Dead of Night Read online

Storm stretched her legs and shook herself to cast off the last of her sleep.

  The Pack was still recovering, and Storm felt like she was too, in a way. She hadn’t told Alpha or Beta what Arrow had suspected about the prey pile and the rotting rat, and neither had he. Was it too late now? Maybe it was too soon. She didn’t want to panic the dogs while they were still getting better—and she especially didn’t want any dog’s suspicion to fall on her or Arrow. But at the same time, if some dog had poisoned the prey pile, then they were all in danger. . . .

  Storm saw Lucky and Alpha near the entrance to their den, Lucky walking back and forth in a tight circle around his mate and their pups, who were curled up together between Alpha’s paws.

  Could Storm tell him? Should she?

  Lucky caught Storm’s eye, and Storm almost looked away, but Lucky called her over.

  “Storm, come here a minute.”

  Storm tried to ignore her uneasy feeling at being summoned, and trotted over to Alpha’s den.

  “You haven’t really met the pups yet, have you?” Lucky asked, with a kindly tilt of his head, when Storm got a little closer.

  “Well . . . I was at the Den Break,” Storm reminded him, wondering if he had forgotten.

  Lucky shook his head. “I mean, just you and them. Come on, come and say hello.”

  Storm slowly padded closer to Alpha, suddenly nervous. She wasn’t sure why—the pups were barely bigger than her paw, basically just fuzz with eyes. She stood beside Alpha, and those four pairs of eyes opened and stared up at her, wonder and awe mingling in their tiny depths. But then, suddenly, the balls of fuzz whined and pressed themselves close to their Mother-Dog.

  Storm froze, not sure what to do, or what she’d done to frighten the pups. She must look huge to them—monstrous, even. Should she lick them? Or would that be terrifying to such small creatures? Would they whine and yowl? Would Lucky and Alpha hurry her away, before she scared their pups any further?

  Martha would have known what to do.

  Storm stepped back, sorrow biting deep in her chest. Martha would have known how to handle the pups, to make them like her, not to scare them—but Martha wasn’t here anymore. She had been killed by Blade’s Pack, defending Storm and the other dogs, and died lying in the snow on the edge of the frozen river.

  Storm’s fur bristled at the memory, and she knew at once that she had made things worse—the pups whined uneasily, looking to their Mother-Dog for reassurance. Storm backed off.

  “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I—I should go. Sorry.” She turned to leave.

  “Storm,” Alpha barked after her, “it’s all right. They will get used to you in time.”

  Storm’s ears twitched in acknowledgment, but she didn’t turn back.

  She made herself walk away slowly, resisting the urge to run or slink, her head buzzing with regrets . . . she should have been better with the pups, and she should have stayed farther away, and maybe she shouldn’t have gone over there in the first place. . . .

  “Storm, wait.” Lucky appeared at her side and kept pace with her. “Are you all right?”

  Storm hesitated, not sure what she could tell him. That she was afraid that she couldn’t be near his pups? That was ridiculous. . . .

  “You know,” Lucky said, “I haven’t been around very much recently—looking after the pups, taking care of the Pack while Alpha’s nursing. But I will always be here for you. You’re such a strong dog now, you don’t need me like the pups do.”

  Storm couldn’t think what to say—she felt touched, but guilty. Perhaps it was better for Lucky to think that she was jealous of the pups, instead of afraid that she would always be terrifying to them.

  “Thank you, Beta,” she said eventually. “I’ll try to remember that.”

  No dog had felt very hungry the previous day—even the healthy dogs had been put off their food by the dire condition of their sick Packmates. But now there were a lot of empty bellies to fill, and some of them were starting to growl with hunger, including Storm’s. She was happy to join the hunting party that went out as the Sun-Dog was rising directly above them, and she was quite pleased to see that Lucky himself was leading it.

  Mickey and Snap were with them, with Twitch and Dart acting as scout dogs. Twitch wasn’t as fast on his three legs as some of the Patrol Dogs, but Storm was always glad to have him along. He always seemed to know good ways to trick and trap their prey into running to them, using his quick brain as much as his paws and teeth.

