Survivors: Alpha's Tale Page 2

“Quick, you devil wolf, that’s perfect!”

  “Yes! His name is Dog!”

  “Quick has spoken!”

  “Dog! Dog! Dog!”

  Pup suddenly felt life return to his paws, in a wave of helpless anger. He spun on the pelt and faced Alpha.

  “Alpha, no! I am no dog.”

  Slowly, the magnificent she-wolf shook her head. As the howls of laughter began to subside, she gazed at Pup, her yellow eyes unreadable.

  “The Pack has spoken,” she said. “You are Dog now.”

  Pup sat motionless on the white pelt, his muscles rigid with the effort of not trembling, as the Pack began to disperse around him. He could still hear their muttering voices, their strangled yelps of amusement.

  “Dog!”

  “He’s called Dog. . . .”

  “Was ever a Name more fitting?”

  The white rabbit fur beneath him, gleaming in the moonlight, seemed like a stupid practical joke. Glancing down, Pup could see its empty eye sockets, and even those seemed to mock him.

  Dog! Ha! I died so they could call you Dog!

  Pup slammed his paw down onto the head of the fur, ripping it with his claws. Then he jerked his head high again.

  Quick was still sitting there, next to Graceful, whose face was taut with pain and shame. Pup—no, I’m Dog now, thanks to him—bounded across to his half brother, drawing his lips back from his fangs and glaring into his eyes, nose-to-nose. Quick flinched just a little, surprised.

  “How could you?” snarled Dog. “You’re my brother. How could you betray me?”

  “Betray you? What?” Quick’s eyes opened wide and he took a hasty pace back. “Look, calm down, Pu—Dog. I said the first thing that came into my head. That’s what you’re supposed to do.”

  “You called me Dog! I have to carry that Name till I go to the Great Wolf!”

  “Sky-Pack help us, it’s just a Name! Somebody had to say something.” Quick hunched his shoulders. “Anyway, it’s true. I’m not your brother; can’t be. You’re not a real wolf. Your father wasn’t a wolf at all.”

  Dog felt as if the air had been struck from his lungs. Graceful gave Quick a sidelong look, one full of hurt, and turned back to Dog.

  “You have a Name now,” she said quietly. “And there’s no shame in it.” Turning on her haunches, she paced away, her head and tail low.

  “Does nothing matter to you?” growled Dog, his saliva spattering Quick’s jaw. “Does no wolf matter?”

  Quick’s face hardened and he shook himself. “I care about food and my friends and my Pack. I gave you a Name, didn’t I? You should be grateful somebody spoke up. Don’t take yourself so seriously.” With a flick of his bushy tail, Quick bounded away to rejoin the other young wolves.

  Dog stood for long moments in the silver moonlight. It no longer shone on the rabbit pelt, which lay there discarded and crumpled and dirty gray.

  One thing was certain, Dog realized. The ceremony had done its job. He was no longer a pup; he’d become an adult in the space of an agonizing heartbeat.

  I’m more a grown wolf than Quick. I feel a hundred moons older than him. Dog’s muzzle curled.

  I’m right: Quick cares about nothing and no wolf. He felt like he was seeing his half brother clearly for the first time. Quick was a joker: funny and lighthearted, fast mouthed and empty headed. Consequences never entered his skull.

  Dog was an adult wolf now. He was a full member of this Pack, and that meant he’d be on patrol duty this very night. He was at the bottom of the heap, ranking above only the frail, ancient Omega, but that would not be for long.

  I’ll watch over the Pack that despises me, he thought. I’ll protect them because it’s my duty, and I respect my Pack despite everything.

  And he would claw his way up over their heads, biting the grins off their faces as he went. He’d show them what a Dog could do. He’d prove to them, with his claws and his teeth and his guts, what a Dog could be.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The snows melted from the pine branches and from the ground beneath the Pack’s paws, thawing into a warm and fertile Long Light: months when their bellies were full, their coats were sleek, and new pups rolled and squealed in the green grass. Then the trees turned red and gold, and once more the ground froze underpaw, and the snows came again, smothering the landscape in white. But the Pack was strong and the wolves endured the cold well.

