by Erin Hunter
She was in the camp, and the Pack was with her, all around her—she couldn’t see them, but she could hear them, snuffling and yawning, talking in low and gentle voices, simply existing. Their scents were familiar and comforting. She felt safe.
She wriggled her back against the warm ground and flopped onto her side. The gray dog beside her gave a happy huff, stretched out his paws toward her, and then drew them back into his chest, folding them like a pup. She leaned over and gave him a quick, friendly lick on his nose.
“I’m so sorry you died,” she told him. “But it wasn’t my fault, was it? I’m not the one who hurt you.”
It felt so obvious now, she wondered how she could ever have thought anything different.
Whisper gave a bark of laughter. “Of course not,” he said, his brown eyes bright. “You never did anything but protect me. You’re a Good Dog, Storm. I always knew it. You fight for us even when no other dog can. You even fought for the foxes.”
Storm felt heat under her skin, prickling like embarrassment, but it was a pleasant feeling. She wanted him to go on, and she didn’t feel guilty for wanting it either.
“I’ve spent so long thinking I must be Bad,” she said.
“You are Fierce and Good,” said Whisper, with an amused flick of his ear. “Whatever dog said you couldn’t be both must have had rocks for brains. You were right to let the fox go.” He shifted so that his body was closer to hers. She let him. It was funny—she never would have wanted to be so close to him while he was alive, but now she felt comforted by his warmth.
The day seemed to be growing colder. She glanced up, looking for the Sun-Dog, but she couldn’t find him. Instead a dark shadow was falling over the sky . . . a shadow with a strong jaw, four paws, and two pointed ears.
The great Fierce Dog loomed over the Pack, pacing silently overhead, his dark eyes scanning the landscape. They looked down on Storm for a moment, and she felt as if she was being pinned to the ground—as if those eyes could see into her heart, pick out every dark thought she had ever had, every embarrassing moment, every impulse and feeling. It knew when she had been happy, and when she had lied, and when she had done the best she could. . . .
Then the great dog passed over the camp and walked on. The Sun-Dog stretched and woke, and the camp was flooded with light and warmth once more.
“Was that the Fear-Dog?” she asked, in a hushed voice, half-afraid that she would summon the dog back again. “Is the Fear-Dog really real?”
“I’m not sure,” Whisper admitted. “Maybe he is. Something is stalking us. The darkness is here, Storm. It’s in the Pack. We need a dog who can protect us all, like you do.” He looked into her eyes. “I believe in you.”
“But how can I . . . ?” Storm murmured, and blinked.
She was back on High Watch, and the dawn was breaking over the trees, sending bright rays of light into her sheltering spot under the rock overhang. The Sun-Dog warmed her, and she twitched onto her paws, feeling guilty for falling asleep . . . but at the same time, she felt comforted, and confident, in a deep place in her heart that had felt nothing but unease ever since Whisper’s death.
“I did not do this,” she said out loud, knowing nobody but the Wind-Dogs would hear her. “Something is wrong in the Pack. There’s a darkness here. But it’s not in me, and that means I can find it and I can stop it.”
Feeling as if she could do almost anything, Storm shook herself out and then started down the slope toward the camp.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Most of the dogs were just getting up when Storm arrived back in camp. They lay outside their dens or padded around one another, stretching and yawning. Storm saw Daisy mournfully sniffing at the place where the meager prey pile had been, and realized many of them must still have empty bellies from the night before. But although Storm hadn’t had any more to eat than Daisy, she didn’t feel the hunger now.
I can fix that too. Just let me get out there to hunt, and I’ll bring us back a feast.
Well, she would do her best, anyway.
Storm couldn’t help glancing up to the place in the sky where she had seen the great dark dog in her dream, but she couldn’t see anything there but clouds and sky, and the occasional swooping lake bird.
She trotted over to Alpha’s den, eager to give her report, and found Breeze and Thorn there already. Alpha was nowhere to be seen—perhaps she was still in the den with the pups. Thorn was speaking to Lucky and Twitch, casting occasional glances back to Breeze as if to have her confirm what she was saying.
