by Erin Hunter
Then she jumped back, howling.
There were eyes in the darkness. Two unmoving gray eyes like shiny pebbles. The longer she looked, the more she could see—lifeless, cloudy eyes, set in a face covered with thin gray fur. A bloody throat and flank.
“No, Whisper . . .” Storm whined. Her jaws felt strange, as if she had a mouth full of water.
But it wasn’t water.
She looked down and saw that blood was streaming from between her teeth. It coated her front and her paws. There was gray fur caught between her claws.
“Storm . . .”
The voice was no more than a hiss, but Storm recoiled from the body, her paws slipping. Slowly Whisper’s lifeless eyes turned to follow her.
“Storm . . .” came the whisper again. “The darkness is in you! Storm . . .”
“Storm!”
Storm snapped awake, swaying on her paws. The forest around her was dark, but the Moon-Dog was shining down on her, and compared to the utter blackness of her dream, it seemed almost like daylight. The trunks of the trees swam in front of her eyes, and for a moment she thought, I got away . . . I beat the darkness. . . .
Then she realized that the voice was real, too, and it wasn’t a lifeless hiss, but an anxious whine.
“Storm, please wake up. . . . Can you hear me?”
It was Daisy. In the light of the Moon-Dog, her white fur almost glowed, and her wide eyes glinted uneasily.
“Daisy?” Storm said quietly. “I’m awake. Was I . . .”
“I think you were sleepwalking,” Daisy yapped, and Storm’s breathing faltered. “I was on patrol, and I saw you walking along with your eyes closed. You were whimpering. Were you having a bad dream?”
Storm hesitated. How could she say what she’d been dreaming about? Daisy would think Storm had gone crazy . . . or perhaps she would see the danger of Storm moving around without being in control of her own teeth and claws. Maybe she would come to ask the same troubling questions about Whisper’s death that Storm was trying so hard not to ask herself. . . .
But on the other paw, this was Daisy. She was such a kind, gentle dog. She would always think the best of Storm. And Storm didn’t have to tell her everything.
“I was,” Storm said. “It was terrible.” It was hard to get the words out, but once they were spoken, Storm was surprised to realize she felt a little bit relieved. She watched Daisy carefully for any sign that she might be suspicious of Storm, but the little dog’s expression didn’t change from one of gentle concern.
“Oh, poor you!” she said, and Storm felt her heart swell with love for Daisy. “It’s all right, Storm. The last few days have been hard for all of us. Whisper’s death really upset you, didn’t it?”
Unable to speak, Storm just nodded.
Daisy raised her eyes to the sky, and Storm looked up too. The stars were dim, and the Moon-Dog was low over the treetops. “It’ll be dawn soon. You should get back to camp and try to get some real sleep.”
“I will. Oh, and Daisy . . .”
“I won’t mention this to anyone,” Daisy said quickly. “I know some dogs wouldn’t understand. We can keep this between us.”
“Thank you,” Storm said.
Daisy gave her another long, sympathetic look and then turned to continue her patrol. When she was gone, Storm made her way through the dark trees and found to her relief that she hadn’t walked very far from the camp. The night wasn’t too cold—not after the deep, black cold of her dream—and she didn’t really want to risk getting back in with the other hunters and waking them up. So she sat outside the den, her tail curled around her back legs, and watched the camp. She could hear the snoring and snuffling of sleeping dogs coming from the dens. In the trees above her, small birds twittered loudly, knowing that they were safe from the snapping jaws of the dogs.
I can’t go to sleep. The realization was like a splash of cold salt water from the Endless Lake across Storm’s muzzle. I don’t know what I do when I sleepwalk. If I thought one of the Pack was an enemy . . . I don’t know what I would do to them. If it had been a bigger dog than Daisy trying to wake me and I had felt threatened . . .
She couldn’t let herself fall asleep. It was the only way to be certain she wouldn’t hurt any dog. She would have to find some way to stay awake. How hard could that be? Surely she could just keep moving and keep busy until she could snatch a few hours of sleep somewhere away from the Pack, where she was sure they would all be safe?
