less effusive towards their packmates than the Avoniya,
Speaker:but for him, they returned his affection with equal enthusiasm.
Speaker:After exchanging licks and wags with everyone,
Speaker:he lingered over Okori.
Speaker:The jackal tilted his head so they could kiss muzzle to muzzle.
Speaker:Their tongues intertwined for one slow exhaled breath before they separated.
Speaker:“See you tonight?” Akachi asked.
Speaker:“Ye—” The jackal’s tail froze before he could finish speaking,
Speaker:then he ran back to his post. Akachi turned around to see an elderly jackal wearing a heavy necklace of clacking lapis stones striding angrily towards him.
Speaker:The guards had turned their attention back to the valley and kept their ears forward.
Speaker:The painted wolf stood up to his full height, towering above the jackal.
Speaker:Someone must have told Tahir about the pelt he dropped off. His hackles
Speaker:rose. “What are you
Speaker:doing!?” Tahir whispered harshly.
Speaker:“You’ll bring the clans down on us.
Speaker:Is it not enough for you that we already deliver tribute,
Speaker:so they do not come into the mountains?”
Speaker:“We’ve had this argument,” Akachi growled—not caring who could hear him.
Speaker:“You paid twice this year what you did last.
Speaker:How long until you can no longer pay?
Speaker:Besides, this one—”
Speaker:he pointed towards the far end of the valley,
Speaker:“—was not three hours walk away.”
Speaker:They stared at each other until
Speaker:the jackal snapped his jaw shut, huffed out
Speaker:his nose, and pointedly walked away towards the large house carved into the stone beneath the second level.
Speaker:Beating the elder with his own gaudy necklace would be counter-productive,
Speaker:but that didn’t stop the painted wolf from imagining it.
Speaker:The jackal’s arrogant naïveté was infuriating.
Speaker:After Tahir was out of sight,
Speaker:Akachi turned towards the stairs to
Speaker:the second level.
Speaker:As he slowly climbed and stepped around the smaller jackals, he reflected on the past. Tahir was one of the few elders left who had reservations about him,
Speaker:but it hadn’t always been that way.
Speaker:All of the elders had been hesitant to accept him and his brother at first.
Speaker:He couldn’t blame them.
Speaker:The ways of the Avoniya were not theirs,
Speaker:but the village had been desperate to find a shaman;
Speaker:they had no one who could train others in the way of the spirits.
Speaker:His brother—Chima—freely offered all he had despite his lame leg.
Speaker:Over the years, suspicion lessened and friendship grew.
Speaker:Friendship had become family—even for Tahir, who would vehemently deny it.
Speaker:Akachi smiled in memory of the week before
Speaker:when the jackal had done just that.
Speaker:One end of the fourth level,
Speaker:the furthest point from the stairs,
Speaker:the painted wolves had been given a generously proportioned three-room dwelling
Speaker:carved into the mesa.
Speaker:It was a long, distant walk from where all of the elders lived on the first
Speaker:level. Akachi smiled as he heard the mournful drone of his brother’s flute.
Speaker:The breeze and shade made the highest levels of the village
Speaker:almost comfortable
Speaker:in the afternoon heat of a late dry-season day.
Speaker:Chima sat on a golden pelt over a pillow stuffed with straw.
Speaker:His left knee didn’t bend completely,
Speaker:so his foot rested on a low wooden stool.
Speaker:He set his flute down
Speaker:as Akachi approached.
Speaker:“The lilies don’t like when you do that,”
Speaker:Chima commented, wiping his paws on his loincloth.
Speaker:“I know,” Akachi said quietly.
Speaker:“I’m a priest of Monsoon.
Speaker:They understand.” “Understanding or not—”
Speaker:His brother looked down and folded his ears back.
Speaker:“That’s a lot of blood.”
Speaker:“Yes it is,” Akachi said tiredly,
Speaker:and walked into their house.
Speaker:The painted wolf leaned his darts up against the corner of the wall and set his belt and loincloth next to them before
Speaker:stepping into Chima’s workroom to
Speaker:wash. The other painted wolf limped in behind him and leaned against the whitewashed stone.
