Storm of Dogs Read online

  Alfie!

  The Leashed Dog turned to Lucky, bright-eyed. He carried no wounds from his fight with the Wild Pack’s former Alpha. It was almost as though he had never been hurt.

  “You’re alive!” Lucky barked, running to his old friend.

  Alfie took a step back and shook his head slowly.

  Lucky froze in his steps. He could see now that the outline of Alfie’s body blurred against the sky, just like the clouds. Then Lucky understood.

  This isn’t the waking world. . . .

  “Why am I dreaming of you?” he asked.

  “Because everything changed when I died,” Alfie replied. “After my death, every dog was set walking along a new path, and yours has brought you here.”

  “Here? But where am I?” Lucky looked around in the shifting darkness.

  “It’s almost over,” Alfie growled, turning away. “Can’t you feel it?”

  Lucky was silent, waiting for a shiver in his fur or a sense in his gut—but there was nothing.

  Alfie’s voice grew softer. “The Pack may still survive, as long as every dog does their duty when the Storm comes. Yours will be the most important of all.”

  Lucky couldn’t help the whine that came out of his throat. “What duty?”

  Alfie turned back to him. The thickset dog looked old and tired suddenly, his body beginning to fade into the swirling mist.

  Lucky sprang forward. “Don’t go, Alfie!” The ground groaned beneath his paws, and his ears were filled with the sound of cracking ice. Terror shot through Lucky’s fur as the ground shattered beneath him, caving into a great hole. . . .

  Instantly he was on his paws, blinking into the darkness. His heart raced in his chest and he gulped for air. Sweet still slept peacefully by his side. It was just a dream.

  A thickset dog skulked outside the den. Lucky caught a flash of dark fur as he disappeared between the shrubs.

  Alfie . . . ?

  No, Alfie was dead. This must be the mysterious dog he had seen before, near the cliffs. Lucky rose silently, stepping around Sweet. He paused at the entrance to the den, wondering if he should wake her. No. I’m a Beta now; I have to prove I can act on my own initiative. He padded into the icy night, sniffing the air.

  A bank of clouds blocked the light of the Moon-Dog. Dart, who was the Patrol Dog watching over the camp tonight, was nowhere in sight, no doubt out pacing the boundaries of their territory. Lucky put his trust in his nose, following the scent of the strange dog. It was maddeningly familiar, but the salt wind that drifted from the Endless Lake made it hard for him to place where he’d smelled it before. Lucky frowned, treading a path between low hedges. Could this be a Lone Dog? But why would any dog want to settle so close to a Pack?

  His head snapped up. He realized with surprise that the smell had grown stronger—the dog up ahead must have stopped.

  Lucky paused, sniffing carefully. He couldn’t smell any other dogs. He decided to press ahead, scrambling beneath a dangling branch until the scent struck him all at once.

  Fang!

  Just then, the young Fierce Dog stepped out from behind a tree, wobbling badly. Lucky took in his appearance with a gasp. Storm’s litter-brother had a wounded paw that still seemed to be bleeding from a deep bite. He stumbled, and Lucky sprang forward and gave him a gentle nudge to keep him upright.

  “You’d help me, after everything?” Fang whimpered. His voice cracked as he spoke, and he looked exhausted. Slowly he settled down onto his hindquarters.

  Lucky took a step back. “What happened?”

  Fang lowered his head. “Mace attacked me when I tried to leave Blade’s Pack. I got away, but not before he gave me a good bite. The Sun-Dog has run across the sky several times, but it hasn’t quite healed.” The young dog’s head drooped. “I’ve been waiting by your camp, trying to work up the courage to ask for help healing the wound, but I lost my nerve.” He sighed bitterly. “I waited for Dart to go patrol the boundaries, and then I sneaked into your camp. I didn’t want you all thinking that I wanted to join your Pack. I know there’s no chance of that. But I hoped that if some dog came to find out what was going on and followed me out of the camp, they might help.”

  Lucky narrowed his eyes. Fang had seemed intensely loyal to the Fierce Dogs—and willing to kill his own litter-sister to prove it. What had changed? “Why did you leave Blade’s Pack?”

