by Erin Hunter
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Special thanks to Gillian Phillip
DEDICATION
For Fergus & Annie Nicol
PACK LIST
WILD PACK (IN ORDER OF RANK)
ALPHA:
female swift-dog with short gray fur (also known as Sweet)
BETA:
gold-and-white thick-furred male (also known as Lucky)
HUNTERS:
SNAP—small female with tan-and-white fur
BRUNO—large thick-furred brown male Fight Dog with a hard face
BELLA—gold-and-white thick-furred female
MICKEY—sleek black-and-white male Farm Dog
STORM—brown-and-tan female Fierce Dog
ARROW—black-and-tan male Fierce Dog
WHISPER—skinny gray male
WOODY—stocky brown male
PATROL DOGS:
MOON—black-and-white female Farm Dog
TWITCH—tan male chase-dog with black patches and three legs
DART—lean brown-and-white female chase-dog
DAISY—small white-furred female with a brown tail
RAKE—scrawny male with wiry fur and a scarred muzzle
BREEZE—small brown female with large ears and short fur
CHASE—small ginger-furred female
BEETLE—black-and-white shaggy-furred male
THORN—black shaggy-furred female
RUFF—small black female
OMEGA:
small female with long white fur (also known as Sunshine)
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
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
Back Ads
About the Author
Books by Erin Hunter
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
PROLOGUE
“What’s wrong with him?” The little pup’s whiskers shivered as she nudged the long grass fearfully with her nose. “I don’t understand. What’s wrong?”
Flinching back as her nerve deserted her, she pressed closer to her two litter-brothers. The other pup, the one who lay in the grass in front of her, didn’t so much as stir. She could make out the hollow curve of his tiny flank through the green blades, but it didn’t rise and fall with his breath. One small ear was visible too, but it didn’t twitch, not even at the tip. She couldn’t see the little pup’s eyes, but some instinct told her she didn’t want to, anyway. She trembled with uncertainty and fear.
One of her litter-brothers, the smaller one, cuddled tighter against her, and she felt the dampness of his wet nose against her ear. “He’s sick, I think. Like Mother-Dog?”
The female pup shivered. Yes, Mother-Dog was sick. She hadn’t been well since that fight they’d heard. Mother-Dog had crept under the house, telling the pups to leave her alone for a little while. That she’d be better soon. But leave me be, pups.
She’d been under the house now for a very long time. Oh, Mother-Dog, the pup thought with an inward whimper. Aren’t you better yet? It’s taking so long . . . and now this pup is sick, and we don’t know what to do. . . .
“Perhaps we should wake the pup now,” her litter-brother piped up. “Take him inside, where it’s warm and safe?”
“I don’t know if he’ll wake up,” she whined unhappily. “He looks so very asleep.”
And there was something else, something she didn’t want to put into words. As her nose twitched and she sniffed hesitantly, she caught it again: that odd tang, the one that made her shudder. It wasn’t a proper dog scent. It wasn’t how a pup should smell, she thought, bewildered. It was like old meat, like what the grown dogs had left behind uneaten.
“You’re both being silly.” Her other litter-brother, the largest of the three of them, sounded stubborn and squeakily gruff as usual, but even he couldn’t hide the tremor in his voice. “We don’t have to do anything. The Pack will be home soon. Alpha will make Mother-Dog better, and she’ll make her own pup better too.”
“Are you sure Alpha is coming back?” asked the smaller male pup hesitantly.
“Of course she is,” the bigger one said with an air of superiority. He nodded toward the motionless little dog. “That’s Alpha’s pup. So she’ll come back. See? Mother-Dogs never leave their pups.”
“Oh.” The littlest pup wagged his tail, hesitantly. “When she makes her pup well, maybe he’ll play with us?”
This time the bigger pup said nothing, and neither did the female. She caught his anxious, uncertain look. That motionless pup didn’t look as if he’d be able to play with them anytime soon.