Speaker:“You didn’t bathe before coming back?”
Speaker:Akachi didn’t reply
Speaker:as he dipped a cloth into a large bowl of water and started scrubbing his head with it.
Speaker:His ears hung off his head.
Speaker:Finally he spoke.
Speaker:spoke.“Why are you up here so early?”
Speaker:“I never went down,”
Speaker:his brother said evenly.
Speaker:“Why? Is your leg bothering you?”
Speaker:“No more than usual.”
Speaker:Chima turned to look out past the balcony.
Speaker:The blue sky was nearly cloudless.
Speaker:“Begu came up and we did some reading.
Speaker:He left a couple of scrolls if you want to practice.”
Speaker:The painted wolf grinned and pointed at the shelf above the work table.
Speaker:“I have too many things to do to spend my time learning to read
Speaker:and you’re not going to get me anywhere near a stylus unless you add some fletching to
Speaker:it.” Akachi remarked,
Speaker:grasping for something to talk about—anything except the blood.
Speaker:“Did you eat?” “Naqua brought me some of the fruit bread she made yesterday.
Speaker:yesterday.” Chima folded his ears back.
Speaker:“You ready to talk?” Akachi’s ears sagged
Speaker:and almost a minute passed in silence
Speaker:before he spoke. “I’m losing it.”
Speaker:His brother’s ears turned attentively forward.
Speaker:“She was strong enough to use a hunter’s bow but too young to pay attention.
Speaker:Caught a glimpse of me.”
Speaker:Akachi inhaled deeply.
Speaker:“And just stood there.
Speaker:Stood there like startled prey.” “Well,
Speaker:that makes for an easy kill,”
Speaker:Chima frowned. “I hated her,
Speaker:Chima.“ Akachi choked on his words.
Speaker:“Hated what she stood for.
Speaker:Wanted revenge for all the clans have done.” Chima’s eyes widened and his ears pinned back.
Speaker:“Please tell me you didn’t…”
Speaker:“I didn’t. It was a long throw and I missed her heart.
Speaker:I only waited for the poison to work before giving her a quick death.” Akachi picked up the cloth to start cleaning his legs.
Speaker:“Looked her in the eye, said the prayers,
Speaker:took her pelt; all the things I’m supposed to do.”
Speaker:He sniffed. “I waited for Monsoon to claim her before offering the flesh and bone.”
Speaker:“That… was not wise,”
Speaker:Chima said softly. Then he flicked his ears. “Sorry. You know that.”
Speaker:“It’s just too much.
Speaker:So much death. I know I’m supposed to kill people, but the balance
Speaker:is slipping away from me.”
Speaker:Akachi set the cloth aside.
Speaker:“I need the lilies.”
Speaker:Chima nodded and frowned. “There
Speaker:isn’t much I can do as a shaman, they need a priest.” “I know,” Akachi replied, waving his paw towards the broad valley.
Speaker:“But there is only us. There’s
Speaker:no way to get anyone from Lavotabar to live here.”
Speaker:He stepped out onto the balcony and stared out.
Speaker:“They still blame us for the lions killing our family.”
Speaker:His brother said nothing.
Speaker:There was nothing more to say.
Speaker:The rains were coming.
Speaker:If all had gone well, they would flood the valley and the lilies they worked so hard to plant would bloom.
Speaker:For a time, the swollen river would have become a sea of blue flowers.
Speaker:With a faithful priest of lilies, no person with ill-intent could find the valley through the mists protecting it.
Speaker:But now, the seeds would rot
Speaker:without a gentle priest of lilies to coax them to life.
Speaker:In a few years, the clans would stake their claim on the valley
Speaker:and any jackals who remained would become their slaves.
Speaker:What happened to him afterwards would be of no consequence.
Speaker:“I don’t have any lily petals left,”
Speaker:Chima said. “But I do have some lavender.”
Speaker:“If that’s all you have.” Akachi sighed. “At least the rest of the spirits haven’t forsaken us.”
