by Erin Hunter
“It must have come too late for Star and for your Mother-Dog,” Fiery had told Moon with sadness. “And this sickness seems to be a very bad one. But at least the leaves can help the other dogs.”
It did seem to bring down the heat in the sick dogs’ bodies, but Moon doubted that it could heal them now. Fiery’s Pack obviously agreed, because they and their Alpha stayed well away from Moon’s Pack. Fiery told her the half wolf wasn’t very pleased that he was visiting the sick dogs.
“But I won’t let you cope with this alone,” the huge dog had told her. “I’ve told my Alpha I can’t do that.”
Moon was more grateful to him than she could say; but there seemed to be nothing even Fiery could do to save her Pack.
Returning to the present, she looked once more at her Mother-Dog’s grave, then shook her head and turned to her companions.
“I can’t, Snap,” she whined. “I can’t bury her.”
“It’s all right, Moon.” Snap gave Mulch a glance, and he nodded.
“We’ll cover her with earth,” the black dog agreed. “Make sure she’s completely with the Earth-Dog. You go on back to the Pack.”
Her paws felt as heavy as river-stones as she padded back to the camp. As she passed the small den where Omega lay, his eyes dull and haggard, Moon pushed her nose in. She couldn’t help thinking it felt like a grave already—the air smelled so stale.
“Do you need anything, Omega?” she asked him gently. “Do you have enough water?”
He could barely nod his ugly little head, but she could see that the strip of bark beside him still glimmered with fresh water. There was nothing she could do for now. Who’d have thought we’d end up caring for our own Omega? she thought. And who’d have thought I’d ever feel sorry for that mean little dog?
She padded on to her Father-Dog’s den. He looked a little more alert than Omega, she thought—but she suspected he was putting on something of a brave show.
“Moon,” he growled hoarsely, propping himself up with difficulty on his forelegs. His ribs jutted out beneath his dull coat, and Moon felt a lump of fear in her throat.
“Father-Dog . . .” she said. “Alpha, is there anything you need?”
“Just one thing at the moment, Moon.” His eyes held hers, and they were very serious. “I need you to lead the Pack.”
Moon gave an involuntary yelp of shock. “No, Alpha! I’m making sure you get healthy again. I haven’t got time to . . . You can’t make decisions like that just now. You’re not well, and—”
“Exactly, Moon. I’m not well. Don’t be scared.” His mouth quirked with fond amusement. “I’ve always known you’ll make a wonderful Pack leader. You’re levelheaded, you have plenty of dog-sense. That’s exactly what the Pack needs right now: a dog who won’t panic or make rash choices. Please, Moon. Do this for me.”
Moon had to pause, breathing rapidly, her heart thumping with anxiety. At last she growled softly, “Yes, Alpha. All right. I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will, Moon.”
She touched her nose to his, and was horrified to feel how hot and dry it was. But there was no time to worry at this moment. Alpha was already turning his head, painfully slowly, to bark as well as he could.
“My Pack, to me! All dogs who are not sick, come to my den.”
His head flopped back as Moon heard the sound of dogs approaching: the rustle of grass, the pad of paws on hard earth, the rapid panting of fearful Packmates. With a huge effort, Alpha stumbled to his paws, and with Moon supporting his flank, lurched unsteadily to the den entrance.
The Pack’s eyes, Moon noticed, were bright with fear and uncertainty as they gazed desperately at their Alpha. My Father-Dog is right, she realized. They need to be led, now more than ever.
“Packmates, hear me.” Alpha’s voice was weak, but in the silence it rang out clearly enough. “For now, I am not able to lead you as I should. My daughter Moon will take my place while we fight this invisible enemy. I ask you all to follow and obey her as you would me. And to give her your wisest counsel, too.”
For long moments there was a tense silence. Then, one by one, dogs began to yip their support.
“Whatever you ask, Alpha,” growled Pebble.
“Moon is our Alpha until you recover,” added Mulch.
“We follow Moon,” barked Snap. “She represents you.”
Moon watched them all, relieved and pleased at their support. She stepped forward, fighting down her nervousness.
