by Erin Hunter
She hoped not. Swallowing, she turned and began to pick her way through the scrubby grass, back toward the camp. Perhaps if she hunted somewhere else she’d have better luck; and maybe she’d forget her wild hopes of seeing the elusive Golden Deer in favor of some living, breathing rabbits.
She took a leap over a tussock of grass, only to careen into a smaller dog coming the other way, and knock him flying. “Whisper!”
The little dog scrambled to his paws and shook himself, looking embarrassed. “Don’t worry, Storm.”
“I’m sorry.” She stood still, mortified by her clumsiness. “I was a bit distracted—I didn’t pick up your scent.”
“Honestly, it’s fine.” Whisper raised a hindpaw to scratch a twig out of his ear fur. “I know you didn’t mean it.”
Storm’s skin tingled with irritation. Did Whisper really have to be so nice all the time? “Well, I was clumsy and I’m sorry.”
“All right, Storm,” he said cheerfully. “Are you going back to camp?”
“Ye . . . es . . . I thought I might hunt on the way, but—”
“I’ll come with you.” He turned and trotted at her flank. “What did you think of all that talk last night? It was odd, I thought. I’ve never heard dogs argue about whether the Spirit Dogs exist.”
“Things change. Dogs get new ideas,” she told him a little grumpily. Then she sighed and snapped idly at a branch. “But I think maybe they just needed something to argue about.”
“Oh, do you really think so? I hope the Pack doesn’t fall apart,” he said. “It’s not good to squabble for the sake of it, is it?” He didn’t give her time to answer, she noticed with exasperation. “I mean, Wind-Dogs, Fear-Dogs . . . who cares which ones are real? We should just believe in the Spirits we want to believe in, like Alpha said. Except the Fear-Dog can’t be very powerful, can he? Even if he is real.”
“Well, you never know,” began Storm nervously. They were at the edge of the camp by now—she’d been jogging fast to make the one-sided conversation with Whisper as short as possible—and she didn’t want to set off another argument among the Pack.
“But we do know!” yelped Whisper, bounding over a mossy rock and into the glade. “The Fear-Dog probably isn’t real, and if he is, he can’t do much. He’s feeble, if you ask me!”
“I wish you’d keep your voice down.” Storm glanced at the group of dogs who were watching them with their ears pinned back. Woody had his head cocked, Snap was eyeing Whisper with slight contempt, and Breeze, Rake, and Ruff were staring with their muzzles curled. Even Sunshine, trotting out of Alpha’s den with old bedding in her mouth, looked a little surprised to hear Whisper barking so loudly.
Whisper didn’t seem to notice or care. “I mean, look at the way you got rid of Terror! If the Fear-Dog was meant to be looking after him, he didn’t do a very good job, did he? So much for the all-powerful Fear-Dog!” Whisper’s tongue was lolling, his eyes shining as he gazed at Storm. “I’m glad you beat Terror. You’re stronger than his horrible Fear-Dog!”
Storm could not cross the glade fast enough, and when she fell in with another group of hunters, Whisper was finally forced to drop away. He gave her a last cheerful yelp of farewell, and padded off toward his own den.
Storm’s skin felt hot with embarrassment beneath her fur. I don’t miss Terror, she thought, and I’m glad he’s dead. But I hate remembering what I did.
What I had to do.
She knew one thing for sure: The way Whisper went on about it, eyes shining whenever he mentioned Storm’s heroic act of glorious warfare, was not helping her reputation with the Pack. . . .
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Storm yawned, blinking at the Sun-Dog. He had padded close to the horizon and now he was curling up in his end-of-day red-and-golden glow. Why, she wondered, did the Sun-Dog wait until he was almost asleep before he stretched out and showed his most beautiful colors? The ways of the Spirit Dogs were very mysterious.
She laid her head on her paws and watched as the rest of the Pack gathered around the prey pile. Lucky seemed anxious tonight, pacing back and forth and fussing around Alpha as she plodded heavily from their den to the center of the glade.
“You must be tired, Alpha. Stay in our den. Let me bring you your prey-share there. . . .”
“Certainly not,” barked Alpha irritably. “I’m carrying pups, not the weight of the Earth-Dog. And I’m not on my way to join her, either. I’m perfectly all right, Beta, and I’m not helpless.”
