Moon's Choice (4 page)

The Sun-Dog was yawning and settling
on the horizon in a blaze of gold as Moon waited for the hunting patrol to return the following day. The beauty of his colors was altogether at odds with her mood. The golden Spirit Dog had traveled a full day's journey since Hunter, Rush, and Meadow had abandoned the Pack.
How could the Sun-Dog let them do this to us?
Sometimes Moon wondered if he even cared about the mortal dogs dashing around on the ground beneath him, struggling to survive in a harsh world.

No, of course he cares,
she told herself firmly.
And we have the help of the other Pack; that counts for so much. My Father-Dog was wise to make a hunting alliance with the half wolf.

She saw that more clearly than ever. After all, her own Pack had now lost every one of its hunt-dogs, whether to sickness, exhaustion or—worst of all—betrayal.

Mulch had fallen ill only yesterday. Snap, Pebble, and Moon
herself were all healthy so far, but all their time and energy went toward tending to the dogs who were sick and helpless.

Moon was sure the half wolf was none too pleased to be propping up an ailing Pack, but so far, their agreement had stood. And that was thanks to Fiery, she realized. He came to their camp every day with fresh prey for the sick dogs. Without his help, Moon knew they wouldn't even have lasted this long.

A twig cracked, and low branches rustled in the line of trees ahead. Eagerly, Moon took a pace forward, hoping to catch her first sight of the returning hunters. If only they'd found good prey today . . .

Her ears twitched and she let out an involuntary growl. Those pawsteps were too light to be the hunting dogs. They were quick and surreptitious, and there seemed to be too many of them. . . .

“Smell dogsies? Sick dogsies!”

“Ohhh, we does, cohort, we does!”

The nasal voices were filled with venom, and Moon's blood ran ice cold in her veins.

Coyotes!

They burst from the trees not two rabbit-chases from her flank: wiry, quick, and savage. For a horrible instant Moon couldn't move; she could only stare in horror, trying to count their
grayish-yellow pelts. How many? Ten, twelve?

Too many!

Coyotes were spiteful and vicious. They preyed on the weak, and there were a
lot
of weak dogs in the camp behind her. The coyotes were piling toward the glade now, a tumbling mass of murderous teeth and claws. Wrinkled muzzles snuffling the air, slobber flying from their hungry jaws, they hurtled straight for the dens where the sick dogs lay.

Moon whipped around and raced to intercept them, flinging herself into the path of the leaders. She stiffened her shoulders and lowered her head, snarling, as they slithered to a halt in front of her.

“Back off! Get away!” She bared her teeth.

“Ha! Ha! No! Dogsie run now, dogsie live!” The first coyote lunged for her throat, and she could only dodge back, snapping wildly with her own jaws.

“Snap!” she barked, gasping in air between each desperate bite. “Pebble! Help!”

She couldn't turn to see her friends come racing from their dens, but she heard their pounding paws and their snarling barks. The two dogs appeared on either side of her, biting and clawing at the coyotes, but Moon's relief was short-lived.
There are only three of
us. We'll never hold them off!

A yellow flash caught the edge of her vision and she twisted, sinking her jaws into a scrawny neck. But as she flung that coyote away, another leaped and bit her shoulder hard. Moon yelped, lashing at it with her claws. Beside her, Snap was thrusting violently at a coyote's belly with her hindlegs as another struggled to hold her down.

Moon's sight was blurred with blood, and her lungs felt like they were on fire. She had never fought like this before. There was no time to catch a good lungful of air, or plan a clever tactic. She could only bite and scratch and snarl, flailing wildly at each new enemy that piled on. Her Father-Dog had rarely led the Pack into battle, and then only when he had no other choice. And, while Moon was accustomed to the dog-on-dog challenges for rank within the Pack, those duels were fought with honor. There was no honor here—only a vicious, mindless struggle to kill or be killed.

The coyote that had wounded her shoulder was back; she saw his yellow eyes just before he sank his fangs into her upper foreleg. Yanking herself clumsily from his jaws, she felt her flesh rip, and the trickle of warm blood; she clamped her own teeth on his spine and tossed him weakly aside, but the damage was done. When she
lunged for him again, her leg faltered under her, and she stumbled, almost crashing to the ground.

If I fall, they'll kill me.

