by Erin Hunter
A high-pitched bark sounded from behind her, then heavy, clumsy pawsteps on soft, slick earth. Too late, Storm made out the smell of dogs, and she whirled around. Was it the Fierce Dogs? Or the wolves? Had they followed her here?
For a moment, when she saw the two creatures approaching her, she thought it was the wolves. They were tall, with long, thick fur. Their faces were white, with shiny black ears and noses, and they had mottled gray fur all over the rest of their bodies. They had light blue eyes, like Moon from the Wild Pack.
But they weren’t wolves. They only reminded her a little of them. In fact, they reminded her more of the half-wolf Alpha.
They couldn’t be old Packmates of his, could they?
The two dogs pounded toward her over the grass, and Storm tensed, ready to run or defend herself, if necessary.
“Strange dog!” one of them barked. “What are you doing here?”
“Keep away from our longpaws!”
Our longpaws?
Storm looked closer, and now she could see why she hadn’t scented them as she approached the longpaw den. They belonged to this place. Their scents were mingled with the longpaws’.
They were Leashed Dogs. Truly Leashed, with circles of brown hide around their throats, disturbing the flow of their thick fur.
Storm suppressed the urge to shift her weight nervously. She stood her ground even as the two gray-and-white dogs skidded to a clumsy halt a dog-length away.
“You’re not supposed to be here, Fierce Dog,” one of them growled, but her voice was slightly squeaky.
“You should leave, before we make you!” barked the other.
Storm stayed quiet and studied the two Leashed Dogs’ wide eyes, and their paws that seemed too big for their bodies. They were quivering, and Storm couldn’t tell if this was because of the rain, or for another reason.
They’re still young, she thought. They’re younger than I am. And they’ve never lived in the wild, so they’re not used to fighting . . . they’re frightened of me!
Storm glanced past the two dogs’ nervously flicking ears, toward the wooden longpaw den.
“We’re not afraid to fight you!” barked the female again, her back arching as she shifted uneasily on her paws. “You should stay away from our home!”
“Our longpaws are big,” the male growled. “And they’re scary, and they’re definitely not afraid of Fierce Dogs!”
The two young dogs were practically shaking from the effort of trying to seem unafraid. Storm wanted to back away submissively, to tell them that they didn’t need to fight. She didn’t want anything to do with their longpaws, after all, and the spoil-box wasn’t worth having to wound two soft Leashed Dogs.
But behind her there was only the wooden wall of the longpaw den, and if she tried to run, the Leashed Dogs would almost certainly chase her. She could feel the tension in the air—if she gave any ground now, the boost to their fragile confidence might make them do something foolish.
“I was just passing by,” she growled. We’re all reasonable dogs here. “I don’t want anything to do with this place. Let me pass!”
Too late, she realized the young dogs weren’t listening. The female’s growl was growing louder and more high-pitched, until she finally barked out—
“Alpha! Beta! Alpha Tom!”
Instinctively Storm backed away, and then growled again as she found herself wedged into the corner between the spoil-box and the wall. Two longpaws appeared around the corner of their den, sticks clutched in their hands.
They weren’t like any other longpaws Storm had seen up close. Their strange-colored furs were red and black and blue, but they covered less of their skin than Storm had seen, leaving exposed hides around their arms and legs. Somehow, she didn’t think this was a sign of weakness. They both looked powerfully muscular, at least as far as she could make out. One had a tuft of fur around his face, and the other was not as furry, but his hide was a darker color.
Their sticks were strange too—not loudsticks, Storm thought. They were long and silver, with one end that curved around and flattened into a sort of leaf shape.
“Alpha! A strange dog!” the male Leashed Dog half whined, turning his face to the longpaw with the face-fur. Storm tensed, ready to fight for her life if she had to.
But there was something about the way these longpaws were looking at her, and then at each other, and the way the sticks were held loosely in their paws.
If they were going to kill me, or drive me off, they would seem angrier. Wouldn’t they?
She resisted the urge to growl and bark at them, her thoughts running faster and faster.
