He took a step forward, and Wiggle yelped and shot beneath Lucky’s belly. Lucky spoke quickly. “The Leashed Dogs weren’t used to Pack life, but they’ve learned quickly.” He turned to Bruno, making sure his gaze showed mischievous humor when he asked: “Isn’t that right?”

The older dog looked away with a murmur of embarrassed agreement.

“Dogs don’t really change,” said Sweet. “They may pretend to, but that’s not the same thing.”

Lucky felt his chest tighten. What does she mean by that?

“I think they do,” said Mickey, taking a step forward so he was standing on one side of the puppies with Lucky on the other. “You remember what I was like. I never thought that I could cope without longpaws. I couldn’t imagine a life without them. But now, I know they’ve gone for good. And, I know I will survive: I can hunt, and protect myself, and I can contribute to the Pack. Together we’re all stronger, aren’t we?”

Martha barked in agreement and Snap tilted her head, listening with ears pricked.

“If a Leashed Dog like me can adapt,” Mickey continued, “then pups certainly can. Dogs aren’t born bad.”

“I think that’s true,” said Moon, shaking her long, silky fur, her eyes on Lick, Wiggle, and Grunt. “Under the Pack’s influence, we can teach these puppies how to work gently and effectively together. They don’t need to be violent and aggressive like their parents. It’s like Lucky said—if the Leashed Dogs have been able to learn wild survival skills, why can’t these pups learn to be honorable?”

Alpha’s wolfish howl tore over the circle of dogs and Moon shrank back.

“Are you all fools? We can’t raise Fierce Dogs! It would be like nurturing your own conqueror! We should kill those vermin before they can grow up to attack us. Savagery is in their blood, and sharing our food with them will not change that.”

“How can you be so sure?” Lucky barked, bracing his legs defensively as he squared up to the Pack leader.

“This is how,” snarled Alpha. He jutted out his left foreleg. Lucky saw a deep scar running along the curve of the half wolf’s paw, welts of damaged flesh exposed between the strands of shaggy gray fur. He had never noticed it before, but now he shuddered at the sight.

“One of those savage monsters nearly bit it clean off when I was a pup,” Alpha growled. “You call them Fierce Dogs, but wolves have a different name for them. To a wolf, they’re known as Longpaw Fangs—because the longpaws use them as tools to do their biting for them. And you have the stupidity to lead them into our camp!”