Storm sat outside the hunters’ den and watched the light changing, from bright moonlight to the dim glow that came when the Moon-Dog had gone to bed and the Sun-Dog hadn’t yet started his run across the sky. Finally the bright Sun-Dog poked his ears above the horizon, and long streaks of warm sunlight spread across the ground. Storm stood up to move into one of them.
“You’re up early,” said a voice from the den behind Storm. It was Bella. She sat down in another patch of sunlight and scratched behind her ear.
“I wasn’t tired,” Storm said.
After Bella, more and more of the Pack started to emerge from their dens and begin the day’s routine, vanishing into the bushes to make dirt or running to the pond for a drink. Storm watched them, happy to be surrounded by activity and life. In the days since the pups’ birth, the Pack had fallen back into their routines, despite Alpha’s and Beta’s absence in their Pup Den. Daisy and the other Patrol Dogs came back to camp one by one, their steps slow and dragging after a long night’s watch, but pleased to report to Twitch that there had been nothing unusual during the night. Daisy glanced very briefly at Storm as she said this, but no other dog seemed to notice.
Then, suddenly, a bark rang out loudly through the camp.
“Packmates! To me!”
Storm was on her feet before she knew it, her hackles rising . . . when she realized that it hadn’t been a bark of alarm. It was Lucky’s voice, and he sounded joyful.
“Come on, sleepy-fur!” Thorn nudged Storm as she ran past. “It’s time for the Den Break!”
Storm followed the movement of the Pack toward Alpha’s den, slightly confused but starting to feel almost as excited as some of the other dogs seemed to be. They wagged their tails and jostled for position so they could see the entrance to the den.
“What’s the Den Break?” Storm asked Moon, who had come down from High Watch to join them.
Moon panted happily. “Well, you know that Alpha and the pups have stayed inside the den since they were born?”
Storm nodded.
“The Den Break is the pups’ first time outside. Their eyes have opened, and Alpha and Beta think that they’re ready to meet the Pack!”
“Wow,” Storm said. She tried to imagine having spent her first days inside a doghouse, and then being brought out to meet an entire Fierce Dog Pack.
She had passed her early days alone with her litter-brothers, exploring the Dog-Garden as much as they liked. The first older dogs she remembered had been Mickey and Lucky. They had been scary enough by themselves, and there were only two of them! She couldn’t imagine how overwhelming it would be to face a whole new world and a new Pack all at once.
There was movement at the mouth of the den, and all members of the Pack turned their attention on their Beta as he walked out, his ears pricked up with pride.
“A Pack must grow to be strong,” he said. “I am very proud and very happy to introduce you all to our new pups.” He stood aside, and out of the dim interior of the den emerged Alpha, a sandy-colored ball of fluff held carefully in her jaws. “This is our male pup, Tumble!” Lucky said, and Alpha set the puppy down on the grass outside the den.
He was shaggy and golden-colored, and had floppy ears, just like his Father-Dog. But his muzzle was longer, like his Mother-Dog’s, and when he blinked up at the gathered Pack, there was wonder in his large dark eyes.
A ripple of happiness and gentle excitement ran through the Pack Dogs. Alpha and Beta stood beaming at Tumble as he rolled over, then over again, and started to try
to wriggle across the grass toward Moon.
“He’s too young to walk,” Alpha said, pride resonating in her voice. “But he doesn’t seem to know that!”
Beta went into the den and came back out carrying another pup—this one was short-haired and tan, with the same long muzzle and dark eyes as her litter-brother.
“This is Nibble, one of our female pups,” said Alpha. Beta set Nibble down beside Tumble, and she sat completely still, cowering slightly away from the crowd of dogs. Her jaws opened and she gave a high-pitched little squeak. The sound did something strange to Storm’s insides—it was as if the ice that was lingering in her mind after her dream had been melted away and replaced by a warm, soft bundle of fuzz.
Alpha had returned to the den and was coming out with the third pup, who was even longer-furred than Tumble but a much darker brown color.
“This is Fluff, another female pup,” Beta said, as Alpha put her down next to Nibble. Fluff sniffed the air curiously, then sniffed her litter-sister, then tried to sniff Tumble, but he rolled out of the way before she could reach him.