  Only the weakest of the wolves died that Ice Wind, and Dog was one of the strongest. By the time Long Light warmed the land once more, bringing greenness and wildflowers and the migrating herds, he was a fully grown, powerful wolf; by Red Leaf he was the leader of his own hunting team.

  The sun striped his back fur with warm gold as he prowled through the undergrowth, scenting for the mule deer he knew had passed this way. He flicked his ears to scatter the flies that danced around his head, but it was impossible to discourage them. Ignoring their insistent high-pitched whining, he focused all his senses on his prey and on his team.

  Off to his left, Noble stalked through the scrub. She’d played with his Mother-Wolf as a pup, and she had plenty of experience and skill. Several wolf-strides from his right flank were Daring and Brave, spread out as he’d instructed. Brave was young, but he was keen. Daring was . . . well, she was as she’d always been, but at least she was a reliable hunter.

  Dog paused on the edge of the forest clearing. The buck’s head was up, sniffing the wind, but it was blowing toward the wolves. It had a group of four or five does as well as some calves that must have been born in an earlier season; the filtered sun burnished their sleek coats with orange. Any one of them would make a fine catch. There are four of us, thought Dog with a surge of hunting-thrill. How many can we take?

  He flicked an ear toward Noble and glanced at the buck. Turning to Daring and Brave, he indicated the does. Noble gave him a brief nod, but Daring whispered something to Brave, and Dog’s brow furrowed.

  Dog lowered his forequarters and slunk closer. Their positions were perfect—

  There was a crashing of undergrowth to his right as Daring and Brave charged across him toward the buck. It spun in alarm, and the does and the calves bolted for the deeper forest, tails flashing white.

  The buck was trying to flee, too, but Daring’s claws were already raking its red haunches. With a bellow it turned, lashing its antlers at the two wolves. Dog dashed to help them, even as fury burned in his gut.

  I am the leader of this team! What did those two think they were doing? He’d beaten them both—and soundly—to rise above them in the Pack hierarchy, just as he’d challenged and thrashed so many other wolves. He’d left that scar on Daring’s shoulder himself!

  “Get after those does!” he barked at Noble. “You might still get a calf.”

  She gave a quick nod and tore into the woods after the deer, but Dog held out little hope; the prey had too much of a head start. Daring and Brave were lunging at the buck’s flanks, and Brave even snapped at its head, but that was a bad move—the buck swung its antlers, nearly goring his belly. Daring slashed her claws down its shoulder and Dog leaped to rake its haunches. The creature was still kicking and struggling as Dog grabbed the soft underside of its neck in his jaws. By the time Noble returned, preyless, the stag was on its knees, exhausted from blood loss, and all she had to do was help them finish it off.

  As soon as the light died in the buck’s eyes and its head flopped to the earth, Dog sprang back, barking furiously at Daring and Brave. “How dare you ignore my orders?”

  Daring hunched her shoulders, giving him a sly look. “You told us to attack the buck, didn’t you?”

  “I told you to go for the does, and you know it!” he snarled. “We could have had two of these deer!”

  “We only got this one,” she growled, “thanks to me and Brave.”

  “Really?” He was breathing heavily, and he fought to control his temper. “Since it’s your kill, then, you can drag it back to camp. Both of you!”

  “Oh, I
don’t think so.” Daring sat back on her haunches and scratched her ear. “Longpaws use dogs for fetching and carrying, so that’s your job. Go on, fetch!”

  The insolence almost knocked the breath from Dog’s lungs. He drew himself up, his long legs stiff, his eyes blazing. “I challenge you.”

  The wolves faced each other for a long, silent moment. Daring got to her paws, but Noble took a sidelong step between them.

  “Dog,” she said gently, “you’re already Daring’s superior. You’ve nothing to gain, and everything to lose.”

  “This isn’t about gaining or losing,” snarled Dog. “This is about honor. She’s not going to get away with that talk. She’ll accept my challenge, or I’ll make sure she’s branded a coward.”

  He glared into Daring’s eyes, glad to see that she blinked first. Of course Daring knew that she would lose to Dog in any fair fight. He’d proved that before, and with ease. Her ears betrayed her with a nervous twitch.

  Brave’s voice cut into the tension between them. “What challenge? I didn’t hear any challenge.”

