Lucky was a black mutt with no collar, and the alley had fed him for three days. Fish scraps fell from the crates each morning. He wanted more than scraps. He wanted a door that opened for him, a person who called him inside. On this island, near the salt-worn dock post wrapped in bright rope, he had started to believe such a place might exist. Then the big dog came. He was gray and scarred, half again Lucky's size. He walked down the alley like he owned every stone. He stopped over the fish crate and showed his teeth. His growl was low and steady. It said one thing: this is mine now. Lucky lowered his head. He knew the math. He was thin. The gray dog was heavy and mean. A fight would cost more than the food was worth. Still, hunger pushed him forward one step. The gray dog lunged. His jaws snapped shut near Lucky's ear. Lucky jerked back and felt teeth scrape his shoulder. Pain shot down his leg. He yelped, spun, and ran. He did not stop until the alley was far behind. He ended up at the dock, panting, near the tall wooden post with its coiled rainbow rope. His shoulder stung. His stomach was empty. The alley was gone for good. He would not go back while the gray dog held it. Lucky lay down against the post. The wood smelled of salt and old fish. He watched a fishing boat rock at the pier. A woman stepped off it, carrying something heavy in both arms. It was a chest. Blue dragons wound across its lid, carved and shining. Gold trim caught the low sun. The woman set it on the dock with a grunt and wiped her forehead. She did not lock it. She turned back toward her boat for a second load. Lucky rose. The chest was strange and beautiful and clearly hers. But near her feet lay something he understood better: a paper bag, tipped over, spilling bread. His empty stomach decided for him. He crept forward, slow and low. The woman heard his nails on the wood. She turned. He froze, ready to bolt again. She did not shout. She looked at his scraped shoulder, then at his thin ribs. "Easy," she said. "You're a mess." She tore a piece of bread and tossed it near him. Lucky ate it in one bite. He wagged his tail once, then twice. The woman crouched by her dragon chest and studied him. "No collar," she said. "No home either, I'd guess." She held out another piece of bread, closer this time. To take it, Lucky would have to come within reach of her hands. He had lost the alley. He had found something else. He took one step toward her, then another, and did not run.