  Fang lowered himself onto his belly. Lucky had never seen the young dog looking so dejected. “In the Trial of Rage, Storm proved she was a better fighter than me, and that she had more self-control too. After that, Blade was furious that she had to honor the agreement to let Storm go. She said it was all my fault that we had been humiliated by ‘inferior’ dogs. She encouraged every dog in the Pack to torment me.” His lip twitched into a snarl. “It would have been better if Storm had killed me.” He fell quiet for a moment, then looked up at Lucky. “And it’s not just me they’re after. They’re plotting against your Pack. I guess I wanted to warn you. You helped me a lot, in the beginning—you and Mickey. I didn’t want Blade to track you down.”

  Lucky’s fur bristled. “She’s planning an ambush?”

  A night bird hooted from a nearby tree and Fang jumped, his eyes jerking toward the sound. He scrambled shakily to his paws. “It isn’t safe to talk here. I’ve made a temporary camp and it’s hidden. Blade knows nothing about it. It isn’t far. I’ll take you there and explain, if . . . if you think you can help me?” Fang took a step forward and faltered, his face contorting with pain.

  Lucky hurried to his side. “Here, lean on me.”

  They moved slowly around the outskirts of the valley, past the pond and the circle of trees. Lucky panted with effort as he helped Fang along. He could feel the weight of the Fierce Dog’s muscles packed beneath his fur.

  “It’s not much farther,” muttered Fang through gritted teeth. “Down along the cliffs.”

  By the time they reached the cliff face, Lucky’s body blazed with heat, despite the icy wind. He helped Fang limp along the sharp rocks. It was barren along the wall of the cliff, open to the cold and rain. Surely no dog would sleep without shelter when it was this cold? Lucky looked at Fang, whose eyes were half-closed in pain. “Are you so afraid of the Fierce Dogs that you’ve made your camp here?”

  A snarl behind him made him stumble in shock. “No . . . but Fang is so afraid of us that he’ll lead his former protector into a trap.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Lucky’s heart lurched, and he spun around. His pulse raced as he took in the sight of Blade flanked by Mace and Dagger. Paws scuffled behind him, and Lucky looked back toward Fang. The rest of the Fierce Dog Pack stood behind the young Fierce Dog in formation, their muscles flexing beneath their silky coats. Panic coursed through Lucky’s limbs. The only escape was over the cliff, where the Endless Lake hammered rocks as sharp as teeth. There was nowhere to run.

  The Fierce Dogs had him surrounded!

  “Take him,” Blade snarled.

  Mace and Dagger marched toward Lucky. He flinched, expecting to feel their fangs sink into his flesh. Instead the Fierce Dog deputies shoved him roughly along the edge of the cliff.

  Lucky’s heart sank. Ahead was a jumble of jagged black rocks. Mace and Dagger shoved Lucky toward them as he cast about wildly for a way to escape. The rest of the Fierce Dogs closed in behind him. As Dagger butted him closer to the rocks, Lucky spotted a shadowy opening. A cave! It cut downhill, through the cliff. Lucky felt a rough shove against his flank, and he slid down the incline, kicking up pebbles. It was dark and dank in the cave, and it smelled sharply of the attack dogs.

  This must be where they’ve made their new lair.

  Lucky had no choice but to shuffle along the tunnel. Mace snapped at his flank, drawing him deeper into the lair. As Lucky’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he stared around desperately but could see no gaps or cracks of light along the stone walls.

  “Hurry up, Street Mutt!” snarled Mace, slamming Lucky’s flank with his
forepaw and sending him smacking into the wall.

  Lucky whined as pain shot through his shoulder, and he scrambled forward. The tunnel bent like a dog’s leg, growing darker. Lucky could hardly see where he was going, but the smell of the Fierce Dogs was all around him. The Pack must have come here when the longpaws returned to the town, he realized. They’ve probably been watching us for days.

  He cursed himself. How had he missed their odors on the icy air? “Move forward, you clumsy idiot!” snapped Mace.

  Lucky quickened his stride. Here, a few chinks in the cave ceiling let in the faint light of the Moon-Dog, who had appeared between the clouds. Lucky squinted. There was something up ahead—it looked like a dark pool. As he drew closer, he could see it was a steep drop. He froze, his heart slamming against his ribs. In the weak light, he couldn’t make out the bottom. They’re going to push me to my death! he realized with cold horror. The others will never find out what happened to me. Sweet will call for me, and I won’t be there. . . . He tried to conjure up an image of the Forest-Dog, to call him for help, but it was impossible to imagine trees down here in the musty air.

  Lucky felt breath on the back of his neck, and his fur stood on end. Mace’s muzzle was close to his ear. “I said, forward!”

