This sun-high would be when he would leave the Leashed Dogs and try to wrangle his way into the enemy Pack, and even the thought of seeing Sweet again couldn’t make him feel any better.

A bird scolded the dogs from high up in a pine, too far away for Lucky to do anything more than give it his best threatening glare. Soon there would be nothing to hunt but beetles and bugs, and then he would have no excuses. Stopping to sniff the air, Lucky saw Mickey slinking through the trees off to his left, low to the ground. Another ripple of pride went through his blood.

“Look!” cried Daisy. A rabbit leaped from the grass almost at Mickey’s feet, hurtling toward Lucky in a panic and swerving aside at the last moment. Sunshine cut it off and drove it back toward Lucky, but it was Mickey who intercepted it with an agile sideways leap, and his jaws crunched down on its spine.

“Well done, Mickey!” Sunshine was jumping up and down and spinning with excitement.

“You did well too, Sunshine,” Lucky pointed out, giving her ear a lick. “This was a real team effort!”

The little dog looked about to burst, and Lucky remembered with amusement her early dislike of hunting, her fear of getting her beautiful white fur caught on twigs. Now she looked grubby and her coat was matted, but she bounced with pride.

There was no putting off the moment anymore; their haul of prey was excellent for such an unpromising sunup. Lucky barked to bring the others back to him. Then, together, they carried their kills back to Martha, Bruno, and Bella.

They weren’t quite in sight of the river and caves when Lucky halted, a scent bringing him up short. His hackles rose as he stood stiff-legged, sniffing the still air.

“Lucky? What is it?” Sunshine laid down her mouse and looked up at him quizzically.

“Nothing, I hope,” he growled softly. “You three go on. I’m going to do a quick scout around here.”

Sunshine looked uncertain, but obediently picked up her mouse and trotted toward the caves with Mickey and Daisy.

Lucky waited until they were out of sight over a slight rise, then lowered his muzzle to the ground, his sense of threat making his coat bristle all over. He hadn’t wanted to say anything to the others, not yet; but he was certain of it. . . .

A Fierce Dog had passed this way.

It couldn’t have been one of the enemy Pack led by the dog-wolf. Lucky hadn’t seen any of those sleek black Fierce Dogs among them, and besides, there was something familiar about this particular scent. A picture came to his mind as the smell filled his nostrils: the strange doghouses where the Leashed Dogs had been caught and imprisoned by the violent Fierce Dog Pack. If Lucky had not been there to help them, he remembered with a shudder, Bella, Daisy, and Alfie would have probably been torn to pieces.