Storm of Dogs (18 page)

He pictured their pointed fangs, then reproached himself sharply, picking up the pace. It
wasn't helpful to think of such things after nightfall. “Bad thoughts infect a pup's dreams,” Lucky's Mother-Dog had warned him once. He tried to think of good things, like the taste of a juicy rabbit after a kill. But it was no use—his mind kept returning to the Fierce Dogs. The great battle was coming at last. He had dreamed about it so many times. When the snow came, the fighting would start—and he would be powerless to stop it.

No,
he told himself.
It won't go the way of my visions. We have a plan—we have the help of Twitch's Pack.
Would the ambush work? He tried not to imagine the Fierce Dogs savaging his friends, pinning them down and mauling them. But the more he tried to squeeze out the images, the more vivid they became. He could almost smell the metallic scent of blood on the freezing air.

By the time he reached the outskirts of the longpaw town, Lucky's legs felt heavy and chilled to the bone. It was silent and deserted, the tall, broken buildings rising up at strange angles. Ordinary objects became spooky in the pale light of the Moon-Dog. Shattered clear-stone gleamed like deadly fangs. A collapsed tree looked like a hunching monster preparing to pounce.

Lucky padded warily over the torn hardstone streets. His paws slipped on patches of ice, and he slunk past debris left by the second Growl. He followed a path to the pointed railings of a park. Some had bent and fallen in a heap, and he leaped over them, landing on overgrown grass.

Lucky's mind drifted to Blade and her prophecy.
She murdered her own pup.
The thought haunted him. A Mother-Dog who was prepared to do that would think nothing of killing countless other dogs.
She is so sure of Earth-Dog's wrath. She's bound to see the latest Growl as a sign of things to come.
Despite himself, he couldn't help a wave of fear as he remembered Blade's conviction that she knew what must be done.
What if she's right about Earth-Dog seeking a sacrifice? What if her dreams about Storm are true?

He looked up into the dark sky with a guilty pang. Storm wasn't even fully grown. She was harmless.

Harmless
. . .

In an instant he saw Terror's bloodied face, his lower jaw ripped away and dropped onto the ground like a hunk of prey. Lucky remembered the frenzied yellow eyes and the horrible gurgling that had come from the mad dog's throat. And he remembered the look of triumph on Storm's face as she licked Terror's blood off her whiskers.

Lucky sighed, feeling very small beneath the twinkling stars. Would the Spirit Dogs really care about him, or Storm, or other dogs in this torn-up world?

On instinct, he threw back his head and howled. “O Spirit Dogs, what will happen to us? Is Blade right—will a final Growl come that puts an end to everything? Will there be snow and a Storm of Dogs? How can I protect my Pack?”

What if leading the Fierce Dogs to Sweet and the other Wild Dogs goes horribly wrong? What if we're overpowered? Should we have run after all?

No reassuring image came to him from the Spirit Dogs, and Lucky whimpered, fear creeping along his spine.
Maybe they've given up on me. Blade seems to know what's going on—could they be protecting her?

Lucky looked about, gripped with fear. There was no scent of anyone—not a rabbit, not a longpaw, not even a lone bird. The tall buildings of the town blocked the wind. It was so quiet and deserted that Lucky felt as though he was completely alone in the world.

His eyes trailed along the dark contours of the overgrown park. They rested on a tree—the first he had seen in the town that was still standing totally upright.
Even here, even after the Growl, could the Forest-Dog be near?
This thought gave him a little bit of comfort. He had a strong impulse to find shelter.
The Forest-Dog will care for me and protect me from the cold.

The fear in Lucky's heart eased and he crossed the park, squeezing himself between broken railings and out onto the street. He padded along the hardstone until he found a longpaw house with its door hanging off at an angle. Sliding under the broken door, he crept inside.

