by Erin Hunter
Turning her rump on them, she snatched up her squirrel and dropped it into the hole Mickey and Snap had dug out at the base of the oak. It was as good a place as any to store their prey till they’d finished their hunt: a deep gap between two thick roots. As she raised her head, a light, warm breeze moved through the trees, bringing with it that tantalizing scent of rabbit. Storm shook off her moment of discomfort. We’re downwind of the prey—this is a good beginning!
Excitement rose in her once again, and she gave a low commanding growl to summon the others. She felt a spark of pride, swelling to a warm glow, when they answered her call at once. The four dogs fell in at her flanks and followed her lead as she prowled forward, closer and closer to the shallow bowl of land.
The rabbits must be hungry after the long cold, Storm realized: they had still not noticed the patrol’s approach. They were too busy browsing and tearing at the new grass with their blunt little teeth. We should be able to cut them off from their burrows, thought Storm, if we all play our part. Her heart beat fast in her rib cage with anticipation.
Lowering her sleek body still closer to the earth, she crept forward, nodding to the others. They were all in place, just as she’d directed them; again she felt that frisson of satisfaction in her leadership. When she finally sprang, hurtling into the hollow, every nerve in her body sang with the joy of hunting, with the certainty of her own speed and strength and skill. She felt her blood racing, the flex and stretch of each muscle as she dived and dodged and leaped in pursuit of the terrified rabbits. It was like pure energy and fire running through her. Is this how Lightning of the Sky-Dogs feels?
And it was working just as it should. White bobtails flickered all around the hollow, and the panicked creatures were scattering straight into the jaws of the waiting hunters. Mickey’s powerful teeth clamped down on one of them, and he shook it violently as another doubled back and fled from him—straight into the jaws of Storm. Panting, Storm flung down its limp corpse, then took a moment to watch as Whisper drove the fattest rabbit of all toward the waiting Arrow.
Arrow was loping along on exactly the right line, and Storm could see he would intercept the fleeing rabbit with ease. So she was stunned to see Whisper’s head flick to the side. Mid-stride, he veered away slightly and herded the rabbit in a different direction, toward Snap.
But Snap wasn’t watching; she was too busy chasing down a dark-furred rabbit of her own. Whisper’s rabbit crossed her field of vision just as she was about to pounce on hers, and Snap’s pace faltered in surprise and confusion.
Arrow was racing furiously after the rabbit now, but the abrupt change of tactics had spoiled his line and his focus. Both rabbits, the dark-furred one and the lighter one Whisper had been driving, bolted straight between Arrow and Snap, and vanished into their burrows with a flash of two white tails.
Storm raced toward them, but she knew she was already too late. Skidding to a halt in a flurry of sandy earth, she stared at the dark burrow entrances, swamped by frustration and anger. Behind her, Arrow and Snap had drawn up too, snapping their drooling, empty jaws.
As Whisper bounded to a faltering, shamed halt between them, Storm turned on him.
“Why did you do that?” she barked furiously. “We lost two good rabbits!” And more, she realized. In the confusion of Whisper’s mangled hunting attempt, several other rabbits had reached the safety of their warren.
“That was the fattest rabbit!” added Arrow in an angry snarl. “Those two would have fed three dogs between them!”
“What were you thinking? Were you thinking at all?” Storm laid her ears back and growled furiously at Whisper.
The dog ducked his head, lowering his forequarters and shuffling forward, his tail clamped down tight. He looked as if he wanted to sink right through the earth and join the rabbits underground.
“I’m sorry, Storm,” he whined miserably, blinking and flattening his ears. “I didn’t mean to . . . I thought . . . I just meant . . .”
Storm gave her head a violent shake. “What? What did you mean?”
“I—” Whisper’s glance flicked quickly toward Arrow, then back to the ground.
“Don’t be hard on him, Storm.” Snap took a pace forward, and nodded at the unhappy Whisper.
Storm turned to her, surprised at the hunt dog’s tolerance. “He spoiled your hunt too, Snap.”
“Look, Storm, it’s obvious.” Snap tilted her head and sat down, curling her tail around her haunches. “Whisper was nervous of Arrow. He doesn’t like hunting with him, and to be honest? I understand why. I don’t blame Whisper.”
Storm stared at Snap’s cool expression, her jaw loose. “What?”
