by Erin Hunter
“But . . .” Storm licked her chops nervously. “But you know some dog put it there, just to get her into trouble.”
“Which dog, Storm? Moon was the only dog implicated.” He gave a sigh of impatience. “If Sweet—if Alpha overlooked this, if she went easy on Moon because she knows her better, how would that look to the others? It would just prove those dogs right who say that she favors her original Pack. The dogs of Twitch’s Pack would be furious, and how would that benefit Pack unity? Things would be even worse than they are now.” Dryly he added, “And that’s bad enough.”
Storm whined softly. “It just doesn’t seem fair, Lucky. To punish a dog you know has done nothing.”
“We don’t have a choice, Storm. You know that, if you’d cool your hot head and think about it. As a matter of fact, Alpha and I were talking about this just before you tried to barge in.” He gave her a rueful tilt of his head. “She hates doing this to Moon as much as I do. As much as you hate it. But she has to be a fair and consistent Alpha—and more than that, she has to prove that she is. What happens tomorrow, if one of Twitch’s Pack does something bad and earns a punishment? Will they think that should be overlooked too? Or if Alpha does punish that dog anyway, will they think she’s only doing it because he’s one of Twitch’s dogs? We can’t start making distinctions between the Packs, Storm. That would end in disaster. And haven’t we all seen more than enough disaster?”
Storm met Lucky’s eyes. They were gazing directly into hers now, brown and clear, but as she tilted her head and looked closer, she knew he wasn’t telling her the truth. Not the whole truth, anyway.
She licked her jaws. “All of that is words, Lucky. Just words. You’re quoting Pack Law at me, but you don’t really believe it. There’s something else on your mind.” She focused hard on his open, honest-seeming eyes, and Lucky took a breath and looked away.
“All right,” he grunted. “There is something else. I’ll tell you, Storm, but it goes no further.”
“Of course.” She barked out the words, annoyed that he felt he had to say that. “What is it, Lucky?”
“This whole thing . . . Moon being framed for something she didn’t do. It bothers me even more than it bothers you, and do you know why?” He hunched his shoulders miserably. “Because it’s something I’ve done myself.”
Storm widened her eyes, surprised. “You’ve . . . gotten a dog into trouble? An innocent dog? I don’t believe that.”
“But I did. You never met Mulch, but he was a dog of the old Pack, and he always hated me. I didn’t much like him, either.” Lucky huffed a mirthless laugh. “Whine—that nasty little Omega before Sunshine—wanted a promotion, and he wasn’t capable of earning it himself. He knew something about me, something terrible, and he forced me to frame Mulch so that Mulch would be demoted. If it had been any other dog . . .” He sighed. “Oh, I confess I’d probably have done it anyway. The fact that it was my enemy made it a little less difficult, that was all. But yes, I stole prey and made sure that Mulch was blamed for it. It was deliberate and cruel, and I lied to my Alpha.”
“The last Alpha?” Storm was shocked. “The half wolf? How did you dare?”
“Yes, that Alpha. And I was terrified, but I had no choice. I needed to protect the Leashed Dogs, and I didn’t want to die, killed by Alpha for being a spy . . . so I had Mulch severely punished instead. And he was innocent, Storm, as innocent as Moon undoubtedly is. So, yes, this situation bothers me far more than I’d like. To think another dog would be as conniving and dishonest as I was . . .”
Lucky raised his head, and she saw that his face was full of deep shame.
Storm lashed her jaws with her tongue. She had no idea what to say. The story was dreadful; no wonder her Beta wasn’t proud of himself. Indeed, she thought as her head whirled, she couldn’t even imagine Lucky doing such a thing. He’d done exactly what some dog had just done to Moon; yet now he’d gone along with the punishment meted out to the equally innocent Moon. Storm shook her head violently, unable to reconcile his story with the brave and kind Lucky she knew. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed her jaws again with a snap. There’s nothing I can say to this.
Lucky gave a low whine, hanging his head as if some invisible giantfur paw was crushing it down. “I don’t blame you for being disappointed in me, Storm. I’m disappointed in myself, every day.” Storm cleared her throat and jerked up her head. “I didn’t know Mulch, Lucky, you’re right. But I do know you. You’ve just told me you had to do this, you didn’t have a choice. And I believe that! You wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t been forced to. I know that as surely as I know the Sun-Dog will run across the sky tomorrow.”