Gathering her courage, she squirmed forward on her belly through the damp grass. It was nearly all she knew, this sheltering greenness. It had always been her whole world, and the sweet, fresh, familiar scent of it almost masked the pup’s strange odor. She made herself creep closer till her quivering nose almost touched his flank.
She could just make out the bristly hair on the pup’s neck. It looked stiff and dark, as if it had once been wet, and had dried a long time ago. Curious, she blinked. There were punctures, she realized, beneath those rigid prickles of fur. They looked a bit like the marks she and her litter-siblings had left on the soft-hide where they slept: ragged and torn at the edges. Their tiny teeth made those marks, she knew; chewing the hide gave them all comfort. But the marks here looked much bigger than that.
It didn’t make sense. But she couldn’t concentrate on working it out: the hunger that had nipped all day at her belly tightened, suddenly and sickeningly. She gave a low, miserable whimper.
“Don’t worry,” came her bigger litter-brother’s voice again. “Everything will be fine when Alpha comes back.” But he didn’t sound so definite anymore. His voice quavered, as if he didn’t quite believe it himself.
His new uncertainty made her belly twist with pain, and her ribs seemed to tighten around her heart. Throwing back her head, she gave in to a volley of high, yelping howls of fear and heartbreak.
“Mother-Dog is so still! The pup is cold! They won’t move! Why won’t they move?”
“Where’s Alpha?” Her small litter-brother joined his miserable yelps to hers.
“There’s no dog here!” she cried. “The food is gone and the Pack is gone. We’re all alone and they’ve left us! We’re alone!”
Now even her bigger, stronger litter-brother was howling his panicked grief. “They went away and left us, they’ve gone, they’ve all gone . . .”
Their high, frantic yips echoed through the grass and the trees and the sky, but she knew there was no dog in the whole world who would hear them. The awfulness of that thought filled her whole small being, and she could no longer stop her helpless crying.
Suddenly, though, she felt her bigger litter-brother’s nose nudge her flank. “Hush!” he whined in a trembling voice. “Quiet, both of you. Some dogs are coming!”
At once all three fell silent, stiffening with a new, immediate fear. The female pup took gulps of air, trying to calm herself, trying not to whimper anymore. As she licked her soft jaws, she smelled them, too: unfamiliar dogs.
; Strangers, and they were coming this way.
She glanced at each of her litter-brothers, seeing in their eyes the same mixture of hope and terror that she felt.
We’re so alone . . . oh, Mother-Dog . . .
In sudden, desperate panic, the pups scrambled back to their soft-hide bed, climbing over one another in their haste. The soft-hide is safe! thought the female pup, as she wriggled between her litter-brothers’ paws. Nothing can catch us there!
They tumbled into the bed, panting. In its familiar-smelling warmth, they huddled together. She pressed her empty belly tight against the soft-hide, knowing she had to stay down low. She was too afraid to look. She mustn’t make a sound, not a sound. Mustn’t twitch . . .
Maybe they’ll help. Don’t dogs help pups? They always do . . . right?
Something awful, something long lost, trembled in the depths of her memory, and she shut her tiny eyes tight.
Or maybe they’ll kill us. . . .
CHAPTER ONE
Pausing as she stepped out of the forest’s shade, Storm took a moment to stretch her paws and her back, and to claw the ground blissfully in the rays of the morning Sun-Dog. His light shone warm on her sleek fur and, in the rippling grass around her, he kindled rich scents of rabbits, mice, and squirrels. Storm sniffed appreciatively at the soft breeze. There were good prospects for their hunting patrol.
Storm felt full of optimism on this glittering New Leaf day. It was her first chance to be in charge of a hunt, and she was proud that her Pack Beta, Lucky, had shown such faith in her. He always has, she thought gratefully. She owed so much to the golden-furred Beta who had once been a Lone Dog.
