Unlike the city, which would never be able to heal itself.

Leaping on top of a thick pine trunk, Lucky made out the river beyond, very close now. Like the streams near the city, the silver of its surface was tinged with that same iridescent sheen. The poison really had spread this far, even in the short time since he’d left Bella’s Pack. Lucky’s heart sank. Maybe the valley wouldn’t recover as quickly as he’d thought. . . .

There was a ridge of ground that fell sharply toward the river, and tree roots half-exposed by the rush of water jutted out over the bank. When he jumped down it he found a sandy hollow beneath the roots. Huddled there were the seven Leashed Dogs, their hackles stiff with fear.

“You’ll be all right,” Daisy was saying, licking at Martha’s torn leg. “But you shouldn’t move around.”

Bruno’s sturdy body stood over Alfie, who lay still and broken on the ground. Sunshine stared at the little dog, shivering.

“He needs a vet! He really does!” Sunshine whined. “I wish my longpaws were here.”

“We all do.” Mickey gave her a reassuring lick, but his flanks were trembling.

Then Daisy looked up and caught sight of Lucky. Her eyes widened and she gave a frightened yelp. That set the others off, leaping and scrambling to their feet, falling over one another in their haste. They must think I’m one of the Wild Dogs, Lucky realized. He gave a soft reassuring growl, and came out of the deeper shadows so they could see him better.

“It’s me,” he barked.

Their shock was plain in their faces and their bristling coats, but then Bella’s ears pricked and she sprang to meet him, pressing her face to his.

“You came back.”

“Lucky!” The others trotted to join her, whining and licking him—all but Bruno, who stayed standing protectively over Alfie. Lucky heard him grumble, “It’s a little late for a heroic return, Lucky.”

Sunshine and Daisy jumped up to reach his nose, but their old enthusiasm was subdued. Sadness filled the little hollow. Even the acrid scent of the river was overwhelmed by the tang of blood. Hesitantly, Lucky paced forward to where Alfie sprawled, eyes half-closed, panting weakly. His flank rose and fell barely at all.

“Oh, Lucky,” whined Mickey. “Is there anything we can do?”

They all fell silent as Lucky nosed Alfie’s wound. The skin was split wide and Lucky could see red, glistening muscle like he’d seen on injured prey. The sight of it turned his stomach cold.

A faint whimper came from Alfie’s throat, but he couldn’t raise his head to greet Lucky. The sand beneath him was stained with thick, dark blood, but it no longer flowed from his side in a strong stream. It had been reduced to a limp trickle that seeped feebly in the slash.

Lucky closed his eyes briefly, hating to have to break such news.

“He isn’t bleeding so badly anymore.” There was a faint hope in Sunshine’s voice that made Lucky’s heart turn over.