  There was a scuffle of paws, and Lucky turned to see Blade pressing alongside Mace, her eyes glinting with satisfaction. Her voice was silky. “This has been a long time coming, Street Mutt. Do you have any last words?”

  “Don’t do this.” Lucky was ashamed of the whine in his voice. No: She wouldn’t force him to be a coward. He swallowed down a mouthful of spit. He wouldn’t beg for mercy. “I have nothing to say to you.”

  There was a note of disappointment in Blade’s voice. “So long, Mongrel!” She lurched at him, her teeth bared. Lucky sprang back instinctively, his paws scrambling for a moment above the dark drop. He fell with a bark, his legs flailing. His head hit the ground with a jolt of pain. Then he felt nothing.

  The air smelled of ashes and bitter smoke. Lucky looked out over the broken longpaw city. Fires crackled on street corners, despite the driving rain that fell from the Sky-Dogs. Gray dust swirled in the air and caught in Lucky’s throat. It shifted in dark palls, blocking out the light of the Sun-Dog. Somehow Lucky knew he would never feel the dazzling warmth of the Sun-Dog again—that the great Spirit Dog had retreated to the edges of their world.

  Fierce Dogs marched side by side along the broken streets. Their sharp barks cut through the air and Lucky whined in fear, but they ignored him as they passed, as though he was invisible.

  Lucky trembled under the rain, searching for shelter. He passed the Food House where he used to beg for scraps. But there were no scraps—the longpaws had long since gone. The city belonged to the Fierce Dogs now.

  No dog should “own” the city, thought Lucky. Why doesn’t the Earth-Dog growl again to chase them away, or teach them a lesson? He tapped the ground with a forepaw, and his tail clung to his flank. He couldn’t feel the Earth-Dog beneath him. The ground was cold, lifeless, and still. It was as if the Earth-Dog had been knocked out.

  Lucky heard an angry bark, and he spun around to see Mace and Dagger behind a group of dogs. The dogs’ heads were stooped, and their tails hung low.

  “Keep moving, Slaves!” snarled Mace, chomping and snapping at their legs.

  Lucky’s eyes rested on a golden-furred dog. She looked familiar, but her coat was patchy and thin and she struggled to walk. One of her hind legs was hideously misshapen, bent the wrong way. “Bella!” he cried. “Bella, what happened?”

  His litter-sister did not turn around.

  He noticed an old brown fight-dog and a small dog with wiry fur. Bruno and Daisy! Lucky gasped. The Slave Dogs were his old Pack, but they looked so injured, starved, and exhausted that he hardly recognized them. Mickey was leaning against Martha for support, and even the great black dog could hardly walk. Then Lucky noticed Sweet. . . .

  Sickness twisted in his gut. The swift-dog’s ribs jutted under loose flesh, and her legs were like bent twigs. There was a tear along her hip that was bleeding badly.

  Blood was running down Dagger’s chin.

  Lucky reeled with fury. “Leave her alone!” he howled, but they didn’t seem to hear him. He tried to run to Sweet, but his legs were fixed to the ground. He looked down to see red liquid sloshing over his paws.

  Where was it coming from? His eyes shot up. The Fierce Dogs were gnashing and biting at the Wild Pack to keep them moving. They plodded past a giant heap of dark fur, as big as a loudcage—no, as big as the entire Wild Pack camp—that was half-buried beneath rubble. The stream of blood was flowing from the heap, winding along the broken street and lapping at Lucky’s paws.

  Blade bounded onto the heap of fur, climbing to the top and standing proudly as the fires burned around her. But what was she standing on? Could it really be . . .

  Lucky blinked, shaking his head in disbelief.

  Yes, it was—Blade had conquered the Earth-Dog!

  Lucky tore his gaze away, only to find himself suddenly caged, staring at a wall of the Trap House. His muzzle was pressed up to the wire door of his cage as the other dogs slept around him. It was silent and still in the Trap House, but there was a faint quiver in the air. Something was coming.

  Lucky pawed at the cage door, then shrank back, confused. Why do I keep returning here?

  Alfie appeared in the passage between the cages and gazed up at Lucky. His voice was soft. “It’s okay. You know what to do.”

  Lucky pawed the wire. “I don’t! You have to tell me!”

  His barks had woken the other dogs. The Trap House filled with whines and yaps as the ground started trembling beneath their paws.

