by Peter Howe
“That,” said Dragoman, pointing his nose toward the hill, “is your new home. That is where you will live.”
The Tazarians looked at the hill with a combination of excitement and awe at its vastness. Each of them was lost in his or her own thoughts until Lowdown broke the silence.
“I hope there’s some flat bits,” he said, “because I ain’t got the legs what can go up and down that all day.”
The dogs’ laughter cut through their apprehension, and they began to make their way down to the bridge. When they got to it, the Ductors stopped. Beidel turned toward Waggit.
“We will go no farther,” he said. “I made a promise to Tazar back there that I will keep. If you need help, send one of your dogs to this place, but only during the time of darkness. This is not our realm, but we have good relations with the Terminors, and the streets around the park are in their realm. They have dogs who patrol here each darkness, and they will get the message back to me.” He looked up at the looming mass of the hill and shuddered. “Good luck here,” he continued. “I hope it meets your needs, though it’s not a place I’d choose.”
Then he stretched forward on his two front legs and bowed down in a gesture of farewell, and with that the Ductors turned and made their way back up the path toward the yellow stone building. They had gone only a few feet when Waggit called out to them.
“Beidel,” he cried, “thank you. Thank you to all the Ductors for bringing us here. We’re in your debt forever.”
“No,” answered Beidel. “Tazar canceled any debt back there. You owe us nothing.”
The Ductors continued up the path, watched by the Tazarians until they disappeared over the top of the hill and were gone. Waggit turned to the team.
“Let’s find out what our new home is like,” he said, trying to sound as excited and optimistic as possible.
They trooped over the bridge and entered a thick wood with only narrow paths. Even though the sky was beginning to lighten, beneath the canopy of leaves above their heads it was still as black as Tazar’s coat. But the most noticeable thing about the new environment was the smell. To dogs, with their extraordinary noses, the way something smells is more important than the way it looks, and this place smelled wilder than anywhere else in the city that they’d ever been. They could smell and hear the presence of many animals of all sizes, and that promised good hunting; they could also smell the pungent odor of dead leaves that had lain where they were for years, undisturbed by leaf blowers, rakes, or any of the other tools park workers used to clean and tidy. The dogs could only faintly smell the scent of humans. Some had passed through the woods, but not enough to leave the overpowering smell that had filled the air in their former home, even in the Deepwoods End. So far, this new park felt good.
Waggit led the team along the narrow path, looking for a clearing where they could rest. He knew that his dogs were getting tired, drained of energy by both the stress of the journey and the shock of Tazar’s accident. The trail ascended sharply, and the incline made it slow going for tired legs. He decided they couldn’t go any farther and divided the team in two, putting one half on either side of the pathway, hidden by the ferns that grew beneath the trees. He placed Cal and Raz on Eyes and Ears duty and then settled down to sleep himself. He was exhausted but couldn’t sleep; he was too wired by the night’s events and his new responsibilities. He also longed to be living during the day again. He didn’t like this nocturnal existence. He was an animal who needed light, and so he decided to scout out their new home.
The path they had been on continued to wind steeply upward and Waggit decided to follow it. As he climbed, he noticed that there was none of the evidence of humans that was everywhere in their previous park—no archways or benches, no paved footpaths or ball fields. This was raw woodland that had gone almost unchanged for as long as the hill had been there. It was perfect for the dogs with one exception: There was no open space that he could see, no place to run or just lie in the sun. It was late morning, but the only light was filtered through the ceiling of leaves that arched over everything.
Then he felt some deep instinct kick in. It was a tingling in the nose and an itching of the coat that said to him, “This way. Follow me.” He cut across the woods away from the path. The going was hard. The same kinds of ferns that were protecting his sleeping team kept getting caught around his legs, slowing him down. Then he came upon a huge cliff made of rock, similar to those they had lived by in Central Park but much bigger and steeper. Waggit was eager to see what was at the top, and he began to scramble up the sharp incline, holding on to tree branches with his teeth to balance himself when he lost his footing.
It was a tough climb and one that could only have been done by a dog as young, strong, and fit as he was. The last few feet were the hardest, when every muscle in his weary body cried out for rest, but with one last massive effort he pulled himself over the rock’s edge. What he saw made him gasp. In front of him was dog paradise. The cliff formed the outer perimeter of an open plateau with a magnificent view of the river and the land that extended for many miles from its far bank. A broad meadow thick with sweet-smelling grasses spread out from the rim of the plateau and stretched back to another rock formation on its far end. From this a crystal spring flowed, pouring water that ran into a pool and then tumbled down the hillside in a gurgling stream. Cut into the rocks near the spring were natural caves, and woods surrounded either side of the meadow.
Waggit was elated. This was better than he could ever have imagined, and eagerly he ran across the grass to explore the dark, cavernous holes in the rock. There were four of them that ran in a row at the foot of the outcrop where it met the meadow. The first one he entered was shallow, but with a dry, sandy floor that looked like it was protected from the elements. He moved to the next one, peering into its dim interior. It was only a little bigger than the first, but the one next to it appeared to open up into a much larger space.