  Dog turned to him, his lip curling. “What?”

  “No wolf’s issued a challenge.” Brave tilted his head, and his jaw twisted in a smirk.

  “That’s right.” Daring, her composure back, gave a yelp of amusement. “No challenge here.”

  “It’s our word against yours,” sniped Brave.

  “And who’s going to take a dog’s word over a wolf’s?” Daring growled. “Let’s ask the Pack when we get back, shall we?”

  Dog’s hackles sprang erect as he stared at them both in disbelief. Swinging his head, he looked at Noble. She was staring at the ground, apparently fascinated by the carpet of pine needles. With a bark of laughter, Daring turned and stalked away, Brave at her heels.

  “Don’t forget the buck,” she called back, her voice brimming with insolence, and then the two young wolves were gone.

  Dog shivered with rage beneath his fur. His blood ran hot, and his bones trembled, but there was nothing he could do. He turned to the corpse of the buck and snapped his teeth into its throat.

  “I’ll help.” Noble’s small voice was at his ear, and her teeth gripped the buck’s shoulder.

  Dog released his grip. “Leave it!” he snarled, twisting to glare at her. “I’m the dog. I’ll carry the prey.”

  “You know that isn’t—”

  “Noble? They called you Noble? That’s a joke,” he growled. “You heard what I said, and what they said, and you kept your jaws shut. Noble, hah!”

  The older wolf took a pace back, lowering her head. Then she lifted it, and looked sorrowfully into his angry eyes.

  “A Name isn’t everything, Dog,” she said softly. “You of all wolves should know that.”

  She turned and padded slowly back toward the camp.

  The anger wouldn’t shift from his belly. Dog lay in his den, tearing with his fangs at a stout branch pinned beneath his paws. It splintered, spiking into his gums, but he ripped again, furiously, shredding it. The pain was nothing to his churning fury. He had dragged the buck all the way back to the camp by himself. Beta had been disappointed in them for only catching one deer, and Dog knew Beta was right.

  “Dog?” said a soft voice behind him.

  He glanced sideways, but sank his teeth into the wood again, wrenching it to splinters. This should be Daring’s guts. “Mother-Wolf,” he growled.

  “Noble spoke to me. She told me what happened.”

  “And?” He spat shreds of branch.

  “You have to tell Alpha. You must. Alpha would want to know about this kind of insubordination. A Pack can’t afford to let wolves behave like that. Alpha knows it, she’ll take your side, and she’ll—”

  “That’s enough!” Dog sprang to his paws, slamming one of them onto what was left of the wood. “Alpha will hear nothing of this, do you hear me?”

  “But Dog—”

  “I was the senior hunter!” Dog shoved his muzzle against Graceful’s, and spoke through his clenched fangs. “They were my team, under my command! If Daring thinks she can speak to me that way, it is my fault.”

  “It was not your fault!” Graceful took a pace back, her gentle eyes wide. “I could explain to Alpha. I could tell her what happened. Dog, this is important—”

  “Important? To let every wolf in the Pack know what a pathetic leader I am?” He gave a vicious snarl. “I don’t need my Mother-Wolf running to Alpha to tell her all the other wolves are being mean to me!”

  Graceful’s forequarters sagged. “I only want to help.”

  “Help?” he howled. “You’ve done enough!”

  Graceful caught her breath, and her brow furrowed with confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “What went through your head? Go on, tell me!” Dog raked his claws furiously through the soft floor of the cave, drawing a score like a wound. “Didn’t you even think twice before you inflicted this on your own pup? What kind of madness got into your brain? You’re a wolf, and you mated with a filthy dog!”

  Graceful stared at him, shaking her head as she backed away, and pain knotted his belly at the expression on her face. For an instant, the anger inside him died, like a forest fire swamped by rain.

  She set her jaw, her eyes dark with hurt. “Dog, don’t. Don’t talk about your sire that way!”

  Dog gathered his anger. “You’re the one who made him my sire. Not me!”

  Fury lit her eyes, and they flashed gold in the dimness. “Don’t you dare! Your sire was a fine dog, a strong and a wise dog. Yes, he was a dog, and he was better than a hundred wolves I’ve known! You should be proud to wear that Name, yet all you can do is listen to vicious fools like Daring. Well, I don’t have to. And I don’t have to listen to you insult your sire!”

