Coyotes! Those fierce, sneaky creatures that feast on frail animals. They’re swift and spiteful too. They must have picked up the smell of pups. They think they’re onto an easy meal.

“Stay quiet,” he told the others. Then he lifted his snout into the air as he tried to untangle the coyotes’ scents. Six of them, at least. More than enough to isolate and overwhelm Lucky and Mickey—and more than enough to steal a pup.

I cannot let these pups end up like Fuzz, Lucky thought with a pang of anguish.

“We need to pick up the pace,” he urged.

“I smell them too,” Mickey whispered. “Do you think we can outrun—”

Lucky gave a quick shake of his head to silence the Farm Dog. He didn’t want to say the word coyote in front of the pups; it would only scare them. Mickey blinked once, to show his understanding. Lick and Grunt pranced forward, scrambling over the jumble of debris on the forest floor. They passed through a tunnel of narrow-trunked trees at the top of a low hill before dipping toward denser foliage.

If we can get downwind of them in the deep forest we may be able to lose them.

They made good progress, and Lucky thought his plan was going to work. But then he heard Lick panting and whimpering behind him. He looked back and saw that she was struggling over the rough ground. Her latest surge of energy seemed to have run dry. Even Grunt was showing signs of weariness, his short tail hanging low as he trudged on determinedly.

“This won’t work,” Mickey murmured. He was even lower to the ground now, his body melting into the sinews of the forest. “I think they’re after the pups. We should all mask our scents, then hide and wait for them to pass.”

Lucky nodded. “How do we—”

“Hide?” Grunt snarled. “A Fierce Dog never hides!”

Lucky’s ear twitched. So Grunt knew they were different from other dogs. What else did the pup know?

Mickey ignored him, diving down into the dirt and mulch of the forest floor, where he rolled repeatedly. Then he sprang to his paws and pressed against the trunk of a nearby tree, rubbing his back, tail, and muzzle.

Lucky was impressed. He hadn’t expected Mickey to have such clever survival skills. The Farm Dog had come a long way since they had first met in the city.

He imitated Mickey, dropping low and rubbing his belly against fallen leaves. “Pups, do what we do. And you must resist the urge to wash yourselves.”

The puppies started rolling, kicking up dirt. Even Grunt cowered down and buried his snout beneath some leaves, allowing Lucky to cover him with twigs and soil.