There was no way to explain this to his litter-sister now, not without raising questions to which Lucky was not sure he had the answers. Perhaps if he had told them at the very beginning, when he found Bella and the others under that tangle of roots, but now?

Impossible.

Lucky fell silent, torn by conflicting loyalties, but Bella seemed not to notice his sudden unease. He could sense her hide prickling in excitement as she pondered her plans, her tail thumping the ground enthusiastically.

“You’ll make friends with them,” she continued. “You’ll earn their trust. You’re good at making dogs like you. Once they do, you’ll be able to get them to let us share their water. If that doesn’t work, you’re clever enough to find a way for us to get at the lake without them realizing! It’s a good plan, Lucky!”

“It’s a crazy plan,” he grumbled. “How long do you expect me to spy for you?”

“Oh . . . just until we’re back to our full strength,” she told him airily. “When Martha’s leg has healed and Bruno’s feeling better, we can make our move—if the other Pack still doesn’t want us here, we’ll be able to go somewhere else. It’s only for now, Lucky. You know how desperate we are. You will do it, won’t you?” She looked at him with pleading eyes.

Would he? He hated the idea. He didn’t want to be a spy; he didn’t want to pretend he was something he was not. But if he refused Bella’s request, he would be letting down his litter-sister, and the rest of the Leashed Dogs.

If he agreed, he would have to deceive Sweet.

Bella was right. Martha and Bruno needed food and water and a place to rest, and how else were they going to get it? And there was no other member of Bella’s Pack who could do this. Not only was he the only dog the Wild Pack hadn’t seen, Lucky was the only one of them who had a chance of succeeding.

He was a cunning street dog.

Lucky sighed and sat down, ears drooping. “Yes, Bella. I’ll do it. You know I will.”

“Great,” said Bella. “Now, I spotted something before that other Pack attacked us. Farther up the valley—about five or six rabbit-chases—there’s an old longpaw camp. It’s just like the ones I used to go to sometimes, with my own longpaws. They went there to play and eat—you know, there were places for dogs to chase balls, and wooden tables, and big pits where the longpaws made fire.”

“No, I don’t know,” Lucky reminded her, thinking of the longpaws he’d seen playing in the city parks with their pups, their food baskets, and their ball games. Would he be running the risk of encountering any longpaws? The only ones he had seen since he left the city were those with the yellow-fur, and they hadn’t seemed interested in dogs at all.

“Oh, don’t look so alarmed, Lucky!” said Bella. “It’s long abandoned.”