by Erin Hunter
She saw two coyotes flee, limping, into the forest, but she couldn’t chase them. As the racket faded and the glade became still, Moon dragged herself by her foreclaws toward the motionless corpse of her Father-Dog.
She staggered up onto her paws, but she couldn’t take a step toward Alpha. Her body felt empty, her heart shriveled to nothing.
My sister, my Mother-Dog, my Father-Dog. My friends. My Packmates. Five journeys of the Sun-Dog, and I’ve lost them all.
Moon slumped sideways, tipped back her head and released a terrible, ringing howl of grief and loss.
CHAPTER SIX
The den was dark, and it felt so cold. There was no warm body close to hers. Where is Star?
As she woke, blinking, Moon felt her body instantly erupt into violent shivering. She shook her head. It felt fuzzy and thick, as if it were full of black storm clouds. She couldn’t think straight. She wished she could stop shuddering.
I know where Star is. And my parent-dogs. Her gut turned over. That’s why I feel so terrible. It’s grief.
There was a movement at the den entrance. Snap’s muzzle poked inquisitively in, twitching at the stale air.
“Moon?” The Patrol Dog took a few steps into the dimness of the den. “I came to make sure you’re all right. I’m so sorry about Alpha. About everything.”
Moon opened her jaws to tell Snap she was fine, she’d be all right, she would lead the Pack as best she could. But all that came out was a weak, trembling growl.
“Moon?” There was urgency in Snap’s voice now as she lowered her head to touch Moon’s nose with her own. Pulling back, she whined in dismay. “Moon, you’re boiling hot! You’re sick!”
“I’m not hot,” Moon croaked. “I’m cold, Snap. So cold.”
As soon as she said it, though, she felt a wave of heat, oppressive and unbearable. I’m on fire. My blood, my hide, everything. Her jaws fell open and her tongue lolled.
“Pebble is sick, too.” Snap’s dark eyes were terrified. “Her wounds from yesterday aren’t helping.”
Moon made a huge attempt to focus her thoughts, to clear the sticky fog in her head. She knew what Snap was thinking, and why her voice reeked of despair: She’s wondering how she can possibly take care of us all. She doesn’t know how to cope. . . .
It was strange, thought Moon, but she herself felt very calm. She remembered the terrible battle yesterday: the moment when she had caught the scent of the Earth-Dog, and had known she was going to join her. Perhaps the worst had happened now, and she was no longer capable of being scared.
Or perhaps it’s just the sickness, killing me bit by bit. . . .
It was so hard to care. “Snap,” she whispered. “Get some of those leaves. Fiery’s plants. For Pebble and me. To chew.”
Snap seemed to be relieved to have something—anything—to do. Turning on her haunches, she scrabbled out of the den and raced away. Moon sank back onto her now dirty bed of leaves.
It’s the end of my Pack. We weren’t killed by those coyotes. We’ve been destroyed by an enemy we couldn’t even see.
Maybe, Moon thought regretfully, she should have gone with Hunter after all. What use had it been, staying with the sick Pack out of loyalty? It had done her no good. It hadn’t helped Snap or Pebble. It hadn’t even helped the ones who’d been sick in the first place.
Perhaps we should have gone while we could. We’d have saved what was left of our Pack. Was I foolish not to go with Hunter and the others?
Moon closed her eyes, feeling nothing but a heavy sadness. Her head swam dizzily, and for a moment she thought her mind had drifted loose from her body.
I’m hallucinating, she thought, gazing dully at her Father-Dog. Her Mother-Dog stood at his flank, and Star beside her.
Pack is everything, Moon. Her Father-Dog looked at her kindly. Pack is sticking together. Pack is taking care of every dog. A Pack abandons no dog.
Her Mother-Dog stepped forward, touching Moon’s ear with her nose. If you had left the others to suffer, Moon, you would not have been a Pack Dog at all.
“Mother-Dog . . .” The sound of her own hoarse voice made Moon blink her eyes open. They felt sticky and sore and hot, and she narrowed them against the sting of the faint light.
There was no sign of Alpha, or Beta, or Star. But another dog stood over her, gently licking her neck fur. A big, reassuring, black-and-brown presence.
“Fiery?” she whispered.
