“We have rules here,” said Mulch, his nose tilted arrogantly. “We’re not greedy scavengers.”

Lucky decided not to answer. He had a feeling that, whatever he said, Mulch would scoff.

Alpha was taking his time, cracking the bones with his jaws and licking them clean of meat and marrow. Only when he had filled his belly, stretched, and padded away did Sweet step forward; and only when she had eaten a gopher and two whole voles did Fiery approach the prey. The huge dog tossed a whole squirrel toward the cowering Omega, who barked a humble “Thank you” before taking it away toward Moon’s nest in the undergrowth.

Drool slowly fell from the little dog’s jaws, but Omega didn’t even dare lick at the prey in his mouth. He dropped it at Moon’s paws. Lucky realized Omega thanked Fiery for nothing more than the “privilege” of taking Moon’s food to her. As he watched three squirming pup noses sniff curiously at the meat even though they weren’t old enough to eat it, Lucky pondered how odd the rules of Pack life were.

Could I ever get used to living like this?

Lucky’s dismay mounted as he watched the heap of food shrink. The game bird was gone, as were all but one of the rabbits. There were far fewer mice, too. What’s going to be left for me? He had never really considered it before, but now he keenly felt how rotten it was to be bottom of the Pack.

Fiery was still gobbling down a gopher, licking his red muzzle before tearing into its rib cage again. Lucky’s tormented stomach was growling like an angry Alpha, so he almost missed the slinking shadow off to his left. Then he started, and turned.

Mulch was creeping through the twilight shadows, targeting a mouse that had fallen away from the main pile. His paw reached out, almost as if he was only stretching his muscles. . . .

But Lucky wasn’t the only one who had noticed Mulch. As one of his claws caught the mouse’s tail, Sweet lunged for him, biting his long black ear savagely. Mulch dropped the mouse with a yelp.

“What do you think you’re doing?” snapped Sweet. “Stay back until it’s your turn! One more trick like that and you will be demoted.”

Mulch whimpered an apology, scuttling backward as blood dripped from his torn ear. Lucky felt his heart sink inside him. What had happened to the shy, gentle Sweet he’d known in the Trap House?

“Snap,” the swift-dog announced. “Hurry up, or we’ll be here until the Moon-Dog goes to sleep.”

“Coming, Beta!”

Sweet’s new aggression wasn’t all that dismayed Lucky. What would remain of the night’s hunt for the dogs who held the lower statuses? There wasn’t much left in the way of gophers now, and the remaining squirrels were all scrawny. Once Snap had taken her share, it was Mulch’s proper turn. Subdued, the black dog snatched up a mouse and a squirrel’s leg and scurried back, as if afraid of more punishment.