He needed to get as far from the crack in the ground as he possibly could. He didn’t know the distressed dog who was making the agonized sound. It wasn’t one of the Leashed Dogs—he’d have recognized any of them immediately, even blurred and falling. The pitifully howling dog was a stranger—one of the enemy Pack.

None of that Pack can be trusted. Why should I rescue a stranger?

Still, Lucky’s whole coat twitched and tingled. Something was drawing him back, an urge he couldn’t resist. He pricked his ears high, straining to hear. Something about that desperate, pleading howl tugged at his recent memory. And the scent . . . it was tantalizingly familiar, but the mess of smells created by the Growl meant that he could not pick it out properly.

Lucky shook himself violently. Of course he couldn’t walk away from a dog in danger! It didn’t matter if that other dog was friend or foe. Lucky wouldn’t be a dog at all if he left one of his own kind to suffer a terrible fate. What had Mother-Dog once said? Noble and honorable. He couldn’t betray his own dog-spirit.

Taking a deep breath, Lucky loped carefully to the edge of the chasm. It was very dark but, as his eyes adjusted to the dimness after the bright sunlight, he made out the shape of a cowering creature.

The swift-dog.

It was one of the dog-wolf’s lieutenants, the one who had darted back and forth and barked the orders to attack. Now she crouched on a narrow ledge of rock, quivering in fear. Her muzzle lay over the ledge as she stared down, wide-eyed, at the deadly drop; but as Lucky’s claws scraped the loose rock on the edge of the crack, shards of stone skittered into the depths, and the swift-dog lifted her head. She stared up at him, petrified.

Lucky took a backward step in surprise.

Sweet!

His friend-behind-the-wire . . . his fellow survivor of the Trap House . . .

When she’d left him alone, in search of Pack companions, he’d wondered if she would be able to survive.

She had—and she was with the Wild Pack!

She was whimpering now, blinking her big eyes against the strong sunlight from above. As she made him out, she gave a sharp whine of shock.

“What are you doing here?”

They both asked the question together, and for a long moment gaped at each other. Then Lucky shook himself.

“Never mind that now, Sweet. You have to get out of there.”

She crouched against the rock wall, trembling. “I don’t know how.”

Lucky took another hesitant step forward, bringing him to the edge of the chasm. He began to crouch, but loose stones slithered beneath his paws and a rain of tiny rocks clattered and pattered into the darkness. Back! Lucky stepped hastily away from the drop, his fur lifting.

“You’re not far down. Can’t you hook your claws over the edge, pull yourself up?”