by H. Y. Hanna
“That dog won the show?” said Ruffster incredulously. “But he looks like a white mop!”
“He was a Puli. It’s a Hungarian breed that used to guard sheep from wolves and things.”
“How? By moppin’ them to death?” laughed Ruffster.
Tiffany cocked her head at him. “They can be very fierce, protective dogs—and wolves have a hard time biting through those dreadlocks.”
“Huh.” Ruffster sniffed, looking unconvinced.
Tiffany lowered her voice. “Graf was one of the two dogs who died in that awful fire ten years ago. They found the other dog—Oskar, who was ‘Reserve Best in Show’—but they never found Graf’s body. His human was heartbroken. She never showed again.”
“Why did the fire happen?” asked Honey.
“Nobody knows.” Tiffany shrugged, then looked towards the far end of the arena. “I wasn’t even born back then. I only heard it from some of the older show dogs who were here at the time. They said it started back there, in the storeroom—it just happened so quickly. They never found out how it started.”
Another mystery. Honey was beginning to feel like the Showgrounds were full of them. Right now, though, the only mystery she was interested in was what she was going to eat for dinner. With the excitement of the show over, she realised that she was starving. She looked over at Olivia and wondered when they were going home. Honey pricked her ears. She could still hear the faint shriek of the winds from outside and, much louder, the constant drum of rain on the arena roof. She thought of the way their car had lurched through all the puddles when Olivia had been driving earlier.
“It’s going to be a horrible drive home,” said Honey, shuddering.
“Oh, didn’t you hear? You’re not goin’ home. You’re stayin’ here with us,” said Ruffster. “My Guy got this sort o’ house on wheels called a caravan—so we can stay here at the Showgrounds while the show’s on. Lots o’ the other dogs and humans do the same. There’s an extra bunk bed in our caravan, so he said you and Olivia can stay with us.”
“We’re in a caravan too, next to Ruffster,” said Suka, wagging her fluffy tail. “My Boy’s Mother is really good friends with Biscuit’s Missus so we came to the show together.”
“Biscuit’s here?” said Ruffster. “How come I haven’t seen him?”
“He’s just been locked up in a crate by his Missus,” said Suka wryly. “He kept getting in trouble this morning, stealing stuff from the food stalls. He’s over there by those benches.”
They all trooped over. They found Biscuit lying in a crate, his chin on his paws, looking very sorry for himself.
“I was just having a little taste,” he said indignantly. “You’d have thought I’d stolen the Christmas turkey or something! Besides, it’s not like they could eat the dog biscuits themselves.”
“Mate, how come you’re here anyway?” asked Ruffster. “You’re not goin’ in the show ring as well?”
“My Missus is Secretary of the Beagle Club,” said Biscuit. “It’s been awful. Ever since we arrived and she saw all the show Beagles, she’s started going on about me being too fat and needing to go on a diet. She barely gave me any breakfast this morning. Can you blame a dog for having to scavenge for his own food? Besides, I’m not fat!” Biscuit looked down at his podgy belly. “I’m just a nice, solid specimen of my breed.”
“Maybe your Missus will give you a big dinner tonight,” suggested Honey.
“Tonight? But that’s still hours away! I’ll have starved to death by then,” wailed Biscuit.
“Hey,” said Ruffster. “I know where you can get some dog biscuits now! Honey’s Breeder has this big bag. We nearly scored some earlier—they smelled real good.”
“Where? Show me!” Biscuit sprang up, his eyes bright. Then his ears drooped. “I’m stuck in this crate.”
Everyone looked at Suka. There was no better escape expert in town. She eyed the latch on the crate door then shook her head. “Hmm ... this is one of those safety crates. Even I don’t know how to break out of one of these.”
Biscuit sank down on the floor again with a big sigh. Honey leaned down to touch noses with him through the bars of the crate. She hated seeing him look so sad. Her own stomach growled suddenly. She thought of that big bag of dog biscuits. The Breeder’s spot was just around the corner. She looked at the humans still talking to each other a few feet away. They would never know if she went quickly and came back.