The realization hit her with a cold, sickening certainty. She could make out Pebble, a few tail-lengths away, and the cruel gash in the black dog's side. Blood was gushing from it in frightening quantities. Snap was almost hidden beneath a pile of coyotes, fighting desperately but gradually subsiding under their numbers. Once the three of them were dead, Moon realized, the coyotes would be free to kill every dog in the camp.

My Pack is dying. My Pack is dying!

“You! Coyote
vermin!
”

Gasping, Moon turned. The furious bark came from her Father-Dog's den. Alpha was standing at its entrance, his leg muscles trembling with the effort, but his muzzle was peeled back to show his fangs. For a moment the coyotes paused, glancing up nervously, and one tumbled off Snap's back.

“You want easy prey?” Alpha barked savagely. “Take me!”

“No!” barked Moon in terror, but the coyotes had already turned to fly at him. Alpha spun and ran, plunging weakly away from the den with at least eight of the coyotes snapping at his heels.

He could barely put one paw in front of the other, and as he lurched and stumbled into a gap between two pines, the coyotes were on him. Teeth flashed and claws raked as they dragged him to the ground.

“Father-Dog!” howled Moon. She bolted toward him, but two of the coyotes had held back, and now they barred her way. They lowered their heads threateningly, lashing their tails and growling their hate.

“Silly dogsy, wait!”

“Yes. We kills Daddy first. You waits your turn, heh!”

Furious, Moon flew at them, but they were fast and strong, and not nearly as tired as she was. Bite and scratch as she might, she could not fling them off and get past.
Father-Dog! My Alpha!

Pain seared her ear as coyote teeth ripped it. She felt the weight of one of them thud onto her back, and then the rake of its claws in her side, but she could barely focus. She couldn't tear her eyes away from her Father-Dog, motionless now beneath a turmoil of vicious coyotes. There was blood on the ground beneath him.
So much blood.

And then, quite suddenly, the coyotes were backing away from him, yipping with glee. Alpha did not stir as one of them turned its back and contemptuously kicked soil over his blood-soaked
body. Moon, pressed to the ground with a coyote's teeth in her scruff, could not even bark to her Father-Dog; she could only stare in grief-stricken horror as the pack of brutes turned to trot toward the dens of the sick dogs.

The coyote who held her down wasn't even fighting her anymore, sure that she was securely pinned. She heard its rasping, nasal voice through her own flesh and fur.

“Heh. Dogsy. Youse can watch. Watches first, then dies.”

Moon closed her eyes in despair.
I don't want to see my Pack die.

She flared her nostrils, trying to smell the forest through the stench of blood.
There it is.
There was almost a feeling of peace as she made out the scents of pine needles, blowing branches, skittering prey. The breeze was smoky with a hint of Red Leaf.

A wild yelping rose from the dens where the sick dogs lay.
They can smell the coyotes approaching. I don't want to hear it happen. Focus on the forest. . . .

Moon squeezed her eyes tighter shut. She could smell the rich dark soil, the soil that the Earth-Dog nourished with the bodies of dogs.
It's all right. It's all right. I'll go to the Earth-Dog. I'll see my family.

A new scent drifted into her nostrils, and her breath caught in her throat. Not the Earth-Dog. A mortal dog, one made of flesh and blood—

Fiery!

She blinked her eyes wide open, just in time to see the big dog himself burst through the tree line into the camp. There were two other dogs at his flanks: the black-and-tan chase-dogs who looked so like each other, Twitch and Spring. All three were howling furiously, their teeth bared in deadly rage as they flung themselves at the coyotes.

The coyotes erupted into panic. Moon felt the teeth of her attacker loosen on her neck, just in time for Fiery to grab its head in his huge jaws. He flung the creature aside; it slammed into a trunk and collapsed lifeless to the ground. Fiery didn't wait to make sure it was dead; he turned on the other coyote that tormented Moon, lashing his claws across its face. Moon knew from the spray of blood that he'd blinded it. It took him only moments to finish it off.

“Fiery!” she gasped, clawing her way out from beneath the coyote's broken body. “The others. My Packmates in the dens. They're sick and helpless!”

He gave her cheek one quick, reassuring lick, and then was gone, plunging toward the dens. Moon was too weak and exhausted to lift her head, but she heard the clamor of panicked coyotes, the squeals and howls as they died, the enraged growls of
Fiery and the barking of Twitch and Spring as they followed him and tore into the attackers.

She saw two coyotes flee, limping, into the forest, but she couldn't chase them. As the racket faded and the glade became still, Moon dragged herself by her foreclaws toward the motionless corpse of her Father-Dog.

