by Erin Hunter
Storm frowned. The fox hadn’t put the prey in a prey pile, or even waited for any other foxes to come and join it before eating. Did every fox have to find its own food? What about the old or the sick, or foxes who just weren’t very good at hunting?
The four dogs lay still, hardly daring to breathe, as the fox nibbled and tore at the vole. It seemed determined to eat every bit of meat it could, and after it had done that, it lay down with the remains between its paws and chewed on the bones for what felt like a very long time.
As Storm watched, a sinking feeling settled in the base of her stomach.
This creature didn’t kill Whisper.
She had been fairly certain of it before, but now she was even more sure. The fox’s jaw was even smaller than she’d thought—the wide collar of fuzz at the sides of its head made its muzzle look much bigger than it truly was. Its teeth looked needle-sharp, and Storm wouldn’t want to have them clamped onto her leg, but they certainly couldn’t rip out the throat of a healthy dog.
Between that and the fact that there hadn’t been a whiff of fox smell anywhere near where Whisper was killed, she was more certain than ever that the foxes had nothing to do with his death.
What am I going to do? We’ve found their territory—Lucky will want to attack! But I can’t let him start a war for no reason. . . .
But then, this wouldn’t be the beginning of the war, would it? It had started when a fox cub had been killed and left near their camp. Storm had almost forgotten, in the rush and worry of the days since, but the Pack still didn’t have any idea what had really killed the cub, or how it had gotten there.
Could the same creature have killed that cub and Whisper?
It was possible. The problem was that Storm couldn’t think of any reason why. Who could hate both the Pack and the foxes so much?
The fox finally gave up on the vole carcass and hopped down from the tree trunk, licking its black lips. For a second, Storm thought it was going to try to come through the dogs’ hiding place—but then it turned, took a few steps behind a patch of grass, and vanished. Storm stared. The fox den must be dug into the ground underneath the fallen tree! The entrance was masked by the grass, which was why they hadn’t seen the hole.
This was the fox camp. They really had found it.
“Let’s—” Snap began, shifting as if to crawl backward out of the undergrowth, but then she broke off and her eyes widened, her ears pricked up and swiveling, searching for the source of another sound.
More pawsteps!
The dogs froze, and a moment later two more skinny foxes came out of the forest to their right.
They passed close enough that Storm held her breath. One was male and the other, slightly larger one was female. They weren’t carrying any prey, and they were talking as they padded toward the hole underneath the tree.
“Stupid prey,” the male was complaining. “Stupid fast long-mice . . .”
“Better tomorrow,” the other one said, possibly trying to comfort its friend. “No sulking, Fox Dawn. No point.”
The first fox—was Fox Dawn its name? Storm wondered—reared up with its paws on the trunk, sniffed at the chewed-up remains of the vole, and then stepped back down. “Fox Ash had prey.”
“Fox Ash faster than Fox Dawn,” said the female with a shrug, and Fox Dawn gave a playful-furious snarl and snapped at her ears. “Come on. Den time. Long-mice will be lazy later, full of seeds, sleepy. Catch one then.”
They slipped into the concealed hole beneath the tree and were gone.
The dogs waited a little longer, listening intently to the sounds of the forest, in case any more foxes were returning from their hunt. But there weren’t any more pawsteps, or fresh fox-scents, and eventually Snap flicked her ears and jerked her head, and the four dogs crawled carefully backward until they were outside the ferny undergrowth. They turned and trotted away, keeping their silence until they had emerged from the foxes’ forest into a wide field dotted with yellow flowers.
As soon as they were out in the open, Thorn gave an excited bounce on her front paws.
“We found them! Those mangy, scruffy little creatures—how dare they attack us? We’ll get our revenge now, won’t we, Storm? Beta’s going to be so pleased with us,” she added smugly.
Storm just hung her head.
“You don’t seem too happy,” Dart said, a flicker of irritation crossing her face. “I thought you’d be excited—you were as upset about Whisper’s death as any of his old Pack. Now we can make sure justice is done.”