“I’ll go,” she said. “I want to tell Anja about my win anyway. I’ll grab some dog biscuits and bring them back here.”
Honey started making her way through the crowds. When she got back to her Breeder’s space, she was surprised to find Anja’s crate empty. In fact, the whole area was deserted. Even Ferrari’s place next door was empty of people and dogs. Honey turned back to the empty crate and sniffed around the open door. Where had Anja gone?
Honey dropped her nose to the ground, moving in circles. So many dogs and people had walked through here, it was almost impossible to distinguish one scent. Honey straightened up, wondering what to do, then noticed a splash mark on the floor beside Anja’s crate. A Peemail. She hurried over to sniff it. It was just a few drops, but the message was clear:
Honey—meet me by the Viking ship. Something important to tell you.
There were no signature scent drops. Honey furrowed her brow. Who was the Peemail from? She glanced at the empty crate again. Had Anja left the message?
Honey looked across to the opposite wall where there was a side-door with the word “EXIT” marked on top. The door was slightly ajar. Someone had gone through there recently. Honey hesitated. Would Anja really have gone outside? But why?
There was only one way to find out. With a last glance at the empty crate, Honey walked over to the side door and pushed her way through.
CHAPTER 7
Outside, it was already dark, even though it was only mid-afternoon. A furious wind slapped Honey in the face as soon as she stepped out of the side door and rain splattered into her eyes. She tucked her tail under. This is crazy! If there was one thing Great Danes hated, it was getting wet. She couldn’t imagine that Anja would have come out in this weather. She was about to turn back and return to the arena when something caught her eye.
Wait. Was that a dog over there?
Honey shook the water out of her eyes and looked around again. She had come out on the west side of the arena, right next to the fairground. The Ferris Wheel loomed in the sky above her and there were several other big machines which humans liked to sit in and scream a lot as they were thrown around. But all the rides were deserted now, the twinkling lights switched off, and all the stalls had their shutters down. The humans must have decided to shut up early because of the storm.
Just ahead, behind a round platform with giant teacups, Honey could see the silhouette of the Viking ship, and next to it stood the carousel. Honey squinted. That was where she thought she had seen the dog. It was hard to tell in the lashing rain, but she thought it looked like a big dog. Anja?
Honey put her head down against the rain and started making her way across, trying her best to avoid stepping into the puddles. As she got closer, she realised that the Viking ship was swaying wildly in the wind. The chains that attached it to the massive triangular stand were rattling as it swung first to one side, then to the other, as if riding the swell of an invisible wave. The wind buffeting the ragged sail made it look even more like a ship tossing at sea. Honey could hear the wooden body of the vessel creaking and groaning as it shuddered under the force of the wind.
She rounded the side of the carousel, peering past the rows of wooden horses frozen in mid-gallop, and saw it. There! A movement! Deep in the centre of the carousel. Honey scrambled up onto the carousel platform, squeezing past several wooden stallions with tossing manes as she pushed her way towards the centre. She saw something move ahead of her again. She rushed forwards ... and crashed into something solid.
“Oh!”
Hone
y realised that she had run straight into the centre column in the middle of the carousel. The movement she had seen was herself, reflected in the panel of mirrors mounted on the sides of the column. Annoyed, she turned back and wove her way past the wooden horses again to the outer edge of the carousel. She was sheltered from the rain here and she didn’t really want to step out into the storm again. But then her eyes strayed to the big wooden ship and she thought of the mystery Peemail again.
“Meet me by the Viking ship ...”
Making her decision, Honey jumped off the carousel platform and headed over to the ship. It was huge, she realised as she got closer. She kept a careful distance as it continued to sway and swing in the wind, and looked around desperately for any signs of Anja. She was completely soaked now and starting to shiver.
“Hello—? Anja—?” The wind whipped the words out of her mouth. Honey took a deep breath and tried again, louder. “ANJA—?”
Nothing.
The ship creaked.
Honey looked up at it nervously. The hull of the ship swung past her, rocking and shuddering in the wind ... She turned away to scan the area again and, this time, she was sure she saw the figure of a dog standing just in front of the giant teacups.