They must like dogs. She looked at the two young dogs, who were much more relaxed now their longpaws were here, looking up at them with their ears pricked up. The female’s tail even wagged slightly as she waited to see what her Alpha would do. These two pups seem happy, loyal, well-fed . . . if I keep still, perhaps the longpaws will just let me go!
The longpaw Alpha made soft noises to the Beta, and then reached down and scratched behind the male dog’s ears. Storm wanted to recoil from the gesture, but the dog wasn’t afraid—in fact, he seemed reassured. She forced herself to stay still, keeping her ears and tail up.
The two longpaws lowered their sticks slowly, although they didn’t drop them.
The Beta looked at Storm and made more noises—they were even softer, and slightly higher pitched. Storm was reminded of the noises that the longpaw had made to Mickey, when they had saved him from the great wave. Questioning, and inviting. Was he . . . trying to communicate with her?
“What’s it saying?” she muttered. The female dog gave her a wary look.
“Beta Danny wants to know if you’re a good dog,” she said.
A third, high-pitched voice chimed in. “Tell him yes.”
Storm looked around for the dog who had spoken. The voice sounded strangely familiar. . . .
Storm’s eyes widened, and she sat back on her haunches in shock as a little shape trotted around the legs of the two longpaws. The top of his head barely came up to Storm’s chest now, but his bulging eyes held the same cunning glint as they always had.
“Whine?”
Storm wanted to snarl at the little dog—the little traitor¸ who had sold the Wild Pack out to Blade and then vanished—but she caught herself. She couldn’t do anything that would frighten these longpaws into attacking.
Whine was wearing a brown hide circle, too. Was he Leashed now?
“What are you doing here? I thought you were dead!” she said, lowering her head and hoping the longpaws couldn’t tell she was on the edge of a growl.
“Buddy? Do you know this Fierce Dog?” said the young male.
Storm stared at Whine in astonishment. Buddy? Is that your Leashed name?
“Is—is she one of the savage ones?” the female asked tremulously.
No wonder they’re afraid of Fierce Dogs, if they’ve been listening to Whine, Storm thought, desperate to bark that she was not savage!
“No, Coco,” said Whine. “She acts big and tough, but she’s not dangerous. She wouldn’t hurt you or Rex.”
The two younger dogs immediately seemed to back down. They sat on their haunches, staring at Storm with friendly interest, all hostility apparently forgotten. Storm stared back in utter confusion.
The longpaw Beta noticed that Whine was beside him and gave a single alarmed bark, stepping in front of the little dog protectively. Whine’s tongue lolled in amusement as he saw the expressions of confusion and anger pass over Storm’s face.
“Listen to me, Storm,” he said. “Do you want food? Or do you want Alpha and Beta to chase you away with their sticks?”
Storm was about to reply that she just wanted to get out of here, but then she realized she could still smell the food scents coming from the spoil-box, and her stomach rumbled audibly.
Betrayed by my own insides, she thought.
“All right then,” she growled. “Say I did want food . . .”
“Do as I say,” Whine said. “Lie down.”
Storm looked up at the two longpaws. The Alpha took a cautious step toward her, speaking again in his soft voice, and she cringed away. “What?”
“Lie down on your side, and then show Alpha Tom your belly.”
Storm glared at Whine. “That’s crazy! I’d be . . .” Then she paused. She would be vulnerable. It would be just like showing submission to another dog.
Any longpaw that would take in Whine, of all dogs, and give him a Leashed Dog name must love dogs, she realized. Maybe they’re . . . kind? Maybe they’ll feed me and then let me go.
She looked into the eyes of the Alpha. It wasn’t easy to read the strange, tall creatures—their ears didn’t seem to move, their muzzles were the wrong shape—but he was leaning over toward her, making soft noises.
“Listen, I don’t care what you do,” Whine yapped, sitting down and scratching his ear with his hind leg. “I don’t mind if the longpaws beat your head with those sticks after all. But if you listen to me, you’ll be taken somewhere warm, out of the rain, and given food. Just let the longpaws think they’re in charge.”