“The only fox-scents we could find were old,” Thorn said. “At least a day—so they haven’t been back since the attack. There was nothing else.”
“Thank you, Thorn, Beetle,” said Lucky. “You may go, get some rest.”
Twitch turned to Storm, and his long, floppy ears pricked up in greeting. “Hello, Storm,” he said. “How was your first night on High Watch? Do you have anything to report?”
“Only that I saw something on the Endless Lake,” Storm said. “It was another one of those longpaw floatcages. It was carrying bright lights, so I knew it must be a longpaw thing. It didn’t come too close, though—it just bobbed about out there for a little while and then vanished.”
Lucky frowned. “I’ll tell Alpha later,” he said. “I don’t want to bother her now, while she’s with the pups.”
“Can I ask, Beta, how is Tumble doing?” said Storm. She was ready for him to snarl at her, but instead he gave a placid nod.
“He is recovering well,” said Lucky. “He’s feeling a lot better, and the fox bite is healing nicely. He will be able to walk again soon. And it’s about time,” he added, with a happy sort of whine. “We were up half the night trying to keep him down. That pup will be impossible to keep track of when he’s older.”
“I’m so glad,” Storm said. And not just for Tumble’s sake. I’m glad that you’re feeling better too.
“You should get some sleep,” Twitch told her. “You must be tired after standing guard over the fox yesterday and then going straight to High Watch.”
Storm felt a little shudder of guilt—she wasn’t half as sleepy as she should have been—but she didn’t contradict him. “Thank you, Beta,” she said to Lucky, and trotted over to the hunters’ den. She picked a spot just outside it and turned a hasty sleep circle before settling down and pretending to nap. She kept her eyes just slightly open, watching the rest of the dogs.
There is darkness here . . . but I can’t see it. There was no dog who didn’t seem like they belonged, like they didn’t love their Pack. What kind of dog could kill their Packmates, poison and manipulate them, but never give any impression that they were scheming?
And why would they do it in the first place?
Storm tried not to chase her thoughts off in all directions like a puppy with a brace of rabbits, but instead focused on simply observing the Pack.
A little while later, she saw Lucky come into the middle of the camp and heard him bark, “Hunters, to me!”
She got to her paws at once, wide-awake and eager to get involved, and trotted over to Lucky’s side.
“We need to put together a hunting party—we must ensure the Pack eats well tonight.”
Bruno’s stomach audibly rumbled as if in reply, and Mickey chuckled at him.
“Arrow, Bruno, Snap, and I will go,” Lucky said. “And Breeze will be our scout dog.”
“I’d like to come,” Storm volunteered, her eagerness getting the better of her.
“I’m not sure,” Lucky said, though he seemed more thoughtful than reluctant. “You’re still young, and you’ve never had a night watch before. You need your rest. . . .”
“I’ve had a rest,” Storm yapped. “I’m fine—I’d really like to help.”
Lucky hesitated for a moment longer, then barked his approval. “All right, you can come—you’ll be useful.”
Storm felt she was almost glowing with pride. Perhaps Lucky truly had forgiven her.
When th
ey left the camp, Storm’s mood was high. They would find plenty of prey, and the whole Pack would eat well. She would prove her usefulness to Lucky and Alpha, and Tumble would get better, and they would forgive her for her carelessness—and she would be able to put the whole incident with Fox Mist behind her, too.
However, only a few pawsteps into their hunt, Storm could tell something was wrong. The land seemed still, more so than usual. The sounds and scents of prey were faint and muffled, when she could pick them up at all. For a moment she wondered if there was something wrong with her—did she need more rest after all? Could she not trust her senses?
But then she saw the others looking confused, too. They sniffed at the ground and the air as they ran, as if they were feeling the same way Storm was. They reached the line of trees, where Storm would expect to at least be able to hear birds singing and pick up the stale scent-trails of badgers and other creatures who roamed the woods at night. But there was still nothing, and Lucky brought the party to a halt, his muzzle creasing in confusion.
