A Pack Divided Read online

  Beneath her paw pads she could feel the pulse of the Earth-Dog’s great heart, beating through the landscape. From far away she heard the rush of the River-Dog, could feel her flow as clearly as she felt the blood in her body. In the trees around her, she was aware of rippling movement in the shadows, and she knew it was the cunning Forest-Dog, who guarded and protected them all. He ran and dodged and hunted there, bringing prey and good luck to the Pack. In her mind’s eye she saw the dark glow of his gaze, watching over them.

  The Forest-Dog reminds me of Lucky, she thought in a daze of contentment. But then, he is Lucky’s Spirit Dog.

  Who is my Spirit Dog? Storm blinked her eyes open to let the brilliant moonlight dazzle her. Who will guide me, Moon-Dog?

  For a moment she thought the great silver Spirit Dog was really going to answer her. Something filled her head, something huge and wondrous, so that she felt she was floating as she howled.

  Then it happened. A darkness blotted out the Moon-Dog’s form: the dark running shape of a vast and terrifying Fierce Dog. Cold gripped Storm’s heart as her voice caught in her throat again, choking off her howl.

  As it moved across the Moon-Dog’s form, the dark Spirit Dog seemed to pause, turn, and fix eyes on Storm that were darker than the night sky, but which glittered with a starlike glow.

  A Sky-Dog! Yet even as she thought that, Storm knew it was no Sky-Dog. This was a Spirit Dog she had never seen before, one she had never even heard of. His terrible eyes remained locked on hers for a moment longer; then he was turning, and his long loping stride carried him away across the blackness of the sky. The Moon-Dog’s light glowed fiercely on the Pack once more.

  The other dogs were still singing their cries, but Storm’s body felt empty of breath. She couldn’t give voice to a whimper, much less a howl. Glancing to one side and the other, she realized none of the others had even paused in their song. The eyes of her Packmates were closed in ecstasy, or they were riveted on the light of the Moon-Dog. Storm realized the truth like a bite to her belly.

  No other dog saw what I saw!

  In desperation she scanned the upturned faces of her Packmates. Did no dog see the fierce Spirit Dog? Did I imagine him?

  No! She realized that, with absolute certainty, when her eyes locked with Arrow’s.

  The other Fierce Dog was not howling, either. He was watching Storm, his dark eyes knowing, as if they shared a secret. A great and terrible family secret . . .

  The shock of connection made Storm jerk her head away, and she stared up at the sky in near panic. I am not like Arrow! I am not the same as him!

  She was one of this Pack! She’d been raised by Lucky and Martha, not by Blade; she’d learned to be a true, kind, and loyal friend, not a bloodthirsty warrior-dog. I’m not like Arrow! I was never one of Blade’s Pack!

  No matter how hard she tried, though, she could not raise her voice again to join with the Pack’s howling. And she realized, with a shock, that it was because of fear. I don’t want to see that Spirit Dog again. If I raise my head and howl, he might return.

  I don’t want him to come back. . . .

  Feeling shrunken back to pup-size, she sat quietly, tail between her legs, deliberately avoiding Arrow’s gaze. He was still looking at her, she knew it, but she would not meet those conspiratorial eyes again.

  As the Great Howl faded, Storm sat silently, staring straight ahead. Only when most of her Packmates had risen and shaken themselves and headed for their sleeping dens with contented barks and growls of good night did she finally get to her paws.

  I’m not going to talk to Arrow about this. I don’t care what he thinks.

  Breeze, though, was glancing up at the Moon-Dog as she paced toward her den, and Storm licked her chops, filled with curiosity. Why didn’t Breeze join the Howl? She was so loyal to the Spirit Dogs earlier, when she argued with Bella; she believes in the Spirits and trusts them. Even if she was angry, why wouldn’t Breeze howl?

  Determinedly, Storm caught up to pad at her flank. “Breeze, why didn’t you join in the Howl?” she blurted out. “You and your friends? Don’t you want to feel part of the Pack?”

  Breeze shot her a thoughtful look as she licked her jaws. “I can’t speak for the others,” she said at last. “Maybe they were just too angry to howl tonight.”

  “But that’s just what the Great Howl does,” pointed out Storm. “It soothes anger, brings us all together! And the Spirit Dogs—”

  “I know that’s the idea, that it unites the Pack,” admitted Breeze, hesitating to sniff the night air, “and I trust in the Spirit Dogs. But for me, it wasn’t the anger. Maybe for Ruff and Rake and Chase, but not me. I’ve never howled with the Pack.”