“I’m not so sure this is justice,” Storm muttered, before she could stop herself. She knew she had promised Lucky . . . but how could she just let this happen to those foxes, who were obviously struggling to catch enough prey to feed themselves, and who hadn’t done anything to the Pack?
“Storm, what do you mean by that?” Snap asked sharply. The small dog stepped in front of Storm, blocking her from moving. “Answer me. What do you mean?”
“I don’t think the foxes killed Whisper.” It was a relief to say it out loud. “There was no scent of fox on the body or anywhere in the woods—no scent of coyote, either. And you saw that fox eating. Their jaws aren’t nearly large or strong enough to do that to a dog.”
“But, Storm,” Dart said, “if you don’t think it was the foxes or the coyotes, what could possibly have killed Whisper?”
Storm hesitated, hoping that the others’ minds would catch up with their mouths before she had to voice her suspicion out loud. A second later, Thorn’s eyes widened.
“A . . . a dog?” she whined. “But there aren’t any other dogs in the forest, only the Pack . . . .” A small yelp escaped Thorn’s throat as she followed the thought to the end. “No, Storm! You think it could have been . . . one of us?” She seemed so shocked that Storm almost felt guilty for suggesting it but nodded miserably.
“I think it might be the only explanation that makes sense. . . .”
“Sense? It doesn’t make any sense!” Snap shook her head. “What dog could be vicious enough to attack a member of their own Pack?”
“Yes,” Dart added, a sly tone creeping into her voice. “What dog would be fierce enough to do something so savage?”
Storm recoiled, stung by Dart’s words.
“Dart, there’s no need for that,” Snap said, but her reprimand didn’t sound particularly heartfelt.
If only they knew . . . I haven’t ruled myself out, either.
There was no way she was going to tell them about her sleepwalking, her violent dreams. Still, there was another possibility that suddenly occurred to Storm, one that she hadn’t even considered before.
What if it is something to do with Fierce Dog nature . . . but I’m not the right Fierce Dog?
She had no proof that Arrow wasn’t the dog who had come out of the darkness to kill poor Whisper. Perhaps Whisper had done something to annoy him and he had snapped . . . Storm knew, all too well, what damage a Fierce Dog could do when the rage overtook her. She felt as if she’d been fighting to hold that rage back all her life, but Arrow had been in the Fierce Dog Pack. Storm shuddered at the memory of the Trial of Rage—the terrible ordeal Blade had tried to put her through, attacking and goading her into losing control and flying into a mindless frenzy.
With the help of Lucky and her Packmates, Storm had resisted the Trial. She’d failed, at least as far as Blade was concerned, though it had felt like a great victory to Storm. But Arrow had been a full member of the Fierce Dog Pack, and that meant he must have taken on the Trial of Rage and passed. Who knew what a dog like that would be capable of?
Then again . . . Blade’s Pack had discipline. They didn’t turn on one another unless she ordered it. Storm simply couldn’t imagine Arrow attacking and killing one of his own Packmates.
The line of thought gave her no joy, but she couldn’t stop dwelling on it as the dogs made their way back to camp. By the time they got home, Storm felt exhausted. The long day’s march and the added stress of discoveri
ng the fox den had drained her small reserves of rest.
She could grab a few short moments of sleep before the Pack assembled to eat. She was getting good at it now. She hardly ever dozed off in the den anymore, and she hadn’t gone sleepwalking at all since the night Daisy caught her. Storm felt proud of herself, as if she’d tamed some wild beast inside her. She didn’t need to sleep like other dogs! Sure, she had less energy during the day—she reacted more slowly to things, and sometimes her vision blurred at the edges. But it was better than the alternative. . . .
She settled down, making sure not to pick a spot that was too comfortable, and allowed her eyes to close.
However, before she could drop down into the blissfully dreamless sleep she was craving, she heard muttering dog voices nearby. Storm peeled open one eyelid and tried to focus on the source of the sounds.
It was Dart and Snap, sitting close together right in the middle of camp. They were too far away, and they were talking too quietly, for Storm to hear their words. But she could see their faces, and their furtive glances toward the hunter den, where Arrow was sitting, cleaning between his claws with his teeth.
