A Pack Divided (19 page)

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, snapping, 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.

“Storm, is that you?” Lucky's anxious bark shook her out of her awful reverie. “Are you all right?”

“Lucky!” Storm gasped, and swung around to peer into the forest. She could make out the shapes of Beta and Snap pacing toward her, on their way back to the camp. Trying not to let her legs shake, she walked forward to meet them.

“Storm, is everything all right at the camp?” Lucky stared at her very intently.

“Yes. Yes, it's fine.” Storm lashed her tail, and peered again at the two dogs. They were empty-pawed, that was immediately obvious. “You didn't catch the Golden Deer, then? Did you lose the scent after all?”

“On the contrary, we followed the scent all the way back here.” Lucky had to be exhausted, but there was still a gleam of wild
excitement in his eyes. “The Wind-Dogs have led us in a dance, Storm—in a wide circle all around the camp.” He eyed her more closely, and there was concern in his voice as he said, meaningfully, “Couldn't you sleep, Storm?”

She knew what he was trying to ask her:
Did you walk in your sleep again?
She glanced nervously at Snap, but the chase-dog didn't seem to have noticed anything odd in Lucky's line of questioning. Snap was watching them both with only casual interest.

“I . . . no, I couldn't sleep, not really,” Storm blustered. “I think I was too excited, thinking about you two chasing the Golden Deer.”

“I see.” Lucky nodded, but there was a lingering worry in his expression.

Storm sat down, to rest her paws and also to conceal the trembling of her limbs. “You say the trail led back here?” she asked curiously.

“Yes. Strange, isn't it?” Snap lifted her nose, as if eager to find the scent again.

“So . . . you're still hunting it?” Storm got back to her paws, suddenly excited by the possible distraction.

“Oh yes,” said Lucky, his tongue lolling happily. “We're not giving up on the Golden Deer now, not when we've come so close.”

“I'll come with you,” she told them. Her tail was wagging all by itself now, and her nerves buzzed with the thrill of the chase. Her aches and exhaustion fell away like water on a river-rabbit's fur. “I can smell it too!”

Lucky gave a low bark of agreement. “Good, Storm! If you can't sleep”— he gave her another pointed look—“there's nothing better than a nighttime hunt to take your mind off it.”

Storm turned and followed Lucky as he bounded forward through the trees. Her head was suddenly clear, and her muscles felt as fresh as if she'd slept the night away.

We're going to hunt the Golden Deer!

Storm's long legs ate up the
ground, her paws pounding fast and steadily. It felt so good to be racing at Lucky's side, to be joining him in this mad, wonderful hunt, Snap just a few paces behind them. Beneath her paw pads, forest litter and dry leaves became soft yielding meadow grass, and then sand, and then shelves of hard rock, but still the dogs ran. The scent of the Golden Deer was stronger than ever in her nostrils, making her light-headed with hope and excitement.

Once or twice the dogs' pawsteps faltered, as the trail seemed to dissipate and drift into nothing. But at a bark from Lucky they would sprint on.

“Don't you see it? The Golden Deer. There!”

They had been running for so long without finding anything that Storm was sure Lucky was imagining the creature; perhaps it
was wishful thinking on her Beta's part. As they reached the crest of a ridge, though, she blinked and sucked in a breath.

The three dogs were gazing out over a broad plain that sloped down gently toward the Endless Lake. The sky was paling to a misty blue now as the Sun-Dog stretched and rose from his nighttime den; claws of pale golden light breached the distant horizon. Below them lay a long stretch of green grass, and right in the middle of it stood a gleaming figure.

Storm's jaw hung loose, and her heart stumbled in her chest. The creature seemed to be made of golden light, but the shape of a deer was perfectly clear. It was poised to run, yet it was gazing back intently at the dogs.

Almost as if it wants to be chased
, thought Storm. Her mouth felt dry with anticipation.

“I was beginning to think you'd imagined it,” she whispered to Lucky.

He gave a bark of joy, and sprang down the slope. Elegantly, the Golden Deer turned and leaped, swift and sure, into the race.

Lucky and Snap had been hunting through the night, for far longer than Storm had, and despite her dream-walk she was pulling ahead of her two companions as the Sun-Dog's shining face rose over the horizon. Ahead of her the deer still galloped,
burnished like coppery Red-Leaf foliage, but Storm hesitated, glancing over her shoulder. Lucky and Snap were falling back, exhausted, and they were beginning to limp as they ran.

I can't go on chasing the deer without Lucky . . . this is his dream.
With the greatest reluctance, Storm trotted to a halt, and waited for her companions to catch up.

Lucky was panting hard. “I don't think we're going to catch it tonight.” There was aching regret in his voice.

“No,” agreed Snap, her head hanging low with weariness. “But see where it's led us? We've been chasing it in a circle around our camp, all night.” She nodded toward the first belt of trees that bordered the forest. The early light of the Sun-Dog made the green of them glow.

Storm licked her jaws thoughtfully. “Yes. We've been just beyond our home territory the whole time. Why would the deer behave like that?”

Lucky's ears were pricked high, despite his tiredness. “I think that's encouraging,” he told them. “It's not the behavior of a normal deer, is it? A regular deer would just bolt. I think it's more proof—if we ever needed it—that we've found the Golden Deer.”

“I don't care anymore,” panted Snap, with a roll of her eyes. “I just want it to
stop
, so we can catch the thing.”

“So we're not giving up?” Storm glanced from Snap to Lucky.

