Mickey took his cue, doing a good impression of Lucky, lips curled back and snarling steadily. The two dogs edged deeper into the house, approaching a small room where both longpaws were busy gathering objects. The dogs stood at the entrance, almost motionless, growling in low voices.

The longpaws looked again at the dogs, and stopped moving around. One threw his hands in the air and started barking at the dogs. Lucky held his ground and Mickey did the same, paws planted to the floor and growling all the time.

The longpaws yelped to each other. Up close, Lucky could see the yellow spit gathering at their mouths. Their lips had a green tinge, which reminded Lucky of the poisonous river-water that had made Bruno sick. The one that had tried to shoo them away had angry pink scabs along his jawline. He took a step back but the other longpaw made a grab for a deep, clear-stone dish, and waved it in front of Lucky. The hairs prickled along Lucky’s back and fear coursed through him, his paw pads suddenly damp with sweat. Despite this, he held firm. The longpaw flung the object and it flew past Lucky’s head, smashing against the wall. Lucky flinched but continued to growl, and Mickey only snarled louder.

Lucky’s ears flipped back at the sound of a deep groan. The house was speaking! His body tensed. Was it moving? Would it collapse?

The longpaw who had hurled the clear-stone hastily gathered up more objects to throw at the dogs. Lucky sensed Mickey stiffen, preparing for an onslaught, but the Farm Dog didn’t even whimper when a heavy object clipped his ear. Lucky was impressed.

“You’re doing great!” he told Mickey. “You’ve got them spooked!”

There was a twitch of pleasure in his friend’s tail as he held his stance and continued to snarl.

Lucky could see the longpaws exchanging nervous glances, backing against the wall of the small room. Then the house growled loudly and a shower of dust fell from above them. One of the longpaws started coughing and Lucky barked at them:

“Get out of here! This is not your place! Get out before we make you!”

His bark echoed back at him in the small room and seemed to dislodge more dust, which fell in white shrouds.

The longpaws cowered, backs against the wall. Lucky felt a wave of satisfaction when he caught the scent of their fear. He knew that they would not defend themselves against an attack—they would run away at the first opportunity. He turned to bark to Mickey but the ground shuddered beneath their paws as the house growled again. With a whine, a long wound tore open along one wall, crawling upward and bleeding more dust and debris.