Slowly, and with difficulty, as if her tense muscles were fighting against her decision, Storm lay down on her front and then flopped stiffly onto her side. She felt exposed and embarrassed, but the change on the Alpha’s face was immediate, even if she couldn’t quite tell what it meant. He bent his knees and put the stick down on the ground. Then he reached out a foreleg. Storm tensed, and she was about to roll to her paws when Whine yelped again.
“Don’t panic,” he said. “Just let them pet you.”
“Let them what?” Storm huffed through her teeth. Then the Alpha’s paw was coming down softly on her belly, stroking it while the Alpha made more sounds that she suspected were supposed to be comforting.
She tried to remember what Lucky had said about getting food from longpaws in the City, when he was a Lone Dog. Look happy to see them, he had told her, like they’re your best friends.
She wasn’t sure how to look happy so a longpaw would understand it. Especially since the longpaw was still “petting” her—it wasn’t precisely unpleasant, just so strange that it made her skin crawl. Still, she let her tongue loll from her mouth and panted.
The longpaw took its foreleg away and stood up. It patted its knees and made a strange clicking sound with its mouth. Both Rex and Coco got to their paws as soon as they heard it.
“That means stand up,” said Rex.
Storm got to her paws. “Like this?”
Part of her was howling with discomfort at the idea of following a longpaw’s orders, but right now it was being shouted down by the rumbling of her stomach, and the sky was growing ever darker as the Sky-Dogs shrouded themselves with more heavy gray clouds.
The Alpha stood back and patted its knees again, and made some more noises. Storm looked at the Leashed Dogs.
“What now?”
“Go to him,” Whine yapped. “He’ll take you inside where the food is.”
Storm walked forward. The longpaw kept going backward, and then he even straightened up and turned his back on Storm as he walked around the corner of the longpaw den. The Beta followed him, picking up both sticks but holding them in a completely different way, as if they weren’t for hitting things with at all.
“He’s trusting you to go with him,” said Coco, her tongue lolling. “He’s happy. He thinks you’re a really good dog! Come on, it’s this way.” She and Rex both trotted after their longpaws, tails wagging, all their reservations about Storm apparently forgotten.
“Leashed Dogs are strange,” Storm muttered as she walked carefully after the longpaws. The Alpha looked over his shoulder a few times and kept patting his back legs, as if checking that Storm was following him, but he did seem to be trusting her not to attack him or run off.
She stood at the doorway to the longpaw den and took a deep breath.
If she ran now, something told her that these longpaws and Leashed Dogs wouldn’t chase her. She would be fine on her own—she always had been before. It was only a little more hunger, a little more rain.
Or . . . she could go inside this den, and she wouldn’t have to get wet or hunt, just for this one day. She wouldn’t have to be alone.
She stepped inside.
The smell of longpaws was overwhelming, a thousand different unfamiliar scents all swirling in the air around the small den. Underpaw, the ground was smooth and hard, but there were soft pelts lying on it too. Longpaw things were everywhere, most of them towering over Storm’s head, strange shapes she couldn’t begin to understand. In one corner of the den, there was a small fire! Storm recoiled from it, afraid, before she realized that somehow these longpaws had the flames under control—they were burning behind a sort of box made of black metal, and it didn’t seem to scorch the wooden walls at all.
It was warm inside the den. Everything was dry. Storm felt herself begin to relax. Perhaps this had been a good decision.
Rex and Coco were ahead of her and the Alpha now, running through an opening to another part of the den. She could smell food in there, and her stomach rumbled again.
There were more longpaw things in this part of the den, but they smelled of earth. Several pairs of the strange paw-coverings they wore on their back legs, more of those silver sticks with the flat ends, two thin metal circles joined together . . . but also, three large silver bowls that smelled of Rex, Coco, and Whine—and of food.
The Alpha spoke softly to her again and reached up to a high place where a few brightly colored boxes were giving off the food smell that filled the air. It was delicious, but bizarre. Storm couldn’t help herself drooling as the Alpha pulled down a box and a fourth silver bowl.