“Of course not, Alpha.” Lucky wagged his tail fondly. “Sorry I—”
He didn’t manage to finish his apology. A wild barking and snarling erupted from the far side of the clearing. Right by Moon’s den! realized Storm with a bolt of dread.
“What’s going on?” snapped Alpha. “What’s this noise about?”
Storm jumped to her paws, her tail stiff and her hackles bristling. A crowd of dogs had gathered at the entrance to Moon’s den, and as Lucky trotted rapidly toward the commotion, Storm fell in at his flank. She stayed close to him as he nosed and shouldered his way through the throng of dogs. Pushing Chase aside, shoving past Dart, he finally broke out to the clear semicircle in front of the den entrance. Storm squeezed through behind him.
Breeze stood there, her head low, shoulders hunched, snarling at Moon. Between them, stuffed beneath a pile of dry leaves and twigs, lay scraps of food: a rabbit’s haunch, two dead voles, a headless squirrel.
Lucky stared at Breeze, then at Moon. “What’s going on?” he barked.
Breeze tipped back her head as if she could no longer contain her howl of fury. “Moon has been stealing prey! Hoarding it!”
Moon? Steal food? “I don’t believe it,” blurted Storm. She felt Lucky nip her shoulder, and she took a quick step away from him, shocked.
“What kind of a Pack dog is she?” yelped Breeze angrily.
Moon bounded a pace closer to Lucky. “I didn’t do this, Beta! You can’t believe I would, surely? I have no idea how that prey got there!”
Her protest was howled down by a volley of barks and snarls from the watching dogs.
“Typical!” barked Woody. “It’s Alpha’s Pack again, thinking the rules don’t apply to them.”
Chase growled. “Where’s the honor in hoarding prey?”
“Letting the rest of the Pack go hungry!” added Ruff in a high howl.
Storm’s gut churned in anger at the unfairness of it. “No!” she barked, unable to contain herself. “You can’t say that about Alpha’s Pack! We are honorable dogs and we would never do such a thing. And that includes Moon!”
“Every dog calm down,” growled Lucky, with a particularly sharp look at Storm.
“What is going on?” The press of dogs gave way as Alpha stalked through them, her ears pricked.
“Don’t worry, Alpha.” Lucky nuzzled the swift-dog’s shoulder. “I’ll handle this. I don’t want you being put under any stress.”
Alpha, Storm was sure, rolled her eyes. Ignoring Lucky, she glared at Moon. “Explain yourself,” she growled.
Moon swallowed, then clenched her jaws determinedly and shot angry glances around Twitch’s former Packmates. “Alpha, I promise you. I have no idea how this food came to be here. Why would I do something so stupid, never mind shameful?”
“I’m certainly willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, Moon.” Alpha’s eyes were hard. “So tell me: Who did it? Can you point a paw at the culprit?”
Storm pricked her ears forward, eagerly waiting for Moon’s response.
Moon licked her jaws, then opened them to speak. She shut them again with a snap. At last she averted her angry eyes from Alpha’s.
“No, Alpha. I have no idea who could have done this: just that it wasn’t me.”
“Did you see anything suspicious? Any dog behaving oddly around your den?”
Moon shook her head. “I saw nothing,” she growled. “Whoever it was, they were too clever for me.” She glared at Ruff’s smug face, then at Rake.
<
br /> Storm’s gut clenched. The way she’s looking at them . . . does Moon suspect they’re responsible? Storm glanced in horror at Ruff and Rake. Surely they would never do such a thing . . . and yet some dog did. . . .
“So you can’t accuse any other dog, Moon?” Alpha lowered her head to stare keenly at the proud white-and-black dog.
“I can’t accuse any dog, no,” snarled Moon. “Because I don’t know who it was, and I don’t want to fling false accusations. That would only make more trouble.” She stiffened her shoulders, and drew herself up to sweep her gaze around at all the watching dogs—but most of all, Twitch’s former Pack. “But I vow to the Spirit Dogs, Alpha, that I will find out. And that dog will know my vengeance, and—”
“Be quiet.” Alpha’s voice was low and silky, and it silenced Moon immediately. “If you can’t explain how the prey came to be here, then you must take responsibility. You know what that means, Moon. You leave me no choice.”