  As they trotted across the meadow and between the trees, Mickey drew level with Lucky and caught his attention with a flick of his black-and-white tail.

  “Beta, I’ve been thinking about the sickness,” he said. Storm’s heart beat a little faster, and she put on a small burst of speed, just enough that she could hear their conversation clearly. Had Mickey found the rat, or worked out that the prey had been tampered with?

  “What about it?” Lucky asked.

  “Well, it must have come from the prey,” Mickey said. “It struck so suddenly, and only a few of us, and it was over so fast—it must have been a bad vole, or something like that. Perhaps there’s a sickness in the forest!”

  “Yes, you might be right,” Lucky said. “But none of the prey looked sick—how can we tell if it’s safe?”

  “I wondered if we should hunt near the river,” Mickey said. “Prey that lives near the water might be cleaner, and might not get sick.”

  “We could find a fish or two in the water,” Snap added, from behind them. “Fish are good prey, if you can catch them.”

  Lucky was silent for a moment, then he shook his head. “Perhaps another day. For now, I think it’s important we revisit our normal hunting places.”

  Snap’s head twitched to the side. “Why? If you don’t mind me asking, Beta,” she added quickly.

  Lucky exchanged a glance with Twitch.

  “Some of the Patrol Dogs scented foxes and coyotes,” he said finally. “Not in large numbers. We don’t think they are making their camp near here. But even a hint of those creatures is enough. I don’t want them thinking we’ve given up our territory. If they try to return and hunt where we hunt, then we’ll end up fighting for every scrap. We need to make sure they know whose land this is.”

  “It’s true . . .” Twitch said, although something about his tone made Storm think he wasn’t quite so sure. “Some of the Patrol Dogs have reported fox-scents, but after the way you put the fear of Lightning into them before, I can’t imagine they’ll want to risk tangling with us again.” He hesitated, but then went on. “Beta, I know what you seek. And I think that . . . broader hunting will be in the best interests of the Pack.”

  For a moment, Storm wasn’t sure what Twitch meant—but then she thought back to the pups, and the story that Lucky had been telling them before Bella got sick.

  Of course—the Golden Deer! He’s still hoping to find it, and he wants to go back to where we saw it last . . . even though that might not be best for the whole Pack.

  “After all, Alpha needs safe prey to eat—she needs that more than any of us, since she’s feeding the pups,” Twitch went on. Storm panted quietly, waiting to see how far Twitch would push his advice, and how Lucky would react. He was a good and sensible Beta, but he did not like being told what to do by any dog.

  Lucky looked up at the sky for a moment, and then his ears twitched and he returned the Third Dog’s gaze steadily. “Yes, that’s true. You’re right, Twitch. Let’s see what the River-Dog has to offer. It’s more important that we feed the Pack safely. We can search the forest another time.”

  Storm huffed to herself, pleased with Lucky’s decision, as the dogs turned and veered toward the river.

  Dart leaned over the bank, sniffing disdainfully at the water. “All I can see is myself,” she said. “There might be fish in there, but the Sun-Dog is in the way. I wish he’d hurry and run behind the clouds so I could see.”

  For once, Storm completely agreed with Dart. She paced alo
ng the shore, twisting and turning her head, trying to spot the fish that she was sure were swimming underneath the surface, but the light glinting on the water was making it hard. The problem with fish was that there was no way to scent them until you already had them in your jaws.

  “Even if we find the fish,” she said quietly, “I’m not sure how we can catch them—surely if you tried to bite one, it would swim away and you’d just end up with a mouthful of river.”

  “I’ve seen it done,” Snap said, but she was pawing the edge of the water a little uncertainly herself. “You have to be quick.”

  A low growl came from a little way upstream, and Storm looked over to see Twitch crouching on a rock that stuck out over the water, looking down. “I see one coming,” he muttered. “It’s swimming very close to the surface! Maybe we can get it.”

  At once, every dog stopped their complaining and went to the edge of the water, waiting for the fish to get close.

  “If I miss it,” Lucky muttered to Mickey, “it may panic, but it’ll come straight toward you. We can each try, if the previous dogs don’t catch it.”