“Anja!” Honey cried. “I thought you—”
She stopped and her eyes widened. The dog shape faded, then came back—a pale grey form that seemed to shimmer in the rain—but the thing that had her blinking in disbelief was that she thought she could see the giant teacups through the dog’s body.
Almost as if the dog was made of nothing but grey smoke.
It moved towards her and Honey backed away, her mind racing. My eyes must be playing tricks on me in the rain, she told herself. It’s just a dog. A normal dog. It came closer and Honey realised that it was a large dog, but too small to be a Dane. It had the same body shape though—the lean, athletic body, deep chest, and long legs—with a fine head and softly folded ears, all covered in a smoky-silver coat. An eerie howling suddenly filled the air. It rose into the night sky, blending with the howling of the wind. Honey felt every hackle stand up on her back. Was this the Phantom Hound?
The ghostly grey dog turned around and paced in a circle, then trotted away, before pausing and looking over his shoulder at her. When Honey didn’t move, he came back and repeated the whole sequence. It was almost as if ... as if ... as if he’s asking me to follow him! Honey realised.
“Who are you?” she called, squinting through the rain. It was hard to see the grey dog’s face. She thought she caught a flash of amber eyes. He turned and began trotting away again—and this time he did not come back. Honey strained to keep his grey form in sight. He was heading away from the fairground, towards the back of the arena ... she saw his ghostly form float past the fence that ran along the back of the arena and then a sheet of rain swept across her vision and she lost sight of him.
Frustrated, Honey craned her neck, trying to catch sight of the ghostly grey form again, but there was nothing to see except lashing rain. Honey shook her head, trying to get the water out of her eyes.
Should I follow him?
She started forwards, then something—someone—rammed into her, knocking the breath from her body.
Ooomph!
Honey staggered as the force knocked her sideways, straight into the path of the swinging Viking ship. She jerked her head upwards. Above her, the Viking ship swung to the highest point of its arc away from her and held there for a moment, as if frozen in time. Then with a creak and groan of its wooden hull, the ship began to make its descent back down along the arc.
Run! screamed a voice inside her head, but Honey felt paralysed, her paws frozen to the spot, as the huge wooden vessel hurtled down towards her.
CHAPTER 8
Run! RUN!
This time the voice broke through her paralysis. Honey gathered all her strength and jumped sideways, throwing her body out of the way just as the huge ship came rushing past her with a whoosh. It swung upwards to the other side, then came rushing past again in another deadly arc. Honey lay sprawled on the wet grass and watched the ship continue swinging past, chains rattling in the wind.
She shuddered. It had almost flattened her.
Finally, she forced herself to crawl a safe distance away and stood up slowly, her legs trembling. She walked carefully around the ship, making sure to stay well back from its swinging arc. As she came back round to where she had been standing earlier, she sniffed tentatively, but it was hard to smell anything other than the rain. Honey blinked the water out of her eyes and peered at the muddy ground.
Paw prints.
Hers ... but also another set. Another dog’s. Already, they were being washed away by the heavy rain so it was hard to make out the details, but she knew that her eyes hadn’t deceived her. Another dog had been here, skulking unseen. Honey thought of how she had been facing the other way, busy watching the Phantom Hound, and with the darkness and the rain, she could have easily missed seeing a dog standing behind her. A dog who had rammed into her from behind and pushed her into the path of the Viking ship.
Honey looked around at the darkness surrounding her. Who had pushed her? And where was that dog now? Water ran down her face and dripped off her ears. Honey shivered. Enough was enough. She wasn’t staying out here anymore, no matter what kind of mystery surrounded this. She turned and headed back to the side door she had come out of.
Stepping back into the dry warmth of the arena, Honey gave a sigh of relief. She heard gasps and looked up to see dozens of dogs staring at her in astonishment. Honey looked down at herself. She was dripping wet, a puddle of water forming on the floor around her paws, and her coat was streaked with mud. She gave herself a good shake, sending water and drool everywhere, and getting dirty looks and squeals from people and dogs nearby.
“Honey! What happened to you?” Tiffany came up to her, her eyes round. The small Afghan’s long, mousy brown hair was damp and plastered to her body. “Jumping Jack Russells, I’m the one who’s just had a bath, but you look wetter than me!”