  “What?” Storm pricked her ears, shocked.

  “It’s true. When we were Terror’s Pack, we never howled. We didn’t want to attract the attention of the Fear-Dog.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” exploded Storm.

  “Is it?” Breeze hunched her shoulders against a shudder. “Think what you like, but Terror knew about these things. When Twitch took over as our Alpha he reinstated the Howl, but I never joined in, even then.” Furtively she peered into the shadows around the glade, then nudged her head closer to Storm, and whispered nervously, “I don’t want the Fear-Dog to find me. The way he found Terror . . .”

  Storm stared after Breeze as the hunt-dog hurried to her den. What a ridiculous notion. Terror put the fear of . . . well, the fear of the Fear-Dog into that Pack.

  It’s not true. Lucky said there was no such thing as a Fear-Dog. And there isn’t.

  All the same, Storm shivered as she crept to her own nest of soft leaves and grass, and she raked her bedding with her claws to enclose her body more snugly. Even then, she couldn’t get comfortable. The chill was in her bones, not in the night air, and her snug nest felt as if it was full of stones. She shifted restlessly, twisting and turning.

  Was it the Fear-Dog I saw?

  The thought popped unwelcome into Storm’s skull, making her snap her head up and pant for breath. Lucky had said the Fear-Dog was a figment of Terror’s warped imagination—but Lucky had been wrong before. . . .

  Arrow had seen that Spirit Dog too. Could he and Storm have brought the Fear-Dog down on the Pack?

  Squeezing her eyelids tight shut, she forced herself to think only of drifting into unconsciousness. I will go to sleep, I will . . .

  Except that I can’t. Her legs kicked in frustration. I’ll never sleep again. . . .

  What? What’s going on?

  Storm’s legs were not thrashing against leaves and grass anymore; they were bounding freely over the forest floor. Urgency seized her chest, and she picked up speed.

  There was something she had to do. She had to get there now. She had to do this!

  Even though she couldn’t remember exactly what the vital thing was . . .

  The shadow that raced at her side did not belong to her. She could hear its footfalls, and she could make out its darkness from the corner of her eye, but she didn’t want to look. Instead she ran faster than ever.

  “You can’t outrun me,” said a voice. “You never could. I will always be with you.”

  This time, Storm made herself look. She turned her head to glare at the darkness.

  “Blade!” She wasn’t out of breath, yet she couldn’t seem to run fast enough to outpace the shadowy Fierce Dog. “You’re dead, Blade. You can’t be here.”

  Blade peeled back her lips in a scornful snarl. “You think it’s that easy to get rid of me? I’m stronger than death, Storm. I know the truth about you; I’ve always known it. That’s why I’ll always be at your side. That’s why I’ll always be with you.”

  Storm licked her jaws, but she couldn’t make them moist. Her tongue was coated in dust and ashes. “Are you the Fear-Dog?”

  Blade barked a hollow laugh. “You know better than that, Storm.”

  Storm couldn’t look away. She could only run, and stare in horror at Blade, and try not to fall.<
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  “The Fear-Dog is patrolling tonight.” Blade’s whispering voice was dark and deadly. “But I am not the dog who brought him here.”

  Storm skidded, stumbled to a halt, crashed to the ground. Leaves and grass broke her fall, but there were sharp stones beneath them, and she yelped in pain and terror.

  And woke up. She froze in disbelief. She hadn’t fallen at all; she was on her four paws, in a turmoil of leaves and sand where she must have skidded and twisted. Her flanks heaved as she fought to control her desperate breathing.

  Storm eyed the darkness around her. Spun on her haunches, and stared.

  She was no longer in the camp. She was no longer in the glade. She was deep in the forest. And for the second time, she had no memory of how she had gotten there.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Light and sound finally penetrated Storm’s restless sleep. Blinking painfully, she curled into a tighter ball, trying to sink back into unawareness, but it was useless. A damp nose nudged her flank and a friendly voice teased her.

  “Are you ever going to get up, young Storm?”

  She kept her eyes shut tight. The affectionate growl was Mickey’s, but she couldn’t face even the kind Farm Dog. Focusing on making the rise and fall of her flanks regular and slow, she heard his gruff, fond laughter.

