The stars welcomed Miguel back to the farm. By the light of the full moon, he followed the worn-down path to the shed where the pack stored extra food and supplies. Although it had once been filled with enough cured meats to feed the pack when prey was scarce and Mr. Miller couldn't spare any livestock, the shed now held little more than a few stray bones and the blankets the pack huddled under when winter actually lived up to its name.

Miguel placed his basket of winnings from Zest Fest in the far corner. His packmates were more than welcome to enjoy his prize of course, but he hoped to have at least some of the salsa left to himself when he didn't feel so bloated.

All was quiet and still until he made his way to the barn for the night.

Miguel's body reacted before his mind registered what was happening. The spines on his neck quivered on end, and his venom glands ached. A sickly sweet smell that was too faint for human noses to detect made him gag despite his nostrils and throat instinctively constricting against the musk.

Even when his mind caught up with his body, Miguel refused to believe the scene in front of him. This couldn't be right. Isabella had ruled the pack for well over a decade, and she had reigned unchallenged for almost as long. None could doubt that she put the pack before all else, nor could they dispute her physical strength and hunting prowess.

Yet, there was Martha baring her fangs and rattling her spines at his sister. Miguel pushed himself through the crowd surrounding the combatants until he had a clear view of the action. No blood had been drawn— they were still just posturing— but there was no denying things would escalate. Esmeralda sidled over to Miguel, her eyes firmly fixed on her mate's twitching muscles. Their hands found each other in the hay covering the floor, sharing a reassuring squeeze and an unspoken understanding that no matter what happened neither would blame the other's family.

"I, Martha of Saguaro Pack, challenge you for your position as leader. You have allowed the humans to mistreat us for far too long, and it is time for someone else to fix things before it's too late." She puffed out her chest and rattled her spines. "As you have no mate, I shall fight you alone."

"I, Isabella of Saguaro Pack, accept your challenge." She drew herself up to her full height, baring her fangs at her opponent. "I permit you the first strike, as is tradition."

"May your claws strike true," chorused the pack.

Claws as long and dark as the night slashed Isabella's skin. With her blood dripping onto the hay, the fight could begin in earnest.

Martha and Isabella crashed together in a growling mass of green scales. Claws sank into flesh, but not fangs. Never fangs. They were both too honorable to resort to treating each other as little more than prey.

Guttural growls filled the barn as the pair grappled with each other. The same bulky muscles that helped the females bring down prey tired by the males' darting strikes made their fight a contest of brute strength. One moment of weakness could decide the victor.

Isabella dug her claws into Martha's shoulders, bearing forward with all her weight in an attempt to knock her off balance. Martha winced, bracing herself low to the ground as her feet slid. Isabella panted from the strain of struggling to pin her opponent.

Martha lunged.

The crowd hissed in sympathy as Martha slammed Isabella onto the ground, sending up a cloud of sawdust. Martha's fangs glistened with venom, forcing her to spit it off to the side to avoid violating the ancient traditions. "Concede," she snarled.

"Never!"

Isabella pummeled her opponent's unprotected stomach with her feet. As hands pressed down on her throat, she kicked with a ferocity that sent each hit reverberating through the barn.

But it wasn't long before her blows grew less deliberate. They took on a wild, frantic edge as her jaws parted. No words came out, only desperate wheezes.

"It'll be over soon," Esmeralda muttered as Miguel trembled with the need to help his sister. But he couldn't move. Not without forcing her to forfeit and risking grave consequences for both of them. "I'll make sure she allows both of you to stay."

Letting out a rattling gasp, Isabella stopped struggling.

Martha released her grip and stepped back. She faced the crowd surrounding them with her head held high.

Surging to her feet, Isabella slammed Martha's head against the ground. Esmeralda tensed beside Miguel as his sister's claws sank into the flesh around Martha's right eye.

"I surrender!" Martha yelled. Her voice stayed strong and clear, with only the way her legs trembled beneath her as Isabella released her grip betraying her fear.

"Well fought, Martha." Isabella bent to touch her snout to her opponent's, gently sniffing her face to make sure she hadn't caused more damage than necessary. "You and your mate are welcome to stay with the pack if you wish."

