The screech of a crow made Lucky jump, his head darting toward the sky as he remembered the no-sun crow that had haunted him at the Wild Dog camp. Shimmering feathers vanished above the branches, but Lucky’s gaze was drawn to something else in the sky. The poison cloud was drifting nearer, glistening like a puddle of black blood. He caught a whiff of its acrid stench. It was like something he had smelled in the city. It came back to him now—it was a loudcage scent, like the odor that rose from an injured loudcage as it bled onto the ground when they had their fierce fights. Fights just like the ones that made black clouds rise into the air. The smell turned his stomach. There was nothing natural about it. But it couldn’t be a loudcage fight—it was far too huge for that.

The cloud seemed to be drawing closer. Lucky’s hackles rose and a growl escaped his throat, but he tore his gaze away and continued through the forest. The sooner he was out in the open, the sooner he could get away from the strange cloud. He lowered his muzzle and sniffed the earth, keen to dislodge the acrid smell. Inhaling the fragrance of damp leaves, moss, and grass, he began to relax.

Then he caught the scent of something unexpected—another dog!

Lucky froze, breathing deeply. The odor was familiar.

Twitch!

Lucky followed the scent-trail, his ears pricked and his tail straight behind him. After a little while, Lucky peered through a screen of lumbering vines and overgrown grass, and spotted Twitch in the distance. The injured dog was limping with deliberate, dragging steps between the trees. He disappeared behind a thick trunk, emerging on the other side to continue his slow progress.

Lucky felt a shudder of pity in his belly. The poor dog had left the Pack before Lucky. He should have covered twice as much ground by now, but surely needed long rests in order to build up his strength to keep going. Maybe there were times when the pain in his leg became so great, he just had to stop. At this pace, he would be stuck in the forest at least another day.

Where is he heading?

Peering between two shrubs, Lucky watched the floppy-eared dog. He thought of barking to announce himself. But what if Twitch was angry at having been found? He’d left in the night, while the Pack was sleeping—surely he wanted to be alone?

Doubt gnawed at Lucky. He knew that dogs in pain could be highly dangerous. But Twitch was frail; he needed help. Warily Lucky started trailing the chase-dog, careful not to get too close. He watched as Twitch limped over fallen leaves before coming to a dead stop.

Lucky paused. He must have picked up my scent. He waited but Twitch stayed still, and it was impossible to read his mood at this distance.