A Pack Divided

by Erin Hunter

  “Then we’ll do that.” Sweet held her head high with pleasure as she turned to summon the Pack. “All dogs, to me! It’s time to share the good fortune the Forest-Dog and the Wind-Dogs have provided.”

  As the Pack gathered, Storm licked and nibbled at her paws, loosening the sand that had stuck between the pads. One by one, as always, the dogs stepped up under Alpha’s benevolent gaze to choose their prey; it wasn’t the biggest feast they’d ever been able to share, but thanks to the extra hunting patrol there was enough to fill their bellies. At least, Storm mused, there were no arguments tonight about the rankings, or the order in which dogs ate—but something nagged at her, something that felt quite wrong. At last she realized: Of course it felt odd to share prey without Lucky’s presence.

  When it was over, and all the dogs had eaten their fill, she laid her head on her paws and sighed, glancing up at the stars. Sky-Dogs, look after Lucky and Snap. Don’t let them go running off the edge of any cliffs. Because I wouldn’t be surprised if they keep too much of an eye on the Golden Deer, and not nearly enough on where they’re going. . . .

  The Pack was settling in to sleep, one after another, padding off to their dens or simply curling up on patches of softer ground in the balmy New-Leaf night. Twisting her head, Storm caught sight of Whisper. He lay not half a rabbit-chase away, his eyes riveted on her.

  Oh no. Her gut sank. How long is this going to go on?

  With a sigh, Storm got to her paws. She didn’t want to sleep out here, but nor did she want to go to her den. Whisper would be bound to track her either way—and if she was going to walk in her sleep again, she didn’t want the annoying dog to be a witness to her weakness.

  I’ll do exactly what I’ve been telling dogs I do, all along. I’ll go for a walk.

  It didn’t seem like a bad option at all. The dark sky was beautiful, the breeze gentle, and the scents of the forest were all around her; there was no sense of danger in the night. And, Storm realized, if she walked long enough to tire herself out, when she got back she might actually stay put in her sleep for once.

  Hesitating just outside camp, Storm looked toward the forest, and then up to the cliff top. Moon was still on High Watch there, serving out her punishment for something she hadn’t done. Irritation nibbled at Storm’s gut again, but she didn’t want to spoil such a lovely night with thoughts of betrayal within the Pack. The least she could do, anyway, was climb up to the ridge and visit with Moon. The Farm Dog would probably appreciate the company.

  Storm could feel the wind strengthening even through the dense tree thickets as she bounded up the steep slope. There was definitely more of an edge to the breeze up here, despite it being New Leaf, and once again she felt sorry for Moon, banished to this lonely spot. As the ground leveled out Storm picked up her pace, and she broke into a loose-limbed run as she reached the top of the cliff. It’s good to stretch my legs properly, now that we have that overcautious new hunting strategy. . . .

  She skidded to a surprised halt as she caught sight of Moon’s pale shape. There was another dog with her, and both were sitting gazing out over the gleaming blackness of the Endless Lake. Storm trotted up to them, seeing with surprise that Breeze was the second dog. Storm’s ears pricked up at the sight: surely it was a good sign that a dog from Twitch’s Pack was so friendly with Moon.

  “Hello, Moon. Hello, Breeze! Can’t you sleep either?”

  “Not really,” barked Breeze softly as Moon licked Storm in greeting. “I’m worried about Snap and Beta. Dogs shouldn’t wander off on night hunts, you know. Especially with only two of them. It’s a bit rash, don’t you think?”

  “Now, Breeze.” Moon nuzzled her companion’s shoulder, then turned to Storm. “I’ve already told her, Storm, there’s nothing to worry about. Beta and Snap will be just fine. They have each other, and they’re both smart dogs. They’re a little overexcited about the Golden Deer, that’s all.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” Breeze sighed, then turned to look down at the shoreline once more. Far below them the Endless Lake was calm, its white-edged waves small and gentle as they rushed and whispered ceaselessly against the sand. “I suppose I should go to my den and get some sleep.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Moon told her. “By the time you wake at sunup, I’m sure Snap will be curled up beside you. Don’t worry.”