“Don’t try to talk, Moon. Here. You must try to chew these leaves. And drink. You must drink this water, it’s important.”
She felt Fiery’s strong nose under her foreleg, coaxing and nudging her until she was half upright. Her body swayed groggily on her forepaws, but she tried to sniff at the withered leaves.
Her stomach roiled. “I can’t.” The water looked unappetizing, even though thirst was raging in her mouth and throat.
“But you must.” He nudged her again, and pulled the curved bark a little closer with his teeth. Water gleamed in it.
“I’m not thirsty.” She flopped down onto her side.
“You are, Moon. And you must chew the leaves.” His gentle voice was insistent. Oh, why can’t he leave me alone?
“ . . . Leave me alone,” she echoed the voice in her head.
“No, Moon, I can’t do that.” Fiery’s tongue caressed her cheekbone. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t feel like eating or drinking. You have to do it. For your Pack.”
Moon blinked. She remembered imagining her family. Star and Beta and Alpha, all standing together. Pack is everything, Moon.
Every muscle and bone in her body hurt as she hauled herself up again. She sniffed at the water, then touched her tongue to it.
At once she realized how thirsty she really was. She lapped desperately, weakly, but the clear cold water slipping down her throat felt like a gift from the Sky-Dogs.
“Good,” murmured Fiery. “Now, the leaves. Just one—you can do it, Moon.”
In fact she managed to chew and swallow three of the dried-up leaves before she flopped down again in exhaustion. “I can’t eat any more, Fiery.”
“That’s all right. You’ve done great. They’ll help you, Moon, I promise.” His tongue licked her ear, gently and rhythmically, soothing her. “There’s something else that will help, too. You must sleep now.”
She couldn’t answer him; her mind felt as weary as her body. Closing her eyes, she let herself go limp. The last thing she felt, before darkness enveloped her, was Fiery’s warm flank touching hers as he lay down beside her.
It was a good place. A cool, dark place, one without pain. Time here means nothing. I think I’ll stay. . . .
She didn’t want to swim up from the comforting depths of sleep, but Fiery made her do it. She felt his tongue licking her; heard his low voice urging her back to wakefulness.
Moon whined in protest as the pain returned, but he was insistent. Another drink, another mouthful of leaves, and he soothed her to sleep again. “Well done, Moon. Your Pack needs this. Now sleep.”
But you won’t let me sleep, she thought miserably as he nuzzled her awake yet again. How long had she slept? She didn’t know. She remembered only the wildest blur of dreams, but she knew they had been bad ones, and was glad they were only vague memories.
If only he’d let her sleep for more than a few moments. Is it only that? That’s how it feels. . . .
Time and time again Fiery nudged her awake, coaxing her to drink and to chew the leaves.
“Do it for your Pack, Moon,” he’d say, pawing the water closer.
Each time he roused her, she wanted to bite him, but she didn’t have the strength. Don’t wake me again, Fiery. Please don’t. Let me sleep.
But he wouldn’t. “One more leaf, and I’ll leave you to rest. Just one, Moon. Now the water.”
The last time he woke her, though, she remembered her dream clearly. She’d been in the jaws of the Earth-Dog.
I was in the dark and I didn’t know which way to turn. Terror clutched her heart
as she recalled the nightmare. She was holding me down. She wouldn’t let me go. I couldn’t breathe. . . .
As Fiery pushed the leaves toward her, sickness rose in her throat, and she knew she couldn’t touch them again. Couldn’t even sniff them. Never. I’ll die if I have to!
She was grateful Fiery had woken her from that terrible dream, but thanks were not what spilled out of her aching throat. “Why can’t you leave me alone? I can’t do this, Fiery. I can’t! Leave me be!”
The big dog stared into her eyes, which felt puffy and swollen. He swallowed hard, and nudged the leaves even closer. There was fierce determination in his face; but she couldn’t help thinking she saw something else, too, something gentler.
“If you won’t do it for your Pack,” he whispered, “then do it for me. Please, Moon. I couldn’t bear it if you died.”
Her breath rasped in her throat as she stared at him. He was trying to sound stern and bossy, but all she could see in his expression was care, and worry—and affection.
Fiery’s everything a dog should be, she realized with a jolt that made her weak heart race. I’m not grateful to him, no. It’s not gratitude at all.