They had the same thought I did. But I talked myself out of it . . . didn’t I?
Arrow finished his cleaning and stood up, shook himself, and trotted away toward the tree line. A few moments later, looking for all the world as if she was simply getting up to stretch and go for a short walk, Dart got to her paws and sauntered after him.
A flash of annoyance hit Storm. Arrow might be a suspect, but he wasn’t the only one. They were only treating him differently because he was a Fierce Dog! What were they going to do, watch him all day and all night until he did something incriminating?
Storm shut her eyes and put her paws over her muzzle. She’d only wanted to tell someone that the foxes weren’t responsible. She hadn’t meant to accuse Arrow!
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Storm, wake up. It’s time to eat.”
Storm stirred and stared up at Thorn.
“Beta and Alpha have been in their den with the pups all day, so Snap is going to tell them about the fox camp when we eat,” Thorn said. She looked a lot less excited about it than she had before Storm had voiced her concerns, and Storm almost felt guilty—not for telling the truth, but for taking away Thorn’s nice simple explanation of what had happened.
Storm got up, stretched, and yawned. The Sun-Dog’s light was deep gold and slanted between the trees into the camp, casting dark shadows and bright patches of sunshine. Storm didn’t feel refreshed. She could have shifted into one of the warm spots and slept for another two days.
The prey was brought out—the hunting parties had done well, but not quite as well as the day of the Den Break a few days before. Storm watched Snap carefully, wondering when she would report to Lucky. Snap had obviously decided that it could wait until all the dogs had eaten, because she didn’t say anything until Omega had grabbed the last remains of a rabbit carcass and dragged it over to her spot to chew on the tasty bones. Storm felt her resolve harden. If Snap didn’t say something about the foxes’ innocence, then she would, promise to Beta or not. Their Omega dog was stronger and better fed than the hunters and warriors of that fox pack!
“Alpha, Beta, we have some news,” Snap said. “Our patrol found the foxes’ den.”
Lucky’s ears pricked up. “Good work, Snap!” he barked to get the attention of the others in camp. “Dogs, listen to me! Our enemies have been found. We will prepare ourselves to attack, and then—”
“Beta, wait,” said Snap. Storm’s heart swelled with relief and gratitude—Snap wasn’t just going to let Lucky run out and attack the foxes after all. “We have concerns. The foxes looked small, underfed. We’re not convinced that they could have killed Whisper.”
A murmur of confusion rippled through the assembled dogs. Snap planted her paws and looked at her Beta without blinking, but Lucky’s gaze snapped straight to Storm. Storm swallowed, gathered up her courage, and stepped forward.
“It’s true. Beta, I don’t believe that they did. After what we saw today, I’m even more convinced. The bite marks on Whisper’s neck were far too big to have been made by any fox, let alone these ones. And there was no fox-scent anywhere near the body! Think back, all of you,” Storm insisted, glancing around at the rest of the Pack. “Do any of you remember smelling a fox there?”
“It’s true about the scent, at least. . . . Beta, could they be right?” Bruno asked, shuffling his paws.
Lucky said nothing for a moment. He glared at Storm furiously.
I know I promised, Storm thought. But you can’t expect me to stand by while you attack the foxes for no reason. I just won’t!
“You . . . might have a point,” Lucky admitted, though it seemed to be hard for him to say. “In fact, now that I think of it, perhaps we have it all wrong. If it wasn’t the foxes, it could have been those coyotes you scented. We all know that coyotes will attack and eat dogs if they can.”
“There was no coyote scent by Whisper either,” said Mickey thoughtfully. Storm gave him a grateful look, glad that another dog—an older dog who Lucky respected—had brought it up.
“And Whisper wasn’t eaten. It was like he was left there for us to find,” Moon pointed out. “I still think it’s more likely to be the foxes, getting revenge for their dead pup.”
“But they’re so weak!” Dart pointed out.
“I don’t think it was either the foxes or the coyotes,” Storm said.