“I ... I had a bit of an accident outside,” mumbled Honey.
“Tiffy? Is everything OK? Where have you—” Dior stopped short as he saw Honey. He gave a contemptuous snort. “Decided to go for a swim?”
Tiffany came closer, sniffing Honey gently. “My human’s just over there. She’ll dry you off.”
Honey hesitated. It would be nice to be dry, she thought. She followed Tiffany obediently over to the Afghans’ crate area. Standing there awkwardly was a beautiful white poodle. It was Colette, Honey realised. What was she doing here?
The Afghan Lady had been fussing over Colette, but she straightened up now with an exclamation as she saw Honey. She hastily clipped a leash to the French Poodle’s collar and hooked it onto the top of the crate, then grabbed a towel and rushed over to Honey.
“Oh, my goodness, Anja ... what have you been doing?” She draped the towel around Honey, then paused and looked at her closely. “Wait ... you’re not Anja, are you? You’re that other Dane who belongs to the photographer. Um ... Honey?”
Honey wagged her tail. She found herself enveloped in a huge towel as the Afghan Lady began rubbing her down. Honey shut her eyes. Mm-mm, that felt good. She stood quietly as the Afghan Lady carefully rubbed the towel all over and didn’t even mind when her paws were picked up to be dried between her toes.
She opened her eyes and looked at Colette. “Hi, Colette—how come you’re here?” She was surprised when the French Poodle shifted sideways in an almost furtive movement and looked down, as if afraid to meet her eyes.
“Um ... je suis ... I am just making la promenade—a walk,” Colette mumbled.
“Oh ...” Honey furrowed her brow in puzzlement. Colette had always seemed so friendly before. Why was she acting so strangely now? But before she had time to think any further, they heard a human voice crying:
“Colette? Colette? Oh, she is here!”
Marie came rushing up, a hand o
n her heart. “Oh, Dieu merci, I was so worried. She just disappeared. I have been looking for her everywhere.”
“She turned up here a few minutes ago,” said the Afghan Lady. “In fact, I seem to be the magnet for lost dogs today.” She nodded at Honey and smiled. “This one just rolled up looking like a drowned seal.”
Marie gasped. “C’est Anja?”
“No, no,” said the Afghan Lady. “I nearly mistook her for Anja as well—she looks so much like her, doesn’t she? No, this one is Honey.”
“Ah, oui! They are from the same breeder. She is my friend.” Marie shook her head as she looked at Honey. “Oh la la, they have been looking for her everywhere!”
“If you see them, will you let them know that I’ve got Honey here?”
“Bien sûr. Of course. They have been so worried. Mon Dieu, I do not know what is happening today—all these dogs running off by themselves. Come, Colette.” She released Colette, clipped a new leash onto her collar, and led her away.
Honey narrowed her eyes as Colette walked past her. The French Poodle’s white coat was thick and curly—great at repelling water. Exactly what the breed needed hundreds of years ago, when they were bred to be duck hunters and expected to swim out into lakes to retrieve their prey. But even that dense woolly coat couldn’t stay completely dry in heavy rain. In the light of the arena, Honey saw something sparkle amongst the white curls. Water droplets. Colette’s coat was wet, she realised. She raised her nose and sniffed. There was the definite smell of rain. Those were rain drops on her coat. Which meant that the French Poodle had been outside recently as well. What had she been doing and why did she look so scared?
CHAPTER 9
“Howling Hyenas, Honey, it was a trap!” Suka’s blue eyes were wide with concern. “That was a fake Peemail to lure you outside. Imagine if that ship had hit you.”
Honey looked at her friends. They were stretched out, side by side, on a patch of grass that had somehow escaped most of the rain, in between the two caravans. Ruffster was rolled onto his back, enjoying a good scratch in the grass, while Biscuit chewed eagerly on an old leather leash that he had found. The rain had finally eased off after dinner and their humans had gathered together in Suka’s caravan, talking and laughing as they moved little pieces around a board. They had hardly noticed when the dogs had slipped outside.