“Where are the Wind-Dogs?” Snap whined, and Storm almost wagged her tail in relief. Of course, that was why the scents couldn’t seem to reach her—there was no wind to carry them. The branches and leaves on the trees were hanging almost perfectly still, and the Sun-Dog’s gaze felt hot and stifling on the back of her neck. It was as if all the wind had blown past her overnight, out of the Endless Lake and away, leaving the land here strangely warm and quiet.
“They’ll be back,” said Lucky. Storm knew he was right—the Wind-Dogs couldn’t just leave, could they? “Let’s press on.”
“I’ll circle more widely,” said Breeze, “and see if I can find any scents.”
“Good idea,” said Lucky, and Breeze immediately picked up her paws and darted away. “Come on, let’s go through the woods and head toward the river. We should be able to smell whether there have been rabbits in the meadow recently, even if we can’t pick them up from far away. Keep scenting around—perhaps we will find something we aren’t expecting.”
Storm followed his instructions, keeping her muzzle high and sniffing all around as they passed through the woods, but even though she saw several birds shuffling along the branches high above, and at one point she thought she heard the scrabbling of a prey creature nearby, she still couldn’t scent a single thing except the wood itself. The earth and the trees seemed to release a stronger scent than ever before, especially where the Sun-Dog’s gaze hit them.
The dogs emerged into an open space, where they could see the glinting line of the river winding through the grass. Storm knew there were frequently rabbits here, or sometimes even fat, lazy pigeons who could be caught by a cunning and quiet dog. There might even be a river-rabbit down by the shore. But if they were nearby, she couldn’t scent a single one. Lucky led them down to the river, and they trod carefully along the bank a little way, but there was no sign of any tasty river creatures either.
“Let’s stop to drink,” Lucky ordered after a little while. “It’s so warm today, and when the Wind-Dogs return, we’ll want to be ready.”
The dogs all stopped gratefully and bent their heads to lap up a few mouthfuls of water from the clear river. Storm padded into the water, just so it came up over her paws, and then rolled so that her coat soaked up the cool water. She rolled to her paws, shook it off again, and immediately felt better.
There was a gentle thudding of pawsteps, and Breeze hurled into view behind them, crossing the meadow in what seemed like a few long strides.
“Nothing,” Breeze gasped as she reached them. “I went so far, but I couldn’t find a trace of a living creature anywhere.”
“Perhaps they’re all hiding from the Sun-Dog,” said Bruno, panting. “He’s very strong today.”
“Could the Wind-Dogs be angry with us?” Arrow asked Lucky. “Is there anything we could do to tempt them back?”
Storm raked her paw across the wet pebbles uneasily. Surely that couldn’t be it . . . they hadn’t done anything to make the Wind-Dogs cross, had they?
Her ears twitched as a light breeze stirred the wet hair on the back of her neck.
As one, all six dogs looked around, their ears pricking up and their mouths opening to taste the faint scent that blew past them. It was coming from upstream, and as the breeze blew stronger, Storm started to recognize it—a light, tasty, spicy scent of a living creature. A prey creature . . . but one that carried a strange edge to its scent. It was unique. It was . . .
Lucky gasped, his tongue hanging from his jaws in delight. “I smell the Golden Deer!”
The Wind-Dogs are teasing us.
Storm imagined that the invisible Spirit Dogs must be enjoying themselves immensely, like puppies playing with a beetle or a mouse, watching from above as the hunting party sprinted upriver, paused, lost the scent, found it again, followed it inland, chased it through a stand of tall white trees and over a hill and around a pile of rocks, then lost the scent again. . . .
Each time Storm caught that strange and wonderful scent, she felt energized, as if she could run and run forever and it barely mattered if they caught the Deer at all. But she was starting to feel as if the Wind-Dogs didn’t understand that dogs on the ground also had to feed themselves—and their Pack—or they wouldn’t be able to run at all. Every time the scent reappeared, it seemed to be coming from a different direction. The hunters would stop, scent the air, and glance at Lucky, who would not hesitate to turn them to chase after the delicious and enticing smell of the Deer, even if it meant retracing their steps.
