Lucky nudged the older dog away with his nose. “You shouldn’t drink that.”

Mickey lowered his ears, ashamed. “There isn’t any fresh water, Lucky,” he said. “Surely this is safer than drinking from that poisoned river?”

Lucky tilted his head thoughtfully. He had to admit, Mickey had a point.

“We can’t rely on the rain.” He licked his chops uncertainly. “The Earth-Dog drinks it quickly, and what she leaves behind is fouled.”

“But Martha’s wounded,” said Mickey, looking at the big water-dog, who lay washing the bite on her leg with her tongue. “She can’t travel far.”

“I know!” Daisy leaped up brightly, tail wagging. “Remember we made that offering before, to the Sky-Dogs? Let’s do the same for the River-Dog now! If we send him a gift, perhaps he’ll clean the water for us!”

The little white dog’s head cocked and her tongue lolled. She looked so pleased with her suggestion, Lucky couldn’t bear to contradict her. He had never known the Spirit Dogs to intervene as quickly or obviously as that, but who was he to say they wouldn’t do so now, in these desperate times? The River-Dog might appreciate an offering, and if there was any dog in the Pack that he might have mercy for, it would be Martha, with her love of water and her big webbed paws.

“Well,” he said slowly, “it’s worth a try. But what will we give to the River-Dog?”

“Food!” Sunshine barked excitedly. “We’ll give him a rabbit—or a squirrel!”

Lucky stared at her, skeptical. “Food? Do you have any to spare?”

Sunshine’s ears drooped. “Well . . .”

“No,” Bella growled witheringly. “We don’t.”

“We . . . we could try to find some?” Sunshine suggested, but Lucky could see that even she didn’t think it was a good idea. Daisy gave her a supportive lick on one long-furred ear.

“I think River-Dog would want us to use any food we find to keep ourselves alive. We’ll think of something else,” she said kindly. Sunshine dipped her head, embarrassed.

Lucky felt a little sorry for Sunshine. If she could suggest, even for a moment, giving their food supplies away so casually, she was still a long way from understanding survival in the Wild.

Mickey was lying with his head on the longpaw glove he’d brought with him all the way from the city, and he suddenly sniffed at it and looked up. “I have an idea. What do we dogs like almost as much as eating?” He glanced around at all of them. “Playing! My longpaw pup would always wear this while he played fetch with me.”

“How does that help?” Bella asked.

“All dogs like a game of fetch, don’t we? Let’s find the River-Dog a really good stick!”

Bella cocked her head, thinking. “That might work.”

Lucky wasn’t so sure, but Mickey looked enormously pleased with himself. “Come on, then. I bet we can find something really special. We’ll check with Martha before we offer it, to make sure we find something the River-Dog will like.”