  “Here it comes,” Twitch barked, and Storm strained to see upriver. Would it be a large fish, big enough to feed many of the Pack? Or were they all risking a soaking for some darting little silver thing?

  She saw it, suddenly—at first a different texture bobbing on top of the water, then a brownish color where the river current broke around its back.

  It passed Lucky . . . and he didn’t pounce. Neither did Mickey, or Twitch. They sat back and watched it go. Storm was about to bark a question, when the fish came closer, and she could see why it was swimming so slowly, so close to the surface.

  It wasn’t swimming at all. And it wasn’t a fish.

  Deep wounds scored its flanks, and its upturned eye was blank and staring. It was a rabbit, and it was dead.

  “Who would kill a creature and then just leave it in the water?” she said, disgusted at the idea of rotting prey sitting in the water that the Pack sometimes drank from. “That’s an insult to the River-Dog!”

  “River is river, dog is dog, no silly spirits, no help coming,” said a sneering voice, and at the same time Storm’s nose picked up a familiar, horrible scent. “Turn and face us, dogs.”

  The dogs spun around, snarling, to find a pack of coyotes lined up on the riverbank behind them.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “This is your doing, then,” Lucky growled. He stepped forward, and the other dogs lined up loyally behind him, fixing the coyotes with their angriest stares. Storm counted eight coyotes, including one with a missing tail. There were six dogs in the hunting party.

  Six dogs can take eight coyotes any day, she thought, and felt better for it—but only slightly.

  “Why would you leave prey in the river?” Lucky snapped. “Are you trying to offend the River-Dog?”

  “No silly spirits,” said the coyotes’ leader smugly, tossing his head back and baring his teeth. “Not like foolish dogs. We see what is in front.”

  Storm suppressed a shudder. She didn’t want to look weak in front of the coyotes, but her skin was crawling underneath her fur. If the coyotes did this intentionally, trying to poison the River-Dog, was it possible that they could have been responsible for the rat in the Pack’s prey pile?

  But no—there was no way the coyotes could have gotten close enough. Even several paw strides away, she could smell their stink and almost see the fleas leaping around in their fur. They could never have planted the rat without being spotted, let alone cleared it away again.

  That meant it had to be a dog in the Pack.

  Before she could get caught up again in wondering who—and why—Lucky stepped forward, his head high and his teeth bared.

  “If it’s a fight you mangy creatures want, I warn you—every dog here is worth two of you, and we will give you a fight you will never forget!”

  “Even that cripple?” The coyote leader sneered at Twitch. The coyotes behind him sniggered unpleasantly. “Twice a coyote? He’s not even a whole dog!”

  “Especially ‘that cripple.’” Twitch walked forward, easy and confident on his three legs, and looked the coyote leader right in the eye. “Do you want to know how I lost my leg?” Twitch said, so quietly the coyotes were forced to stop laughing to hear him. “It was weak. No use to me. One day I got injured, and sick, and I was all alone. So I chewed it off. I walk, run, and fight better without it—and if you don’t believe me, by all means, go ahead . . . try attacking me.”

  “Lie dog,” the coyote leader muttered, but he looked at Twitch as if he were a rabbit who’d turned around and bitten him.

  “I’d run, if I were you,” Lucky said. “And if you have any sense, you had better leave this territory for good, and never let me see or scent you around here again. If I do, I’ll let Twitch feed you to the Earth-Dog!”

  “Earth is earth,” the coyote leader snarled petulantly. For a moment longer, he stared at Lucky over Twitch’s head. Then he bared his teeth mockingly at Twitch, turned, and bounded away, his coyote pack following him at a loping, sideways run so they could throw growls back over their shoulders at the dogs.

  “Yeah, you’d better run away, mangy not-dogs,” Dart muttered.

  The dogs stood firm and watched the coyotes as they vanished into the trees, and as soon as they were out of earshot, Lucky heaved a deep sigh.

  “That was close,” he said.

  “We should get back to camp and tell Alpha about this,” Mickey suggested. “I hope we never see those coyotes again, but the Pack should know that they were out here, insulting the River-Dog with their disgusting ways. I bet it was them that made the forest prey sick,” he added.