She glanced over her shoulder at the team she was leading. Some of the Pack’s best dogs, she thought with pride. Snap, who had long been part of Sweet’s Pack, had always been a fine hunter, and Mickey, despite his Leashed Dog origins, had learned to track down prey with the best of the Wild Dogs. Arrow the Fierce Dog had been one of Blade’s Pack, and his focus, discipline, and deadly accuracy were invaluable assets. And Whisper, who had been one of the mad dog Terror’s underlings . . . well, he was extra keen to please his leaders and prove his worth, now that he wasn’t cowed by Terror’s horrible threats.
They were an unlikely combination, but that was what made Storm happiest. Before her own birth, the Earth-Dog had shaken in the Big Growl. If that had never happened, the Packs represented in her hunting party would never have come together as one. After all, Mickey and Snap had come from very different circumstances—Snap from Sweet’s Pack, which had once been the half wolf’s Pack; and Mickey from his home with longpaws—but that was before the Big Growl had destroyed the city, changed the world, and forced every dog to fend for himself. Now they all worked together despite their differences, all of them bringing their own strengths and skills to their new, united Pack.
Storm had never quite understood why Lucky was always barking back to the Big Growl. Yet now that she had lived through a great battle—the one they called the Storm of Dogs—she saw clearly why the disaster of the Growl meant so much to him. When a dog had lived through such a world-changing shock, it did affect everything: the world beneath her paws, the scents in her nostrils, each sound that reached her pricked ears. Everything held new significance—and not just potential threat and unexpected danger, but fresh possibilities, too.
Prey had been thin and hard to catch throughout the long Ice Wind season, but now buds were popping into life on the trees, small leaves grew thick on the bushes and shrubs, and the meadows were green with new life. Storm was determined that today’s hunt would be swift and successful. “Try that hollow, Storm.” Mickey’s kind voice was in her pricked ear, and it set her fangs instantly on edge. He and Snap had been trying to advise and guide her all morning, when it was Storm herself who needed to make the decisions. Couldn’t Mickey understand that?
“There, see?” the black-and-white Farm Dog went on, oblivious as Storm ground her jaws in frustration. “The hollow beyond the hill.” He nodded in the direction of the far side of the shallow valley, toward a dip in the grassy ground circled by young birch saplings.
“Yes, that might be worth a try,” Storm managed to growl.
“We can surround it easily and drive out the prey,” Mickey went on. “The creek runs close to it, and there’s a rabbit warren there.”
“I know that, Mickey,” said Storm sharply.
Mickey pricked his ears in surprise, then licked his jaws. “Did I say something wrong, Storm?”
“It’s just that—” Noticing the slight hurt on his face, she softened, and gave her old friend a lick. “Sorry, Mickey. I’m just a bit preoccupied.”
He was only trying to be helpful, after all—and Mickey, along with Lucky, had been one of the dogs who had rescued her and her two littermates when they were helpless, abandoned pups. He’d always looked out for her.
But I want to be able to prove myself. If they’ll let me . . .
Snap was the next to trot over and push her narrow snout in. “I’m not sure about those high trees, Storm.” Her head tilted as she stared at the horizon. “Rabbits could duck around them, and we’d be blocked at several points.”
Storm somehow managed to hold on to her temper, though the urge simply to run and hunt was growing unbearable. Her paw pads ached, as if she’d been walking over rough stone, and she wanted to be moving now, not standing still. She could already see distant tawny flashes through the grass. The unwary creatures weren’t alarmed—yet—but the dogs would have to move quickly once they were nearer to the warren.
“I think we can cope with the trees, Snap,” Storm told her in a low voice. “Let’s head toward the hollow, but keep our noses sharp for other prey on the way. We can’t rely on catching enough rabbits for every dog.”
She reminded herself sternly that Snap and Mickey were her seniors in the Pack hierarchy. Though I wish they didn’t treat me as if I’m still that vulnerable pup Mickey and Lucky rescued. She gave a silent inward sigh, then nodded at her patrol.
