Head on his paws, he breathed out a sigh as he watched Pack life go on around him. Twitch had stretched out on a grassy bank to catch a lucky ray of Sun-Dog’s light, and Dart had trotted across to visit with Moon, sniffing affectionately at the clumsily crawling pups, whose eyes had fully opened now. The largest pup tumbled over to land on top of his sister and Moon patiently pushed him upright again.

“Squirm,” Moon said. “Be careful.” The female pup wobbled back upright, only to trip over Dart’s paws. The brown-and-white swift-dog nosed her affectionately.

Fiery, sprawled alongside Mulch, had just growled a lazy order at Omega, who whined submissively before trotting off obediently.

For the moment Pack life was settled, ordered, stable. Each dog knew his place and accepted it. That might be good for the Pack, but it was not what Lucky needed. He had to rise, so that he might gain Alpha’s trust, and convince him that the Leashed Dogs were not to be feared or attacked. He did not have time to work his way quietly up the ranks, waiting for some other dog to put a paw wrong and be demoted. A small tremor rippled through his spine. And if I stay here too long, I might get too settled. I might start thinking of this as my Pack.

He needed to do what he came here to do. And he needed to do it soon. There was only one other way to change his status. He would have to challenge a higher-ranked dog, and then beat him in combat to take his place.

Lucky swallowed hard. Which Packmate would he challenge?

Fiery was pacing toward the nest where Moon still lay with their pups, and Lucky followed him with his eyes. The huge dog was well fed and powerful, sleek with rippling muscle. There was no way he could take on Fiery and win.

Mulch? he wondered. Lucky cocked an ear, thinking hard. He thought he could defeat Mulch . . . but the long-eared black dog’s initial dislike of Lucky hadn’t lessened, judging by the way he seemed keen on disagreeing with him all the time. He would take a challenge very personally, and very seriously, and would not easily let himself be beaten by a “City Dog.” Lucky suspected he would fight dirty if he had to. And the last thing I need right now is a bad wound.

Across the clearing, the young tan-and-white Snap basked in her sleeping-place, her paws and belly turned to the thin rays of light from the Sun-Dog. She was a hunter who ranked above Mulch, Lucky remembered, but she did not have the same vicious resentment. She would not fight so bitterly, and would be less likely to hurt him badly if she defeated him.

Plus, she was smaller than he was. . . .

If I gnaw this over any longer in my head, I’ll never do it. Lucky rose and stretched carefully, clawing the mossy ground, testing his muscles. There were no aches that were bothering him. Standing up straight, he shook himself, then padded determinedly to Sweet.