by Erin Hunter
DEDICATION
For Noah Alexander
PACK LIST
WILD PACK (IN ORDER OF RANK)
ALPHA:
small swift-dog with short gray fur (also known as Sweet)
HUNTERS:
SNAP—small female with tan-and-white fur
LUCKY—gold-and-white thick-furred male
BRUNO—large thick-furred brown male Fight Dog with a hard face
BELLA—gold-and-white thick-furred female
MICKEY—sleek black-and-white Farm Dog
STORM—brown-and-tan female Fierce Dog
PATROL DOGS:
MOON—black-and-white female Farm Dog
DART—lean brown-and-white female chase-dog
MARTHA—giant thick-furred black female with a broad head
DAISY—small white-furred female with a brown tail
WHINE—small, black, oddly shaped dog with tiny ears and a wrinkled face
BEETLE—black-and-white shaggy-furred male (pup of Fiery and Moon)
THORN—black shaggy-furred female (pup of Fiery and Moon)
OMEGA:
small female with long white fur (also known as Sunshine)
FIERCE DOGS (IN ORDER OF RANK)
ALPHA:
sleek black-and-brown female with a white fang-shaped mark below her ear (also known as Blade)
BETA:
huge black-and-tan male (also known as Mace)
DAGGER—brown-and-tan male with a stubby face
PISTOL—black-and-tan female
BRUTE—black-and-tan male
RIPPER—black-and-tan female
REVOLVER—black-and-tan male
AXE—large black-and-brown male
SCYTHE—large black-and-tan female
BLUDGEON—massive black-and-tan male
MUSKET—black-and-brown male
CANNON—brown-and-tan female
LANCE—black-and-tan male
ARROW—young black-and-tan male
BULLET—smaller black-and-brown male
FANG—brown-and-tan male
OMEGA:
half wolf with gray-and-white fur and yellow eyes
TWITCH’S PACK
ALPHA:
tan chase-dog with black patches and three legs (also known as Twitch)
BETA:
small, wiry-furred black male (also known as Splash)
CHASE—small ginger-furred female
WHISPER—skinny gray male
RAKE—scrawny male with wiry fur and a scarred muzzle
WOODY—stocky brown male
BREEZE—small brown female with large ears and short fur
OMEGA:
small black female (also known as Ruff)
CONTENTS
Dedication
Pack List
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Back Ad
About the Author
Books by Erin Hunter
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
PROLOGUE
Lucky awoke with a start, springing to his paws. Fear prickled along his back and gathered hotly in his throat. He felt dizzy with the urge to run, but there was nowhere to go. His eyes darted to the metal bars that blocked his way.
The smell of other dogs rose on the air with their terrified yips and whimpers. Lucky shook his fur in confusion. He knew this place. . . .
The Trap House!
How had he found himself back in here? He twisted toward the next cage, sniffing urgently for Sweet. He picked up her friendly, comforting scent, his whiskers trembling.
“Sweet? Sweet, something’s on its way. Something bad.”
“Yes, I feel it! What’s happening?” Sweet’s yelp was sharp and panicked.
Lucky threw his forepaws against the wire door, but it wouldn’t budge. Whimpers rose along the wall of cages. It was just like before—they were all trapped.
“Sweet!” he barked. “It must be happening again—the Big Growl! Can you feel it?”
He could hear her shuffling, squeezing against the metal wall that separated them. “But it’s over, Lucky,” she whined. “It already happened. It can’t happen again.”
Despite the dread in her voice, the swift-dog’s words reassured him. Sweet’s right. The Big Growl came and we escaped. We don’t need to worry this time—it’s just a bad memory.
The ground began trembling, and he could hear the crack and hiss of splitting hardstone overhead. The other dogs in the Trap House started howling in panic. Their fear-scent rose in sickening waves.
Lucky barked over the howling dogs. “You’re right, Sweet! It’s happened before, it can’t happen again!” His voice wavered with uncertainty. “Even if it does, we escaped last time—we survived.”
With another crack, a billow of dust tumbled from the ceiling like snow. Lucky blinked furiously, hardly able to see.
“But something feels different this time,” whimpered Sweet.
Lucky’s throat tightened, and his tail shrank against his flank. The swift-dog was right. In all the times he had dreamed about the Big Growl, Lucky had known they would escape. This time—
He didn’t have a chance to finish his thought. The ground began to shake violently and he lost his footing, skidding onto his side with a thump. He heard a shriek of tearing metal and shattering clear-stone. Dogs were howling in terror as the traps started tumbling and smashing against the splitting ground. Through the mist of white dust, Lucky saw one cage drive into another, crushing the dogs inside. He scrambled onto his paws, eyes wide in horror. Then his own cage started shaking and shifting.
“Lucky! Help me!” barked Sweet, her claws scratching against the door to her cage.
He pressed forward at the sound of her voice, poking his paw through the wire mesh at the front of his cage and scrabbling to get out. “I’m coming!” he assured her. But as he worked at the wire, prickles of doubt ran down his back. Part of the Trap House wall should have fallen in by now, knocking Sweet’s cage to the ground and breaking it open, and ripping loose the corner of the wire from Lucky’s cage. That was how they’d escaped. It was different this time. . . .