“After all we went through with the Fierce Dogs, it’s hard for us to trust any of them.” Snap hunched her thin shoulders. “I know Arrow’s in our Pack now, but it’s hard to treat him as a true Packmate.”
Not knowing what to say to that, Storm turned to Arrow. His short black fur bristled along his shoulders and spine, and resentment oozed from him, but the Fierce Dog said nothing. He licked his jaws angrily, and looked away. Then he padded across to one of the dead rabbits, picked it up in his powerful jaws and paced in the other direction.
And what do I do now? Snap wasn’t being fair, and this felt so wrong to Storm. Just when I was thinking how good it was that we were united, that members of all Packs were working together.
But if she spoke up for Arrow, Snap would think she was only siding with her fellow Fierce Dog. She might even accuse Storm openly of favoring her own kind, of being Fierce Dog to her core. What might she say aloud—that I’m ruled by my bad blood?
“You all trust me,” she said at last, staring at her Pack-mates. Snap, Mickey, and Whisper looked so resolute, and Storm’s head spun with confusion. “You trust me, and I’m a Fierce Dog too. Just like Arrow!”
Mickey caught Snap’s eye, and Storm saw a look pass between them, one that she couldn’t quite read. Snap’s ear flicked once, dismissively. Then, tentatively, Whisper gave a soft growl.
“You’re not like Arrow,” he mumbled. “You’re different.” He glanced at Snap and Mickey. “Storm’s different, isn’t that right? She killed Blade!”
Storm stared at him, open-jawed. With a crawling sense of horror, she realized that Whisper’s eyes were fixed on her again, worshipful.
She shook herself, dumbfounded. “Let’s gather the prey,” she told them. “What there is of it.” Gazing dismally at the pitiful haul of rabbits, she felt a crushing sense of disappointment. Her hopes had been so high for her first time as hunt leader. “We’ll try another spot before we return to the camp, but we’ll have to go some distance. All the prey around here will have heard us by now.”
“Of course, Storm.” Whisper got quickly to his paws and trotted after her like a devoted pup.
As she led the small patrol farther from the cliffs and the Endless Lake, heading for a far belt of pines, Storm’s stomach squirmed and her fur prickled. She’d begun this hunt with such high hopes and excitement, yet now they were returning with a poor prey-haul—and a bunch of dogs who didn’t, after all, want to work together as her perfect team.
Is that terrible battle the only thing they care about? If I hadn’t killed Blade, would they trust me at all? Or would I be just another Arrow—alone in a Pack that thinks I’m the enemy?
CHAPTER TWO
Hungry as Storm was, the rabbit dangling from her jaws didn’t even tempt her as she led the hunting party back to the camp. Her paw pads hurt, more than she thought they should, and her appetite was dampened by the sinking sense of failure in her gut. The dogs had tried their luck at a few more likely spots, but the rabbit warren in the hollow really had been their best chance, and by the time the Sun-Dog was loping down the sky, they had caught little more: a gopher, a couple of voles, and a skinny rabbit Storm suspected had been ill anyway.
Long shadows lay across the camp by the time they returned, making golden stripes through the trees that glinted on the fres
hwater pond. Storm’s heart lifted a little as she carried her rabbit to the prey pile beneath the two trees in the camp’s center. Bella had taken out another hunting patrol and they’d come home with their own catch—not much better than Storm’s, but together the two patrols had found enough to feed all the dogs. Storm felt a tide of relief; at least her first day leading a hunting patrol wouldn’t end with a hungry, discontented Pack.
Across the glade she could make out the golden shape of Lucky, sprawled with his mate—the Alpha, Sweet—and the white-and-black Farm Dog Moon. The three senior dogs were talking softly, but their conversation couldn’t have been too serious because Lucky rose to his paws as he caught sight of Storm. He stretched lazily, then padded across to greet her, giving her an affectionate lick on the jaw.
“Well done, Storm,” he told her, pricking an ear at the prey pile, where the other members of her party were already dropping their catch. “Your first hunt seems to have gone pretty well.”
The rabbit in her mouth immediately tasted more appealing. “Not bad,” she murmured through its flesh, glancing away a little. “Could have been better.”
