Alpha stalked between the dogs, pushing his way to the front of the group. Lucky watched him suspiciously—where had this kind of confidence been when it mattered? He remembered how the half wolf had cowered beneath the black cloud. Now he was strutting around as though he had been in complete control the whole time.

“Longpaws, longpaws, longpaws—that’s all you Leashed Dogs ever talk about! Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound? You especially, Farm Dog.” He glared at Mickey with disgust. “Why are you still carrying around that strange longpaw thing? Isn’t it time to get rid of it?” Alpha sniffed the glove and Mickey snatched it up in his jaws, stepping back and holding it close. Alpha’s lip curled as he growled: “If you’re so keen to get back to your masters, why not run away to the city? We don’t want Leashed Dogs here.”

Mickey dropped the glove between his forepaws.

“Good idea!” he replied. He turned to the other Leashed Dogs. “It’s time to go back to the city—time to find our longpaws. Who’s with me?” Mickey cast his eyes around the group of dogs. While a couple of the Leashed Dogs whimpered, none would meet his gaze. Martha licked her feathery tail, removing the last of the burrs. Daisy gazed out beneath the overhang to the peaceful lake. A long silence followed while Lucky stared at his paws, not sure what to say.

Mickey’s ears flicked back. “I don’t care what you think. I know they’ve returned. I’ll go alone if I have to!” He scooped up the glove and started along the shore of the lake, toward the place where the Sun-Dog was settling to his rest beyond the horizon. It was almost dark out there.

Lucky stood in his way. “Don’t do this,” he whined. “We’ve only just escaped all the danger that’s behind us, and now you’re planning to retrace your steps to the city? Even traveling in a Pack we didn’t escape unscathed.” Lucky thought sadly of Alfie, who had almost died when his longpaws’ house collapsed . . . and who had been killed in a fight between the Packs. Killed by Alpha.

Daisy caught up with them. “Please don’t go,” she whimpered.

Mickey was resolute. He dropped the glove so he could speak. “I don’t belong here. I don’t like all the arguments, all the troubles in Pack life. I need to leave. My longpaw is waiting for me. I can feel it.”

Lucky growled. “It isn’t safe for you to travel alone. I won’t let you!” He squared up to the black-and-white dog, his body stiff.

“You can’t stop me,” said Mickey. He shoved past as Lucky looked on, tail lowered. Then he paused and turned. His face was softer now, his brown eyes warm.

Lucky’s tail thrashed happily.