“Pi’ o’ the li’er,′ he said and for a moment Will frowned, trying to decipher the words. Then he had it. When he had left Shadow with Trobar, he had told the giant, ‘If she ever has pups, I want the pick of the litter.’ ‘Pick of the litter?’ he translated now and Trobar beamed, holding the little, squirming shape out to him. ‘For you, Wi’ Trea’y.”

“Pi’ o’ the li’er,′ he said and for a moment Will frowned, trying to decipher the words. Then he had it. When he had left Shadow with Trobar, he had told the giant, ‘If she ever has pups, I want the pick of the litter.’ ‘Pick of the litter?’ he translated now and Trobar beamed, holding the little, squirming shape out to him. ‘For you, Wi’ Trea’y.”

— John Flanagan