“It was a good first hunt for a new leader, take my word for it.” Lucky nuzzled her reassuringly, but she saw that his dark eyes were distant, already drifting back to Alpha. The slender swift-dog was not so lean anymore: her sides were rounded with her and Lucky’s pups, and even as Storm watched, their Alpha shifted position and stretched her hind legs as if she was uncomfortable. Lucky’s gaze was a combination of love, pride, and faint anxiety, and Storm felt a prickle of fondness for him, even as she cocked one ear in bewilderment. Is it really that exciting? I know they’re his first pups, but hunting’s got to be a lot more fun than fatherhood.
He was obviously distracted, so Storm sidled away and padded to the prey pile herself to lay her rabbit on top. The little twist in her stomach was odd. It was right that Lucky should be focused on Alpha now, and on their soon-to-be-born pups. He’d be a wonderful Father-Dog, that was obvious—and Storm knew it from experience. He’d helped to bring her up after he and Mickey had found her and her littermates abandoned, and she’d never stop being grateful for Lucky’s kindness, his bravery in defending her, and his constant good advice.
But she was almost fully grown now. She was an adult dog, or very nearly, and she didn’t depend on Lucky anymore. She shouldn’t, Storm reminded herself.
And it’s not as if Lucky is my real Father-Dog.
Shrugging off her confusion, Storm glanced around for a friendly Packmate to while away the time with before prey-sharing. She was glad to spot Moon’s nearly grown pups Thorn and Beetle, tumbling on the ground in a play-fight. As she padded up to them, Thorn took her teeth out of Beetle’s ear and bounded up to her, yelping a cheerful greeting. “How did your first hunt go, Storm?”
“It was fine,” she said, still a little reluctant to talk about it, and the worries it had stirred inside her about her role in the Pack. Quickly she added, “What about your patrol?”
“All quiet,” barked Thorn, shaking her muscles loose after her tussle with her brother. “Except for a trace of fox, but it wasn’t very new. We’re not too worried.”
“Hah!” Beetle nipped affectionately at her muzzle, then bared his impressive teeth. “No fox had better dare come near this camp, or there’ll be a new fox-hide bed for Alpha and her pups!”
“You’re all jaw,” yapped Thorn. “Any fox you could catch would only have a skin big enough for one milk-pup.”
“Is that so?” With a growl of laughter, Beetle twisted and pounced back on Thorn’s haunches, dragging her down and tumbling her over and over till both dogs were covered in sandy earth and dry leaves. Thorn ended up on top, though, and she grazed her teeth along her litter-brother’s exposed belly.
“See? All talk!”
With a swift and tricky squirm Beetle flipped her over again. “Storm, help me teach my litter-sister some manners!”
Yelping with glee, Storm piled into the play-fight, gnawing and snapping lightly at both pups. All three were soon wrestling and tumbling in a chaotic heap of legs and bodies. Beetle’s paws shoved her down into a pile of leaves, but Storm wriggled free and grabbed his neck in her jaws, sending them both thudding to the ground—with Thorn pouncing on top of them, yapping her triumph.
“Oof!” barked Storm hoarsely. “Why are you two so fat after Ice Wind?” She felt almost giddy with happiness, with the sheer fun of acting like a pup again. Maybe not quite fully grown, then, said a cheerful small voice in her head.
“Fat, eh?” Thorn clamped her jaws around Storm’s. “I’ll—”
“Prey-share!” Alpha’s clear, commanding bark rang out through the glade, and all three young dogs paused in their tussle, ears pricking. “To me, Pack.”
Getting to their paws, Storm, Thorn, and Beetle shook themselves free of earth and leaf scraps and shared a few friendly licks. But Storm noticed both the other youngsters tense as they stared at the spot where the Pack was gathering.
Thorn’s eyes narrowed. “Twitch had better not try to eat before our Mother-Dog,” she growled, and Beetle nodded grimly.
Storm pricked her ears, surprised. The play-fun had gone out of the young dog’s voice entirely. Thorn wasn’t joking.
“I’m sure Twitch wouldn’t do that,” Storm reassured her. “Anyway, what does it matter?”
“Twitch has been getting above himself lately,” rumbled Beetle, with a glare at the three-legged dog. “Our Mother-Dog outranks him, and he’d better not forget it.”
Storm gave a sigh, but kept her jaws shut. Who cares, so long as every dog eats?