Lucky stepped furtively through a dark corridor. The smell of longpaws was faint—they couldn't have returned here after the first Growl, not even to sniff around. He found a pile of
old soft-hides and dragged them against a wall, sneezing as dust rose from them and filled the air. At least the hides were warm and the worst of the chill was kept out by the thick walls of the building. Lucky didn't like the thought that he was relying on longpaws again—hiding away in their huge dens, using their soft-hides—but it couldn't be helped. He lowered his head onto the hides with a long whine and was soon fast asleep.

Lucky opened his eyes and gazed up into the piercing sunlight. The Sun-Dog was bounding over the Endless Lake, lighting the waves so they sparkled blue like the Sky-Dogs. From his vantage point on the cliffs, he could just hear the distant sigh of the tumbling water as it lapped against the sand. He stretched his legs and yawned, rolling onto his back. The Sun-Dog tickled his belly with his warming rays. From the corner of his eye, Lucky saw a rabbit shoot out from a hole and hop between the grass stems. The prey-creature paused to wash its forepaws, and Lucky watched lazily. He didn't give chase. His belly was already full, and the Pack had plenty of kill left over from their morning hunt.

Instead Lucky batted absently at a fly that swooped above his nose. Birds twittered in the nearby trees and foraged for worms in the valley, now a meadow bursting with wildflowers and butterflies. A deep sensation of contentment ran through Lucky's fur.

He heard a series of high-pitched yaps and climbed onto his paws. Pups! Lucky trod through the long grass stems toward the circle of trees by the pond. He could see four puppies sitting on flat rocks, their heads cocked in concentration. Lucky took in their fuzzy, narrow bodies, their large soft heads, and their floppy ears. They all had slender muzzles and dark-brown eyes, but two had sandy fur, one a deeper tan coat, and the last had fur as dark as her eyes.

A short distance away was a dark, looming shape. A chill cut through Lucky's heart, and his breath caught in his throat. A Fierce Dog!

She rose on her powerful legs, the muscles rippling beneath her glossy coat. Then she noticed Lucky, acknowledging him with a wag of her tail. This was no deadly attack-dog—it was Storm, all grown up!

“What happened then?” whined the sandy pup with shaggy fur.

“Yes, Storm, what happened then?” yipped the others.

Storm's eyes widened dramatically. “Then the ground started quivering so hard that trees shook and fell to the ground! The dogs turned to one another, wondering if it was the end of the world.”

“And was it?” asked the dark brown pup in a small voice. She was as slender as a swift-dog, but her fur was longer and looked fuzzy to the touch.

“Of
course
it wasn't,” said the short-furred sandy pup. She raised her muzzle self-importantly, reminding Lucky of Bella when she was young. “Otherwise Storm wouldn't be here to tell the story!”

“I almost wasn't,” said the Fierce Dog seriously. “Everything shook, the Endless Lake went wild, the cliffs crumbled, and the sky turned dark.”

“Even the Earth-Dog couldn't shake the whole world!” gasped the fourth pup, cocking her tan head in disbelief.

“But she did,” said Storm. “I know—I was there! It happened just before the great battle, the Storm of Dogs.”

The pups must have heard the term before, as they all gasped, blinking at one another and turning back to the Fierce Dog. “What happened then?” they whined in unison.

“The battle was terrible!” she told them, her floppy ears pricking up. “Every dog fought to the death. The Packs clashed, and all you could hear were barks and howls. Not every dog made it. . . .” Storm's voice grew softer.

“Why were the dogs fighting?” asked the little dark brown pup.

“A crazed dog called Blade forced the battle—she was sure the world would end if she didn't. She thought Earth-Dog growled because she was mad and that she'd be even angrier if she wasn't appeased. Secretly, I think Blade just wanted a good fight—and she was
going to
fight no matter what.”

The puppies shuddered and pressed closer together.

“And your Mother-Dog and Father-Dog were very brave. We wouldn't have beat her without them.”

The pups barked and turned to look at Lucky in admiration.

