A Pack Divided Read online

  And yet she couldn’t help thinking again of Alpha’s stories. She turned and yipped to the others.

  “Maybe this place has something to do with the Golden Deer herself,” she suggested. “Perhaps her shadows gather here.” She licked her jaws hesitantly. “Don’t you feel the breeze? It sweeps across the cliff face. This hillside feels like it could be sacred to the Wind-Dogs.”

  “Nonsense.” Bella flicked her tail dismissively and sat on her haunches. “That’s just a pup-tale. Alpha’s Mother-Dog invented those stories.”

  “No.” Lucky took a few paces forward, and Storm noticed that the fur on his neck was on end. He pricked an ear, and glanced at the rock face, then away toward the rolling fall of the slope. “The other Spirit Dogs are real; why wouldn’t the Wind-Dogs be just as real?”

  Bella barked a laugh. “Yes, yes. Of course the Wind-Dogs are as real as the other Spirit Dogs. They’re exactly as real. All those stories were made up by Mother-Dogs, just to send their pups to sleep. They’re no more true than the Fear-Dog, and we know Terror made him up out of cobwebs and air.”

  Storm’s jaw felt loose. Her ears drooped, and her tail clamped tight against her rump as she stared at Bella. “You don’t think the Spirit Dogs are real? But Martha and Lucky taught me—”

  “He’s real!” The bark came from Breeze, who stepped forward with an air of angry certainty. “The Fear-Dog is no story! He’s the fiercest and most powerful of the Spirit Dogs, just as Terror said!”

  Storm backed off a pace, then another. Her tail felt as if it was going to disappear between her hindquarters. The River-Dog is real, and the Forest-Dog and the Sky-Dogs and Lightning . . . all the Spirit Dogs are there, watching over us. She swallowed hard. But not the Fear-Dog. He’s not real. Lucky said so. I don’t want to believe in the Fear-Dog.

  Bella was staring at Breeze with a dumbfounded expression; Breeze looked resentfully defiant. It was Bruno who broke the awkward silence.

  “My Alpha believes in the Wind-Dogs,” he growled. “And she believes in the Golden Deer. That’s good enough for me. It should be good enough for any dog in the Pack.”

  Every dog watched him, tails tapping the ground thoughtfully.

  “I hope,” Bruno went on, “that any deer we see today are real ones, not shadows. But whatever prey we find, it has to be real. I don’t care if it’s not a deer. We must find some food for the Pack, even if it’s small. So, do we plan to hunt today? Because this might be where some deer Pack lives, it might indeed. But they’re not here now.”

  “Bruno’s right,” said Lucky after a short, impressed silence. “It’s getting late. We need to find something to take back to the Pack.”

  He turned and trotted back down the slope with his easy, loping grace, but he looked, Storm couldn’t help thinking, quite regretful. Bounding to catch up with him, she nudged Lucky’s shoulder gently with her muzzle.

  “What do you really think that place was?”

  He shook his head. “Honestly, Storm? I have no idea. It doesn’t matter; we have to find living prey.” He gave a growl of gruff amusement. “Creatures that aren’t made of air and cobwebs!”

  Still unsettled, Storm glanced back over her shoulder at the grassy dip beneath the cliff. It was such a strange place, with its network of scents and its silence, the still absence of any prey. A breeze blew from it to ripple through her fur even as she ran, and she felt a chill in her bones.

  Was that the Wind-Dogs? Did they speak to me?

  Bella’s words had riled her, but now they didn’t seem to matter because they rang so hollow. Storm could feel her heart thudding in her rib cage. Of course there were Spirit Dogs, of course there were!

  Something rustled in the undergrowth to her side, and Storm almost tripped over her own paws as she was brought back to reality and the present. Bella was looking at her, eyes eager and ears pricked, and Storm nodded meaningfully at her.

  There’s prey down here!

  Bruno was right, she thought as she doubled sideways and sped toward the tangle of brush. Questions were unimportant right now, and so were wild notions about the Spirit Dogs leaping down to earth.

  With a rippling shake of her muscles, Storm flung herself into the chase.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Today’s catch had been poor, Storm thought, ashamed—partly because of their pointless chase after the deer. She dipped her head as they all trailed into the camp later that day, avoiding the gaze of the rest of the Pack. A scrawny squirrel dangled from her jaws, but she wasn’t proud of it—we could have done so much better, she thought. Breeze carried another squirrel, and Lucky had a rabbit in his mouth—a fairly fat one, but still.

