by Erin Hunter
“Oh, I’d love to, pups. . . .” Storm half rose, shaking herself. Especially since you’ve all finally learned to say “Storm” instead of “Torm”! “But—hold on, Tumble, don’t bite me!—I can’t think of one . . . wait . . .”
“I’ll tell you a story.” Alpha’s amused voice came from behind them. “So long as you leave Storm alone, pups. Let’s give her some peace!” The beautiful swift-dog licked Storm’s muzzle affectionately, and then settled down on the grass. The pups finally abandoned Storm and nestled eagerly against their Mother-Dog—all except Tiny, who stayed firmly between Storm’s paws. Storm gave her a gentle lick on the top of her head.
Alpha winked solemnly at Storm, and Storm thumped her tail gratefully. “I’ll tell you another story of the Wind-Dogs if you like, pups.”
“Oh, the Wind-Dogs!” Fluff barked excitedly, her shaggy dark-brown ears shooting up. All the pups loved Alpha’s stories of her favorite Spirit Dogs. Alpha, like all swift-dogs, was closely connected to the Wind-Dogs. That gave the pups a special relationship with them, too.
“Well,” began Alpha, crossing her forepaws and settling down to tell her tale. “You all know that with every turn of the four seasons, the Wind-Dogs chase the Golden Deer around the world. And that every year, when the Golden Deer is caught, Long Light dies, and Red Leaf begins as the Earth-Dog prepares for Ice Wind.”
“Yes, yes, yes. We remember.” Excitedly Tumble climbed over Nibble to hear better, and she shook him off.
“In the proper order of things, the Golden Deer rises again with Tree Flower and the start of the next Long Light. But once, many years ago, Long Light passed without the Wind-Dogs catching the Golden Deer.”
Fluff gasped. “How did that happen?”
“No dog knows, pups. But because the Golden Deer ran free, Red Leaf never came, and neither did Ice Wind. The Wind-Dogs chased the Deer anyway, pursuing it fiercely, desperately, but they were tired—so tired—and they were afraid that this time, it would never be caught. But if the Deer ran free forever, it would put the whole world out of balance!”
The four pups could only stare at their Mother-Dog, wide-eyed. Storm watched them with amusement.
“Finally the Wind-Dogs ran out of breath and it seemed as though the Deer would run forever. What was to become of the land without Red Leaf and Ice Wind? Without the cold seasons, plants and trees cannot rest and grow!
“But that, pups, was when the first Swift-Dog arose from her den. She was shocked to see the Golden Deer still running free. But she knew what to do.” Alpha’s face grew solemn. “She sprang to her paws and ran alongside the Wind-Dogs—she could catch up with them, because unlike them, she was fresh and rested. ‘Look,’ she said, ‘how my body is light, and my legs so long and thin. I can run, and I’m not tired. Let me carry on the chase!’
“Well, the Wind-Dogs were so tired by now that they agreed to let the first Swift-Dog take her chance. And soon they saw that she was right: Her body was as light and agile as a bird in flight, and her long legs ate up the ground. The Golden Deer had run far and fast, pups—but it too was tired now. Up a long hill it raced, with the brave Swift-Dog gaining on it. And when the two reached the summit, the Swift-Dog gave a mighty leap—and brought down the Golden Deer!”
The pups were beside themselves with excitement, yapping and squeaking. “Yay! The first Swift-Dog!”
“And so balance was restored to the world. The Wind-Dogs were pleased with the first Swift-Dog, proud of her bravery and determination. So they swore that from that moment on, any mortal dog who caught the Golden Deer—or one of its shadows—would be granted long life and good luck, for them and their pups and their Pack.”
“Hooray!” barked Tumble, spinning around in delight. “One day I’ll catch it!”
“No, I will!” yapped Fluff, shoving him with a paw.
“Me! Me!” squeaked Tiny, making all of them laugh.
Storm managed not to join in the laughter, however affectionate. She gave the little pup a gentle nuzzle. I wouldn’t risk hurting her feelings. “Why shouldn’t you catch the Golden Deer, Tiny? You’re very brave and determined.”
Tiny gazed up at her with adoration. “Thank you, Storm!”