“It’s true,” said Lucky, “but that doesn’t excuse what I did. Nothing excuses it.”
“I think it does,” she insisted passionately. I won’t believe Lucky could do something so terrible of his own free will. I refuse to believe it! “You had no choice, but whoever did that to Moon? They had a choice. They weren’t forced to do this to her, they did it because they wanted to!”
Lucky gave an exhausted nod. “I think that’s true, too. But Alpha and I had no option about punishing her. This Pack’s been through so much, just to come together. We don’t want it to fall apart now.”
“I understand.” Storm had to say it through gritted jaws, but it was true. She did understand. Her Alpha and Beta could not have done anything else.
“Go back to your den, Storm.” Lucky sounded weary and defeated. “Get some sleep; I’m sure you need it. And so do I, believe me.”
As she trod after him, back into the camp, Storm’s mind was in turmoil, as if rabbits were running around inside her skull. She could see everything from Lucky’s point of view: the terrible decision he’d had to support today, and the awful thing he’d had to do to Mulch, just to survive and to protect his friends.
But it didn’t help. Her gut still churned with a desperate, frustrated anger, and the long talk with her Beta had done nothing to calm her.
Her tiredness must have gone deep, Storm realized as she blinked her eyes open to beams of light from the Sun-Dog. Her limbs still ached with it as she staggered to her paws, blinking. She felt as if she’d slept for only the briefest of moments.
Stretching, she eased her way into the clearing. Alpha was padding in a determined circle around the perimeter, her elegant head hanging down and her ears drooping. But though she looked exhausted, Alpha marched on doggedly, one paw after another.
“Alpha.” Storm trotted to her side. “Is everything all right?”
The swift-dog looked distracted. “Just making sure my legs don’t get stiff. These days I seem to spend so much of my time lying down,” she complained. “And I need to stay strong, for my pups as well as for the Pack. I have to be as fit as I can be, just in case . . .”
Just in case what? wondered Storm, but at that moment her attention was drawn by a slight commotion on the sunup edge of the glade. Moon was stalking out of the camp, her head held high with dignity as she passed among the dogs of Twitch’s Pack. She was heading, Storm realized with an aching heart, for the cliffs and her High Watch.
Ignoring the growls and mockery of Twitch’s Pack, Moon paced on, her focus fixed straight ahead. Even when Chase snapped at her tail and barked a laugh, she didn’t react. After a heartbeat or two, she leaped up a small outcrop, walked around a shoulder of rock and disappeared from sight.
Ears pinned back, Storm gave a low whine. “Alpha, did you really have to put Moon on High Watch? Those dogs are loving her humiliation.”
“It’s not just a punishment,” Alpha told her calmly. “It’s the only way to keep the Pack safe and united. I thought Beta explained this to you.”
“He did, but I feel so sorry for her. She didn’t steal that food!”
“But the evidence says she did. And unless she is removed from the Pack for a while, the dogs who believe it would grow angrier and angrier. It would split the Pack. Quarrels would become fights, and fights mi
ght become all-out war. We don’t want another Storm of Dogs right here in our own Pack, do we?”
“No,” admitted Storm with a heavy sigh.
“Besides,” added Alpha in a kindlier tone, “I do want Moon to keep an eye on the longpaw town. From high up she can see any movement there, and I do not want our Pack to be taken by surprise again. If longpaws come our way, I want to know about it—and as soon as possible. Now, you must have duties, Storm. And I will go on walking for a while.”
It was a gentle but firm dismissal, and Storm hung back as Alpha paced on.
I still hate that Moon’s being punished for something she didn’t do.
All the same, it was clear that Alpha and Lucky had thought very carefully about what they were doing. This was no rash sentence the swift-dog was handing out; she was doing what was best for the Pack, even if Moon had to suffer. Their former half-wolf Alpha would have punished Moon far more harshly—swiftly and without a thought—and the idea of justice would never have crossed his cold mind.