  If only we could have found one of those phantom deer . . .

  Alpha stretched, rose to her paws and paced forward to greet them and examine their catch. There was concern in her dark eyes as she glanced at Storm, then turned to Lucky.

  “Snap’s still out with her hunting patrol,” she told her Beta. “I’m sure she’ll bring something back, and together with your prey, well . . .”

  Their Alpha was trying to look on the bright side, Storm knew, but she shouldn’t have had to.

  “I’m sorry, Sweet,” Lucky told her in a low growl. “We should have done better. The Moon-Dog is full tonight, and it’s good to have a satisfied belly for the Great Howl.” He nuzzled Alpha’s flank apologetically.

  Storm didn’t hear Alpha’s reply; as the graceful swift-dog pressed her slender nose to Lucky’s ear, Storm turned quickly and trotted away, embarrassed to witness her leaders’ easy intimacy.

  “Thorn,” she barked softly, relieved to spot Fiery and Moon’s female pup chatting with the feisty little dog from the former Leashed Pack. “Daisy!”

  The two cocked their heads toward her, whining greetings. “Was there no prey out there, Storm?” asked Daisy, letting her tongue loll. “Your catch doesn’t seem so good this evening.”

  Storm lowered her ears, ashamed. “It was pretty scarce, and what there was—well, it was as skinny as we are. But it wasn’t that. I’m afraid we got distracted by deer scents.”

  “Deer?” Thorn’s ears pricked enthusiastically.

  “Yes, but we couldn’t find them,” sighed Storm. “We wasted a lot of time. I’m sorry.”

  It was at the edge of her muzzle to mention the strangeness of the place, and her suspicions about a connection with the Golden Deer, but Daisy was wagging her tail excitedly, and Storm decided it was best to keep her jaws shut.

  “Lots of deer scents?” barked the little dog. “Well, maybe if you go back you will catch a deer!”

  “You were just unlucky,” agreed Thorn. “Next time you go to that spot, you’ll probably see one!”

  “Or lots.” Daisy licked her chops longingly. “Lots of deer . . .” Her voice faded to a hungry growl.

  Storm opened her mouth to calm the two dogs’ expectations, but she was interrupted by a furious snarling argument from the nearest corner of the clearing. Turning in surprise, she saw that Rake and Ruff—two patrol dogs who had once been in Twitch’s Pack—were facing down Moon. They barked angrily at the farm dog, their muzzles almost touching hers. The fur of all three dogs was raised along their spines. Around them, looking distinctly unsettled, stood Twitch, Thorn’s litter-brother Beetle, and a couple of hunters who’d once followed Twitch. Breeze was one of them.

  Moon’s looking a bit outnumbered, thought Storm anxiously, as Thorn trotted forward, growling, to stand at her litter-brother’s side.

  “You’re not my Alpha dog, Moon!” snarled Rake.

  Storm padded up to the knot of hostile dogs, Daisy at her flank. “What’s going on? Can’t you dogs just listen to Alpha and Beta and get along with each other?”

  “We don’t want to make trouble,” growled Ruff, “but we won’t let ourselves be ordered around by just any dog.” She bared her fangs, and Moon gave her a warning snarl in response.

  Wildly, Storm glanced around, and was relieved to see Sweet and Luck
y pacing across the clearing toward them. But Rake, Ruff and Moon were still too busy glaring at one another to take any notice. Rake lunged suddenly, his jaws snapping on Moon’s fur as she jerked back. She spun and bit savagely at his shoulder as Beetle and Ruff circled, snarling and darting bites at one another.

  “I don’t take commands from you!” barked Rake again as he dodged Moon’s angry jaws. “Alpha said Twitch was in charge of the patrol dogs. That’s who tells me what to do—Twitch! Not you!”

  Moon stiffened, jaws dripping and blue eyes glittering as the dogs resumed their angry standoff. “You’re on guard duty tonight whether you like it or not. Do as you’re told.”

  “Twitch!” Rake spun to face his old Pack leader. “You tell her. She’s undermining your authority!”