There were some dogs in the Pack who thought the Golden Deer was nothing more than a story, a fable to tell pups. But I know differently, thought Storm, excitement and anticipation stirring in her belly. I’ve seen it. Lucky almost caught it, not so long ago. He got within leaping distance of its shadow. . . .
Storm watched the pups as they began to yawn and settle. If life in the Pack stays quiet, I could go out hunting for it before the end of Long Light. Not just for Tumble, Nibble, Fluff, and Tiny; I could do it for the Pack, too . . . prove how grateful I am that they’ve accepted me. And it would show them, finally, that this is where I belong.
Abruptly filled with energy, Storm jumped to her paws. “Alpha, is it all right if I go for a run now—on my own? That story made me want to stretch my legs!”
Alpha looked a little taken aback, but she nodded. “Of course, Storm. And I know what you mean. Talking about running makes me want to run, too!” She glanced at her pups and gave an amused sigh and a shake of her head. “Not right now, though . . .”
With a last nuzzle of Tiny’s shoulder, Storm turned and bounded out of the camp. I probably won’t see the Golden Deer, but who knows? Perhaps it’s still around. At least it’s worth a try! If I can just catch the scent—
But it wasn’t the scent of deer that filled her nostrils as she raced through the underbrush. It was the smell of a familiar dog, and she was almost on top of him before she skidded to a halt.
“Bruno!”
Storm’s heart sank a little. Bruno had never quite accepted her as a member of the Pack, and he had a deep mistrust of all Fierce Dogs. Even during these last few days when the rest of the Pack had been so nice to Storm, Bruno had still been standoffish. She hadn’t expected to run into the big dog, but he was on patrol, of course. The Pack’s numbers had dwindled so badly, even hunt-dogs were having to take their turn on patrol duty. Storm stiffened and tucked her ears back, waiting for a snide comment.
“Storm.” Bruno too looked somewhat surprised, but his brown eyes softened as he watched her. “You’re out patrolling too?”
“Just a run,” she muttered. “I’d better get going—”
“Storm, wait.” Bruno took a pace toward her. “Just a moment. I need to say something. I’m—I’m sorry . . . for how I’ve behaved.”
Storm felt her jaw hang loose. She could only stare at Bruno in distrust.
“I mean it,” he went on. “I’ve been unfair to you, and I apologize. I don’t think you’re the bad dog, I really don’t.”
Storm sat back and scratched her ear with a hindpaw, playing for time. Am I hearing this right? “But you don’t like Fierce Dogs—”
“I still think Arrow must have killed Whisper,” Bruno mumbled. “Well, it was either him or one of the foxes. But I watched you save Tiny from the Endless Lake, and I knew that I’d been wrong about you. You’re a good dog, Storm. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. And I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you.”
Storm stared at his mournful, penitent face. How many times had she seen it twisted with meanness and suspicion? However carefully she examined it now, she just couldn’t make out if there was something harder behind his remorseful eyes. How can I trust him?
She stood up again on all four paws. “But you’re still blaming Arrow. You still think all Fierce Dogs are bad. We didn’t ask to be born Fierce Dogs.”
“Arrow’s different.” His eyes were beseeching. “I do still suspect him. We don’t know him, not really, we never did. And now he’s left the Pack, and taken Bella with him. But it’s not about him being a Fierce Dog, Storm. I won’t ever judge you for that again. I know now it was stupid.”
Storm licked her chops. Bruno did look genuinely upset. Could she really keep arguing with that miserable expression? “If that�
��s true, Bruno, then . . . I guess I can accept your apology.”
“It is true, I promise. Listen, Storm, I have to go catch up with my patrol.” The big dog’s ears were pricked eagerly, but all of a sudden he crouched, his paws stretched out, his head lowered close to the ground. “But please believe me when I say I regret all of it.”
He wouldn’t fake that submission, would he? He’s always said exactly what he thought. Storm pinned her ears back, shocked but reluctantly pleased. I would never have expected Bruno to care about my feelings. But hard as it is to believe, I think he’s for real. Tentatively she began to wag her tail.
“All right. . . . All right, Bruno. And thanks. I . . . appreciate you saying this.”
“Good.” Bruno darted forward to touch her nose with his. “Thanks, Storm. That means a lot to me.”
As she watched his retreating haunches, Storm sat back again, flummoxed but filled with growing happiness. I can hardly believe it. Bruno meant that, I’m sure of it. He doesn’t hate me anymore. The whole Pack accepts me.