“Packmates, I want us all to howl together,” she told them. “We’ll howl for those we have lost.” My Mother-Dog, she thought sadly, and Star. I should howl for them. But that’s not the most important thing. . . . “And we will ask the Spirit Dogs to guide us, and heal our Packmates. We’ll offer them a Great Howl, to ask for strength and health for our Pack.”
The dogs formed a circle, and Moon helped her Father-Dog to limp out of his den. She sat close to him, supporting his weak body as the dogs tilted their heads and began to sing out their howls. As the sound rose around her, filling the air, she felt strength and courage seeping back into her.
We’ve survived many things, she thought, as hope stirred again in her heart. Surely our Pack can survive this too—if we stay together. She redoubled her own howls, crying out to her own spirit, the Moon-Dog, even though she was not visible in the morning sky. She’ll hear me, I know she will. She always has.
As the Howl faded, and dogs shook themselves and turned slowly away to go about their business, her Father-Dog turned to her, and gave Moon a weak lick.
“I knew I was right,” he murmured. “Your first act as leader was to bring the Pack together. Well done, Moon.”
Her fears began to dissolve in a warm glow of pride. “Thank you, Alpha. I’ll do everything I can to lead this Pack back to strength.”
But I can’t do it alone, she realized, and I shouldn’t! That’s what Pack is, after all.
With the glow of the Great Howl still in her bones, she trotted toward the hunters’ den. For the first time, she understood the wisdom of her parent-dogs in choosing Hunter as her intended mate. I need him now. Hunter loves to lead. He can handle the organization of hunting and patrolling while I tend to the sick dogs.
Now, at last, we’ll learn to be a team!
Hunter was sitting with Rush and Meadow, just outside the hunters’ den, and as he glanced toward her, Moon realized again, with a flush of pride and admiration, how strong he was. She wagged her tail as she approached, and opened her jaws to make her suggestion.
Before she could speak, Hunter had gotten to his paws. His expression, as he stared at her, was less than welcoming, and for a moment Moon faltered.
“Moon,” he said. “You should be the first to know. Rush, Meadow, and I are leaving the Pack.”
Her carefully prepared words caught in her throat. Moon could only gape at him. “What?”
“It’s the smart choice,” Hunter’s voice was cool and unapologetic. “Don’t you see? It would be stupid to stick around here and get sick ourselves. We’re going to make a new Pack, a strong one, with healthy Packmates. We want you with us, Moon. We’ll be Alpha and Beta, you and I: just as we were meant to be. We’ll lead a strong and vigorous Pack without sickness.”
Moon wanted to speak, to bark her fury at him, but her throat was too tight with disbelieving shock. Disgust rippled through her muscles, and made her stomach turn over.
At last she managed to choke it out: “You want to abandon the Pack when it needs you most?”
He hunched his powerful shoulders. “It’s not a Pack anymore. It’s too weak to survive.”
Her world was whirling, her brain dizzy with confusion. This didn’t make sense!
“You’ll even turn your back on my Father-Dog, who promoted you, who was so kind to you?” Moon’s bark was hoarse with fury. “I won’t leave with you, Hunter. I’ll stay where I belong. I will never, never abandon my Pack!”
Hunter stared at her for a moment, and she hoped aga
inst hope that her words had struck home. Surely he couldn’t deny the law of the Pack and the will of the Spirit Dogs? Surely he’d realize he was wrong, see his mistake, change his mind!
But Hunter only turned with a dismissive flick of his tail.
“Then you’re a stupid dog,” he said coldly. “You’ll sicken and die with the others, Moon. Rush, Meadow, and I will live and be strong. Good-bye, Moon, and good luck. Luck’s all you’ve got left to help you now.”
And with that last contemptuous growl, he turned and walked away.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Sun-Dog was yawning and settling on the horizon in a blaze of gold as Moon waited for the hunting patrol to return the following day. The beauty of his colors was altogether at odds with her mood. The golden Spirit Dog had traveled a full day’s journey since Hunter, Rush, and Meadow had abandoned the Pack. How could the Sun-Dog let them do this to us? Sometimes Moon wondered if he even cared about the mortal dogs dashing around on the ground beneath him, struggling to survive in a harsh world.