She staggered up onto her paws, but she couldn't take a step toward Alpha. Her body felt empty, her heart shriveled to nothing.

My sister, my Mother-Dog, my Father-Dog. My friends. My Packmates. Five journeys of the Sun-Dog, and I've lost them all.

Moon slumped sideways, tipped back her head and released a terrible, ringing howl of grief and loss.

The den was dark, and it
felt so cold. There was no warm body close to hers.
Where is Star?

As she woke, blinking, Moon felt her body instantly erupt into violent shivering. She shook her head. It felt fuzzy and thick, as if it were full of black storm clouds. She couldn't think straight. She wished she could stop shuddering.

I know where Star is. And my parent-dogs.
Her gut turned over.
That's why I feel so terrible. It's grief.

There was a movement at the den entrance. Snap's muzzle poked inquisitively in, twitching at the stale air.

“Moon?” The Patrol Dog took a few steps into the dimness of the den. “I came to make sure you're all right. I'm so sorry about Alpha. About everything.”

Moon opened her jaws to tell Snap she was fine, she'd be all right, she would lead the Pack as best she could. But all that came
out was a weak, trembling growl.

“Moon?” There was urgency in Snap's voice now as she lowered her head to touch Moon's nose with her own. Pulling back, she whined in dismay. “Moon, you're boiling hot! You're sick!”

“I'm not hot,” Moon croaked. “I'm cold, Snap. So cold.”

As soon as she said it, though, she felt a wave of heat, oppressive and unbearable.
I'm on fire. My blood, my hide, everything.
Her jaws fell open and her tongue lolled.

“Pebble is sick, too.” Snap's dark eyes were terrified. “Her wounds from yesterday aren't helping.”

Moon made a huge attempt to focus her thoughts, to clear the sticky fog in her head. She knew what Snap was thinking, and why her voice reeked of despair:
She's wondering how she can possibly take care of us all. She doesn't know how to cope. . . .

It was strange, thought Moon, but she herself felt very calm. She remembered the terrible battle yesterday: the moment when she had caught the scent of the Earth-Dog, and had known she was going to join her. Perhaps the worst had happened now, and she was no longer capable of being scared.

Or perhaps it's just the sickness, killing me bit by bit. . . .

It was so hard to care. “Snap,” she whispered. “Get some of those leaves. Fiery's plants. For Pebble and me. To chew.”

Snap seemed to be relieved to have something—anything—to do. Turning on her haunches, she scrabbled out of the den and raced away. Moon sank back onto her now dirty bed of leaves.

It's the end of my Pack. We weren't killed by those coyotes. We've been destroyed by an enemy we couldn't even see.

Maybe, Moon thought regretfully, she should have gone with Hunter after all. What use had it been, staying with the sick Pack out of loyalty? It had done her no good. It hadn't helped Snap or Pebble. It hadn't even helped the ones who'd been sick in the first place.

Perhaps we should have gone while we could. We'd have saved what was left of our Pack. Was I foolish not to go with Hunter and the others?

Moon closed her eyes, feeling nothing but a heavy sadness. Her head swam dizzily, and for a moment she thought her mind had drifted loose from her body.

I'm hallucinating,
she thought, gazing dully at her Father-Dog. Her Mother-Dog stood at his flank, and Star beside her.

Pack is everything, Moon.
Her Father-Dog looked at her kindly.
Pack is sticking together. Pack is taking care of every dog. A Pack abandons no dog.

Her Mother-Dog stepped forward, touching Moon's ear with her nose.
If you had left the others to suffer, Moon, you would not have been a
Pack Dog at all.

“Mother-Dog . . .” The sound of her own hoarse voice made Moon blink her eyes open. They felt sticky and sore and hot, and she narrowed them against the sting of the faint light.

There was no sign of Alpha, or Beta, or Star. But another dog stood over her, gently licking her neck fur. A big, reassuring, black-and-brown presence.

“Fiery?” she whispered.

“Don't try to talk, Moon. Here. You must try to chew these leaves. And drink. You must drink this water, it's important.”

She felt Fiery's strong nose under her foreleg, coaxing and nudging her until she was half upright. Her body swayed groggily on her forepaws, but she tried to sniff at the withered leaves.

Her stomach roiled. “I can't.” The water looked unappetizing, even though thirst was raging in her mouth and throat.

“But you must.” He nudged her again, and pulled the curved bark a little closer with his teeth. Water gleamed in it.