The ground was shaking harder now, and the sounds of tearing, smashing, and barking was deafening. Lucky’s cage lurched forward with a sharp jerk, and another shove sent it plummeting toward the hardstone floor. It landed upside-down. A searing pain shot along Lucky’s back, and he howled. I thought this was a dream! he told himself. I’m not supposed to feel pain in a dream! Was he wrong? Was this really happening?
Wincing, he clambered to his paws, preparing to escape. Chunks of debris were falling from the ceiling, raining down on the broken cage. Lucky shuffled forward and extended a forepaw, preparing to climb out.
But the door of his cage had not sprung open.
He squinted through the dust and debris till he spotted Sweet. She was furiously kicking her forepaws against the walls of her cage, close to Lucky but divided by walls of mesh and crumbling hardstone. Her dark eyes met his, and she threw back her head and howled. “This isn’t how it happened! We esc
aped the Trap House! We’re supposed to get away!”
“We did get away!” he barked back. “We will survive!” With a huge effort, he threw himself against the door of his cage, working furiously to force it open. He felt it creak beneath his paws with a wave of euphoria. Thank the Sky-Dogs, he uttered silently.
Then the ceiling started rumbling, and Lucky shrank back in confusion. The walls were shaking dangerously—the cage shuddered like a leaf in the wind. The air was pierced with the screech of tearing hardstone, and Lucky’s whole world collapsed.
CHAPTER ONE
Lucky’s eyes snapped open, and a terrified whine escaped his throat. He caught his breath, his ears pricking up. Gone were the crashes and howls of the Trap House.
It was a dream . . . and we did survive!
He breathed deeply, relief coursing through his limbs. The night air was silent and cool. From the mouth of the den he could see an icy breeze stirring the leafless branches of the trees that dotted the territory. He saw the grassy slope near the top of the cliffs, the place where he and the rescue party had found the Pack after their failed mission to save their friend, Fiery. Sweet had decided that they would stay there, despite the dangers they faced—they had expended too much energy in their endless hunt for safer territories.
Lucky turned to look at Sweet, the Pack’s Alpha and his new mate. The swift-dog was curled against Lucky’s side, her warm body soothing against his fur as her chest rose and fell in sleep. Her cream muzzle twitched and relaxed, and she snored gently. Lucky felt his whiskers prickle with a familiar sense of affection. He licked her nose very gently. Sweet snuffled, but she didn’t wake up.
Rising to his paws and stretching, Lucky peered about their den, a sort of cave built of hedges and ivy. It was the best den in the territory, once claimed by their half-wolf previous Alpha. He shuddered as he thought of the half wolf. That traitor! Siding with Blade and the Fierce Dogs . . .
Lucky trod out of the den onto frosty grass that crunched beneath his paws. The trees and the incline of the land blocked the worst of the wind that bounded over the Endless Lake. Still, its icy touch ruffled Lucky’s fur, and he shivered. The sky was a thick, dark pelt, with tiny glinting stars like watchful eyes. Lucky picked his way between his sleeping Packmates, who were hunkered down between shrubs. Not all of them had wanted to stay in this territory upon the cliffs, so close to the deserted longpaw town below where the Fierce Dogs had made their lair. Sweet had been resolute: They could make hunting trips over the hills while prey was sparse, but the Pack was staying put. Constantly wandering would tire out every dog. They needed a base, a territory to defend—a camp to call home.
No dog had challenged her authority.
Lucky had wanted to stay too . . . but he had other reasons for believing that they had to make a stand.
As Lucky crept between the dogs, his eyes rested on Storm. Her sleeping body twitched with tension and her top lip sprang up, revealing a long white fang. Muscles clenched beneath her fur—even in sleep, she looked ferocious. Lucky paused, his ears twisting back, wondering what she was dreaming about to make her so tense. It couldn’t be the Big Growl—she hadn’t even been alive when it had happened.
A low snarl escaped Storm’s lips, and Lucky shifted uneasily from paw to paw. Was she reliving her brutal fight with her litter-brother Fang? Nearly a full journey of the Moon-Dog had passed since the fight, and Storm’s ugly purple scars had almost healed. The Fierce Dogs’ Trial of Rage demanded that one dog kill the other, but they had both survived—Storm had proven her maturity and self-control, sparing her brother despite his frenzied attack. Remembering the young dog’s loyalty and resilience, Lucky’s chest swelled with pride.
With a sudden jerk, Storm sprang onto her paws, her eyes wide open, her gaze darting back and forth in the darkness as though she expected an enemy to be there. Then they rested on Lucky and she sat back down, her tail wagging gently.
He padded toward her and touched her nose with his. “How are you feeling?”
Storm flexed her forepaw. “Much better. Look! It doesn’t hurt anymore when I put weight on it!” She demonstrated, trotting a circle around Lucky.
Lucky inspected her face. The scratches around her muzzle had healed well, but the missing scrap of her left ear would never grow back. He glanced at the dogs sleeping nearby. “Let’s step away from the den.”