No, of course he cares, she told herself firmly. And we have the help of the other Pack; that counts for so much. My Father-Dog was wise to make a hunting alliance with the half wolf.
She saw that more clearly than ever. After all, her own Pack had now lost every one of its hunt-dogs, whether to sickness, exhaustion or—worst of all—betrayal.
Mulch had fallen ill only yesterday. Snap, Pebble, and Moon herself were all healthy so far, but all their time and energy went toward tending to the dogs who were sick and helpless.
Moon was sure the half wolf was none too pleased to be propping up an ailing Pack, but so far, their agreement had stood. And that was thanks to Fiery, she realized. He came to their camp every day with fresh prey for the sick dogs. Without his help, Moon knew they wouldn’t even have lasted this long.
A twig cracked, and low branches rustled in the line of trees ahead. Eagerly, Moon took a pace forward, hoping to catch her first sight of the returning hunters. If only they’d found good prey today . . .
Her ears twitched and she let out an involuntary growl. Those pawsteps were too light to be the hunting dogs. They were quick and surreptitious, and there seemed to be too many of them. . . .
“Smell dogsies? Sick dogsies!”
“Ohhh, we does, cohort, we does!”
The nasal voices were filled with venom, and Moon’s blood ran ice cold in her veins.
Coyotes!
They burst from the trees not two rabbit-chases from her flank: wiry, quick, and savage. For a horrible instant Moon couldn’t move; she could only stare in horror, trying to count their grayish-yellow pelts. How many? Ten, twelve?
Too many!
Coyotes were spiteful and vicious. They preyed on the weak, and there were a lot of weak dogs in the camp behind her. The coyotes were piling toward the glade now, a tumbling mass of murderous teeth and claws. Wrinkled muzzles snuffling the air, slobber flying from their hungry jaws, they hurtled straight for the dens where the sick dogs lay.
Moon whipped around and raced to intercept them, flinging herself into the path of the leaders. She stiffened her shoulders and lowered her head, snarling, as they slithered to a halt in front of her.
“Back off! Get away!” She bared her teeth.
“Ha! Ha! No! Dogsie run now, dogsie live!” The first coyote lunged for her throat, and she could only dodge back, snapping wildly with her own jaws.
“Snap!” she barked, gasping in air between each desperate bite. “Pebble! Help!”
She couldn’t turn to see her friends come racing from their dens, but she heard their pounding paws and their snarling barks. The two dogs appeared on either side of her, biting and clawing at the coyotes, but Moon’s relief was short-lived. There are only three of us. We’ll never hold them off!
A yellow flash caught the edge of her vision and she twisted, sinking her jaws into a scrawny neck. But as she flung that coyote away, another leaped and bit her shoulder hard. Moon yelped, lashing at it with her claws. Beside her, Snap was thrusting violently at a coyote’s belly with her hindlegs as another struggled to hold her down.
Moon’s sight was blurred with blood, and her lungs felt like they were on fire. She had never fought like this before. There was no time to catch a good lungful of air, or plan a clever tactic. She could only bite and scratch and snarl, flailing wildly at each new enemy that piled on. Her Father-Dog had rarely led the Pack into battle, and then only when he had no other choice. And, while Moon was accustomed to the dog-on-dog challenges for rank within the Pack, those duels were fought with honor. There was no honor here—only a vicious, mindless struggle to kill or be killed.
The coyote that had wounded her shoulder was back; she saw his yellow eyes just before he sank his fangs into her upper foreleg. Yanking herself clumsily from his jaws, she felt her flesh rip, and the trickle of warm blood; she clamped her own teeth on his spine and tossed him weakly aside, but the damage was done. When she lunged for him again, her leg faltered under her, and she stumbled, almost crashing to the ground.
If I fall, they’ll kill me.
The realization hit her with a cold, sickening certainty. She could make out Pebble, a few tail-lengths away, and the cruel gash in the black dog’s side. Blood was gushing from it in frightening quantities. Snap was almost hidden beneath a pile of coyotes, fighting desperately but gradually subsiding under their numbers. Once the three of them were dead, Moon realized, the coyotes would be free to kill every dog in the camp.