  “Alfie, won’t you help me?” Lucky barked. “What do I have to do?” He threw himself at the wire, his face smacking the metal and his eyes clamped shut. When he opened them, the Trap House was red. Liquid clung to Lucky’s muzzle and ran down his whiskers. The taste was foul, like ash and spoiled meat. He knew what it was.

  It was the Earth-Dog’s blood.

  Lucky opened his eyes and blinked into the darkness. I’m alive! Salty water dripped onto his forehead and rolled down his nose. He raised his pounding head and looked to the ceiling. He was in a deep bowl, a cave within a cave in the Fierce Dogs’ lair, somewhere inside the cliff. It reminded him of the hollow pathway that the rescue party had discovered in the cliff nearest to the Wild Pack’s territory, the one they’d climbed through to escape the Endless Lake. His head throbbed where he’d hit it from the fall, but otherwise he seemed okay. He stretched his legs gingerly—nothing seemed broken.

  He stood up and looked around. There was an opening in the ceiling of the cave, and Lucky could see the Moon-Dog and the first creeping light of the Sun-Dog.

  A wave of relief ran through him. The Sun-Dog was still safe—the Fierce Dogs hadn’t banished him yet. He caught himself and frowned. That was just a bad dream. For all their might, the Fierce Dogs could never attack the Spirit Dogs. Their teeth aren’t that big.

  The air was salty. There was probably a stream nearby, running into the Endless Lake. That would explain the water dripping from the ceiling. Lucky padded toward the edge of the cave bowl and hopped onto his hind legs, searching for a way out. The walls were too steep to climb. He tried to hook his paws on the ragged rock face, but he couldn’t get a clawhold.

  Behind him, he heard an amused growl. Lucky turned to see Blade standing in the tunnel over the rock bowl. She glared down at Lucky.

  “I hope you had sweet dreams,” she rasped. There was a kind of frenzied victory in the Fierce Dog Alpha’s eyes.

  Lucky could barely stand to look at her. “If you’re so determined to destroy the Wild Pack, why didn’t you kill me when you caught me?” he spat. “You must be going soft!”

  Blade stepped to the edge of the bowl and lowered her head menacingly. “Don’t underestimate me, Street Mutt. I’m every bit as ruthless as I need to be, and I intend
to prove it.” She snorted through her nose. “Do you really think I’d go to so much trouble just to kill you? It seems that being made a Beta has gone to your head.”

  Lucky’s face must have given away his surprise. How did she know?

  “Oh, I know everything you’ve been up to,” she hissed. “Fang saw your touching little ceremony with the skinny swift-dog. Don’t get me wrong. In some ways, she impresses me. She’s tough, and she runs an efficient Pack, for a group of mutts. Unfortunately she’s also dumb, like all Wild Dogs. She lacks discipline.”

  A low growl rose in Lucky’s throat. Fear still consumed him, but another sensation tingled through his whiskers—anger. “Leave her out of this!”

  Blade shook her head slowly and ran a self-satisfied tongue over her chops. She dropped onto her belly and lowered her muzzle so it hung over the edge of the rock bowl. “It’s too late for that. What do you imagine happened the minute your Pack-rats realized you were missing? It won’t be hard for them to track you here, not with Fang’s blood dripping a trail. Loyalty without intelligence—that’s the problem with you Wild Dogs. She’ll walk right into my trap.”

  “Leave Sweet alone, she’s no danger to you!” Lucky barked, his head still pounding.

  Blade threw back her head. “You stupid idiot! Do you think I care about your skinny Alpha? It’s the Fierce pup I’m after. I will rip out her throat and stop her from doing more harm.” Her voice was brittle. “I will eliminate the threat.”

  A chill ran down Lucky’s spine. “What do you mean, ‘the threat’? Storm doesn’t want to take over your Pack. She’s no threat to you as long as you leave her alone!”

  “You’re wrong,” growled Blade. “That young dog will destroy us—Fierce Dogs, Wild Dogs, Leashed Dogs, all of us. I have seen it in my dreams.”

  Lucky’s breath caught in his throat and he froze, stunned. Hadn’t he also guessed that Storm had a role to play in their downfall? He thought of telling Blade about his own dreams. Had she also seen the Storm of Dogs, the terrible battle in the swirling snow? He pulled himself together with a violent shake of the fur. Blade was just afraid of losing a fight with Storm. It probably had nothing to do with the Storm of Dogs, nothing to do with his visions. . . .