She was watching him with a solemn look in her dark eyes. More and more, he thought, she seemed to fit naturally into her role as Alpha, and more and more he wished he could be sure she was capable of this responsibility. All the same he licked her nose fondly and pressed his face to hers before forcing himself to turn away and begin his journey.

He did not look back as he bounded up the valley’s steep side. The air was warming rapidly, and he panted with the exertion, but he wanted to follow a high route toward the shining lake so that he would not be vulnerable to surprise attacks. There could be other dogs in the valley besides the enemy Pack.

He was glad his belly was full, because his thoughts were focused on what lay ahead, not on hunting. The prey seemed to know it, too; birds sang cheekily close to him and a mouse had the confidence to scuttle across his path and under a log. Lucky was not altogether sure if his anxiety was due to the angry enemies ahead or the thought of seeing Sweet again.

He almost wished the other Pack’s guards would make their appearance so that he could stop worrying. The land was evening out, and as he crested a small ridge he saw the lake spilling away before him, brilliantly reflecting the Sun-Dog’s shine. Surely, now . . .

There! Lucky jerked his head up at the sound of a ferocious bark, just as three dogs leaped out to confront him. Even as his hackles rose instinctively, Lucky felt a strange flutter of relief.

“What are you doing here?” A lean brown-and-white chase-dog, like a smaller swift-dog, stood squarely in front of him, baring her teeth. “This is our territory!”

Our territory! Lucky remembered their savage barks and howls on the day Alfie died. Ours!

“Leave this place now,” snarled a long-eared black-and-tan dog. “Or face the consequences.”

Lucky forced himself to hold his ground; if he turned tail, they might well chase him down and maul him, or worse. He crouched, keeping his haunches high and his forepaws low. He swung his tail nervously to signal that he was not here to threaten or challenge them on their territory.

“In the name of the Forest-Dog, I want to talk to your Alpha!” he barked.

The brown-and-white dog drew back her muzzle in a contemptuous snarl. “Why?”

Lucky took a deep breath and lowered his head even farther. He disliked bowing before these Pack Dogs. They had attacked his friends, and killed one of them! But he had no choice. And besides . . .

“Sweet the swift-dog is one of your Pack,” he said. “We survived together in the city, after the Big Growl.”

“And?” sneered another long-eared dog, a female who looked so much like the male that Lucky wondered if they were littermates.

He cocked his ears and let his tongue loll. If it worked for Food House longpaws, maybe his charm would even work on these dogs. “I want to join your Pack. Take me to Sweet and she’ll vouch for me.”