Disclaimer: The concepts and characters herein are the property of Alliance. I don't make any money from this.

Author's Notes: Thanks to llassah for a quick and helpful beta.

Dief and pack-Ben had traveled many places in pursuit of their rightful two-legged prey, but this was the worst.

In Chicago, the humans had gone mad. They covered every inch of earth with concrete, as if their cars needed the room more than their own young. They covered their bodies with false scents, trying to hide the fact that they were still animals. They lived piled together in tiny spaces that would have had rats snapping at each other.

A new scent yanked Dief's nose to the side. It was sweet as honey and rich as week-dead caribou. Dief wanted to lie down and wallow in it. He wanted to sink his teeth in its ruff and mount it. He wanted to devour it.

Dief ghosted through the building crowded with law-hunters and lawless-prey. Silent and unseen he tracked the scent to its source. Up these stairs. Down that hall. Through a door. Across the room.

There.

Dief bellied up to his target. A man sat at the desk, guarding his food. Dief waited ... waited ... waited ... the man turned away. Dief launched himself with the speed and accuracy of a tendon slash, snatching his prize and retreating to the dark space under a nearby empty desk.

The man yowled loud enough to penetrate Dief's ears, tinny and distant. "Goddamn dog stole my Krispy Kreme!"

Mmmmm. Crispy. Creamy. It tasted even better than the scent had promised.

Dief was licking his chops, eyes half-closed with pleasure, when the man's head appeared at the entrance to his den. Dief showed his teeth and gave him a friendly piece of advice. In contested territory, the slow go hungry.