At least Sweet is a more thoughtful and even-pawed Alpha than he ever was. . . .
It wasn’t a completely comforting thought, but it was a little reassuring. Storm tried to hold on to it as she turned to seek out the other hunt-dogs.
CHAPTER TWELVE
A terrible menace lurked in the gray gloom, and Storm was lost.
The fog was like a living creature, snaking thickly around the trees, oozing into her mouth and nostrils so that she dreaded every breath. Storm could see nothing beyond it, and the horror of what might be hidden made her heart beat cold and slow in her chest. Because there was something there, she knew it. She could no longer tell which direction was sunup, and every tree in the forest was an identical, malevolent monster. She would never find her way home, never.
With the smothering fog around her, she couldn’t even smell the beasts that waited among the trees. She knew what they were, though: Fierce Dogs. She could see their shadows looming close, keeping pace. The shape of one was outlined for a moment against the wall of gray; it stopped dead, turning its head toward her. Glowing red eyes pierced the fog, like the bright claws of some Spirit Dog.
And the eyes were coming closer now . . . closer . . . yet the body remained a shadow. As the monster lunged forward, Storm gave a howl of horror and fled.
There was no running from it. More pairs of red glittering eyes blinked open in the gloom, all of them fixed on her. The shadow-dogs’ barks and howls echoed and rebounded through the trees as they hunted her down, and however fast she ran, she could not escape them. Were they ahead of her, or behind?
Both?
She swerved to the side, skidding and stumbling and racing on, and slammed into something immoveable. The breath was knocked from her lungs as she crashed to the cold earth—
“Storm . . . Storm . . .”
The sinister voice was calling her name. It knew her, it wanted her, it had her trapped and helpless. Tendrils of fog drifted away as a vast shadow loomed above her, drawing closer. And Storm gave a shrieking whine of terror as she saw its face—
“Storm! STORM!”
The bark snapped her abruptly into wakefulness. Storm reeled on her paws, dizzy and disoriented, but though her paws slithered under her, she didn’t fall. The face of the Fierce Dog who stood over her wasn’t obscured by fog; it was clear, and concerned, and his eyes were brown, not a glaring, violent red.
“Arrow,” she gasped.
He stood among trees that weren’t monstrous at all. Pale light from the Sun-Dog’s rays gilded their trunks, and their leaves rustled as the Wind-Dogs romped playfully with the Forest-Dog.
“Storm, are you all right?” Arrow ducked his head a little, to make her meet his eyes. “I saw you wandering out of camp.”
She shook her whole body, trying to rid herself of the last traces of the dream. “I’m fine, Arrow. Fine. I shouldn’t have gone for a walk, I was tired already. I guess I fell asleep out here.” She began to shoulder her way past him.
He stepped sideways, blocking her way. “That’s not true, Storm. When I saw you walk out of the clearing, it was like you were asleep already. You nearly stepped on Chase! And when you got to the trees, you kept bumping into them.”
“I was just—tired, I—”
“You were walking in your sleep, Storm.” His gruff voice was anxious. “How long has this been happening?”
Storm’s legs felt suddenly too weak to hold her. Slumping against the closest tree trunk, she closed her eyes and tried to breathe deeply.
“I don’t know,” she muttered. “Since the Storm of Dogs, I think? Since I battled Blade. But the truth is, Arrow, I really have no idea. I could have been doing it my whole life and I might just never have known.”
Arrow cocked one ear, twisted his muzzle thoughtfully, then padded over to sit on his haunches beside her. “Why does this wandering bother you, Storm? Lots of dogs do odd things in their sleep; I’ve seen sleeping dogs chase rabbits. Their legs race, yet they’re still lying flat on the ground! Are you worried there’s something wrong with you? That you’re strange and different?”
“I am not different!” But she was too tired for her snap to carry any true defiance.
“Listen, if that’s what you’re worried about, you’re not alone.”
She slanted her eyes at him. “What does that mean? Have you had dreams that made you lose control?”
Arrow hunched his sleek shoulders. “No,” he said, “but I know how it feels to be a stranger-dog within a Pack. I know how it feels to be a Fierce Dog among . . . well, non-Fierce Dogs. When I saw Ripper’s body in that longpaw town . . . it just came home to my own den, how different I am.”