“Oh, no.” Lucky grinned, and Snap nodded her agreement. “I feel as if I could hunt this deer till the Sun-Dog goes back to his den.”

Storm hesitated. Her Beta looked tired, but there was no dimming of the fire in his eyes. “I'll tell you what I've noticed,” she said slowly. “The wind has been at our backs all night. It doesn't matter which direction we've run, the wind has been with us. And yet we've been running in a circle! Do you think the Wind-Dogs are helping us?” Her tongue lolled with enthusiasm. “Because I think so. I think they want us to catch the Golden Deer, because they favor our Pack. I think they want us to have it—for your pups, Lucky!”

Lucky gazed thoughtfully after the deer, narrowing his eyes against the glare of the rising Sun-Dog. “I think you're right, Storm. Destiny and the Spirit Dogs are on our side.”

“There it goes again!” Snap seemed to forget instantly about her aching limbs and lungs. She bounded toward a smear of gold on the very farthest edge of the grassy meadow. Lucky and Storm sprang after her.

With her breath back, Storm could register her surroundings, and find her bearings more exactly.
The Deer has led us almost as far as
the longpaw town
, she realized.
But it can't want to go there. . . .

And sure enough, the shimmering figure turned again, racing toward the Endless Lake. The dogs put on speed, filled with a new determination.

We're closing in on it
, thought Storm, her heart leaping in her chest.
We might actually catch the Golden Deer!

She barely noticed where she was going anymore; she was conscious only of Snap ahead of her and Lucky at her side, their muscles rippling and their fur flying in the wind of their own speed. As they crested a grassy dune, though, all three dogs came to a slithering standstill.

Down on the hard sand, the Deer was closer than ever. Storm could make out its dark shining eyes as it turned its head to watch its pursuers. It wasn't gasping for breath, and its flanks didn't heave. There wasn't a single streak of sweat on its glowing pelt.

This is no normal deer.
The absolute, final certainty sent a ghostly thrill through Storm's bones.

“Wind-Dogs,” Lucky murmured. He lifted his head and closed his eyes. “Help me run like the wind itself across the sand. Help me catch your Golden Deer!”

The sudden shift in the wind direction was shocking. For a fleeting heartbeat, Storm thought the Wind-Dogs had answered
Lucky's prayer; then she realized the breeze was gusting in their faces. It had taken on a new chill, and it blew grains of sand into their eyes and ears. Lucky shuddered, and took a step back, looking stunned.

And then they heard the sounds that the breeze carried.

Our camp
, realized Storm with a chill.
The wind is blowing from the glade!

And the sound it brings . . . that's the howling of dogs. Dogs crying out in grief . . .

“That's Sweet's voice!” yelped Lucky, twisting where he stood.

“It can't be.” Snap's bark was full of bewilderment. “We're too far away.”

“The wind's carrying it,” gasped Storm.

“We have to go back!” barked Lucky. “I have to get back to Sweet!”

“Yes.” Snap sprang into a run just as Lucky and Storm did. “We have to return to the camp!”

The Golden Deer forgotten, the three dogs ran, full of new and fearful energy. Storm was so driven by urgency she no longer felt her aching muscles, or the pain in her lungs. All she knew was that they had to get back to their Pack.

When the Pack is in danger, Spirit Deer can wait.

Alpha's howls were clearer and stronger than ever as they burst through the trees. Storm recognized more voices, too: Chase and Bruno, Breeze and Dart, Mickey and Thorn and Beetle. The high yelping yips of Sunshine and Daisy were instantly identifiable, and were filled with horror. The noise of baying dogs rebounded from pine trunks, seeming to come from all directions at once. It beat against Storm's eardrums, giving her legs fresh strength even as she leaped fallen logs and dead stumps.
We're coming, Packmates. We're coming. . . .

The camp was still some distance away, though, when Lucky skidded to a halt, so abruptly that Storm crashed against his rump. Snap stumbled and stopped at their side. A swamping tide of relief was Storm's first reaction; it must have been even more overwhelming for Lucky.

Alpha stood in a small forest clearing, head tipped back, howling; but she looked unharmed, and her flanks were still rounded with pups. The other Pack members were gathered around her, their voices raised to the Sky-Dogs in grief.

Lucky shouldered through the ranks, Storm right behind him. As he came to an abrupt halt, she trotted on a pace, then two. Then one more.

Halting, Storm stared at the ground in disbelief. The body of a dog, already cold, lay like a carelessly discarded soft-hide on the forest litter. The smell of death snaked into her nostrils, and an ancient memory flared inside her skull, unwelcome:
The hollow curve of a motionless flank. Bristly hair on a dog's neck, stiff and dark with blood. Punctured holes, ragged and torn at the edges.

No.
Storm shuddered violently. This was not the Dog-Garden, and she was no pup anymore. This body was small and gray, torn with savage bites. Its throat had been ripped out.

For a moment she didn't recognize the corpse, but perhaps that was only because she didn't want to. Storm's head swam, and a twist of nausea wrenched her gut.

Whisper.

She thought her legs might give way under her. The howls of her Packmates were deafening now, throbbing painfully in her head.

What happened? Oh, Whisper. You didn't deserve this.

Her mind flailed. Was this the revenge of the foxes, or had some other creature murdered Whisper?
The culprit could still be close by!

But . . . those are not fox bites.
As Storm took a shaky pace closer
to the corpse, the recognition clawed at her innards.
Close by? No, worse. The enemy could be right here among us.

Because she knew one thing, with sickening certainty, as she stared at Whisper's cold, torn, and broken body:

Those wounds were made by a dog.