The Pack turned to look at her. Storm paused, trying to think of a way to explain, but Lucky barked at her first.
“Storm, what is wrong with you?” he snapped. “Why are you so determined to say that Whisper was killed by a dog?”
The other dogs, shocked, began to whine and yap to one another anxiously.
“A dog?”
“What dog?”
“How could it have been a dog?”
Lucky took a few steps toward Storm, drawing himself up to his full height—which was now slightly shorter than Storm. Nevertheless, she found herself cringing down slightly and backing away as if she were still a pup.
“Do you want to accuse one of us right now?” Lucky barked fiercely. “Do you realize that by saying a dog has done this you are saying that one of your own Pack is a murderer? I’ve told you before, Whisper was killed by a fox!”
Storm forced herself to straighten and look her Beta straight in the eye.
“I am accusing no dog,” she said firmly. “I have no evidence that any dog in our Pack killed Whisper. All I have is the evidence to say that it was some dog. Maybe it was a Lone Dog we haven’t scented yet! Or maybe it was one of us—maybe it was a terrible accident, maybe that dog is sorry and wants to confess, but they’re too scared. . . .”
Lucky advanced again, looking so furious that Storm almost thought he was going to swipe at her. Storm’s eyes flicked to Alpha. The swift-dog was watching them closely, the pups held back behind one paw, her dark, clever eyes fixed on Storm. But she didn’t call Lucky back. She didn’t say anything at all.
The whole Pack was watching them, jaws open in shock or ears pinned back. Thorn was scraping anxious furrows in the earth with her claws.
“Beta, isn’t it better to follow the evidence and find out if some dog has done this,” Storm said, “rather than starting a war with foxes or coyotes?”
“We are not starting a war with the foxes,” Lucky growled. “They have attacked us before. They believe that we killed one of theirs—that sounds like the perfect motive to kill one of ours . . . and no dog here had any reason to kill Whisper.” He turned away from Storm and spoke to the other dogs. “The most important thing is that we are united as a Pack! We must stand as one, against our common enemy, and not let wild theories like this tear us apart. This is not a Fierce Dog pack. We don’t fight among ourselves!”
Storm stared at Lucky. There was anger in his eyes, more than she’d ever seen there before—a fury and panic that he had never
shown when they were facing Blade or fighting against the half-wolf Alpha. But now that there was a murderer in the forest, maybe even some dog right in front of him . . . he was terrified.
What he’d said didn’t even make sense—only Blade had attacked her own dogs, and that was because she was driven insane by terrible visions of the Earth-Dog swallowing the whole world if she didn’t. If anything, the rest of the Fierce Dogs had been too obedient and loyal to their Pack.
But the other dogs seemed to feel reassured by what Lucky had said. They were nodding, relaxing and barking to one another about foxes and coyotes, as if they were relieved not to have to think anymore. They didn’t want to think that one of them could be a murderer, or that their Beta could be clinging to a lie.
She glanced across the circle of dogs and caught Arrow’s eye. He gazed back almost impassively. If he was upset at the way Lucky was talking about their Mother Pack, he didn’t show it.
But Storm couldn’t hold herself back like Arrow could. She could feel the anger rising within her. Lucky had refused to listen to her before the pups were born, and now that they were out in the world, he was even worse.
I’ve depended on your advice, she thought. All my life, Lucky, I’ve wanted your guidance, and your approval.
Now I’m on my own, aren’t I?
If she was going to be on her own, she might as well be alone. She turned, leaving the last bites of her rabbit uneaten, and walked away to the edge of the camp. Her fur prickled with the gazes of every other dog, but she didn’t look back. She slumped to the ground in a deep shadow just outside the camp.
“We must defend ourselves,” Lucky was still barking to the others. Storm wanted to put her paws over her ears and block him out, but she couldn’t do it. “It’s important that we stick together. You all know that bringing our Packs together has been a slow and messy business. Leashed Dogs and Wild Dogs, Fierce Dogs, Twitch’s Pack, even a Lone Dog like me—we can all be part of something bigger, more important than ourselves. We just have to work together.”