Scott squeaked approval, stayed her, and went to his car. Maggie sensed something was wrong by the change in his gait. She desperately wanted to follow, but Scott had stayed her. She obeyed, but whimpered anxiously when he crawled under the car. Maggie saw him tense, and the frantic way he scrambled to his feet, and heard the strain in his voice when he spoke to the woman. Then the woman shouted, and Scott ran to the street. His smell reached her, and was ripe with the thorny scents of danger and fear. Maggie trembled and quivered. Scott's fear poured into her. Danger. Threat. Maggie broke from her stay, and ran to him. His thundering heart filled her with fury. Protect Scott. Defend. Scott pulled her close, but his closeness did not comfort her. His fear screamed they were in danger. She bunched and coiled, and tried to pull free to find the threat, but Scott held her close. Her huge ears swiveled and tipped, seeking their enemy. She sniffed frantically, searching the air, but found only Scott's fear. His fear was enough. Scott was hers. Maggie growled, low and deep in her massive chest, a primal warning to whatever might hear. This pack was hers. The fur on her back and shoulders bristled like wire, and her nails raked the asphalt like claws. A danger she couldn't see or smell or hear was coming, but a fire passed down from a hundred thousand past generations prepared her. Maggie knew what she needed to know. Hunt. Attack. Pull the threat down with her fangs, and destroy it. Maggie didn't need to know anything else. Nothing else mattered.