Things really are getting better. This is where I belong.
CHAPTER TWO
The grave was such a peaceful place. Shaded by trees, surrounded by the scents of the forest, dappled in sunlight. Storm stood by it, gazing down at the place where the Pack had brought Whisper to return to the Earth-Dog. The ground no longer looked freshly turned; mosses and grass and tiny purple flowers grew on its surface. Whisper was becoming part of the land again, part of the forest, just as the Earth-Dog promised all dogs.
It felt right. Storm bowed her head, then turned to leave.
And jumped, her heart thrashing. Whisper himself stood before her: not part of the earth after all, but himself again, his eyes bright but fearful, his ears pinned back.
“Don’t forget me, Storm, all right?”
Her throat felt dry, but Storm shook her head. She rasped, “Of course I won’t forget you, Whisper! But we need to move on . . . the whole Pack needs to look to the future.”
Sadness filled the gray dog’s eyes, and he shook his head. “Oh, Storm.”
Storm’s belly felt cold, and she shuddered. She couldn’t take her eyes off Whisper’s.
“You can’t move forward yet, Storm. Please.” He gestured with his head. “First you have to look behind you.”
She didn’t want to turn and look, but she had no choice. Fur prickling, she turned, slowly.
Two graves.
Two graves.
Whisper’s grave was just as it had been, settling into the life of the forest, the undergrowth beginning to creep across his resting place.
But beside his, a second grave was freshly dug, the turned earth dark and moist.
“Who?” Storm barked, her voice choked and harsh. “Whose is it, Whisper?”
She heard only silence. When she glanced back, Whisper had vanished. Frantically Storm began to dig, clawing at the earth, kicking it clear with her hind legs. She dug and dug, desperate. The soil was loose, and easy to pull up, and she was soon deep down in the grave, deeper than they’d ever buried Whisper. Still she clawed and kicked, and still there was no body, no dog.
Where is the corpse? How far down must I dig? Storm jerked up her head and howled aloud into the shadowy forest.
“Whose grave is this? Whose?!”
She started awake in her own den, shaking violently. Terrified, she peered at her paws. She was relieved to see there was no mud on her claws—she had not been digging in her sleep.
But it felt as if she had. She could imagine the dirt’s grittiness caught between her paw pads; she could even taste it in her mouth. And as much as she spat and shook herself, she couldn’t get rid of it.
It was early; the Sun-Dog had not yet shown his shining hide through the trees, though the promise of his glow had paled the edge of the sky. Storm shuddered, trying not to whine. I didn’t wake any other dog, thrashing around. Oh, thank the Sky-Dogs. How could I ever have explained this horrible dream?
The taste of dream-mud, and the sensation of dirt in her claws, stayed with her all morning; she could not forget the sight of that fresh grave next to Whisper’s. I never found a body. But Whisper was trying to tell me something, I know it.
Will another dog die? Who will it be?
Me?
She still hadn’t managed to shake off the fear by the time she joined Beetle and Thorn for their early patrol. The two dogs greeted her with friendly enthusiasm, but Storm herself struggled to look cheerful. She was irrationally certain that her fur was filthy with grave dirt.
“What’s wrong, Storm?” Beetle furrowed his brow.
She shook herself for the umpteenth time, though there was nothing to dislodge. It was a dream, for the Sky-Dogs’ sake. “Nothing. Let’s go.”
The two litter-siblings exchanged doubtful glances, but Storm gave them no time to ask more questions. She led them on their familiar route, heading in a wide circle toward the longpaw town. There had been more activity in the deserted settlement lately, and Alpha wanted every dog to keep a close eye on the goings-on.
The three dogs slowed their pace as a shattered line of low buildings came into view. With a nod to Thorn and Beetle, Storm lowered her shoulders and crept through the long grass, her ears quivering with alertness. A sharp scent came to her nostrils: tangy and piney, like a freshly broken branch.
Alpha’s right. The longpaws are back. And they’ve been busy.
There were fences now, their wood white-pale, smelling freshly cut by sharp longpaw weapons. The ground had been flattened out in long, dark strips. Beside the strips of flattened soil, great square holes had been excavated, and more fresh-cut wooden posts had been driven into their edges. Slumbering nearby were the vast yellow loudcages the longpaws used to dig and flatten and smash.