Cautiously, he entered. Once through the narrow entrance it became a cave so big that until his eyes became accustomed to the gloom, he could not make out its roof or walls. As he moved forward, the scratching of his claws on the sandy floor echoed loudly, however softly he walked. Suddenly he stopped. Staring at him from deep within the cave was a pair of yellow eyes that followed his every movement. He couldn’t make out the rest of the animal, so he stepped to one side, allowing light to flood into the cavern. He drew in his breath as a wave of fear ran through his body. There in front of him, lying still and impassive, was the silhouette of a huge and magnificent timber wolf. Waggit averted his eyes from the wolf’s stare in a gesture of submission.
“I am Waggit,” he said, still not daring to lift his head.
“I know,” replied the wolf in a resonant voice.
“How?” asked Waggit. “How do you know?”
“I am a Gray One,” replied the wolf. “This and many other things I know.”
For as long as he had been with the team, Waggit had heard stories of the Gray Ones, mythical creatures of amazing powers who were on this earth to protect the lives of ordinary dogs. No one he knew had ever seen one, and he had assumed that they only existed in the stories handed down from one generation of dogs to the next; yet here he was in the presence of one. Or was he? Waggit dared to glance up briefly. The end of the cave where the wolf was lying was so dark that he could barely make out his shape. Only the intensity of those yellow eyes stopped him from going closer.
“Do you live in this cave?” he asked the wolf.
“I live nowhere and everywhere” came the puzzling reply.
“My team needs a home,” Waggit said. “I came here to look for one.”
“You have found one,” the wolf assured him. “This is your home.”
“Here—in this cave?” asked Waggit.
“Does it not feel like your home?” the wolf answered.
Waggit considered the question before saying anything. He examined how he felt in this cool, dark place, and he real
ized that despite the formidable presence of this powerful creature he felt at peace.
“It does, Gray One,” he finally replied. “We could live here in harmony.”
“Well, most of you,” said the wolf. “I’m not sure Alicia and Gruff will ever find serenity—or even seek it.”
Waggit looked up, astonished, all fear of the creature gone. Did he detect a twinkle in those blazing yellow eyes? Did Gray Ones make jokes? He had never heard of such a thing. And how did he know the names of the Tazarians? Then a thought occurred to him.
“You say you know many things, Gray One,” he said respectfully. “Tell me this—do you know if Tazar will recover?”
“I know many things, but not everything” came the reply. “Tazar’s fate is written for him, as is yours, and he will follow his script as you will follow yours. But now you must sleep. You cannot lead without it. You are a good dog, Waggit, and you deserve your rest.”
Waggit suddenly felt more tired than he had ever felt in his life. He lay down without even turning around four times as he usually did, and instantly fell into a deep, dark sleep.
15
Home at Last
Waggit awoke with a start. He had no idea how long he had been sleeping, but the day seemed to be drawing to a close. He sprang to his feet in confusion. His strange dream about the Gray One filled his brain. Or was it a dream? It had seemed so real. He walked to the far end of the cave, but there was no evidence of any such creature having been there. The sun was now lower in the sky, and its rays came horizontally through the entrance, flooding the cave with light. He looked but could see no paw prints, no silver hairs caught against the roughness of the rock, no indication that a wolf had lain in this spot earlier in the day—except for a faint smell, ancient and primal, that lingered in the air and then vanished.
He shook himself fully awake and went out into the meadow. Looking around, he saw a pathway to his left, actually no more than a trail that seemed to wind its way down the hill. He followed it, jumping over fallen trees and at times scrambling down rocky outcroppings. After running for some time, he came upon the path he had taken earlier in the day, the path that had led to the cliff. Retracing his steps, he found a very worried team.
“Oh my dear,” cried Magica, “where have you been? We looked all over for you, but not knowing this realm, we didn’t know which direction to go in.”
“Yeah,” screeched Alicia, “and we ain’t got no water here, and I’m parched.”
“Don’t worry yourself, my lady,” said Waggit, sounding remarkably like Tazar. “I have found the perfect home for us, a home so good I can scarcely believe it’s real.”
The dogs crowded around and bombarded him with questions: “How far is it?” “What’s it look like?” “Is there shelter?” “Does another team claim it as their realm?” This last question he couldn’t answer, for he didn’t know, but he had a feeling that it belonged to them and that they would be unchallenged. As far as he could remember, the Gray One had told him as much. Instead of answering the dogs’ questions, he simply said, “Follow me and all will be revealed.”
Eagerly they trooped up the path, chattering with excitement. Up and up they went, farther than Waggit remembered, but he assumed that this was because they were moving more slowly than he had on account of Lowdown.
But after a while he began to get worried. All the woods looked the same, and without the well-defined pathways they were used to, it was difficult to tell exactly where they were. He realized that he had missed the trail, and now it was beginning to get dark.
“Stop,” he said. “We’ve got to go back. I made a mistake.”
There was a moment of silence, and then some low grumbling.
“Oh no, I’m tired.”
