The silence that fell was unbroken by so much as a cracking twig. Even the birds were silent.

Alpha’s growl was deadly.

“Who. Has. Done. This?”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Alpha spun around, the look of violent fury on his face like nothing Lucky had ever seen.

“Who?”

The dog-wolf slammed a paw onto the ground. Jerking to one side, he spat something out. When he raised his head again, he was looking directly at Lucky.

The bolt of cold fear through his bones was so shocking, it was all Lucky could do not to cower and confess. He was desperate to scratch at his muzzle, to remove the black hair he was sure he must have left there. No . . . no, he couldn’t have been so careless.

Could wolves read the minds of dogs? Did Alpha know?

Lucky wondered how fast he could run. Not fast enough . . .

The howl of confession was rising in his throat when Alpha took a pace forward. Not toward Lucky, though; his ice-cold eyes were locked on Mulch. With a great swipe of his paw, he sent a clod of earth flying into Mulch’s muzzle. When the dirt settled, a hair lay balanced delicately on Mulch’s nose.

The bewildered dog shook it off, making his long ears flap. “Alpha?”

Alpha didn’t answer, but stalked menacingly close to him.

Mulch cowered. “Alpha, I don’t know—”

“Silence!” The dog-wolf’s muzzle curled. “Food-thief. Did you think it was your right to eat before Moon’s pups? Before ME?”

Mulch’s jaws hung open. “I didn’t! I never—”

Alpha leaped for Mulch, bowling him over, clawing his face and neck, fangs sinking into his ears. Mulch gave a long howl of terror, scrabbling hopelessly to get out from under the huge beast. He was on his back now, and one of Alpha’s hind legs raked cruel claws into his belly. Mulch’s howl became a frantic series of agonized yelps.

Lucky wished he could put his paws over his ears. Stop, he wanted to bark. It wasn’t him, it was ME. . . .

No, Lucky. SURVIVE.

The other dogs looked on, shivering, eyes wide, tails low and tight between their legs. Sweet was stiff and trembling at his side. Lucky glanced at her, hoping desperately that she would put a stop this. Drops of Mulch’s blood spattered her face as she watched, and her muzzle wrinkled into a snarl.

Now, he thought frantically. Stop him, Sweet, before it gets worse. No one else will. . . .

Suddenly the swift-dog leaped forward in a graceful spring, and Lucky almost gasped with relief. She’s stopping him! Oh, thank the Sky-Dogs—

But he wasn’t to get off so lightly, Lucky realized. He gaped as Sweet bared her teeth and sank them into the base of Mulch’s tail, renewing his howls of pain. And then Sweet was attacking him too, her jaws snapping at those vulnerable ears as Alpha seized the folds of flesh at Mulch’s neck and shook him like a rat.