“Don’t wake the loudcages,” whispered Beetle, his tail stiff and quivering.
“I don’t think we will,” murmured Storm. “They’ve obviously been hard at work.”
Thorn’s eyes were narrowed, and her hackles were raised. Both the litter-siblings looked nervous and hostile; they hated longpaws, and no wonder—their Father-Dog, Fiery, had been captured and killed by particularly vicious ones. Again Storm recalled that terrible evening when Lucky and Alpha’s pups had splashed recklessly into the Endless Lake and almost drowned. Thorn was one of the dogs who had gone to save the pups, but just when it had mattered most, she couldn’t bring herself to set a paw on the beach—because there had been longpaws there. Her fear had defeated her, brave as she was.
“Are you two all right?” Storm growled, glancing at both dogs with concern.
“We’re fine.” Thorn’s voice sounded choked, but there was a determined light in her eyes. “Let’s keep going.”
“Stay close together, then,” Storm said. “We’ll be safe if we protect each other.”
Even more cautiously than before, they slunk through the grass toward the town. Storm could sense the fear and anger emanating from Thorn and Beetle; their fur was rank with it, but they pressed on bravely. Tall, shadowy figures moved in the half-destroyed buildings, and the three dogs could hear the barks of longpaws communicating with one another.
“I can’t stand the thought of longpaws so close to our camp,” whispered Thorn. “After what they did to our Father-Dog.”
Beetle shuddered. “Longpaws are bad, Storm.”
“These might be different longpaws,” suggested Storm uncertainly. “The better kind, like the one on the beach that Mickey rescued from the giant wave. These ones don’t have the shiny black face masks that hide their eyes, or the yellow fur.”
I’m trying to convince Beetle and Thorn, but I’m not even convincing myself. They’re probably right. And this can’t be good for the Pack. Even that nice longpaw on the beach tried to make Mickey go with him in the loudbird. . . .
Worse, the deep pits and the ravaged earth of the settlement reminded her of the grave from her dream. Storm’s fur prickled and her hackles quivered. It’s all wrong.
Something terrible is coming: The dream told me so, and all this longpaw activity only makes it more certain.
But I can’t put my paw on what it will be. . . .
“To me, Pack, and listen for a moment.”
Alpha was sitting up, watching the Pack patiently as the lowest-ranking dogs finished eating their share of the prey pile. The Moon-Dog, only her half-turned haunches visible, was still low on the horizon; but higher in the sky, there were dark clouds, and occasional drops of rain fell on the gathered Pack. Normally they would all hurry to their dens now, but Alpha looked serious and intent, and her dark eyes glowed with determination. Every dog sat up and paid attention. Sunshine, the Omega, swallowed her last bite of mouse, licked her paws clean, and pricked her feathery ears.
Alpha nodded in satisfaction. “Now. We need to discuss the longpaws Storm, Beetle, and Thorn saw on their patrol today. There are many more of the longpaws than before, and they and their giant loudcages are making great changes to the land. Will they come closer to the camp? And if they do—how will we respond?”
In the thoughtful silence that followed her statement, two dogs jumped to their paws, growling. Beetle and Thorn, Storm realized with surprise.
“We attack them, of course!” Thorn’s bark resounded strongly through the glade.
“We drive them away,” agreed her litter-brother, his eyes hard. “Before they can do even more damage to our Pack!”
“It’s our territory,” added Thorn. “Not theirs! They abandoned it.”
Storm stared at the two litter-siblings, uneasy. She knew there was more to this than the desire to protect their territory. The change in Thorn since this afternoon was striking, and unsettling; clearly she’d regained some of her courage, but what Thorn and Beetle wanted was no less than revenge for Fiery—and that, Storm knew, could never end well. Not against longpaws with loudcages and deadly loudsticks.
“So what do you say, Alpha?” barked Beetle. “Will we defend our territory?”
Alpha stood up on her flat rock and looked sternly at the two of them.
“No,” she said, quietly but clearly. “We will not fight longpaws. That has never worked for any dog. You two may be too young to have learned this, but I know it well—and so does Beta, who was in the Trap House with me.” She glanced at her mate, Lucky.