{oOo}
Leman Russ stared at his Terran-born Captain as if he were a colossal moron.
"They're wolves," he said, adjusting Ulfhild in his hands. The little girl giggled and tried to snatch his ear-rings, but her arms were too short and so she settled for pulling on his beard. "Big, carnivorous wolves."
The Captain appeared to be rather confused, which made Leman Russ want to groan. He untangled his daughter's hands from his hair, as he continued.
"They're not dogs," he said. "Ulfhild is a child. And child pretty much translates to food for wolves. Am I being clear or do I need to draw a picture?"
The Captain shook his head mutely, clearly upset over having disappointed his Primarch.
"This is why leaving her guarded by Fenrisian wolves is a bad idea," Leman Russ concluded. "Now stop complaining and chose appropriate guards for my daughter."
The Terran Captain found himself later somehow a governor of a desert planet, populated by people who hated alcohol and liked cats.
{oOo}