Moon’s angry defiance had melted into misery as her Alpha spoke. Her head drooped, and her tail clung to her haunches. “Yes, Alpha,” she growled. “I must be punished for something I did not do.”
Storm’s jaw felt slack. Staring at Alpha and Moon in disbelief, she thought: This can’t be happening. Moon’s innocent, but she’s going to accept the punishment anyway!
If such an injustice was inflicted on her, Storm knew, she’d never cower to the ground and take it. She’d show her fury with teeth and claws, and every dog would know never to dare do such a thing again. Yet Moon is ducking her tail to this.
With a stirring of faint hope, she glanced toward Alpha. She won’t punish Moon—she can’t!
Alpha shook her head slowly. Her slim face was impassive, Storm realized, aghast. I don’t know if Sweet believes any of this or not, but if Moon can’t prove her innocence . . .
With Alpha’s next calm words, Storm’s fears were realized. “For this crime you’ll eat last today, Moon. Even Omega will fill her belly before you do. And you will continue to eat last until I tell you to reclaim your place.”
“She shouldn’t eat at all,” said Breeze in a low, resentful snarl.
“That’s enough,” snapped Alpha. “She will eat last of all the Pack, and, starting tomorrow, Moon, you will take High Watch. I expect to see you on the cliffs before Sun-Dog rises, and you will watch through the day and night for longpaws and for loudbirds, especially any that come from the direction of the Endless Lake. You will remain there until I am sure you have learned to respect Pack Law. Make sure you are vigilant, and you will repay the Pack the debt of honor you owe us.”
Shocked speechless, Storm turned to Lucky, but he shifted his gaze to the ground. Avoid my eyes if you like, Beta, she thought grimly, but I know you’re as unhappy about this as I am! High Watch would be terrible for Moon; the cliffs were swept by constant fierce winds, and if it rained, she’d be battered and soaked.
Storm wanted to bark her outrage and disbelief, but Alpha was already turning away to stalk back to her den. The mob of dogs parted before her, quieted by her silent fury, and Lucky padded after her.
Try as she might, Storm could not shake her anger at the injustice of Moon’s punishment, and when the Pack gathered to share their prey, it only stoked her feelings. The other dogs were calm at last, almost nonchalant—presumably, she thought sourly, because they felt Alpha had properly dealt with Moon and the stolen food. Storm, though, could barely eat; her appetite was crushed, her mouth felt dry, and the prey tasted bitter. She’d rather have given her whole portion to Moon—yet she was almost as furious with Moon as she was with Alpha and the rest of the Pack. How can she take this so passively?
Surreptitiously, Storm eyed the rest of the Pack. Who could possibly have stolen food and framed Moon for it? Which dog would want to? She searched their faces desperately for any sign of guilt or remorse, yet all she could see was a Pack riven by confusion and distrust. Some of Twitch’s old Pack glared at Moon with distaste; some even shook their heads in disgust. The old members of Sweet’s Pack looked more distressed than angry, as if they were actually entertaining the idea that their old friend might be guilty. Storm’s hackles shivered.
The trouble, she realized dismally, was that she had no idea who might have framed Moon—because there were too many candidates. Small rivalries, niggling enmities, and discontentment had been brewing since the Packs united, and though it might all have been sternly repressed by Alpha and Lucky, it had had the chance to grow unseen. Beneath the surface of their daily lives the problems had grown like tiny shoots into thick, twisted roots, and now they threatened to undermine the life of the whole Pack.
Was there a dog who was intentionally feeding all this anger? Some dog must have meant to stir up more distrust by hiding the prey in Moon’s den.
That has to be what it is, Storm thought with a sickening bolt of realization. There’s a schemer in the camp—some dog happy to create conflict, to get other dogs into trouble. How can we ever thrive and be happy with a traitor among us?
The small squirrel she had eaten felt like a lump of stone in her stomach. With her head on her paws, she lay watching her Packmates as they took their turns choosing prey from the pile. The heap was diminishing steadily, and Storm feared there would be almost nothing left by the time Moon’s turn came around. Twitch’s former comrades, in particular, seemed to take pleasure tonight in gulping down large portions. Still, there was a rabbit haunch left when they’d finished, and a small mouse. Perhaps Moon’s portion wouldn’t be so small after all.
