For a long moment, all he could hear was the rumbling thunder of the tree crashing down onto the rocks, branches splitting and cracking as they hit the overhang, twigs and shards of bark exploding around him. He flinched as a splinter of wood struck his flank, but he knew he had to keep still. He could not jump up and run, no matter how strong the urge.

Please, Earth-Dog, he thought. Be merciful.

Slowly the deafening racket of the tree’s collapse rebounded and echoed and faded. All that was left was a blizzard of pine needles. At last, the ground underneath him grew still. Earth-Dog had stopped growling.

Still trembling, Lucky crept out from his shelter, forcing his body through the thick branches and foliage of the dead tree. Its trunk was as broad as a loudcage, and shudders of horror went through his spine at the thought of how close it had come to falling right on top of him. I’d be dead now. . . . My body would already be with the Earth-Dog.

Lucky licked at his leg, but the twinge of pain had faded. He realized with a rush of relief that he wasn’t hurt. He’d only just recovered from the slash on his paw from the last Big Growl. It wouldn’t do to find himself with another leg wound.

The hillside around him was torn and devastated, as if a giant dog had scraped great gashes in it with its forepaws. Awed, Lucky crept carefully down the uneven slope, hardly daring to pick up his pace. But the area where the dogs had fought was not far below him now, and Lucky trotted more urgently when he reached level ground.

The air was a chaos of scents—damp, wounded earth, roots, blood, and splintered wood. Strongest of all was the smell of dog-fear, though the others had run away from the battle site now. Lucky’s ears pricked as he glanced around, hoping he’d see one of his own Pack searching for him. He had no idea where they were now. Had any of the others seen him?

Or just poor Alfie?

As the image of the little dog, broken and wounded, came into his mind, Lucky heard a terrible keening noise. It was the sound of a dog in distress, hurt and helpless.

Lucky glanced around nervously, his fur bristling. Where was the noise coming from? It seemed close, but there was no sign of the dog who was making it.

As he turned, searching, he caught sight of the crack in the earth. Cold horror surged through his body as he remembered the blur of pale fur that he’d seen fall into the split in the ground.

Earth-Dog! he thought. She must have swallowed one of the dogs, showing them her fury at their fighting. Stiff-legged and shivering, Lucky began to back away from the chasm. If Earth-Dog was as angry as that with the battling dogs, who knew what she might do next, or who she might turn her wrath on?