  Twitch didn’t seem to want to be involved; in fact, he looked as if he’d rather be anywhere else. Shifting his hindquarters, he glanced from Rake to Moon to Ruff. He gave an uncertain growl, low in his throat, but before he could come up with an answer, Daisy bounded forward.

  “You should respect Moon!” she told them in her high-pitched yelp. “We all should!”

  Beside her, Thorn and Beetle growled their hearty agreement, then slunk protectively to their Mother-Dog’s sides. Storm realized Thorn was on the point of flinging herself violently at Rake’s throat. With some desperation, Storm glanced over her shoulder to find Lucky, but he had paused a few paces from the fight. His face was filled with uncertainty.

  It was Alpha who shouldered her way into the middle of the quarreling dogs. She stood firm between Thorn and Rake, glaring at them sternly.

  Alpha said nothing, but Thorn and Rake both dipped their heads, cowed. Each took a pace backward, as the swift-dog turned on her slim legs, meeting the eyes of the patrol dogs.

  “I won’t have this,” she growled. “Do you hear? The last thing this Pack needs is fighting dogs.”

  Rake opened his jaws, then seemed to think better of it. He shut them again, and licked his chops nervously.

  “Moon and Twitch are two of the most experienced dogs in this Pack,” Alpha went on, with a distinct undercurrent of threat in her soft voice. “They both deserve respect. If I hear of any patrol dog failing to give it to them—to either of them—there will be consequences. Serious consequences, do you all understand?”

  Every patrol dog lowered his or her eyes, and tails dropped to clamp against their rumps.

  “Yes, Alpha,” muttered Rake, and Ruff gave a hasty nod of agreement.

  “Of course,” grunted Thorn.

  They kept their gazes down while their Alpha studied them severely, but as she turned dismissively and stalked away, Storm didn’t take her eyes off the patrol dogs. From the looks they were giving one another, they weren’t at all submissive now. Fangs were subtly bared, eyes flashed with hostility, and as soon as Alpha was out of earshot, there was a distinct low snarling in several throats. Violence was on the edge of breaking out again; Storm could sense it in the air. Even Twitch and Moon, who had always got along so well, were avoiding each other’s eyes.

  Alpha, with Lucky at her flank, returned to her sleeping-place and flopped carefully down, head on her paws as she watched the patrol dogs from a distance. The tight group was breaking up now, but Storm did not like the way it was dividing. There was a very obvious split as the dogs turned their backs on each other: Twitch’s old followers, and the patrol dogs who had originally been with Sweet’s Pack. And there were no amicable licks or forgiving nudges as the two groups hurried to opposite sides of the clearing.

  Daisy and Thorn were crouching in a huddle with Moon and her other patrollers, but as Storm trotted to join them, Daisy glanced up at her, brown eyes apologetic.

  “Storm, if you don’t mind . . . I think this is patrol-dog business? We all need to talk. For a bit. Alone?”

  Storm hesitated, one paw off the ground. Feeling horribly awkward, she glanced around the camp. The hunt-dogs were all in little groups of their own by now, chatting lazily about their day, and Storm didn’t think there was a single cluster of dogs she could butt her way into uninvited. She swallowed as she nodded at Daisy and slunk away from the patrol dogs.

  With a suddenness that took her breath away, she was swamped by longing for Martha. In that moment she missed her foster-mother so badly, she wanted to howl to the sky all alone. When Martha had been alive, there had always been at least one dog who was happy to welcome her, to let Storm cuddle against her huge flank and confide her hopes and worries and miseries.

  A small shiver ran along Storm’s spine as she remembered her dream from the previous night: Martha’s kind eyes filling her vision; her warm, gruff voice that had always been full of comfort.

  The darkness is in you. . . .

  Storm shivered and gave a plaintive whimper. What’s wrong with me?

  Maybe nothing. After all, Lucky had had terrible dreams, once. He’d dreamed of the Storm of Dogs, and the nightmares had tormented him for many journeys of the Moon-Dog. But those dreams had predicted Storm’s victory over Blade; they’d been a good omen. That wasn’t what her dream had felt like. It seemed to promise only horror and darkness.

  Storm sat on her haunches, torn by different urges. She licked her jaws and gave a low unhappy whine. In the center of the glade, Lucky lay curled up with Sweet, talking quietly; Storm didn’t feel she could interrupt their moment of private intimacy. But I need to ask someone about my dream, someone who knows what it’s like. . . .