“Did you fight the mean dog, Father?” asked the slender dark brown pup.

“Your Father-Dog had an important role in the battle,” said Storm.

“What was it?” asked the shaggy-furred pup.

“Did he kill a bad dog?” asked the short-furred sandy pup.

Storm glanced at Lucky, her eyes twinkling enigmatically. Then she turned back to the puppies. “Your Father-Dog has always had an ear to the Spirit Dogs. They spoke to him and showed him the way—and when the time came, he knew what to do.”

The pups looked at Lucky. Suddenly he knew what their names were.

Forest, Sky, River, and Earth . . .

Sky, the short-furred sandy pup, burst forward with a shrill yap. “Our Father-Dog, a hero!”

The other pups ran after her. They crowded around Lucky, a yipping, squirming, licking bundle of fur. He was buried beneath their warm, sweet bodies.

When Lucky blinked away sleep, it was just getting light. He padded through the silent longpaw house. A calm had come over him. Not all dreams were filled with shadows. . . . He had imagined a future where the Pack lived in peace, without the terror of the Fierce Dogs, where Storm was happy and where Sweet had mothered a beautiful litter of pups.

Our pups.

A wave of gratitude ran through him for the Spirit Dogs, who had visited Lucky in his loneliness and brought him hope. He set off for Blade's camp with a spring in his step. He had seen a future of darkness and terror, but he had also seen one of joy and peace. The second future, where his pups were free beneath the Sun-Dog's light, would keep him going through the dark times to come. He would fight to his last breath to make that dream come true.

A thin light clung over the
Endless Lake as Lucky crept over the broken streets to the border of the town. Split hardstone gave way to sand, sloping down to the water's edge. Debris bobbed on the frothing waves. Lucky could make out the wheel of a loudcage, a spoil-box, and what looked like a jumble of soft-hides tossing in the current. White waterbirds swooped overhead, screeching like angry sharpclaws. At least it was a sign of life. Despite his sense of solitude, Lucky reminded himself that he wasn't alone.

With a start, he detected a familiar scent that made his blood run cold.
Fierce Dogs!
He wasn't alone
at all
.

He backed along the edge of a street and shrank against the wall as three attack-dogs marched over the high bank of the Endless Lake. They slammed down their paws with ferocious self-assurance, kicking up sand. Lucky wondered whether Blade had brought her Pack to the town, but sniffing about, he didn't think so.
It's just a patrol. They are on the lookout . . . probably keeping a special watch for Sweet's Pack—for Storm. Blade will be keen for news.

He watched as the attack-dogs looped back along the waterfront and strutted toward the cliffs. It was just as he'd thought—they were returning to the dark lair nestled along the rocks, near the Wild Pack's camp.
They must have figured out that we've gone.
This was bound to infuriate Blade. Lucky knew that the leader of the Fierce Dogs wasn't about to let Storm out of her grasp—her Pack would soon be hunting for the young dog over each broken street, across every deserted valley. He shuddered, thinking of the Wild Pack hiding upstream.

Well, they won't have to search for long,
thought Lucky. Steeling himself, he rose up on his paws. Avoiding the patrol, he cut through side streets to climb farther up the bank of the lake. He retraced the rocky path through the cliffs, careful to avoid the unstable cliff face. His paws slipped on the icy ground, and he ordered himself to slow down. If he lost his
footing now, he might tumble backward and be smashed against the rocks. It wasn't just about him—the whole Pack was counting on Lucky.

By the time he approached the lair within the cave, the Sun-Dog had risen over the cliffs. The light was misty, partially concealed by twisting clouds. Lucky stalked low to the ground, hiding behind a ridge of rock a good rabbit-chase away. From this distance, there was no sign that the Fierce Dogs' lair had been damaged in the Growl. Lucky felt a twinge of disappointment. If Blade had been injured or even killed . . . but no, he would have to go through with the plan.