  I wish it was, Storm thought. If only our enemy was an outsider like the coyotes. Things would be so much simpler.

  “Yes, let’s get back. We can stop to hunt in one of the meadows on the way. The Pack will have enough, for the moment.” Lucky shook himself, and then turned to the Third Dog. “Well done, Twitch! I think you frightened them more than I ever could.”

  All the quiet ferocity went out of Twitch, and he shook his head. “You know a lot of it was just a bluff, don’t you? If they’d really attacked—well, I would have done my best, but . . .”

  “Your best would have been good enough,” Lucky told him firmly, as they started back up the bank and turned to follow the quickest path up to the Pack camp. “And what’s really important is that the coyotes didn’t know you were bluffing.”

  The dogs did manage to catch a few pieces of prey on their way back to the camp—it was barely enough for a single meager meal, but Storm was glad when Lucky announced it was time to go back. Some of their Packmates were unable to hide their disappointment, Bella in particular, but when Lucky reminded her that they had had coyotes and a potentially sick River-Dog to contend with, his litter-sister immediately changed her mind, declaring to the rest that it was practically a feast, and she wasn’t that hungry anyway.

  Storm watched the prey carefully as each dog approached, ate their fill—or slightly less than their fill—and then backed away again. She couldn’t see any swarming flies or strangely slick fur among the prey. Every piece of prey seemed fine—but how could she know for certain what some dogs might be capable of doing?

  Finally, after Sunshine had settled down to crunch the leftover bones and suck out the tasty marrow, the dogs lay down to rest, and Storm saw Twitch walk over to Alpha’s den, his head bowed. He must be reporting to her about the coyotes—Storm guessed Lucky would have given her the brief version as soon as they got back, but now it was time for Alpha to hear the story in full and decide what they should do about it.

  Storm carefully lay down, stretched, and rolled until she was close enough to Alpha’s den to see and hear what was being discussed. She knew it was wrong for a young hunter to presume to listen in on her Alpha’s conversation—but she assured herself it was no mere flash of curiosity. She needed to know what they were saying, b
ecause she was the only one who could clearly see the danger the Pack faced.

  Alpha was lying with the pups curled against her side, fast asleep after a good feeding. Storm was quite relieved—she didn’t think this was a conversation pups so small should hear, although she supposed at least they wouldn’t know what a coyote was, or why they should be afraid of it.

  I wish that was still true for me, she thought sadly. I wish I’d never had to learn what a coyote was.

  “Thank you for telling me, Twitch,” Alpha said solemnly. “You did the right thing—I don’t want our dogs to have to fight for their lives every time they leave the camp. Those coyotes need to remember whose territory this is.” She glanced down at her pups, and a gentle look came over her long face, but when she looked up at Lucky and Twitch again, it changed to one of strain and worry. “The Pack is getting bigger. Twitch’s dogs, our dogs, the pups. More dogs are going to start taking mates and having their own pups. This territory is big enough for us now, but we might have to expand one day. I don’t want us giving an inch to those creatures, not when the future of our Pack might be at stake.”

  Storm stared at her paws as she listened to Alpha’s words. She had never thought of that—the future of the next generation seemed an impossibly long way away, but it wasn’t. Mickey and Snap, Bella and Arrow—and who knew how many other pairs of mates she hadn’t noticed?—they might have pups, and suddenly the Pack would need to find food and den space for five more dogs, or ten, or maybe even more.

  More pups would be good—more pups means more hunters and more Patrol Dogs, more safety and more food. But it would also mean more mouths to feed. And if Bella and Snap couldn’t hunt for a season, we would struggle. . . .

  It was such a complex thought, the kind of thing that an Alpha had to deal with that no other dog would even consider. Storm felt a rush of admiration for the swift-dog, for her mind that could run as fast as her paws.

  “That kind of Pack might be hard to keep . . . well organized,” said Lucky. “If we’re to make sure no creature thinks of taking us on, we have to seem like an intimidating force, and the more dogs we have, the harder it will be to keep control.”