“Should we really go back?” Snap gasped, as Lucky’s ears swiveled and he twisted his head this way and that, trying to find the scent again after they had lost it a fourth time. She pointed with her nose. “Surely we’ve been going more or less in that direction, so the Deer must be over there. . . .”
“No, we haven’t.” Bruno frowned. “We’ve turned a circle since the beginning, remember? We haven’t gone farther in any one direction than another.”
“Could the Wind-Dogs just be playing with us?” Arrow wondered.
“No, there it is!” Lucky barked, and leaped into a run, without waiting for the others. His head was high and his ears were pricked up. “Follow me!”
Storm exchanged a weary glance with Arrow, but they both ran after their Beta.
We couldn’t exactly let him run off alone, Storm thought. But oh, Wind-Dogs, I hope that you come to the end of your game soon. . . . I thought I scented a whole pack of weasels in that last bush, and we must bring back something to feed the Pack. . . .
They climbed another hill, a steep and rocky slope that had Storm wondering why the Pack couldn’t have picked somewhere a bit flatter to settle, and when they got to the top, Storm looked down the other side and saw . . .
Nothing. No Golden Deer shimmering in front of them, not even the slightest glint of it on the horizon.
But she realized, as she panted harder and caught her breath, that she could scent something. It wasn’t quite the same as the Golden Deer’s scent, though there was something similar about it—this was a real, warm, living creature’s scent. It didn’t make her want to run and run, but it did make her start to drool.
Lucky was standing still, for the moment, scenting the air and trying to catch the strange and spicy scent of the Golden Deer again, so Storm turned away from him, following the delicious smell of prey. She rounded a large rock and looked down a steep hill that was studded with bushes and small trees, and through the cover she could see . . .
Deer! Real deer!
There were so many of them—at least four females, their soft necks curved down to nibble on the thick green grass at the bottom of the slope.
Storm looked over her shoulder and found that Arrow, Snap, and Breeze had followed her to the top of the slope, and they had seen the deer too.
“We would only need to catch one for the Pack to eat better tonight than they have in days,” Breeze murmured, her eyes bright.
“With co
ver like this, and the wind in our favor, we could catch two, no problem,” said Snap.
“We could split into pairs,” said Arrow. “We’re all big enough to take down a deer between two—or fast enough,” he conceded, as Snap turned her head to glare up at him. “If we fan out, and all attack at once . . .”
“What are you doing?” Lucky asked. “We’re already on a hunt. We can’t stop now, we’re so close! The Golden Deer is nearby, I’m certain of it!”
Storm glanced at the others, and she could see them all thinking the same thing—is he actually going to ask us to leave behind a hunt like this to chase a deer that might not even be real? But to her dismay, none of them seemed to be about to say anything.
She thought back to her dream, to Whisper saying she would fight for the dogs even if she was the only one, and sighed. I suppose it’s up to me to be the one Lucky is angry with. Again. Still, she dipped her head as respectfully as she could and said, “Beta, the Pack needs food. The Golden Deer might bring us good luck, but it won’t fill our bellies!”
“Storm’s right,” said Snap, and the others nodded and woofed their agreement too. “Just look at them, Beta—there are four deer down there, and we’re certain we can take at least two!”
“Wouldn’t it be nice to go back to Alpha with some good news, for once?” Breeze said softly.
Lucky hesitated, and while he was thinking, another gust of wind blew through the trees and bushes and washed over the dogs. Storm’s mouth watered even more, and a thought struck her.
“Beta, what if this is the deer we’re meant to find? What if the Wind-Dogs have led us to this spot not to catch the Golden Deer, but so that we’ll be in exactly the right place to hunt these real deer and feed our Pack?”
Lucky’s eyes brightened. “Storm, I think you might be right! Yes, that must be it. We will hunt these deer.”
Storm suppressed a bark of joy, afraid of spooking the prey—but she couldn’t resist turning on the spot and wagging her tail. Lucky had made the right choice!