“Come on, Moon,” he murmured. “For me.”
She dipped her muzzle to the water, and lapped feebly.
Fiery is what my parent-dogs thought Hunter was. He’s strong, and brave, and he’s a natural leader.
But he’s much more than that. He’s much more than Hunter ever was. He’s the dog my Pack needed in their worst trouble.
Moon paused in her lapping, and caught Fiery’s dark, concerned eyes as he nodded encouragement at her.
He’s kind as well as brave. He’s gentle as well as strong. And he’s something Hunter will never be: He’s loyal.
He’s not just the dog my Pack needs, she realized with an aching clench of her heart. He’s the dog I need. . . .
CHAPTER SEVEN
Moon’s muscles still felt as weak as a pup’s, but she grimly kept digging, her claws raking a shallow trench into the soft earth. I owe it to Pebble. I was lucky, and she wasn’t.
I lived, and Pebble didn’t.
So many of my Pack didn’t live, she thought with a wrench of grief. I’m lucky. Because the Sky-Dogs blessed me, and sent Fiery.
The awful heat and the freezing cold were gone from her bones and muscles. The sickness had passed a day or two ago, leaving her feeble but alive. And the same, it seemed, was true for her whole Pack—what was left of it. Mulch and Omega had recovered, just as she had.
But not Pebble. Moon glanced at the limp body beside the grave, and swallowed hard. The hole Moon, Mulch, and Snap had dug for their Packmate was next to Star’s, and close to the places where Alpha and Beta lay. And Fly, too. At least they’ll be together when they meet the Earth-Dog.
I’ve lost so much, but what I have left, I owe to Fiery.
She remembered waking that morning, every muscle in her body feeling as if it was made of fragile twigs. But the heat and the sickness and the pain had been gone. It was Fiery who had brought her through the sickness, Fiery who had given her the will to carry on. And it had been Fiery’s face she had seen first, his eyes bright with happiness as he realized the danger had passed. He had licked her face, nuzzled her neck, then trotted out into the forest to find her food and fresh water, a spring in his step that she hadn’t seen in days.
But when he’d returned, bringing tender chunks of rabbit-haunch and a new bark-segment brimming with spring water—No more leaves for you, Moon!—he had sat down solemnly to watch her eat. And when she’d finally satisfied the hunger cravings that gnawed at her thin stomach, he had broken the news.
“I must leave now, Moon,” he’d told her, sorrow in his eyes. “I’ve neglected my duties to my own Pack for too long . . . I’m sorry.”
She’d wanted to protest, wanted to beg him to stay with her for just one more journey of the Sun-Dog—but she couldn’t. She understood now, more than ever, that Pack was everything. Fiery had done what he could for Moon—I owe him my life—but he had responsibilities that he couldn’t ignore any longer.
“I’ll miss you,” was all she had managed to say.
“I’ll come back,” he had promised her gravely. “As soon as I can, I’ll return and see how you’re doing. You and your Pack, of course,” he’d added hurriedly, looking a little embarrassed.
Moon was eager for him to return. When he comes, she thought, I won’t hesitate, I won’t waste time. I’ll tell Fiery exactly how I feel. The thought made her ribs shrink with nervousness, but it had to be done. I need to thank him properly for what he did. Anyway, I can’t just let him go, not now.
“All right, Moon.” Snap interrupted her thoughts gently, bringing her back to the terrible present. “We’d better give Pebble to the Earth-Dog.”
Shaking off her reverie, Moon nodded. “Of course.” She sighed. “Poor Pebble. I wish she could have made it, too.”
Respectfully, Mulch licked the mud from his claws before gripping Pebble’s body and rolling it toward the hole. Snap hauled on the black dog’s scruff, and Moon pushed, and with just a few hard efforts, Pebble’s body rolled and tumbled into its grave, landing with a soft thump. Sorrow stabbed Moon’s heart yet again as she gazed down at her dead Packmate. Turning away, she began to scrape soil over the black dog’s body.
With her back to the grave, she found she was looking straight at Omega. The little dog sat apart from them, thin and even more wizened than he usually looked. His shoulders were hunched and his eyes were dull and surly. He was still too weak from his illness to help with Pebble’s burial, but Moon couldn’t help wondering if he was being lazy, too.