“I'm not thirsty.” She flopped down onto her side.

“You are, Moon. And you must chew the leaves.” His gentle voice was insistent.
Oh, why can't he leave me alone?

“ . . . Leave me alone,” she echoed the voice in her head.

“No, Moon, I can't do that.” Fiery's tongue caressed her
cheekbone. “It doesn't matter if you don't feel like eating or drinking. You have to do it. For your Pack.”

Moon blinked. She remembered imagining her family. Star and Beta and Alpha, all standing together.
Pack is everything, Moon.

Every muscle and bone in her body hurt as she hauled herself up again. She sniffed at the water, then touched her tongue to it.

At once she realized how thirsty she really was. She lapped desperately, weakly, but the clear cold water slipping down her throat felt like a gift from the Sky-Dogs.

“Good,” murmured Fiery. “Now, the leaves. Just one—you can do it, Moon.”

In fact she managed to chew and swallow three of the dried-up leaves before she flopped down again in exhaustion. “I can't eat any more, Fiery.”

“That's all right. You've done great. They'll help you, Moon, I promise.” His tongue licked her ear, gently and rhythmically, soothing her. “There's something else that will help, too. You must sleep now.”

She couldn't answer him; her mind felt as weary as her body. Closing her eyes, she let herself go limp. The last thing she felt, before darkness enveloped her, was Fiery's warm flank touching hers as he lay down beside her.

It was a good place. A cool, dark place, one without pain.
Time here means nothing. I think I'll stay. . . .

She didn't want to swim up from the comforting depths of sleep, but Fiery made her do it. She felt his tongue licking her; heard his low voice urging her back to wakefulness.

Moon whined in protest as the pain returned, but he was insistent. Another drink, another mouthful of leaves, and he soothed her to sleep again. “Well done, Moon. Your Pack needs this. Now sleep.”

But you won't
let
me sleep,
she thought miserably as he nuzzled her awake yet again. How long had she slept? She didn't know. She remembered only the wildest blur of dreams, but she knew they had been bad ones, and was glad they were only vague memories.

If only he'd let her sleep for more than a few moments.
Is it only that? That's how it feels. . . .

Time and time again Fiery nudged her awake, coaxing her to drink and to chew the leaves.

“Do it for your Pack, Moon,” he'd say, pawing the water closer.

Each time he roused her, she wanted to bite him, but she didn't have the strength.
Don't wake me again, Fiery. Please don't. Let me sleep.

But he wouldn't. “One more leaf, and I'll leave you to rest. Just one, Moon. Now the water.”

The last time he woke her, though, she remembered her dream clearly. She'd been in the jaws of the Earth-Dog.

I was in the dark and I didn't know which way to turn.
Terror clutched her heart as she recalled the nightmare.
She was holding me down. She wouldn't let me go. I couldn't breathe. . . .

As Fiery pushed the leaves toward her, sickness rose in her throat, and she knew she couldn't touch them again. Couldn't even sniff them.
Never. I'll die if I have to!

She was grateful Fiery had woken her from that terrible dream, but thanks were not what spilled out of her aching throat. “Why can't you leave me alone? I can't do this, Fiery. I can't! Leave me
be
!”

The big dog stared into her eyes, which felt puffy and swollen. He swallowed hard, and nudged the leaves even closer. There was fierce determination in his face; but she couldn't help thinking she saw something else, too, something gentler.

“If you won't do it for your Pack,” he whispered, “then do it for me. Please, Moon. I couldn't bear it if you died.”

Her breath rasped in her throat as she stared at him. He was trying to sound stern and bossy, but all she could see in his expression was care, and worry—and affection.

Fiery's everything a dog should be,
she realized with a jolt that made
her weak heart race.
I'm not grateful to him, no. It's not gratitude at all.

“Come on, Moon,” he murmured. “For me.”

She dipped her muzzle to the water, and lapped feebly.

Fiery is what my parent-dogs thought Hunter was. He's strong, and brave, and he's a natural leader.

But he's much more than that. He's much more than Hunter ever was. He's the dog my Pack needed in their worst trouble.

Moon paused in her lapping, and caught Fiery's dark, concerned eyes as he nodded encouragement at her.

He's kind as well as brave. He's gentle as well as strong. And he's something Hunter will never be: He's loyal.

He's not just the dog my Pack needs,
she realized with an aching clench of her heart.
He's the dog
I
need. . . .