  “Lazy pup, I know you’re not asleep.” He nuzzled her. “All right, stay there for a bit.”

  I really need to, she thought guiltily. It’s tiring going for walks in the night. Walks I don’t even remember . . .

  It was impossible to go back to sleep now, though. Through the underbrush she could hear the low voices of dogs arguing. Again! What was it now?

  Probably the same thing, she realized with a heavy sigh. The voices belonged to, among others, Thorn and Breeze, so no doubt it was another quarrel about the patrol dogs failing to respect Moon’s orders.

  It all seemed so very ordinary, so everyday compared to last night. Her frantic dash-and-stumble back to camp in the darkness was like a vague and distant memory now; she could even convince herself it hadn’t been real. Except that she remembered vividly the terror she’d felt, running blindly, convinced that the Fear-Dog was stalking her, that at any moment she’d feel his red claws in her hide. She’d have sworn she could hear the echoing thud of his paws on the earth as he hunted her down.

  It had been easy enough to sneak past Daisy and Dart, who had been on night patrol, but she couldn’t help the bite of worry in her gut. If this was going to happen again, she couldn’t rely on every dog being unwary. Sooner or later one of the Pack would catch her as she tried to creep back into the camp. What if the dreams never left her in peace?

  It’s not something I want to have to explain to any dog.

  There were other voices around her; she could hear them clearly with her eyes shut. Lucky and Alpha were murmuring to each other. It was a much more friendly, reassuring sound than the argument. She felt safer with her Alpha and her Beta watching over the Pack—at least while the Sun-Dog shone overhead.

  Night could be a different nest of rats. But I can’t worry about that just now.

  “My Mother-Dog used to tell me stories of the Spirit Dogs,” Lucky was telling Alpha, his rumbling voice fond. “Stories about Lightning, and the Forest-Dog, and the Sky-Dogs. Did your Mother-Dog tell you about the Wind-Dogs?”

  “She did, Lucky.” Storm heard Alpha’s small grunt as she rolled over in the grass and wriggled into a more comfortable position. “She told us a Wind-Dog story every night.”

  “And what stories will you tell our pups, Sweet?” There was lazy amusement in Lucky’s voice.

  “I’ll tell them about all the Spirit Dogs, yours and mine.” Alpha laughed. “And so will you, I expect.”

  Storm felt a pang of envy. Her own Mother-Dog had never had the chance to tell her any stories.

  “I’ll tell you one of my Mother-Dog’s stories, shall I?” murmured Alpha.

  “Go on.” Lucky sounded more alert. Storm could visualize his ears pricking up, the light of interest sparking in his brown eyes.

  “All right.” Alpha sighed contentedly. “Long ago, Lucky, at the time of the First Dogs, it’s said that the Sun-Dog never slept at all.”

  “What, never?” Lucky had made his voice as innocent as a pup’s, and Alpha huffed a laugh.

  “Never. The Sun-Dog was too possessive of the sky, you see. He liked to run and play and bask in that great blue field all the time. The Sky-Dogs tried to persuade him to rest, and to give the Moon-Dog a chance to run and hunt, but he wouldn’t listen. He ordered the Sky-Dogs to go away, because he had more power than they did, and he said he would never yield his place to the Moon-Dog.”

  “Bossy old Sun-Dog,” growled Lucky, a grin in his gruff voice. “But I expect the First Dogs liked being able to hunt all day.”

  “Oh, no, they did not! The First Dogs were always tired, because they couldn’t sleep in the light of the Sun-Dog. And the Moon-Dog felt sorry for them. She has always looked after dogs, and given them peace to howl and love and rest and sleep, so that they needn’t always be hunting.

  “So she set off to speak to the Wind-Dogs. She knew they too loved dogs. Ever since Earth-Dog was born and the world came to be, the Wind-Dogs have loved to play with dogs, chasing and racing them, and the dogs have loved the Wind-Dogs back. And the Wind-Dogs, of course, loved the swift-dogs best of all. Because only swift-dogs could really keep up with them.”

  “Hmph,” grunted Lucky, but he gave a sigh of contentment.

  “So the Moon-Dog asked the Wind-Dogs to chase away the Sun-Dog, and after a long struggle, they did. Now Moon-Dog could look over the world eternally, and the First Dogs could have peace and rest.”

