I owe it to Pebble. I was lucky, and she wasn’t. I lived, and Pebble didn’t. So many of my Pack didn’t live, she thought with a wrench of grief. I’m lucky. Because the Sky-Dogs blessed me, and sent Fiery. The awful heat and the freezing cold were gone from her bones and muscles. The sickness had passed a day or two ago, leaving her feeble but alive. And the same, it seemed, was true for her whole Pack—what was left of it. Mulch and Omega had recovered, just as she had. But not Pebble. Moon glanced at the limp body beside the grave, and swallowed hard. The hole Moon, Mulch, and Snap had dug for their Packmate was next to Star’s, and close to the places where Alpha and Beta lay. And Fly, too. At least they’ll be together when they meet the Earth-Dog. I’ve lost so much, but what I have left, I owe to Fiery. She remembered waking that morning, every muscle in her body feeling as if it was made of fragile twigs. But the heat and the sickness and the pain had been gone. It was Fiery who had brought her through the sickness, Fiery who had given her the will to carry on.