  “All right.” Breeze yawned luxuriously, stretched her forelegs, then padded back toward the slope that led to the camp. “Don’t you take too long either, Storm,” she called over her shoulder. “There’ll be more hard hunting tomorrow, and you must be tired.”

  Storm and Moon watched the brown dog make her way down the rough path till she was out of sight. Moon sighed. “Don’t let Breeze’s worries get to you, Storm. Snap and Lucky will both be fine.”

  “I know.” Storm gave her an affectionate lick.

  It surprised her, Storm realized, how fond she’d grown of Moon. At first the Farm Dog hadn’t liked Storm at all, and had made her feel unwelcome in the Pack, especially when Storm and her brothers clashed with Moon’s own pups; but that was when Lucky and Mickey had first brought home the three Fierce Dog pups. They’d been the first Fierce Dogs the Pack had ever met without being attacked, and it hadn’t been easy for any dog to adjust to their presence. Even later, when Storm was growing up awkward and unaware of her own strength, Moon had often been riled.

  Storm had been wary of Moon, too, but now she couldn’t think why she ever had been. Moon could be snappy and ferocious, but that was usually in defense of Thorn and Beetle. And ever since Storm had helped save Moon’s mate Fiery from the bad longpaws—even though Fiery hadn’t made it in the end—Moon had been far warmer toward her. Acceptance, and maybe even friendship, from the sharp-tongued dog meant more to Storm than she could put into words.

  “By the way, Storm,” growled Moon into the companionable silence, “I want you to know something. I don’t think for an instant that you had anything to do with that fox-pup.”

  Storm felt a rush of warm gratitude. “Thanks for saying so, Moon. For what it’s worth, I know you didn’t either.”

  “No,” said Moon slowly. “I couldn’t have done such a thing. I hate foxes, you know that. But to kill a little one, in cold blood? I’d be doing what they did to me, and how would that make me any better than them?”

  “I know,” said Storm, butting Moon’s neck gently.

  Moon gave another sigh and lay down with her head on her paws. “I hope Alpha and Beta’s pups will be safe and happy. I’d hate it if anything were to happen to them. It’s something no Mother- or Father-Dog should ever have to go through.”

  “I’m sure Beta and Alpha will take care of them,” Storm reassured her. “Protect them with their lives, in fact.” She huffed a laugh. “Beta’s already so overprotective, and they haven’t even been born yet!”

  Moon chuckled. “Fiery was just the same. I was hardly allowed to set paw outside the den, in case I tripped over a twig.” Her expression grew wistful. “I’m so happy for Alpha and Beta, but I can’t help feeling sad when I remember Fuzz and Fiery. Fuzz was so very tiny when he was killed.”

  “And you still miss Fiery, of course.” Storm stared out at the Endless Lake, feeling a little awkward. She’d been fond of Fiery, and she’d admired him, but Moon’s obvious emotion was unsettling. Perhaps she could steer the conversation onto happier times for the pair. . . . “How did you two meet?”

  “Oh! You won’t be surprised to hear that he came to my rescue.” Moon laughed softly.

  “Some dog attacked you?”

  “Something did, but not a dog. It wasn’t an enemy any of us could fight. My Pack was attacked by a sickness. Who knows how these things begin?” Moon shook her head. “Some dogs died—the older ones, and the youngest. Even some of the strongest.” Moon’s voice caught, and she swallowed. “My sister, Star, died. And my parent-dogs—our Pack’s Alpha and Beta.”

  “Oh, Moon.” Storm’s heart turned over in her chest. She kn
ew how it felt to lose family. . . . “How terrible.”

  “It was.” Shaking her head, Moon licked her jaws. “I grew sick eventually myself. But Fiery and his Pack, the beginnings of this Pack, were living in the next territory, with the half wolf as their leader. Fiery defied his own Alpha, the half wolf, to help us. He brought plants that helped bring down fever, and he tended to dogs who were too sick even to drink water. He protected us when we were too weak to defend our own territory. He was kind. And brave.”

  Storm pricked her ear curiously. “And Fiery never got sick? The thing didn’t attack him?”

  “No. Fiery thought that perhaps he was impervious to it. He remembered that when he was a very small pup, the Pack he was in was attacked by a similar enemy, the same kind of sickness. And he survived when many dogs didn’t. So he thought that perhaps that enemy could never hurt him.”