With a slight hunch of her shoulders she trotted ahead of Beetle and Thorn to join her Packmates. They were all settling into their circle, lying or sitting with their friends and littermates. Every dog watched with respectful affection as Alpha nosed the prey pile, selecting a modestly sized rabbit and carrying it back to her place.
It was a sparing choice, thought Storm admiringly, for a soon-to-be Mother-Dog. Enough to feed her and her unborn pups, but not too much. She’s a thoughtful leader as well as a strong one.
Lucky was next, as Pack Beta. Like Sweet, he took a reasonable but not greedy portion, choosing a smaller rabbit. When he had settled back at Sweet’s flank, the Alpha nodded to her third-in-command.
“Go ahead, Snap.”
The sleek lead hunter nodded and stepped forward, but Storm couldn’t help but notice the tension that rippled through some of the Pack. Twitch’s former comrades, she realized. There seemed to be an undercurrent running through those dogs, an unseen force she could feel, like the frightening pull of the deepest part of the river. Storm flicked her ears nervously. One of Twitch’s former Pack growled softly, but no dog reacted, and none said a word.
After Snap, the hunters were summoned in strict order of rank. Storm felt proud to be called in the middle of them, and she was careful to follow the example of Sweet and Lucky, selecting a modest half of one of the rabbits she’d caught. She felt even prouder when Mickey, the steadfast Farm Dog, growled to her quietly as she passed him.
“Sensible choice. And well done on your catch, Storm. A good hunt!”
She lifted her head higher as she resumed her place in the circle, her belly comfortably full, her heart light with happiness. It felt good to be respected for more than her part in a violent, bloody battle; to be appreciated for what she could bring to the Pack’s day-to-day existence.
The hunters of Twitch’s Pack ranked below the original hunters of Sweet’s Pack, and Alpha let them wait almost till the end—only Arrow, the lowest-ranked hunter, who had been one of Blade’s Pack, was left to follow them. Woody, Whisper, and Breeze fidgeted and muttered among themselves, looking agitated, and when it was his turn, Woody glanced hesitantly toward Twitch, as if waiting for his former Alpha’s permission to eat. Twitch said nothing, however, and when Sweet prompted Woody again, he stepped up to the prey pile. Whisper looked relieved that the awkward moment had
passed—but Breeze glared sullenly at the dogs of Sweet’s original Pack. A nervous tingle unsettled Storm’s back fur, and she felt a creeping sense of unease.
“Patrol dogs next,” announced Alpha, turning her warm gaze on the dogs who came below the hunters in the Pack hierarchy. “Twitch?”
The buzz of tension instantly intensified, as if Lightning had leaped from the sky and run unseen through every dog. Storm glanced around, alarmed. Moon’s hackles were bristling, though she said nothing; Thorn, on the other hand, gave a single angry yelp. Beetle’s low growl was hostile.
“My Mother-Dog Moon has always led the patrol dogs,” he grumbled.
Beetle, shut up, thought Storm, nervous and angry. What does it matter? Can’t you see there’s enough for every dog? Sweet and Lucky made sure of that!
Twitch took no notice of the tension in the atmosphere, but simply limped up to the prey pile, silent and dignified. Alpha turned her elegant head to stare at Beetle, then at his litter-sister Thorn.
“Your Alpha makes the decisions here,” she said sharply. “Remember the Pack.”
When Twitch finished eating and returned to his place, Moon stepped up. The two dogs did not look at each other.
Storm was relieved when at last the meal was over, when Sunshine the Omega had gulped down the two little mice that were left for her. Sharing the prey had been an unnerving experience tonight. Though every dog had eaten, none seemed satisfied, and each dog shifted and scratched with nervous energy.
Storm got to her paws and turned to Beetle and Thorn, dipping her head slightly and letting her jaw fall open in a friendly grin. “Play-battle some more?”
“I don’t think so.” Thorn’s growl was stiff, and Beetle shook his head and turned away to nibble angrily at his flank.
Rebuffed, Storm paced uncertainly among the small groups of dogs who were curling up to murmur among themselves. None of the conversations seemed very high spirited, and any excitement in the evening had been dampened by the awkward prey-sharing. Ducking her head, Storm glanced surreptitiously at Lucky and Sweet, nestled against each other on the highest patch of ground. They looked as much on edge as any other Pack dog.