Sweet’s narrow face was scarcely visible in the mist. “I just assumed . . . with the pups gone, why would you stay?”

“Isn’t that obvious? I’ll stay because I’m a Pack Dog now. Haven’t I proven myself enough for you? I’m surprised you’re even speaking to me. Isn’t it beneath a Beta to talk to the Omega? Are you taking cover behind the mist, so no dog will see you?”

Sweet’s eyes had widened with shock. “Don’t be like that, Lucky. I didn’t mean to offend you—”

He didn’t let her finish. “But you have offended me, Sweet. You make me sound like I change my mind every sunup; like I’m not committed to anything, or any dog.” His ears flicked back. The words spilled out of him, a swirl of bitterness and anger. He thought of Grunt, Lick, and Wiggle and his heart throbbed with loss. “Haven’t I shown that I can act in the interests of the Pack? Even when it meant letting the pups go? I’ve tried so hard to do what’s right by the Pack—not that you’ve noticed! Tonight I’ll sleep out in a draft, just to remind you and the other high-ranking dogs that I’m the lowest dog, less than nothing. Even though I know there’s another way to live, that dogs don’t need to be punished and controlled by rank, I’m going to live like a Pack Dog—because that’s what I am now.”

“I know it isn’t easy being Omega,” Sweet said, her voice a gentle, soothing whimper. “But rules are important—it’s what gives us security. Without rules, how would we know what we should do, or how to act in a crisis?”

Lucky couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He gave a sigh. “For all Alpha’s rules, has the Pack performed any better? Oh, things work well enough when food is plentiful and everyone does what they’re told—but look what happened when the Fierce Dogs came. The Pack fell apart! The Pack failed, despite all its rules.”

“I knew it!” Sweet barked, her voice rising, provoked to anger at last. “I knew you would turn on the Pack sooner or later!”

Lucky glared at her, their eyes locking. The world grew silent, only the breeze shrilling on the night air, lifting and spreading the mist like clouds of dust. A wave of despair ran through him, his fur rising along his back. I must prove to Sweet that I am a Pack Dog once and for all!

An idea started to form. He turned to the edge of the hill and scanned the meadow. The wind had torn holes in the mist. He could see Spring and Dart walking side by side, surveying the perimeter of the camp. No, not them . . .