If he had to bring it back up later, he’d do it in secret; but Lucky couldn’t let the others suspect that he’d already eaten. There was a thin covering of leaf litter beneath the tree, and he managed to push a few bitefuls beneath that, but he couldn’t risk Sweet seeing him do it, so most of it he had to choke down. His body heaved with the effort and he had to concentrate on each swallow. He couldn’t even show his relief when he’d eaten enough, and could crawl back from what was left of the hind.

I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy deer again. . . .

After Snap, Twitch, and Dart had eaten, it was Whine’s turn. Lucky had never seen a dog wolf down food with such relish, and he’d had no idea such a small, pathetic dog could cram so much meat into his belly. Obviously the pudgy creature’s conscience was clear about what they had done. Despite the abundance of tonight’s prey, despite what had been a huge bounty when the Pack began to eat, Whine left scarcely anything for Mulch, and Lucky felt his anger at the sly little dog grow darker and deeper.

If any dog ought to have had sympathy for the new Omega, it should have been the old one. Whine knew what it felt like to go hungry, to be despised and overlooked.

Surely he could have shown a little pity! Lucky felt his muzzle curl as he watched Whine’s smug, flat face, still smeared with deer blood. No, I can’t think about him; I’ll only get angrier, and I can’t afford to do that.

Lucky could only hope the Great Howl would make him feel better about himself, but as the dogs gathered and the eerie sound swelled into the night sky, his gaze was drawn against his will to Mulch. The newly appointed Omega was trying to join in, but his howls were faint and brief, and he was obviously too weak from his beating to take his Pack-place in the great bonding time. No shadow-dogs bounded across Lucky’s vision that night; there was no enchantment in the Great Howl for him.

Mulch—Lucky found it impossible to think of him as Omega—was the first to slink away when the sounds of the Howl had died off. Lucky waited till the rest of the Pack had dispersed to their sleeping-places before he carefully retrieved the meat he’d hidden, then padded across to the uncomfortable shallow scrape where Mulch had to make his new bed. As the branches rustled, Mulch looked up at him, startled.

“What do you want?” There was resentment in the black dog’s eyes.

“I brought—” Lucky took a breath. “I brought you food. There was some left.”

“That’s not allowed.” Mulch glared at him suspiciously.

“No one’s going to know.” Lucky pawed the chunks of flesh closer to Mulch. “I’m certainly not going to confess to Alpha.”

Just saying those words sent a tremor of guilt through his spine, but Mulch didn’t notice. “Why would I take food from you?”