Mickey went on. “The good longpaws have gone and only the scary ones with yellow fur are left, or the ragged, mean ones that bark and spit.” His ears drooped sadly. “None of us Leashed Dogs could have imagined Pack life before. Now it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Lucky knew where the Farm Dog was going with this.

“I left, Mickey,” he replied quietly. “I can’t go back.”

“Why not?” Mickey whined. “I left too. If we reason with Bella . . .”

“It isn’t Bella we need to worry about.” Lucky suppressed a growl, thinking of Alpha. As much as Lucky wanted to confront the arrogant dog-wolf, he knew that he didn’t stand a chance against him in open combat. Alpha might be a coward in the face of the unknown, but he knew how to fight and kill.

“Alpha will forgive us for leaving,” Mickey countered. “We’re both good hunters. Or we can patrol. You have the best nose of any dog . . . and . . .” Mickey paused. “Don’t you miss everyone?”

Lucky turned back to the path, where a fallen tree trunk blocked the way. He considered the two Packs who’d joined forces. There were plenty among them who he missed, and his tail sank at the thought.

“You can go back, Mickey. Alpha will let you. Not me. . . .”

The black-and-white dog barked in frustration. “You’re so stubborn, Lucky! When will you admit that you aren’t a Lone Dog anymore? You’re a Pack dog; we all are. You need us and we need you!”

Why don’t I just tell him that I was cast out by Alpha? That nobody spoke up for me, or tried to change his mind?

But Lucky couldn’t bring himself to say the words. His tail lowered and shame crept over him. He didn’t want the Farm Dog to know that the other dogs had turned on him.

Mickey’s my friend, Lucky told himself. He won’t judge me. He’ll understand if I explain what happened.

He lifted his head to tell Mickey his story when he caught a sharp new scent.

Fur . . . and skin.

Another dog!

Lucky stiffened, his hackles rising. Was it Twitch? Perhaps he could be persuaded to rejoin the Pack too. He could travel with Lucky and Mickey. . . . But the breeze carried the scent away. Maybe it was an old, stale scent, still lingering.

“Why did you stop? Did you smell something?” Mickey asked.

“No,” Lucky barked, leaping over the fallen trunk and bounding the rest of the way to the riverbank. “I guess I didn’t.”

They were panting when they reached the river. It sparkled, silvery beneath the light of the Sun-Dog. The water was still fresh and clean here, and Lucky and Mickey drank happily.