What kind of prey was in there? It wasn’t rabbit, she was certain.
The Alpha tipped the box, and for a moment Storm thought she had been tricked. All that came out were pellets of some hard, brown substance.
But then she smelled them, and she knew—this was food. Leashed Dog food.
Is this what the Fierce Dogs used to eat in the Dog-Garden, before the Big Growl? she wondered. It smells . . . good!
Rex, Coco, and Whine were all gathered around now, sitting down with their eyes pinned on their Alpha and their tails thumping against the smooth wooden floor. He made what Storm thought was a happy noise and poured out a little of the food pellets into the other three bowls too. The dogs immediately fell on the bowls and started to eat, noisily.
Storm took a cautious mouthful of the pellets. Then another. They tasted good, too.
The Alpha stood back and twined his long foreleg with that of his Beta, both of them watching Storm intently.
I’m no Leashed Dog, she thought. I’m a Fierce Dog and a Wild Dog. You won’t give me a name that isn’t mine, or put one of those hide circles on me.
But just for now, until the rain passed and she had filled her belly, she thought that perhaps some longpaws weren’t so bad.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The forest was dark. Storm looked up, but she couldn’t see the Moon-Dog, or a single star in the black sky—and yet there were no clouds, either. There was just an endless nothing, hanging over her head.
She padded between the trees, searching for something, though she wasn’t sure what. There was no prey here, no little creatures to rustle in the undergrowth, no birds in the trees.
But she wasn’t alone.
The other dog was nearby, no matter where Storm went. It was always right behind her. Sometimes she thought it had gone, but then there it was again. A presence, not moving, just nearby, always.
She spun, hoping to catch the dog behind her. There it was, a few trees away. An indistinct shape, watching her.
Who are you? Storm tried to bark. The other dog didn’t move or reply, but she sensed its malice. And more . . . its smugness. She couldn’t see its face, couldn’t even make out what kind of a dog it was, but she could feel the satisfaction it felt, watching
her search the forest and never find what she was looking for.
Leave me alone! Storm howled, and she turned and ran, her paws pounding through the darkness. Before long, she slowed down again. She didn’t know where she was going, and she was all alone. She would never find it this way.
Then she realized that up ahead, and a little off to the side . . . the dog was still watching her.
She hadn’t seen it move, and yet here it was.
This is why I left the Pack, Storm growled. To be away from other dogs, where I wouldn’t be watched constantly!
The shadow dog didn’t respond, but Storm knew it was enjoying her outbursts. She started toward it, but somehow by the time she reached the tree where it had been, the dog was gone. Storm turned slowly, and sure enough, the dog was sitting a few trees away, motionless but full of malevolent energy.
Coward, Storm grumbled. Why are you just sitting there? Come and do something! If you hate me so much, come and get me!
Or was Storm going to have to take the fight to it?
She fixed the dog in her sights. She wouldn’t lose it this time! She sprang forward—
Something hard and cold struck Storm above one ear, and she startled awake with a yelp.
Where was she? What was happening? What had she hit her head on?
Oh, that’s right. The cage.
She felt like a fool for trusting the longpaws. They had made the metal box seem so welcoming, full of soft things to sleep on and with a bowl of food and water, and she’d been so warm and sleepy, she had walked in willingly.
Then they had closed the door and locked it.
It was the morning now, the Sun-Dog’s rays streaming through the high strips of clear-stone in the walls. Storm stood up, shaking herself to clear the last of her dream and the dizziness from bumping her head on the metal bars. She trod a circle among the soft hides and coverings, slightly resenting the fact that they had actually been comfortable. She could move a little, but not enough.
The three Leashed Dogs had calmed her initial panic, trotting freely throughout the den to show that the longpaws didn’t capture all dogs and keep them in boxes.
“They’ll let you out in the morning,” Coco had promised, coming right up to the bars with a fearless smile that got on Storm’s nerves. “It’s only so you don’t wander off or break anything. Rex and me, we slept in a box for a while, when we were pups! Buddy did too, when he first arrived.”