Lucky followed his nose over the cracked ground, his whiskers tingling; at last, he saw a flash of black-and-white fur in the shadow of a loudcage. Mickey was crouched there. Something in the Farm Dog’s scent and posture made Lucky uneasy, and he kept low as he approached, making sure he did not seem threatening.

“Mickey? It’s me, Lucky. I’ve been looking for you.”

Mickey gave a flick of the ear but he kept his eyes fixed, staring across the street beyond Lucky.

Lucky paused. “What’s wrong? What are you hiding from?”

“I’m not hiding!” Mickey growled. “I’m waiting. Look.”

Lucky followed his gaze. At the far end of the street he saw movement—two longpaws clambering out of a house near the corner of the street.

Unlike the ones he had seen in the fields beyond the city, these longpaws did not have black, mouthless faces and bright yellow fur. Instead they had pelts like the old longpaws used to, but they were torn and the skin underneath was filthy. He watched as they dragged out a large, flat object made of dried tree that had four pawless legs.

Some instinct made Lucky draw back behind the loudcages. These longpaws reminded Lucky of the ones he had seen sometimes before the Big Growl, when he used to roam the streets. Unlike most longpaws, this type did not seem to live in Packs. They lived outside, huddling in their shaggy, dirty pelts. They stank of fire-juice, and would yelp and squabble among themselves constantly, and when they approached other longpaws, they would be chased away.

But now there were no other longpaws to be seen.

Lucky and Mickey watched as the shabby-furred longpaws removed more objects from the house and piled them in the high grass. They dropped them heavily, one of the longpaws leaning over to spit on the pavement. Even from this distance, Lucky could see that the pool of saliva was yellow and there was yellow froth around the longpaw’s muzzle. His face was gaunt and sallow, and Lucky spotted the bones jutting out at the base of his neck. Lucky knew that hunger made longpaws crazy, and this was the hungriest longpaw he had ever seen.

The dogs would have to keep their distance.

The longpaws were on the move, pushing open the door to the next house and stumbling inside. Lucky could hear dragging and crashing sounds.

Mickey snarled beneath his breath, his haunches low and ears pressed flat as he watched in silence. “Nasty, disgusting longpaws,” he growled, shifting slightly, still crouching by the loudcage. “They’d better not go near my longpaws’ house. They better not even think about it!”