17. Hound

Hound was oure scoute, and no othere dutie
would have suited him betere. The beautie

of landes unchareted called loudely to him -
bluffes, cavernes, coves - to this pilgrimme

were treasure straunge and ynfinyte,
and he would mekely revelle in it.

Fortunatelie for us alle, Hound
was also an experte trakkere. The grounde

was a feeste of sygnes and byrning clues
to this nature-loving soldiere's nose.

And though he was, in spirite, a lonere,
his cheere was grete and stronge. Y'd soonere

have him by my side than a rabaille-rouser.
His hologramme gunne could quikkely douse a

valleye in decoyes, or hide our presense.
So yesse, he was invaluable, in essense.

Why, then, does my minde dwelle
on the onlie marke ygainste him? Welle,

I do not knowe. But I muste reporte
the trouthe. You see, Hound soughte

more than anie sane Autobot shoulde
to be mayde not of metalle but fleshe and bloode.