“You’re tired! I’m tired and hungry.”
“And thirsty!”
“Are you sure you didn’t dream this place?”
“This ain’t as nice as the old park. It’s spooky.”
Waggit was beginning to realize how hard it was to be a leader, and how easy Tazar made it look most of the time. He wondered if it had been a mistake to admit he’d made a mistake. Whether it was or not, now was the time to be firm.
“We just missed it is all,” he said with a confidence that he didn’t necessarily feel. “We’ll find it if we go back.”
And so everyone turned around and went back down the path. They were nervous and jumpy, and the woods were getting darker by the minute. Several times Waggit thought he recognized the way and then realized that he was mistaken. His heart began to pound with fear and anxiety, and the weight of his responsibility became almost unbearable.
Then he saw it. Deep in the woods there was a flash of silver and a blaze of yellow eyes!
“This is it,” he cried. “This is the way. We’ll soon be there.”
And indeed they were. As the trail broke free of the woods and they entered the meadow, a bright full moon appeared, flooding the landscape with its cool, blue light. It made the area look magical, and the dogs stood in stunned silence, which was broken by Magica.
“It’s beautiful, Waggit. It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.”
As if released from a spell, the dogs ran around the meadow howling with delight. They ran in and out of the caves and splashed in the pool. Lowdown hobbled up to Waggit and lay down next to him.
“You done good,” he said. “It ain’t ever gonna get better than this.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Waggit replied. “I mean, anyone could’ve found this place. I just happened to be the one.”
“It ain’t just that, although that’s major,” insisted Lowdown. “It was you who persuaded Tazar to leave in the first place. He’d’ve never done it without you pushing him. That’s one of the good things about being young—you believe you can do anything. By the time you get to my age, you know that you can’t, and more and more things seem impossible.”
“Lowdown,” Waggit said after a pause, “do you believe in the Gray Ones?”
“Certainly,” answered Lowdown. “Why wouldn’t you?”
“But have you ever seen one?” asked Waggit.
“Just because you’ve never seen something don’t mean it don’t exist,” replied Lowdown.
“No,” said Waggit. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Not only right, but hungry,” said Lowdown. “Time to get a hunting party organized.”
The team hadn’t eaten anything all day, and it didn’t take much to persuade the best hunters to swoop into the woods in search of prey. Even though he was the best of them all, Waggit didn’t join the chase. He chose to stay behind with Gordo to scout out suitable locations for Eyes and Ears duty, while Magica and Alona organized the living arrangements. As usual, Gruff’s and Alicia’s only contributions were to criticize what everyone else was doing, while Lowdown snoozed contentedly. Much as they searched, neither Waggit nor Gordo could find any ideal lookout positions. The rock face surrounding the caves was too high and too sheer to be of any use, and the woods were too far away. Waggit decided that the best thing to do would be to have a sentry posted at the mouth of the large cave.
He had barely reached this conclusion when the hunting party returned. The hunters were ecstatic with what they had found.
“It wasn’t like hunting,” Raz panted excitedly. “It was more like choosing.”
“I never saw so many animals,” Cal agreed. “You almost tripped over them.”
“Even Little Two got a hopper,” said Little One.
“And it was bigger than your nibbler,” retorted Little Two.
“If the woods are always this full,” said Cal, “I’m not even going to bother with nibblers anymore. They’re too small and too full of bones.”
The rest of the team agreed that mice weren’t worth the effort, even though a few days ago they would have given anything for one. After the meal was consumed and cleared away, the team settled down for what remained of the night. Because they were so
far away from any humans, there was no supply of the newspaper and cardboard that usually made up their bedding. Instead, Magica and Alona had pulled up ferns and carefully spread them around the interior of the cave. They wouldn’t last as long as paper and cardboard, but they smelled sweeter and were easily replenished from the ones that grew nearby.
Waggit decided that he would take the first watch of Eyes and Ears, and then Gordo would replace him when he got sleepy. He lay down in the entrance to the cave and looked out over the meadow still bathed in moonlight. He felt at peace with the world. The water from the spring chimed musically as it splashed over the rocks; he could hear the deep, slow breathing and the occasional grunt, snore, and even belch of the team sleeping behind him; a soft mild breeze carried the scents of meadow grass and wild honeysuckle into his nostrils. All was well, except that the true leader of the team was not with them. Much as he was enjoying his new responsibilities, Waggit missed Tazar and longed for his return.
Suddenly he heard rustling coming from the woodland to his right. The hackles on his back stiffened with apprehension. Could this be a rival team come to reclaim their territory? He knew it couldn’t be Ruzelas, because they would be making far more noise. As he watched, a doe glided slowly and gracefully out into the open meadow, followed by her fawn, still wobbling precariously on young legs. They both set about grazing. Waggit was amazed. He had never seen animals that big in a city park; in fact he had only ever seen deer on his journey back from the country, and had found them a little scary. He growled softly, trying to not wake any of the team. The mother slowly turned her head, gave him a look of indifference, and then continued eating. This was clearly a very different park from the one they were used to.