  As she hesitated, the undergrowth rustled, and with a crunching of leaves and a snapping of twigs the dogs of the second hunting party trotted into the clearing. Storm breathed a sigh of relief as she got to her paws, tongue lolling. Snap and her hunters had brought a good deal more prey than she, Lucky, and the others had managed. The Great Howl wouldn’t be a gloomy affair after all.

  Wagging her tail, Storm waited until Alpha had risen to greet the hunters and admire their catch, then took her opportunity. She padded close to Lucky and settled down at his side.

  “Storm.” He licked her ear affectionately.

  “Lucky, can I ask you something?”

  “Of course you can.” He seemed distracted, preoccupied with Alpha and the hunters, but Storm took a deep breath and plunged on.

  “Do you still dream about the Storm of Dogs?”

  His sidelong glance was a little startled, but then he shook his golden head and looked back at Snap and Alpha. “No, Storm, that’s all over. I haven’t dreamed about it since it happened.”

  “Well.” She licked her jaws with a tongue that felt dry. “The thing is, Lucky . . . I had a dream last night. A bad dream.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to worry. All dogs have bad dreams sometimes. It’s natural.” He nodded toward Snap. “Look at that fine rabbit Snap caught!”

  Storm opened her jaws. But Lucky, she wanted to blurt out. Martha said something terrible, and I woke up outside the camp, and I still don’t know how I got there, and—

  It was no use; she couldn’t bring herself to say it. The words dream-Martha had said, Storm realized, were something she was too ashamed to share with any other dog.

  Even with Lucky . . .

  Because what if it wasn’t an ordinary dream? What if, like Lucky’s nightmare, it had meant something?

  Lucky’s dreams, after all, had warned him about a great battle. They hadn’t warned him about himself!

  But what if my dream is true, too?

  CHAPTER SIX

  Above their heads the Moon-Dog was full and silver, glowing with a light that cast deep shadows. Gazing up at her, Storm’s heart felt full, and for a moment all her fears and worries about the dream fell away, as if she’d shaken water from her fur. The Great Howl was the one thing that could always draw the Pack together, make every dog set aside the petty differences and small irritations of the day; it could even make a dog forget the awfulness of a dream—if only for a little while.

  I’m counting on it.

  The Pack sat, crouc
hed, or sprawled in the center of the clearing, forming a loose circle around Alpha, who gazed transfixed at the night sky. As the mutters of conversations faded, and the Moon-Dog rose higher, the swift-dog tipped back her slender head and parted her jaws. Closing her eyes, she let a howl rise in her throat, swelling until it echoed and resounded in the trees.

  One by one, the other dogs joined their voices to Alpha’s. The sound grew, the dogs matching their voices together until the howl seemed like a solid, living thing that rippled across their fur and thrilled in their muscles and blood.

  Storm’s own howl was building inside her, and she raised her jaws to release it. Her cry merged seamlessly with the others, and she felt the stirring joy of the Pack’s togetherness.

  She paused. Except we’re not all together. . . .

  The sensation of the howl felt thinner than usual; it didn’t fill her bones as it should. Sneaking a glance to her side, Storm saw that her suspicions were right. Some of the Pack members weren’t howling at all.

  Ruff, she realized, catching sight of the female patrol dog’s sullen, silent expression. And Chase. And Breeze . . .

  All dogs of Twitch’s old Pack. Are they still angry about that confrontation with Moon? Shocked, Storm lowered her head, her voice catching and halting in her throat.

  How can they resist the pull of the Howl? Bewildered, she cocked her ear. Her tail was tight between her hindquarters.

  I don’t want to be unhappy, not tonight! With a stirring resentment toward the silent dogs, Storm threw her head back once more and rejoined the Howl, giving her voice even more intensity to make up for the surly absentees. Deliberately she shut Ruff and Chase and Breeze out of her mind, forcing herself to focus only on the voices of the Packmates who howled with her. Slowly, inexorably, she felt herself drawn in again, until she was one with her Pack once more, their voices and dog-spirits blending with the night air and rising to the Moon-Dog.

  I feel them, she thought with a thrill. Not my Pack, the Others. The Spirit Dogs. I feel them!