I mustn’t think that way. We need to learn to live as a Pack again.
Should she be Alpha to the remnants of their once-proud Pack, she wondered? Were there even enough of them left to count as a proper Pack? Four dogs, only three of whom were decent hunters; how could they survive alone?
Though if the half wolf’s Pack remains friendly, and if they help us, I think we can manage. . . .
A big shadow moved in the trees beyond the dogs’ graves, padding toward them, and Moon felt her heart swell inside her chest. Letting her tongue loll happily, she trotted to meet him, leaving the others to finish burying Pebble. “Fiery!”
His eyes were warm as they rested on her. “Moon. You look so much better!”
She dipped her head shyly. “Fiery, I wanted to say—”
“Listen,” he interrupted urgently, and his gaze grew pained. “I need to say something first.” He took a breath and averted his eyes slightly, as if afraid to meet hers. “Moon, my Pack is moving on.”
She couldn’t help her startled gasp. Why hadn’t this possibility occurred to her? A wrench of pain silenced her for a long moment, and Fiery lifted his head to gaze at her again.
“The thing is, Moon . . . I thought . . . if you wanted to, that is . . .” He clenched his jaws determinedly. “I hoped you might want to . . . come with us.”
She licked her chops, lost for words. Her gut was heavy with sadness. He’s leaving. . . . But he wants me to go with him. . . .
“Fiery,” she began, twitching her ears in distress. “I—I can’t do it.”
“I wish you would.”
His face was so kind, his eyes so full of affection. But, she thought, he must know deep down that she couldn’t. He forced me to get better. He fought for my life, and he did it by reminding me how much my Pack matters. He wants me to be with him, but he knows that I can’t.
“I’ve promised to lead my Pack, Fiery.” She lowered her head. “I can’t abandon them.”
Fiery sighed heavily. “I think I knew that would be your answer, Moon. I know how you feel about your Pack. I know you have a duty to them, and you won’t turn your rump on that.” His expression became rueful. “But I had to ask you, anyway. Do you understand?”
Oh, yes, she thought. I understand perfectly, Fiery. Misery rising in her throat, she met his gaze. “Why d
o you have to leave?”
“Alpha—my Alpha, that is—he doesn’t like staying in a place where there was sickness. He’s worried the invisible enemy is still in the air around here, and he thinks staying would be a bad idea. I can’t convince him otherwise, I’m sorry.” Fiery’s tail tapped the ground in agitation. “He wanted to leave before now, Moon; that’s the truth. I asked him to stay, so I could care for you, make sure you recovered.”
“Oh, Fiery. And you did. You were so kind.” She tried to clear the weight in her throat.
“It wasn’t really kindness,” he said. “But Moon, now that you’re better, I have to obey my Alpha.”
Moon lay down on her forepaws. She didn’t think she could stand upright anymore without wobbling. This was such crushing news, and she was weak already. And this further proof of Fiery’s kindness and devotion made her almost dizzy. “You asked your whole Pack to stay? Just for me?”
“Just for you, Moon,” he said quietly.
She swallowed hard, trying not to let her voice shake. “I wish I could repay you, Fiery. I wish I could do what you want. I wish it more than anything, but I can’t. My family’s gone, and the Pack needs me. This territory—it’s all we have left.”
“That’s what I was afraid you’d say.” He nuzzled her jaw. “But I do understand.”
Moon sat up on her forepaws, her eyes brightening. Why didn’t I think of it before? “Fiery, would you consider staying here?” The brashness of her question made her suddenly shy, and she glanced away. “I mean . . . you could stay here. With my Pack, with me. We could lead this Pack, look after them together . . .”
A look of torment crossed the big dog’s noble features. “I can’t. Oh Moon, I’m sorry, but I can’t. You’re bound to your Pack—and I’m bound to my Alpha.”
“The half wolf?” Moon closed her jaws on her next words: But he’s so . . . arrogant.
“He found me when I was a pup,” Fiery sighed. “He saved me from a giantfur, and he took me in and cared for me when there was no other dog to do it. I know he seems . . . harsh. But I owe him my life and my loyalty, and I can’t abandon him or my Pack. Oh Moon. It seems we’re both tied by bonds we can’t break.”