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sickness.”
    Moon wanted to speak, to bark her fury at him, but her throat was too tight with disbelieving shock. Disgust rippled through her muscles, and made her stomach turn over.
    At last she managed to choke it out: “You want to abandon the Pack when it needs you most?”
    He hunched his powerful shoulders. “It’s not a Pack anymore. It’s too weak to survive.”
    Her world was whirling, her brain dizzy with confusion. This didn’t make sense!
    â€œYou’ll even turn your back on my Father-Dog, who promoted you, who was so kind to you?” Moon’s bark was hoarse with fury. “I won’t leave with you, Hunter. I’ll stay where I belong. I will never, never abandon my Pack!”
    Hunter stared at her for a moment, and she hoped against hope that her words had struck home. Surely he couldn’t deny the law of the Pack and the will of the Spirit Dogs? Surely he’d realize he was wrong, see his mistake, change his mind!
    But Hunter only turned with a dismissive flick of his tail.
    â€œThen you’re a stupid dog,” he said coldly. “You’ll sicken and die with the others, Moon. Rush, Meadow, and I will live and be strong. Good-bye, Moon, and good luck. Luck’s all you’ve got left to help you now.”
    And with that last contemptuous growl, he turned and walked away.

CHAPTER FIVE
    The Sun-Dog was yawning and settling on the horizon in a blaze of gold as Moon waited for the hunting patrol to return the following day. The beauty of his colors was altogether at odds with her mood. The golden Spirit Dog had traveled a full day’s journey since Hunter, Rush, and Meadow had abandoned the Pack. How could the Sun-Dog let them do this to us? Sometimes Moon wondered if he even cared about the mortal dogs dashing around on the ground beneath him, struggling to survive in a harsh world.
    No, of course he cares, she told herself firmly. And we have the help of the other Pack; that counts for so much. My Father-Dog was wise to make a hunting alliance with the half wolf.
    She saw that more clearly than ever. After all, her own Pack had now lost every one of its hunt-dogs, whether to sickness, exhaustion or—worst of all—betrayal.
    Mulch had fallen ill only yesterday. Snap, Pebble, and Moonherself were all healthy so far, but all their time and energy went toward tending to the dogs who were sick and helpless.
    Moon was sure the half wolf was none too pleased to be propping up an ailing Pack, but so far, their agreement had stood. And that was thanks to Fiery, she realized. He came to their camp every day with fresh prey for the sick dogs. Without his help, Moon knew they wouldn’t even have lasted this long.
    A twig cracked, and low branches rustled in the line of trees ahead. Eagerly, Moon took a pace forward, hoping to catch her first sight of the returning hunters. If only they’d found good prey today . . .
    Her ears twitched and she let out an involuntary growl. Those pawsteps were too light to be the hunting dogs. They were quick and surreptitious, and there seemed to be too many of them. . . .
    â€œSmell dogsies? Sick dogsies!”
    â€œOhhh, we does, cohort, we does!”
    The nasal voices were filled with venom, and Moon’s blood ran ice cold in her veins.
    Coyotes!
    They burst from the trees not two rabbit-chases from her flank: wiry, quick, and savage. For a horrible instant Moon couldn’t move; she could only stare in horror, trying to count theirgrayish-yellow pelts. How many? Ten, twelve?
    Too many!
    Coyotes were spiteful and vicious. They preyed on the weak, and there were a lot of weak dogs in the camp behind her. The coyotes were piling toward the glade now, a tumbling mass of murderous teeth and claws. Wrinkled muzzles snuffling the air, slobber flying from their hungry jaws, they hurtled straight for the dens where the sick dogs lay.
    Moon whipped around and raced to intercept them, flinging herself