"That's very generous of you." Martha shared a look with her mate before dipping her head. "We will stay for now, but I don't know how much more of this we can take."

All around them, packmates nodded in somber agreement. Some sported bloodstained bandages from the latest fight with the coyotes, and others shifted to show scars that had turned their once vibrant scales so pale they were nearly white. There was a hunger in them now. Not just a hunger for meat— although the faint outline of ribs against their abdomens showed they suffered from that as well— but a hunger for better lives.

For change.

Isabella bowed her head. "I understand. I'm sorry."

With the fight over, the pack dispersed to go about their nightly rituals. Isabella motioned for Miguel to follow her outside. Only when they had no company but the moon and stars did she let herself clean her wounds. "Stars, that was exhausting!"

"What got her so upset?" Miguel eased himself next to her, sighing with relief as he finally got his bad leg into a comfortable position.

Isabella's spines stiffened. "All the stress from the coyotes made some of the cows lose their calves, so Mr. Miller is docking our pay."

"Let me guess, David convinced him to?" Miguel snorted. "I swear he thinks he runs the place already."

"It's so stupid. They had guns!" Isabella winced as she felt along her throat to gauge the severity of her injuries. Bruises darkened the pale scales, but the scratches were all shallow. "We can barely keep everyone fed as is, much less happy. What do they expect us to do if they give us even less?"

"I don't know." Miguel shifted closer to her, sharing their body heat the same way they used to back when they had huddled together as hatchlings. "I know it's not much, but I won some food at that festival I went to with the other chefs. It's delicious and should hopefully cheer everyone up a little."

"Where is it?" she whispered.

"In the far corner of the storage shed."

"No one has seen it yet?"

"I doubt it. Everyone was in the barn watching you and Martha when I brought it."

"Then get rid of it," she hissed.

"Why?" Miguel bowed his head as Isabella narrowed her eyes. "It's safe. I tried some myself." Although he'd have to check to make sure there weren't any Carolina Reaper hot sauces. While he'd enjoyed it despite the pain, he had no idea if the rest of the pack shared his appetite for spice.

"You tried it yourself?" Isabella's claws dug furrows in the dirt. Her voice shook as she fought to keep it from rising. "You could have been poisoned."

"They would never do that!" At her thoroughly unamused expression, he added, "I feel fine, and most of the humans were eating stuff just like it."

"Even if it is safe, do you really think the pack will react well to you bringing them human food?" She nodded her head toward Mr. Miller's house, which stared at them with its brightly lit windows like a hunter waiting to pounce. "Humans have their ways, and we have ours, hermanito. You should know that by now."

Miguel stared at the building that had once been a second home to him. It had not always been like this, but he wouldn't be able to convince her to give humans another chance. Not tonight. "At least let me keep it. If things get worse, we'll need all the help we can get."

She stayed quiet for a long moment. At last, she dragged herself to her feet with a groan. "Fine, but we need to keep it out of sight."

After Miguel slipped into the storage shed and grabbed his prize basket, she led him to a water pump covered in a crusty layer of caked-on rust. Mr. Miller had abandoned the thing years ago— what little water they managed to extract from it had taken on the pong of manure and pesticide runoff— but what it lacked in appearance and functionality it made up for in memorability. The flowers the farmer's grandmother had etched into the metal made it as unmistakable as its contaminated source made it useless.

In other words, it was the perfect place to hide something.

Isabella let out a halfhearted hiss as Miguel sank his claws into the soil and began digging. "I can take care of that for you."

"Not after a fight like that, you can't. Let someone else do the hard work for once."

But of course, she wouldn't. She quickly joined him in scooping away the cool, damp earth. Sediment worked its way beneath their scales as they worked, leaving their hands looking more brown than green by the time they were satisfied with the hole.

"Thank you for understanding, hermanito," Isabella said as she wiped the worst of the dirt onto the grass.

As the perfectly edible food disappeared under handfuls of soil, Miguel buried his doubts along with it. His sister had more than earned her position as leader. Surely, she knew best.