Storm felt confused. “You liked Ripper a lot?” She tried to imagine Arrow and Ripper in a fond, loving relationship, but it was too weird a concept. What use would Fierce Dogs have for such nonsense, anyway?
“No,” admitted Arrow. “To be honest, I didn’t like Ripper much at all. I won’t miss her, but when I saw her lying there, dead . . . Oh, I can’t put my paw on it. She was just lying there, half of her gone to the Earth-Dog already, and the rest on the way. She wasn’t a Fierce Dog, she was a Nothing Dog. She didn’t exist anymore, she wasn’t a danger, she was gone altogether.”
“Uh,” mumbled Storm. “That happens to all dogs in the end. It’s how Earth-Dog and the Sky-Dogs have arranged the world.”
“Maybe, but I was born in the Dog-Garden and brought up in Blade’s Pack. I was always told Fierce Dogs were invincible, that nothing and no dog could harm us. We were the commanders of everything around us. It doesn’t matter if Ripper was bad, or even if she was good and I never knew it. None of that matters in the end. It all finished with her lifeless on the edge of that hardstone.” He shook his head in bewilderment. “A Fierce Dog, dead and helpless. That was hard for me to see. Harder to believe.”
Storm swallowed, studying him. She’d never heard Arrow say so much, and she’d certainly never known that such deep thoughts occupied his head. “Why are you telling me this?”
He sighed. “I don’t know. Because you look so unhappy? I want to make sure you know you’re not strange, or odd, or even wrong somehow.”
“We are different. You can’t deny that, Arrow.”
“Yes, in some ways.” Arrow’s ears twitched forward, and his voice softened. “But no dog in this Pack will ever understand what it means to be a Fierce Dog. To have all this strength and power, and yet have to hold it down, all the time! That control needs another kind of strength, doesn’t it? If the others knew what a struggle you face, and how well you succeed, they’d respect you a lot more.”
Storm blinked in surprise. “Thanks, Arrow.”
A surge of gratitude warmed her rib cage. She wouldn’t admit it to Arrow, but it did feel good to know she had an ally who understood her, just a little. It made more of a difference than she’d thought, having another Fierce Dog in the Pack. Maybe he was more family than she’d realized.
A
rrow scratched his ear with a hindclaw, then rose to his four paws. “Let’s keep all this between us, shall we? I don’t want any other dog to know how I felt when I saw Ripper.”
“Of course.” Storm nodded solemnly. “I understand.”
“Good. If they think it upset me, they might assume I’m still loyal to Blade. And how stupid is that? I made my choice; I turned my back on Blade’s Pack. And even if I hadn’t, I can’t be loyal to a dead dog.” He shrugged. “I’ll see you back at camp, Storm. Don’t be long, and don’t do any more walking—you’ll need all your energy for hunting!”
With that he trotted off into the trees, a sleek black-and-tan shadow. Storm watched him go, a little bemused. Why didn’t he stay to walk back with me?
She sighed. She supposed he couldn’t help being a bit of a loner within their Pack. Setting off back toward the camp herself, she picked over her dream again in her head.
Maybe I should tell Lucky the truth. Tell him the details of these dreams, and how they make me walk in my sleep. He was a Lone Dog, and he’s met many dogs on his travels. He might have met one with the same problem as me. He might know what to do. . . .
Wrapped in her thoughts, she was absent-mindedly following Arrow’s scent back to the glade, so when it veered off into the forest, it took Storm a moment to realize she was going astray. Surprised, she halted.
Storm sniffed the still air. Should she follow him, or go back alone to the clearing? Doubtfully, she took a few more steps in his trail, and that was when she heard the voices.
Arrow’s gruff tone was instantly recognizable. Storm cocked an ear, uncertain. He was talking to another dog, then; but this one was unmistakably female.
A sudden bark of laughter from Arrow made her jump. Then he murmured more words she couldn’t hear, and the unseen female dog made a reply filled with amusement.
Hairs prickled on the back of Storm’s neck, and her blood ran cold. What are Arrow and this dog up to? Why would they meet in secret? Are they plotting against the Pack?