“They were play-fighting,” snapped Martha. “It just got out of hand—it happens sometimes. Grunt didn’t mean any harm.” Then she gave a shake of her shaggy head and sighed deeply. Her face softened and she lowered her body so she no longer towered over the Mother-Dog. “Let’s not allow this to become a reason to fight, Moon. Little Grunt has learned his lesson.”

Moon looked at Martha uncertainly a moment. Then she slowly lowered her hackles. Lucky was relieved when the two dogs nosed each other and Moon turned back to Squirm, who was not badly injured. It was a good thing that Fiery was out somewhere, presumably with Alpha and Sweet. Lucky didn’t want to think about what the great brown dog might have done to Grunt.

Lick and Wiggle pawed at Martha, who lowered her head to comfort them. Only Grunt remained alone, a scowl darkening his face as he watched Moon beckon her puppies away.

Lucky stood by, barely feeling the bite throbbing at his neck now. He cared about the pups; he was also well aware that he had brought them into the camp. He would be blamed if anything went wrong.

Another clash like that and they’d all be out of the Pack for good.

The pups are going to need a lot more teaching, he thought. Grunt most of all.

Lucky sighed and plodded through the forest toward the river. The bedding in the hunters’ den needed to be changed. It seemed as though one of the worst parts of being Omega was going to be the boredom—repeating the same tasks over and over again, never getting to take part in the thrill of a hunt or even the responsibility of patrolling the camp border.

The riverbank was the best spot for digging up nice, soft moss. Lucky sidled up to the bank and started sniffing his way through tangles of grass, where tall trees closed in again, marking the edge of the forest. He ducked under them, spotting some decent leaves—only half-dry, as Sunshine had recommended—and was scooping them up when he heard a twig snap beneath a paw. Turning, he saw Bruno making his way under a huge oak. The old dog had risen to the position of hunter while Lucky and Mickey were away. Lucky guessed he was sniffing around for prey. The other hunters must be in the forest too, but he couldn’t scent any of them nearby.

Lucky dropped the mouthful of leaves and pressed deeper into the forest, but Bruno called after him.

Lucky’s fur bristled. He kept walking, almost at a trot. “I have to gather leaves before no-sun,” he barked over his shoulder. He could hear Bruno behind him, treading with clumsy steps. Lucky knew that the old dog would struggle to keep up with him.