King Dawg had a whole castle to himself, and that was the problem. The towers rose above him, carved to look like slabs of beef, with paw prints pressed into every wall. A stone puppy face grinned down from the tallest tower. King Dawg was a pitbull pup with a bright yellow collar, and he lived alone in the grandest home in the forest. He had food. He had rooms. He had no one to greet him. He pushed the heavy front door with his nose. It swung open. Outside, the forest waited, quiet and still. King Dawg trotted down the path. Sun cut through the trees in long stripes. He listened for a voice, a bark, anything. He heard only his own paws on the dirt. His tail hung low. A castle meant nothing if he had no one to share it. He wanted a friend. So he crossed the path and pushed into the trees. Branches scratched his ears. The ground grew soft and dark. King Dawg stopped. He did not know this part of the forest. Fear crept up his legs, and he thought of turning back. Then he saw a light ahead, small and glowing between the trunks. He crept closer. In a clearing stood a tiny man, no taller than King Dawg himself. The man wore green robes and a pointed hat. In his hand he held a wand, and the tip glowed like a trapped star. The little man was bent over a fallen branch, poking it, muttering to himself. King Dawg's heart thumped. Here was someone. Here, at last, was someone. He stepped forward and a twig snapped under his paw. The little man spun around. The wand's light flared. "Who's there? Show yourself!" King Dawg froze, then wagged his tail. He whined, low and hopeful. The man squinted. His face softened. "A pup. Just a pup." He lowered the wand. "You're a long way from anywhere, little one." King Dawg crept closer and licked the man's small hand. The man laughed, surprised. "Jamison Yummy is my name," the little man said. "And you are lost, I think." He scratched King Dawg behind the ears. "There's a woodcutter who lives past that ridge. Lonely fellow. Cuts wood all day and talks to no one." He pointed his glowing wand into the dark trees. "A dog like you could fix that. A dog like you could fix him." King Dawg followed the wand's light with his eyes. A woodcutter. Someone lonely, like him. His tail beat the ground. He had found no friend in the little man, not quite. But he had found a direction. King Dawg looked at the dark ridge ahead. It was far. It was strange. He had never gone so deep into the forest. He took one step toward the ridge. Then another. Behind him, the little man's light faded into the trees.