“And this is Tiny,” said Alpha, as Beta emerged with the last pup. “She’s another female. She was very weak for a day or two, but she’s doing well now.”
Beta put Tiny down next to her litter-sisters. The little puppy was about a pup-head smaller than her littermates, and slightly thinner, with short golden fur and pale, watery eyes.
As one, Tumble and Nibble and Fluff all shuffled toward Tiny. Fluff sniffed her, Nibble sat protectively in front of her, and Tumble nudged at her with the top of his head. She turned to look at him, and a little pink tongue no larger than a small beetle flicked out and scraped across the fur between his eyes.
The sight of the pups all gathered together made Storm’s heart skip with joy—but there was a bitter twist underneath the sweetness.
I miss my litter-brothers. I miss Wiggle, and Grunt—when he was Grunt, and not Fang. He was a pain in my tail, most of the time . . . but he was my brother.
Perhaps I wasn’t as kind to Wiggle as I should have been. I should have protected him, like these pups want to protect Tiny. . . .
Did we look this small and helpless when Lucky and Mickey found us in the Dog-Garden?
Twitch stepped forward and lowered his head so that he was almost at eye level with the tiny pups. They drew slightly closer together.
“Welcome, pups!” Twitch said. “May your teeth grow strong, your legs grow swift, and your hearts grow brave.”
He drew back, and as he did, a ray of the Sun-Dog’s warm light fell over Alpha’s den. The golden and brown fur of the pups caught the light, and they almost seemed to glow.
“Welcome, pups!” cried Mickey, and other dogs joined in, turning their faces to the sky and howling with joy. Storm howled too, sending up her thanks to the Spirit Dogs for bringing the pups to them, for keeping them safe and well. A burst of joyful energy ran through her. She didn’t see any Spirit Dogs in the scudding clouds overhead, but she could almost imagine them as pups, tumbling over one another, playing happily, in a time before trouble had ever bothered any dog. . . .
The Welcome Howl was short, and soon Bella and Bruno were dragging over the extra prey they’d saved for this moment. Alpha ate first and well—Storm imagined that having pups made you very hungry—and then Beta. Alpha lay down in the patch of sunlight, and Beta helped to nose the pups toward her. They obviously smelled milk, because a moment later they were all snuggled up to her and suckling happily.
The rest of the Pack tucked into the feast too, and Storm was thrilled to see there was enough prey for every dog to have their fill. Even little Sunshine found herself with nearly a whole rabbit, and she attacked it with excited determination.
“It looks like the extra patrols and the scout dogs are doing their job,” Storm heard Moon say to Snap, as Moon chewed on a thick and meaty bit of weasel. “I haven’t had any reports of foxes or coyote scent in days.”
“What do you mean?” Lucky yapped, slightly too loudly, cutting through their quiet conversation. He turned to Twitch. “We should have had some scent of the foxes by now—I thought we had agreed to send scouts to find those mangy not-dogs! And what’s this about coyotes, too?”
Storm’s glance flickered to Twitch. Hadn’t he told Alpha and Beta about the coyotes they’d scented? He must have thought they had enough to worry about . . . but was that wise?
“Beta, we have been stretched thin protecting the camp. There have been no more attacks, and no scent of the foxes at all—I believed it was better not to risk sending dogs away from the Pack to search for them. As for the coyotes . . . yes, a hunting party scented a group of them days ago, but there has been no sign of them since.”
Lucky glared at Twitch as he gave his report. Twitch’s expression was cowed in the face of his Beta’s annoyance, but there was something defiant in his eyes too.
And he’s right not to be sorry. His way of doing things has been working—we’ve had no more attacks, not even on hunting parties.
But then, I know the foxes didn’t kill Whisper . . . and Lucky still believes they did.
An awkward silence fell over the Pack. Those dogs who were still eating stopped chewing, and several of them hung their heads or flattened their ears.
“Well?” Beta demanded. “Is it true? Have you just been patrolling, instead of doing as I said and searching for the foxes’ camp?”