Speaker:“Yet,” the other painted wolf replied with a slight smile.
Speaker:“We can call some spirits at twilight.
Speaker:Maybe a blessing will help.”
Speaker:“I asked Okori to come tonight.”
Speaker:“We can include him.
Speaker:Jackals and lavender have some understanding.”
Speaker:Chima grinned. “Less stuck up than lilies.”
Speaker:The sun was low in the sky when Okori arrived with a clay pot.
Speaker:The young jackal’s tail wagged as he walked in without announcing himself.
Speaker:The painted wolves were still on the balcony but had moved to sitting on a soft, yellow pelt,
Speaker:an empty pot of stew and a frame drum between them.
Speaker:“Brought some embers like you asked,”
Speaker:Okori said and sat across from them.
Speaker:Akachi gave the jackal a tired smile and nuzzled him.
Speaker:“Glad to have you here.”
Speaker:Chima ruffled the fur on the jackal’s head.
Speaker:“Hope you don’t mind having me around tonight.”
Speaker:“Uh…sure. You haven’t invited me up for a ritual before.”
Speaker:The jackal’s ears folded back.
Speaker:“Is there going to be a lot of blood?”
Speaker:“Not all Avoniya rituals involve blood,”
Speaker:Chima said dryly.
Speaker:Akachi coughed and looked away. “Okay,
Speaker:most of mine don’t.”
Speaker:Chima looked pointedly at his brother before turning back to Okori.
Speaker:“Hand me the embers and we can get started.”
Speaker:The painted wolf slid himself to the edge of the pelt and settled the pot in front of him.
Speaker:He removed the lid
Speaker:and stirred up the embers. Akachi stood up to retrieve a copper pot of water and
Speaker:a small bundle from the workshop.
Speaker:Soon, the water was boiling, filling the air with the scent of lavender.
Speaker:Chima divided the tea between three small cups before picking up his drum.
Speaker:“Mind if I sing?” Akachi asked.
Speaker:“That would be best,”
Speaker:Chima said as he started a simple repeating beat.
Speaker:“You’re the one asking for guidance.”
Speaker:“What do you want me to do?”
Speaker:Okori asked. “Watch and drink the tea,”
Speaker:Akachi said quietly.
Speaker:“If you can meditate, it would help.”
Speaker:“I’ll try.” “Try closing your eyes and listening,”
Speaker:Chima added. Akachi cleared his throat and took a sip of tea.
Speaker:Then he started singing.
Speaker:His voice was an octave higher in his native tongue and the words of his childhood flowed smoothly from his muzzle;
Speaker:the Avoniya language lacked the harsher tones and stops of the jackal’s language.
Speaker:Okori sat, mesmerized.
Speaker:The sun slid below the mountains,
Speaker:leaving a cloudless purple sky.
Speaker:The brightest stars were becoming visible.
Speaker:A single ghostly moth appeared.
Speaker:Chima stopped drumming to
Speaker:sip tea. Another moth appeared.
Speaker:Then a swirling cloud of them descended on the balcony.
Speaker:Akachi let his song fade
Speaker:and started reciting an ancient poem.
Speaker:Translucent wings fluttered.
Speaker:Chima tapped the edge of his drum. The moths vibrated and then vanished in a cloud of petals.
Speaker:Akachi whispered his thanks,
Speaker:with tears sliding down his muzzle.
Speaker:Okori was the first one to break the somber exhale of the rite.
Speaker:“That was amazing.”
Speaker:“It was,” Akachi agreed as he rubbed his eyes.
Speaker:His voice was stronger
Speaker:and steadier than it had been.
Speaker:“How do you feel?” Chima asked the jackal.
Speaker:“Like I just woke up.”
Speaker:“Then it worked.” Chima smiled and drank the last of his tea.
Speaker:“You two have fun;
Speaker:I’m going upstairs.”
Speaker:Akachi nuzzled his brother before the other painted wolf got up.
Speaker:“Thank you.” “Any time.”
Speaker:Late the next morning, Akachi sat on the stone edge of the balcony, watching the jackals tending the fields.