  Turning on her haunches, she bounded from the den. Dog stared after her, his insides twisting and tightening with conflicted fury. How could I . . .

  Graceful’s right.

  But I’m right too! I can’t live like this.

  She should never have made me!

  With a howl of intolerable fury, he tore the remains of the branch to shreds.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The plenty of Long Light never lasted forever, and the longpaws came as the trees turned golden. The deer grew warier even as they dwindled in number, because the longpaws hunted with a ruthless efficiency. Dog had watched them once, from a dense copse of sagebrush, and they had no need to harry a buck, to dodge its antlers and claw at its flanks till the blood ran out of it. They raised strange weapons to their shoulders, loud stick-shaped weapons that spat death, and the deer died without a struggle.

  And so the deer were moving on. Yesterday’s find had been lucky, too lucky to waste as Daring and Brave had. The wolves were being forced to travel much farther than usual from their snug and secure valley. Although it meant hunger nipped more insistently at their bellies, Dog was glad of the scarcity in one way: It made him even more important to the Pack. His hunting skills were needed like never before.

  The morning after Dog’s argument with Graceful, they headed down the flank of a narrow valley. Dog was not the leader; his half brother Quick was the one in charge of this team. Brave was loping through the aspens above him, but Daring wasn’t with them this time, and Dog was grateful. Here on the far edge of their territory every one of the hunters was uneasy. No wolf wanted a huntingmate they couldn’t trust.

  The land was much flatter than it was near camp, and looked to Dog as if it had been beaten into submission by the longpaws. Neatly planted corn and grassland extended as far as he could see, hemmed in by longpaws’ fences. Sharp, unfamiliar scents stung his nostrils, and he felt horribly on edge. This, he couldn’t help thinking, was no place for wolves.

  It didn’t seem to deter Quick. His brother was digging hard with his claws beneath one of the wooden fences, making a hole big enough for a wolf to wriggle through. Dog could understand that, though, because the scents beyond the fence were far more enticing than
any plant smell. The teasing odor in his nostrils was almost like deer, but different. It smelled heavy and warm and meaty and slow. One after another, the wolves followed Quick beneath the fence.

  “To me, hunters,” growled Quick, very quietly, and they gathered around him, forequarters low and hackles high. “Listen. There’s easy prey here, but we have to move in and out fast. The longpaw keeps sheep, and they’re guarded only by one old dog, but the longpaw himself has a loudstick.”

  Shivers of apprehension ran through the hides of the hunters. “Those can kill at a distance,” said Dog. “I’ve seen them.”

  “And that’s why we have to be fast.” Quick turned and trotted with long paces into the field, jerking his head to position the other hunters.

  Dog was only a few strides from Quick’s left flank, and he obeyed his leader—as any wolf should, he thought grimly—but the closer they came to the sheep, the greater the uneasiness in his belly. As Quick slowed his pace and flared his nostrils, stalking closer to the oblivious, fluffy white creatures, Dog halted and growled.

  “I smell something else, Quick.”

  “A longpaw? The sheepdog?” Quick’s fangs were bared as he licked his chops hungrily. “We’ll get out faster if you’re quiet.”

  “It’s neither. It’s like . . . other wolves,” insisted Dog. “Can’t you smell them?”

  “No! I said, quiet. Now!” Quick launched himself at the nearest sheep.

  The creature was hopelessly slow and clumsy, its thin legs stumbling beneath its stocky, fleecy body as it bellowed and tried to run. The whole flock began running now, awkwardly and all in one direction.

  “This will be easy,” barked Quick, snapping at the sheep’s neck. “They all stay together. Get another one, Brave!”

  It did seem easy, thought Dog as he sprinted to help Quick. Too easy. The panicked bellowing of the sheep was almost deafening as they clustered and milled, making useless dashes for escape. The hunters were all around them now, stalking and snarling, snapping at the two fattest to cut them off from their companions.

  But despite the noise, Dog could hear something else. The pounding of powerful paws, the low, threatening snarls of a creature to be feared—