Snap got to her paws. “Yes, it’s true. But, Beta, after everything that’s happened and with the pups here at last . . . it’s been nice to have a bit of peace.”
“Peace?” Lucky gave an incredulous howl. “Is that what you want? Peace, with creatures who attack us without reason and murder our friends? Do you want to roll over and show your bellies to the whole forest? We must defend our territory! We have to protect the Pack! Our best defense is to attack the foxes before they return.” He glanced back at his pups, and Storm felt a stab of annoyance.
He’s panicking. He’s a new Father-Dog, with four tiny lives that depend on him, and he can’t handle it. But he still won’t believe that the foxes aren’t the real threat.
“As soon as we’ve finished eating, I want a scout party to go out and search for the foxes’ lair. We must have vengeance for Whisper!”
A howl of general agreement went up from the other dogs, and Storm felt a pang of bitterness. She was glad that they remembered Whisper, that they were still angry about his death. She just wished that Lucky and the others weren’t haring off in completely the wrong direction.
CHAPTER SIX
Storm kept low to the ground, ferns tickling her nose as she breathed. On her left, Dart crept very slowly forward, and on her right, Snap and Thorn lay with their heads pressed together so they could both see out through the same gap in the leaves.
They had been traveling for at least half a day—maybe more, but a blanket of clouds meant that Storm couldn’t see the Sun-Dog to judge how far across the sky he was now—and they were well outside their own territory, peering into a scrubby clearing in an unfamiliar forest. A huge fallen tree trunk spanned the open space. It reminded Storm of the fallen tree near the dogs’ camp, which had uprooted itself during the last Growl of the Earth-Dog. At one end, the spindly top branches waved in the wind. At the other, a whole colony of beetles scuttled in and out of the upturned roots.
Fox-scents were everywhere, seeping up from the ground underneath them, floating on the wind, even on the ferns themselves—the foxes had obviously crawled through this very gap in the undergrowth, and recently.
“We’ve found them,” Snap whispered. “I’m sure of it. I’ve never smelled fox-scent this strong!”
Storm nodded. By the smell, this had to be the center of the foxes’ territory. Their camp had to be around here somewhere.
The odd thing was that they had gotten this far without actually seeing a fox. Storm knew they were supposed to be cunning creatures, able to move more swiftly and quietly than most dogs, but it see
med strange that the patrol could have come this far without seeing a single one.
It also seemed strange to be out with two Patrol Dogs and one other hunter, but Storm could see the logic in it. Lucky had arranged the exploratory groups like this, with two dogs who could run fast and track the fox-scents, and two dogs who would be able to defend them if they found the lair. It wasn’t a patrol, and it wasn’t a hunting party . . . at least, not yet.
The dogs watched and waited. Storm glanced at Snap, wondering if she would order them forward into the clearing, or if they ought to retreat and try to circle around . . . but Snap was the leader, and Storm was intensely aware that they needed a strong paw in charge right now. If they started acting like Lone Dogs instead of listening to Snap, this could turn into a real disaster. . . .
Wait! Storm held her breath and listened intently. Had she just heard pawsteps? She glanced at the others, but all of them were pressed on their bellies on the soft ferns and none of them could have taken a step even if they had wanted to.
A moment later, the sound came again, and now it was louder. Dart’s ears pricked up stiffly, and Storm felt the ferns under her body shift slightly as Thorn pressed herself even lower to the ground.
Then there was a movement in the clearing, and a pair of large red-furred ears appeared over the top of the fallen tree, followed by the rest of a fox. It hopped up onto the trunk in a graceful movement, although once the whole fox was in view Storm could tell that it wasn’t strong or well fed—she could see the outline of its ribs underneath its red fur.
The fox had something in its jaws—a small prey creature, perhaps a vole, but it had obviously given the fox a hard time before it was caught, because its fur was mangled.
The fox didn’t seem nervous—it obviously hadn’t scented the dogs lurking right at the edge of the camp. It curled its brush around its paws and put the vole down on the tree trunk, then—
Oh. The fox glanced furtively around the clearing, then leaned down and began tearing at the prey. It threw its head back and swallowed the chunks down without even chewing.