“Just trying to be helpful,” Whine yapped. Lucky could see the glint of pleasure in the other dog’s eyes. The former Omega was enjoying Lucky’s humiliation. Lucky raised his tail and strutted past Whine toward the shelter, his head held high. As he rounded down the slope toward the brambles he almost dropped the moss in surprise—the pile of bedding that he’d gathered had doubled in size. Lucky blinked at it, confused, when little Sunshine scampered up to him and added some leaves.

Lucky dropped the moss and rubbed his paw against his chops, wiping away the bitter aftertaste.

“Sunshine, what are you doing?”

She wagged her tail, turning proudly to the mound of bedding. “Helping, of course. When I was Omega, I did this a couple of times. I figured out where to find the softest leaves. The trick is not to go for the really dry ones; they just crumble when you sit on them. When I was making up the bedding in the shelter, I’d set down the moss first, then soft twigs, then half-dry leaves. You have no idea how comfortable a bed all that makes. It’s even better than the soft-hide my longpaws gave me!”

Lucky stared at her, his head cocking. “When you were Omega?” he asked.

Sunshine yipped, tidying the pile with careful shunts of her muzzle.

“But I thought Whine . . .”

“No, it was me.”

Lucky’s head drooped sadly at the thought that poor Sunshine had to take the lowest position in the Pack.

Sunshine raised herself to her full height, jutting out her snout. “Don’t look at me like that, Lucky! I don’t need your pity. I actually liked being Omega. Bella, Martha, and Daisy were still nice to me, and so was Snap. Anyway, I’m good at all those jobs—you know, the ones most dogs feel they’re too noble for.” She narrowed her eyes, sniffed the pile, and pulled out an old leaf. “Too crumbly,” she murmured. She turned back to Lucky. “My longpaws loved it when I helped them, and I was great at it! Every day I would run to collect the papers that came through the door and I’d bring them to my longpaws. In the evening, I’d bring them their paw-covers.”

“Paw-covers?” Lucky had never heard of anything like that.

“Soft pelt covers,” said Sunshine, as if it were obvious. “Longpaws have furless paws, you know—they get cold!”

Lucky could not imagine such a thing. “You’re really good at this,” he told her. “And I appreciate your help. But I don’t think Alpha would look kindly on it. . . . I don’t want him to think I’m slacking off.”

Sunshine nodded. “I understand. It’s too bad, though. Will you at least let me help you take the stuff inside?”