“I want to plan ahead of time, so that we don’t have to make a sound later. Arrow and Snap, when we’re closer to the warren, you circle around toward the creek. If the rest of us take points between the warren and the wider plain, the rabbits will have nowhere to go. We should manage to take two or three. Stay low, and remember to watch for other prey.” With a nod that Storm hoped showed both respect and quiet authority, she led the patrol carefully toward the line of aspens on the horizon.
All the dogs were alert now, placing their paw pads with care and keeping their bodies low, but Whisper slipped past the others to stalk at Storm’s side. She gave the young dog an inquisitive glance.
“I think this is a brilliant strategy, Storm,” said Whisper, in a low but enthusiastic growl. “You’re a great hunt leader!”
“Thanks, Whisper,” Storm told him, pricking her ears in slight surprise. “I’d really like to lead the hunt more often, so let’s hope this goes well.”
“Oh, I’m sure it will. So what else do you think we’ll find? Maybe a deer!”
Storm gave a huffing sound of amusement, and shook her head briefly. “I doubt we’ll be that lucky, but let’s stay alert.”
“You always do,” said Whisper. There was a light of adoration in the gray dog’s eyes, and Storm looked away, trying to keep her focus on the careful stalk-and-slink of the hunt.
A ripple of unease traveled between her fur and her skin. Whisper had treated her with something close to hero-worship ever since Storm had killed Blade, the Fierce Dogs’ vicious leader, in the great battle last Ice Wind. Storm had had to do it—and she’d been glad to do it, after all that Blade had done to her litter-siblings and to her Packmates—but the days of battle were over. She was a hunter now.
She hoped Whisper wouldn’t always be bringing up the dreadful Storm of Dogs, and Storm’s role in it. They had a new life to look forward to now, and Storm was determined to play her part in making it one of peace and plenty for the Pa
ck. It had taken her so much time and effort to live down her reputation as a savage Fierce Dog, a struggle made far harder by the hostility of their old half-wolf leader, Alpha. She didn’t want to have to go through all of that again.
Storm raised her muzzle to test the wind direction, pausing with one paw lifted.
Forest-Dog, if you’ll listen to me as you listen to Lucky, grant us good New-Leaf prey today!
Her optimism returned as she leaped easily over a small tributary of the stream, enjoying the sleek movement of her muscles and the springiness of the earth beneath her paws. Every sense in her body felt awake after the long, hard Ice Wind, and a slight flash of movement at the corner of her eye sent her twisting in pursuit almost without a thought.
The squirrel shot up the trunk of a tree, panicked, but Storm’s snapping jaws found their target. Crunching down, she felt the brittle bones of its body through the scrawny flesh. Skinny, she thought, even for a squirrel. Ice Wind has been hard for every creature.
Her swift kill, she realized, had served as a signal to the others: the hunters bolted into the chase. Arrow sprinted across a dry streambed, sniffing and searching without luck, but Mickey and Snap began to work together at the foot of a gnarled oak, digging in showers of earth until their paws and muzzles were filthy. Just as Storm bounded to join them, they unearthed a nest of mice. As the tiny creatures skittered in panic, blinded by the light, the two hunters pounced and bit and snapped till they’d created a pile of tiny corpses.
“They’re barely a mouthful each,” said Snap, pawing at them.
“Every mouthful feeds the Pack,” Storm reminded her, pleased. “Well done!”
Her praise, though, seemed to fly straight above Snap’s head. The tan-and-white dog pressed her head to Mickey’s, and for a moment the two successful hunters rested, panting, rubbing their muzzles affectionately together and licking each other’s dirty ears. With a surprised prick of her own ears, Storm took a few paces backward.
Is this really the moment for snuggling up to your mate? she thought with a shiver of puzzled distaste. What a silly waste of time. It’s only a couple of mice, for the Sky-Dogs’ sake.