  “Well, that was good, then.” Lucky was back in his mock pup-voice.

  “It certainly wasn’t, young dog!” Alpha was really playing up the role of Mother-Dog, thought Storm sleepily. “The First Dogs could never hunt, you see, and they grew hungry! They slept all the time, but were never warm, because the sky was forever cold.

  “So the Sun-Dog and the Moon-Dog and the Wind-Dogs at last came together to make a pact. The Wind-Dogs agreed to let Sun-Dog run for half the day, so long as he went to his rest and let the Moon-Dog take the other half. So from that day on, Sun-Dog and Moon-Dog shared the sky, and the true lives of dogs could begin—hunting in the daytime, and resting in the night.”

  As the two older dogs fell quiet again, Storm found she was drowsy after all. Listening to her Alpha, she had felt like a pup again. But she would have had better questions than Lucky. . . .

  Why would the powerful Sun-Dog run from the Wind-Dogs, Alpha? The strongest dog is always the one who gives orders. That’s how it should be. . . .

  She had almost drifted back into a doze when violent barking shattered her peace and sent her jumping to her paws. She squeezed out of her den and shook off the fuzzy drowsiness. There was no point pretending to sleep anymore.

  Her eyes fell on Sunshine as the little Omega scrambled to her paws nearby. The small dog’s black button-eyes looked anxious and fearful. Poor Sunshine tried so hard to be a Wild Dog, but her fluffy little body was not as well suited to the wilderness as the other dogs’. Storm gave her a reassuring whine and licked her nose.

  “What’s going on?” whimpered the Omega. “Why is there more fighting?”

  “It’s just the patrol dogs squabbling again,” Storm told Sunshine with a sigh. She felt more annoyed with them for upsetting Sunshine than for disturbing her own sleep.

  “Don’t you dare think you can take over,” came Thorn’s snarling voice. “You left this Pack, Twitch! You went off to find another one, a mad Pack. Just because you came back to fight the Fierce Dogs, it doesn’t mean you’re in charge now.”

  A dog brushed past Storm’s shoulder on his way toward the quarreling dogs, and her ears pricked when she saw it was Lucky. He’ll sort them out, she thought grimly, and followed him.

  “What’s going on?” their golden-furred Be
ta demanded.

  Thorn’s head snapped around, and her eyes widened. “Beta!” She licked her jaws, then clenched her fangs, and sat on her haunches. Her voice grew stronger and clearer. “I want to make a challenge. I’m challenging Twitch!”

  Storm took a breath with shock, looking from Twitch to Thorn. “That’s not fair!”

  Thorn stepped one aggressive pace toward her. “Why not? It’s Pack law!”

  Storm looked around at the other dogs. She licked her chops and swallowed. “I know that. And it’s true that any dog can challenge another, anytime—but Thorn, you’re young and fast. I’ve practice-fought you often, and I know you’re strong.” Storm took a nervous breath, knowing every eye was on her. She wished some dog would speak up in support of her, but there was only silence. “How can Twitch possibly fight you, Thorn?”

  Twitch, after all, had only three legs, and he wasn’t a true fighter. He’d become his own Pack’s Alpha for his guile and intelligence, not for his strength or fighting ability. Does Thorn really plan to take his place as head patrol dog? It didn’t seem right to Storm, and she was sure Lucky would agree.

  “I challenge Twitch,” said Thorn again defiantly, ignoring Storm and staring at her Beta.

  Lucky glanced uncertainly at Alpha. The swift-dog hesitated for only a moment; then Storm saw her slim head move in a tiny nod.

  They’re going to let this happen! Storm’s jaw loosened with shock.

  Lucky took two paces into the center of the glade, and turned to gaze around at the gathering Pack. He placed his two forepaws on a low rocky outcrop. Dogs from every corner of the camp were padding curiously forward, cocking their ears, growling questions to one another.

  “Thorn the patrol dog,” declared Lucky in a ringing bark, “challenges Twitch the lead patrol dog.”

  With that he stepped back from his rock, turned, and walked back to join the circle of watching dogs. Alpha paced silently to his side, and nodded to the two challengers.

  Slowly Thorn circled Twitch, who eyed her warily as he turned. Already he was off balance, Storm realized. Thorn’s tactic of constant motion was clever, disturbing the poise of her three-legged opponent.