Lucky cannoned into the middle of the fox-pack, sending them scattering and rolling onto their backs, but his surprise attack gave Moon only a short reprieve. The foxes bounced back to their paws, flying at him.

All of Lucky’s fury poured through him as he leaped and snapped and drew fox blood, flinging one away as the next came at him. This was a fight he could throw himself into without doubts or torn loyalties. Moon’s eyes met his with a flash of gratitude, and she turned on the foxes with new hope and energy, fighting as hard as she could from her post at the den’s mouth. The foxes were clever fighters, taunting and nipping her, trying to draw her away from the den.

“Give us tasty pup-snacks!” one of the foxes whined.

Lucky heard the pups howling in terror. “No, Mother, don’t go!”

“Don’t leave us!”

Moon looked exhausted, but she battled on.

A fox sprang onto her neck, snatching a mouthful of skin and hanging on. Lucky snarled and struck his own attacker across the snout with a paw, then dashed for Moon, seizing the fox and tearing it from her. Yelping with agony, Moon rolled away. At the same time, Lucky felt sharp fangs sink into his flank, and he had to turn to crunch his jaws into the fox that had grabbed him.

Are these creatures unkillable? he thought in despair as it tumbled over in the grass, then came back at him, drool and blood flying from its muzzle.

They were so strong, so resilient—much hardier brutes than the ones he used to fight in the city, and worst of all, braver. Any of the foxes of the city would have run from him by now.

He snapped at one that was sneaking to his flank, but suddenly there were two more. They came at him from both sides, biting his neck fur and holding on hard. Lucky felt the warm flow of blood and the sting of pain, dazing him and making his head spin. They were dragging him, but he didn’t know for a moment which way was up and which way was down. He was falling, rolling, over and over—

His skull cracked against a rock, and suddenly, horribly, he couldn’t see. The world was a blur, swimming before his eyes as if he were underwater. Trying to stand, he found his legs wouldn’t work.

Moon! She’s alone!

He dug his claws into the earth and dragged himself toward the courageous Mother-Dog, but there was blood in his eyes now. He could see her still fighting, raking at the attacking foxes, but there were too many of them. Too many . . .

Something gray was slinking past Moon’s back legs as she defended her shoulder. Lucky tried to bark a warning, but the sound was feeble; maybe he hadn’t managed to make it at all. The next thing in his vision was that gray thing again, crawling from Moon’s den with a small bundle of wriggling black-and-white in its jaws. A mewling, terrified pup . . .