They could also have found clean water of their own by now. What if Bella came out every night to meet Lucky, to tell him that it was fine to return, that he did not have to spy on the Wild Pack anymore, but Lucky could not get the message because he could not speak with his litter-sister? Would he be stuck here, in Alpha’s Pack, forever?

And would that really be a bad thing?

He heaved a sigh. The black sky of no-sun was clear and cloudless, the stars pinpricks of glittering clear-stone. Lucky could make out all the constellations: the wily Rabbit, the Wolf and her Cub, the Great Tree, and the Running Squirrel. They seemed to spin above him, whirling and taunting, until his eyelids began to droop and sleep fuzzed his brain.

Distantly, a sound pierced his doze: the caw of a crow among the trees. In an instant Lucky was awake again. On one side of him Fiery snored mightily; on the other, heaped against each other, Snap’s and Spring’s flanks rose and fell with the steady rhythm of deep sleep.

He’d never known crows to be so fond of no-sun. But it reminded him he wanted to try to see Bella, to find out if he needed to go on with this deception. The Moon-Dog was climbing the sky now.

Heart pounding, Lucky eased up and slunk between the others’ sleeping forms. His breath caught in his throat when Fiery’s leg twitched twice, but after a moment the big dog’s snores rumbled again like the Sky-Dogs’ thunder. He was just dreaming.

Stepping carefully on the softest moss and moldy leaves, Lucky picked his way with painful slowness out of the hunters’ den. From the position of the Great Tree and the height of the Moon-Dog, he thought it must be Dart’s turn on watch; but she was looking for enemies trying to get into the camp. She would never expect an enemy trying to sneak out.

All he had to do was stay low, keep to the undergrowth, and be silent. So long as he did not trip over Dart as she made her rounds, he should be able to get safely away from the clearing. Then it was an easy run to the longpaw camp, and he would have plenty of time before the Moon-Dog yawned and went to sleep.

A twig cracked under his paw, and his heart almost stopped. But no dog stirred, and he placed one paw after another cautiously, scared with every step that he would make a noise that would wake one of his Pack. He had to crouch low to avoid the branches, too, and that did not make it any easier to be silent. But at last he was beyond the thickest of the undergrowth, and could stand tall again, and spring into a scamper.

It was a relief to stretch his legs and run, after the dreadful, tense creep-and-crawl out of the camp. Lucky breathed in the cool air of no-sun as he bounded through the trees and across the meadow. The stars above him, the solid ground beneath his feet, and the smell of the forest: This was perfect. This was how he was meant to be. Free and happy. No one watching him or expecting his aid. Alone!