Ever found yourself rooting for the underdog, the smallest one in the scrum? There’s a white-and-black puppy here on the raw slopes of Retezat, all tremble and bravado, learning the ancient choreography of shepherding as if every blade of grass held a secret. His paws are too big for his body, his bark a cracked bell, but his eyes—bright, unbroken—reflect a hunger for purpose no city-bred soul could fathom. He doesn’t guard the flock so much as he flirts with destiny, nipping at the heels of cen