The young Fierce Dog nodded and followed him to the first of the low trees that led to the pond. “What are you doing up before the Sun-Dog?” she asked.
Lucky sighed. Telling Storm about his dreams would only alarm her. “As the Ice Wind deepens, the Sun-Dog sleeps longer. But we dogs don’t have such a luxury.” He turned his head away and sniffed the air, trying to hide it from Storm—he thought he could smell the sharp scent of snow.
“The longer we sleep, the more vulnerable we are to attack,” Storm agreed. She paused, tilting her dark head. “But perhaps the prey-creatures are also sleeping longer. Maybe we can have an easy hunt!”
Lucky wagged his tail encouragingly. “We can try.” He felt the need to be out there, searching between the trees and tracking the territory to the cliffs. The Patrol Dogs kept watch over their territory both night and day, and there’d been no sign of their enemies since the battle between Storm and Fang. But Lucky knew the Wild Dogs couldn’t rest. While Blade and the attack-dogs were out there, his Pack would always be in danger.
The Sun-Dog was flexing his whiskers above the horizon when Storm appeared at Lucky’s side. She dropped a large, plump bird, its pale, tawny feathers tipped with gray, by the one that Lucky had already caught. The birds’ necks were long and black and their faces were black too, except for thick white marks beneath their beaks. Over the past days, Lucky had seen giant Packs of these birds soaring overhead, flying across the Endless Lake. They all appeared from the same direction, each Pack following their own Alphas.
How do they all know where to go? Lucky wondered, not for the first time. Could the birds sense things that dogs could not, like the direction of warm skies? Did they follow the Sun-Dog to lands where he never fell asleep and it was always bright?
Several of the birds had gathered on the rocks near the cliffs. That was how Lucky and Storm had made their kills—high in the sky, the birds were graceful and fast, but on the rocks they shuffled awkwardly.
Lucky and Storm picked up the prey-creatures and made their way back to the camp. The other dogs were awake, stretching in the low light of sunup while Daisy, who had watched over the Pack as they slept, napped in the Patrol Dogs’ den. She lifted her head and the other dogs yipped excitedly as Lucky and Storm approached.
Beetle ran loops around the returning dogs, licking his chops. He was joined by his litter-sister, Thorn, who bounded up to the birds and sniffed them uncertainly.
“What are they?” She prodded one with an outstretched paw. “I’ve never seen such a long neck!”
Beetle’s eyes widened, and he paused. “Only Lucky could catch such strange creatures!” he yelped, awestruck. “The Spirit Dogs are on your side!”
Lucky wasn’t sure what sort of birds they were, but before he could answer, Moon padded next to her pups. “They’re geese,” she commented with a wry twitch of her pointed black ears.
Knowing the creatures’ name did nothing to dampen Beetle’s enthusiasm. “Lucky, do you think your Father-Dog could have been a Spirit Dog?” he barked.
Sweet emerged from the den and met Lucky’s eye, her head cocked in amusement.
She’s laughing at me—at Beetle’s hero worship.
“No,” Lucky said quickly, embarrassed. “I’m sure he wasn’t, Beetle.”
Lucky looked back at the pup. He was a little smaller than his litter-sister. Like their Mother-Dog, Moon, his fur was black and white, but his snout was stubby and his limbs were broad. He’s looking more like Fiery every day. And I guess he’s trying to find someone to replace his Father-Dog.
After the dogs had shared the geese, taking tur
ns by rank from Sweet down to Sunshine, the Pack Omega, some of them gathered for a fight-training session with Storm. The young Fierce Dog demonstrated how to dodge and block blows as the others watched.
“The trick is speed,” she told them. “Your opponent won’t see you coming. Your aim is to get the advantage, push them to the ground, and hold them by the throat.”
Lucky looked to the assembled dogs, nervously gauging their reactions. Mickey and Snap were doing their best to mimic Storm’s forward dip, outstretching their forepaws. Bruno jutted out his paw with a stiff grunt as Bella and Martha took turns practicing the blocking. Even Whine, usually the first to complain about fight-training, was watching with interest. Lucky gave an inward sigh of relief. None of the dogs seemed to mind taking instructions from Storm, regardless of rank.
It’s good for everyone that the rules are more relaxed than they were under the half wolf. Storm has skills that she can share; it would be foolish to let rank get in the way. Working together . . . that’s what a Pack’s all about.
“Daisy, can I demonstrate the move on you?” asked Storm. “It won’t hurt.”
The wiry-furred white dog gave an excited yip of agreement and stood at attention. Storm jabbed at her with fangs exposed. When Daisy moved to block the Fierce Dog, Storm dived down, dodging Daisy’s teeth and seizing the small dog by her neck. For a moment, she pinned Daisy to the ground. Then she sprang back and Daisy rolled onto her paws.
Storm gave her a friendly lick and turned to the others. “Now you try it.”
“It’s harder for me,” whined Thorn. “My muzzle isn’t as big as yours. Even when I’m fully grown, I’ll never be able to close my jaws around another dog’s neck.”