“Omega.” Alpha’s tail thumped on the ground as her gaze fell on the little white dog. “You may eat.”
Sunshine’s round black eyes widened as she licked her lips and padded nervously forward. She can’t have had the chance to eat this much since she was with her longpaws, thought Storm, with a pang of pity for the little Omega. She at least deserves to eat well tonight. That’s one good thing in all of this.
Sunshine, though, seemed nervous and hesitant. She pawed the mouse, and tore a small bite from it. Gulping it down, she took one more mouthful, then stepped back, her tail wagging slowly.
“That was good,” she whined. “I’m full now, Alpha. Thank you.”
Alpha stiffened slightly, raising herself up on her forepaws. “Omega!”
“Really, I’m—”
“Do not lie to me, Omega. I am your Alpha.” There was a severe glint in the swift-dog’s eyes. “Pack rules are Pack rules, and Moon has broken them. Do not do the same yourself. You will eat your fill, Omega, or you will be punished too.”
Sunshine shifted from one paw to the other, whimpering sadly under her breath, but no dog spoke up to defend her. At last she whined softly, “But Alpha, I’m only a little dog. So I only need a little food. And I’m used to not eating much. Moon shouldn’t be weak, for the Pack’s sake, so letting her go hungry doesn’t make sense, and—”
“That is enough,” barked Alpha, lifting her slender head to glare at Sunshine. The little dog cowered, shivering. “Bad dogs must be punished; Alphas are to be obeyed. That is Pack Law! Unless you want to go without food altogether, Omega, you will stop arguing with me, and you will eat your fill!”
For a long, horrible heartbeat, there was silence in the glade. Then, still quivering, Sunshine crept forward to the prey pile again. She took the last rabbit-haunch in her jaws and began to chew and gulp.
To Storm, it was clear poor Sunshine was having to force the meat down, and her gut twisted with pity. There was no doubt Sunshine was hungry, and this would be the first time in many journeys of the Moon-Dog that the little Omega had had a full belly. But she wasn’t able to enjoy it. Eating the food that should have been Moon’s looked like it was only making her utterly miserable.
When Sunshine had finally choked down the last possible mouthful, all that was left for Moon was a little more than half a mouse. The spark of annoyance in Storm’s belly was warming into pure rage. When every dog had stretched, yawned and padded off to his d
en, she continued to lie on the edge of the clearing, seething.
This is hopeless! She scraped impatiently at the ground with her foreclaws. I can’t just sulk here all night, but I won’t sleep till I’ve confronted them.
Hauling herself onto her paws, she paced determinedly over the damp grass toward Lucky and Alpha’s den. But before she reached the overhanging branches that sheltered the entrance, she saw Lucky’s shape emerge from the shadows, starlight gleaming on his golden fur. Storm halted, and waited for him, her ears laid flat against her skull.
“What is it, Storm?” he sighed as he padded up to face her. “I could smell how upset you are from all the way across the clearing, but Alpha needs her rest. Can we talk privately?”
Storm took a breath, then grunted in agreement. “All right, Beta.”
“Good. Follow me.” Lucky turned and slunk between the trees, his tail low.
Storm followed as he led her to a small rocky dip between two clusters of pines by the freshwater pond. Lucky turned to her and sat on his haunches, still and grave, and waited.
“Lucky,” Storm said at last, glaring at the pines behind him, “I’m sorry, I really am. I don’t want to cause trouble, and I don’t want to disturb Alpha just now, but—I can’t help it. This whole business is unfair, and it’s not right. Moon’s innocent! Why can’t you and Alpha see that?”
Lucky watched her for a long moment. He tilted his head thoughtfully, and his tail tapped the ground. Finally he gave a heavy sigh.
“Storm, I know she’s innocent.”
She couldn’t help gasping, and her eyes widened. “You know?”
“Of course I do,” he told her irritably, “and so does Alpha. At least, we’re as sure as we can be without any evidence. Moon’s better than that.”
Storm felt as if he’d butted her hard in the belly. “So, why did you—”
The sound in Lucky’s throat was half whine, half growl, and all frustration. “Because rules are rules, Storm, and Pack Law is Pack Law! Surely you can see that? The food was by her den, and where’s the evidence against any other dog?”