  “He was always a strong dog.” Storm gave Moon’s jaw a comforting nuzzle.

  “Yes. But you know, he told me later that he used to worry about it. About surviving when so many of his Pack died. When he was young, he was afraid he’d somehow betrayed his Pack, and that the invisible thing had left him alone because of that.”

  “That couldn’t be true!” Storm blinked in surprise.

  “No, of course not. Fiery understood that, once he was a grown dog, but pups worry about things like that, don’t they?” Moon gave her a glance that was slightly knowing. “Some pups worry that there’s something bad inside them, something they can’t help.”

  Storm licked her jaws. That sounds all too familiar. . . .

  “Anyway,” Moon went on, “by the time the sickness passed, I barely had a Pack to lead. I’d become Alpha when my Father-Dog died, but I’d lost all my love for leadership by then. Fiery pleaded with the half wolf to let those of us who were left join his Pack. Without Fiery, the half wolf would never have taken us in. He’d already kept his distance till the invisible enemy had gone. The half wolf didn’t want sickness in his own Pack, and that was understandable.”

  “And it sounds very like him,” muttered Storm, remembering their ruthless former Alpha.

  “Yes, but it did make sense. He made the right decision for his own Pack, but Fiery had sympathy for mine. He saved many dogs, Storm, including me. Fiery hunted prey for us when no other dog could do it. He found water for us. He even did Omega jobs, like clearing out bedding that smelled bad. If it hadn’t been for Fiery, I think we would all have died.” Moon sighed sadly. “That’s when I fell in love with him. He was so very brave, and he cared so much.”

  “Brave dogs are good dogs,” said Storm, to buy time as her mind picked over the implications of the story. “And caring dogs too.” But why in the name of the Earth-Dog do brave and caring dogs have to take mates? Can’t they just look after every dog in a Pack? A permanent mate takes up so much of a dog’s time and attention! She shook her head, mystified. And as for pups . . .

  She couldn’t bite back the question. “Moon, why do dogs take mates at all?”

  Moon gave her a surprised glance. “Don’t you know?”

  “Well, I know a bit,” muttered Storm. “I mean, Packs need pups, don’t they? And I suppose some dogs in a Pack must be good at all that fuss and bother of raising them. But spending all your time with just one dog—doesn’t it get boring?”

  She nibbled the side of her mouth, afraid that she’d offended Moon, but the Farm Dog’s reaction wasn’t at all what she’d expected. Moon gave a sudden, barking laugh.

  “Oh, Storm! You’re so young, but you’ll find out.” Moon gave her a fond sweep of her tongue. “It’s true that some dogs don’t take mates. And the ones that do, don’t always stick to one mate their whole lives. And there are even dogs who don’t want pups, or can’t have them. But sometimes there’s only one possible mate for a dog. You know as soon as your gazes meet, or as soon as you catch his scent, that he’s the dog you are meant to be with. It might take a lifetime, but you’ll know. And no other dog will do for you after that.” Her eyes grew distant and sad again. “I know I’ll never have another mate now that Fiery’s gone.”

  “I don’t see why not,” said Storm awkwardly. “You might. You don’t know that. Some dog might appear and . . .” She shook herself vigorously. “Anyway, that’s not how I’m going to live my life. It’s not the way for me, I’m afraid. I mean, I’m not afraid. It’s what I want. To be my own dog.”

  Moon gave her a thoughtful look, one that held a trace of amusement, and Storm fidgeted and averted her eyes.

  “Don’t plan out your life too carefully, Storm,” said Moon gently. “You never know what might come along to change your path.”

  “I think a dog should know what she wants, though,” said Storm. “And I’m very sure of my path. But thank you, Moon.” She nuzzled the Farm Dog’s ear, suddenly embarrassed. “I didn’t . . . I mean, I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings. Saying what I did about mates?”

  “Of course not.” Moon wore that amused expression again, the one that unsettled Storm. “Why don’t you go back to camp now, and get some sleep? You must be tired. And Breeze was right, you’ll be out hunting again tomorrow.”

  Yes, thought Storm, and I think I’m actually tired enough now to sleep properly. “I’ll do that, I think. Good night, Moon.”

