She was pacing quickly, right across to the other side of the clearing where the serious business was happening where Mr. Price was talking with Daddy. Talking terms, outcomes, rules of sorts. Where the other serious men were standing around, their hands in the pockets of their waxed jackets, or round the leads of vicious-looking dogs. 'Dogs in the cars when the fight's on,' I heard someone say. I thought of Jess and Becky doing battle with a couple of these dogs, in defence of their respective masters. I thought about the power of a true dog bite, or the slash of a claw, so much worse than the playful nips a dog could give when jumping at your hand. I thought about blood and flesh mixed with a dog's saliva, and the tartar from its unbrushed teeth like blood mixed with rusted, dirty metal out on a farm far from help.