Speaker:On the first level, there were shouts and grunts as the town guard trained.
Speaker:The sounds were too distant for him to pick out Okori's voice among them. The painted wolf looked over as his brother walked out to sit next to him.
Speaker:“How do you feel?” Chima asked.
Speaker:“Amazing. We should have asked the lavender spirits a long time ago,” Akachi said.
Speaker:“That would have been a bad idea.” Akachi folded his ears back.
Speaker:“Why?” “It would have upset the lilies.”
Speaker:Chima tilted his head.
Speaker:“How could you forget that?”
Speaker:The painted wolf scratched behind an ear.
Speaker:“The lily rituals seem like a lifetime ago.”
Speaker:“Five rains—or was it six?” “Weren’t
Speaker:you just past your rite of
Speaker:passage?” Akachi said.
Speaker:“Yeah,” Chima said, staring off into the distance.
Speaker:Then his ears flicked.
Speaker:“Speaking of that,
Speaker:you’re a priest of Monsoon.
Speaker:Monsoon.” Akachi blinked and stared at his brother.
Speaker:“How did you forget that?”
Speaker:The other painted wolf ignored the comment.
Speaker:“When you became a priest of lilies,
Speaker:Weyrn took you as her consort.” “Yes?” Akachi replied hesitantly.
Speaker:“That didn’t exactly go well.”
Speaker:“That happened later.
Speaker:Do you remember the coronation ritual?
Speaker:Enough to do it?” Akachi tilted his head, remembering. When a priest of Monsoon took a consort, they usually would become the tribe’s priest of lilies.
Speaker:Usually male and female respectively, though reversed or same gender pairings weren’t unknown.
Speaker:The ritual of rebirth at the end of the rains had no requirement for the coupling to produce pups.
Speaker:“Is there any reason you can’t take a jackal as a consort?” Chima asked,
Speaker:interrupting his brother’s thoughts.
Speaker:“And you’re talking about me upsetting the lilies?
Speaker:The consequences of Monsoon’s fury…” Akachi pinned his ears back and smacked his tail against the stone. “Well,
Speaker:that would solve most of our problems.”
Speaker:Chima ignored the jab.
Speaker:“Does the coronation ritual do anything transformative?” Akachi’s ears relaxed as he considered the question.
Speaker:“It’s a minor summoning that merges a lily spirit and part of the priest’s soul into the consort. Why?”
Speaker:“That probably counts.” Chima tapped his flute against his muzzle and looked at his brother.
Speaker:“Any reason we can’t change a jackal
Speaker:into an Avoniya?” Akachi felt the blood drain from his ears.
Speaker:He curled his tail around his waist.
Speaker:“You want me to summon Monsoon herself, out of season?”
Speaker:Akachi swallowed. “Even if I had a coven to work with,
Speaker:and the appropriate sacrifices,
Speaker:we’d risk destroying the entire valley
Speaker:and the mountains around us!
Speaker:We have rituals for a reason. Monsoon is not forgiving.”
Speaker:“So it’s possible?”
Speaker:Chima pressed. “Did I mention
Speaker:destroying the entire valley in the process?”
Speaker:“Would you rather the lion clans do that in a year or two?”
Speaker:Akachi buried his head in his paws.
Speaker:“No.” “Just think about how much Tahir is going to be screaming,”
Speaker:Chima grinned. “This idea is insane and the rest of the elders are going to throw us out of the village.”
Speaker:“Good.” Chima brought the flute to his lips again.
Speaker:“I’ll start making paints.
Speaker:And you should practice your sophistry.”
Speaker:“My what?” This was the first of two parts of “Priest of
Speaker:Lilies” by Kayodé Lycaon, read for you by Rob MacWolf, werewolf hitchhiker.
Speaker:Tune in next time to find out if Akachi survives his brother’s insane plan
Speaker:or saves the village.
Speaker:As always, you can find more stories on the web at thevoice.dog,
Speaker:or find the show wherever you get your podcasts.
Speaker:Thank you for listening
Speaker:to The Voice of Dog.