  As she turned away, her eye was caught by a movement, a flash of light far out on the Endless Lake. She hesitated, staring, and Moon rose to stand beside her and follow her gaze.

  “That’s not the Light House.” Storm furrowed the skin above her eyes, and twitched her whiskers. “It can’t move. Can it?”

  There were lights on a dark shape, and they seemed to be moving across the surface of the water. One red light blinked at the tail of the creature, one hovered above it like an eye, and there were irregular yellow lights on its flanks.

  Storm had never seen anything like it. “Can that thing really be moving on the Endless Lake? Why doesn’t it sink under the water?”

  Moon shook her head slowly. “I don’t know,” she murmured, “but I think it might be a floatcage. A longpaw’s creature, like a loudcage, but one that travels on the water.”

  “Like a loudbird travels through the air?” mused Storm. “I suppose it makes a kind of sense.”

  “I’ve seen small floatcages before, on the river,” Moon told her. “Much smaller, with longpaw pups riding on them. But look at that one! If it’s a floatcage, it’s a very big one. See how far out on the lake it is?”

  Together they watched in awe as the floatcage drifted on, following the line of the coast. It moved slowly, but always in the same direction, never coming closer to the shore.

  “I don’t like its eyes,” said Storm after a while, shivering at the constant glow of the lights on its body. “It looks as if it’s watching us.”

  “It’s moving away, though,” Moon observed. “It’ll be out of sight soon. And I must say, I’ll be glad.”

  Storm gave a huge shudder, trying to release the tension in her hide. At once she was overwhelmed by a yawn. “I really do need to go back to my den,” she said apologetically. “Will you be all right out here?”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’m getting used to it. It’s quite peaceful up here, in a way.” Moon stretched, and sat up. “And I’m wide awake now. I’ll watch for more floatcages. If those creatures are going to be a threat to my pups and the Pack, I don’t want to let them out of my sight.”

  Snarling, Storm snapped her jaws at her enemies, but her fangs closed on thin air. It was like biting shadow, or dark water. Nothing was there for her to seize. She couldn’t wound a shadow, or take hold of its scruff and fling it to the ground. Yet as she twisted, growling, to face another attacker, she felt vicious shadow-teeth bite into her flank, like shards of ice.

  It wasn’t a fair fight. She couldn’t harm the shadow-dogs, but they could hurt her!

  She spun to try to drive the dog away, but instantly another one lunged, throwing itself bodily onto her back. Storm writhed, snap
ping, but there was no shifting it—the shadow clung to her with claws that dug down to her bones. Its weight was forcing her to the ground—how could a ghost weigh so heavily on her? It was impossible to move. Down, down she sank, the shadow spreading over her, its teeth in her neck and its claws in her sides. The shadow was sinking through her! Darkness, seeping down through fur and skin and muscle until it reached her bones. The sensation was unbearable, something between an itch, a tickle, and sheer pain; yet she had to bear it, because she could do nothing to stop it. What was the point of this? What were they doing to her?

  And she realized, with a bolt like icy fire to her brain:

  They’re driving the cold to my heart!

  She could feel the dark frost inside her chest, oozing closer to her innermost core. Her heart thumped wildly at her rib cage, but it couldn’t escape, and neither could she. The shadows were forcing it down with monstrous paws, filling her with the darkness—

  Terrified, she rolled over, kicking frantically. She had to throw off this shadow! Impossible as it seemed, she had to dislodge it from her, get rid of it, kill it, no matter what. Because if she didn’t—

  Storm blinked open her eyes. Her heart was still thrashing wildly, her hackles erect, but she was on her paws, shaking uncontrollably, her tongue hanging out as she gasped and panted for breath.

  Of course. I’m outside camp. Again.

  And farther than ever from her den, she realized with a wrench of horror. Her muscles ached and she could swear she felt the scratches and bites and wounds on her hide. It’s as if I really have been fighting another dog, she thought.

  The images and sensations were fading fast, though, and she shook her fur to get rid of them faster. Maybe I shouldn’t do that, though. Maybe I should try to remember.

  Who had she been fighting? She couldn’t picture that shadowy dog at all, though she felt the physical memory of its assault. All Storm could remember was that dark outline, the ghostly strength and agility of it.