My Pack is dying. My Pack is dying!
“You! Coyote vermin!”
Gasping, Moon turned. The furious bark came from her Father-Dog’s den. Alpha was standing at its entrance, his leg muscles trembling with the effort, but his muzzle was peeled back to show his fangs. For a moment the coyotes paused, glancing up nervously, and one tumbled off Snap’s back.
“You want easy prey?” Alpha barked savagely. “Take me!”
“No!” barked Moon in terror, but the coyotes had already turned to fly at him. Alpha spun and ran, plunging weakly away from the den with at least eight of the coyotes snapping at his heels.
He could barely put one paw in front of the other, and as he lurched and stumbled into a gap between two pines, the coyotes were on him. Teeth flashed and claws raked as they dragged him to the ground.
“Father-Dog!” howled Moon. She bolted toward him, but two of the coyotes had held back, and now they barred her way. They lowered their heads threateningly, lashing their tails and growling their hate.
“Silly dogsy, wait!”
“Yes. We kills Daddy first. You waits your turn, heh!”
Furious, Moon flew at them, but they were fast and strong, and not nearly as tired as she was. Bite and scratch as she might, she could not fling them off and get past. Father-Dog! My Alpha!
Pain seared her ear as coyote teeth ripped it. She felt the weight of one of them thud onto her back, and then the rake of its claws in her side, but she could barely focus. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from her Father-Dog, motionless now beneath a turmoil of vicious coyotes. There was blood on the ground beneath him. So much blood.
And then, quite suddenly, the coyotes were backing away from him, yipping with glee. Alpha did not stir as one of them turned its back and contemptuously kicked soil over his blood-soaked body. Moon, pressed to the ground with a coyote’s teeth in her scruff, could not even bark to her Father-Dog; she could only stare in grief-stricken horror as the pack of brutes turned to trot toward the dens of the sick dogs.
The coyote who held her down wasn’t even fighting her anymore, sure that she was securely pinned. She heard its rasping, nasal voice through her own flesh and fur.
“Heh. Dogsy. Youse can watch. Watches first, then dies.”
Moon closed her eyes in despair. I don’t want to see my Pack die.
She flared her nostrils, trying to smell the forest through the stench of blood. There it is. There was almost a feeling of peace as she made out the scents
of pine needles, blowing branches, skittering prey. The breeze was smoky with a hint of Red Leaf.
A wild yelping rose from the dens where the sick dogs lay. They can smell the coyotes approaching. I don’t want to hear it happen. Focus on the forest. . . .
Moon squeezed her eyes tighter shut. She could smell the rich dark soil, the soil that the Earth-Dog nourished with the bodies of dogs. It’s all right. It’s all right. I’ll go to the Earth-Dog. I’ll see my family.
A new scent drifted into her nostrils, and her breath caught in her throat. Not the Earth-Dog. A mortal dog, one made of flesh and blood—
Fiery!
She blinked her eyes wide open, just in time to see the big dog himself burst through the tree line into the camp. There were two other dogs at his flanks: the black-and-tan chase-dogs who looked so like each other, Twitch and Spring. All three were howling furiously, their teeth bared in deadly rage as they flung themselves at the coyotes.
The coyotes erupted into panic. Moon felt the teeth of her attacker loosen on her neck, just in time for Fiery to grab its head in his huge jaws. He flung the creature aside; it slammed into a trunk and collapsed lifeless to the ground. Fiery didn’t wait to make sure it was dead; he turned on the other coyote that tormented Moon, lashing his claws across its face. Moon knew from the spray of blood that he’d blinded it. It took him only moments to finish it off.
“Fiery!” she gasped, clawing her way out from beneath the coyote’s broken body. “The others. My Packmates in the dens. They’re sick and helpless!”
He gave her cheek one quick, reassuring lick, and then was gone, plunging toward the dens. Moon was too weak and exhausted to lift her head, but she heard the clamor of panicked coyotes, the squeals and howls as they died, the enraged growls of Fiery and the barking of Twitch and Spring as they followed him and tore into the attackers.