Alpha stood stock-still in disgust, rigid and stunned.

“My friends,” barked Bella. “Attack!”

CHAPTER TWENTY

“NO!”

But Lucky’s howl of protest was drowned out by the deafening barks and screams of dogs colliding in battle. Bella had knocked Sweet flying, but Sweet was already on her paws again, snarling her rage as she tore at Bella’s neck. Mickey and Bruno were taking on Snap and Spring, and they rolled on the crushed grass and earth, snapping and biting and scratching. Yelps of pain and fury battered Lucky’s ears as he saw the foxes spring like streaks of gray mist at the Wild Pack, tearing and raking at their ears and eyes and throats.

His heart was pounding so hard it felt too big for his chest. Oh, help me, Forest-Dog! I don’t know what to do! He didn’t want to see the Leashed Dogs defeated and killed, but how could he fight against his comrades in the Wild Pack? How could he ally himself with foxes? They weren’t to be trusted, ever!

His whole body was shaking with the struggle to choose, but if he didn’t get involved soon, one or the other of his Packs would start to fail. His friends would be killed. He didn’t want any of them to die! The foxes could go to the Earth-Dog as far as he was concerned, but not the dogs he knew, the ones he fought and hunted beside—

The foxes . . .

Lucky crouched, creeping forward, peering into the pitching, tumbling bodies as they fought and howled. All dogs, though—all dogs, killing one another. Where were the foxes?

He sprang to his paws and spun around. Six gray shapes were scuttling around the food store, grabbing any scraps they could. Treacherous brutes! Lucky almost felt sorry for Bella, with her trusting innocence. He’d been wrong about these animals—they weren’t city foxes at all. They were too ruthless and cunning. Foxes living off scraps in the city would look slow and lazy by comparison.

He snarled and bolted after the thieves. The foxes wouldn’t get even a scrap if he had anything to do with it.

As he ran, the sickening realization hit him like a longpaw’s kick. The foxes had lost interest in the meager food store, and had come to circle Moon’s den. They paced around it, their eyes fixed on the pups, lips curled back in snarls. They didn’t want scraps, Lucky thought with a flash of pure rage. They wanted prey, live prey. Moon’s pups.

Moon was crouched before the den, snarling her hate, spittle flying from her jaws as the foxes darted in one by one to bite and torment her.

“Mommy-dog, tired, all alone,” Lucky heard one of them say. “Can’t fight our hunger!”

Moon was weak from nursing, but she was as fierce as Alpha ever had been, clawing and snapping at her tormentors. Squirm, Fuzz, and Nose were cowering somewhere behind her, and Lucky could hear their terrified whimpering.