Storm of Dogs (5 page)

“Now the secret ritual is over,” she murmured. “With the Moon-Dog as our witness, we
are bound together, and together we will lead the Pack.”

Sweet and Lucky padded back to their den and curled up alongside each other. In moments, the swift-dog was fast asleep, her head resting against Lucky's side. But Lucky couldn't sleep. He wondered at the strange events that had brought him here—and his dark dreams, which warned of change to come.

It seemed an age till the Sun-Dog stretched under a heavy gray sky and Sweet opened her eyes. “How's your neck?”

Lucky blinked at her, realizing to his surprise that he could hardly feel the bite. “It's fine,” he murmured.

“Good. It's time for the formal ritual.” She licked his ears and led him out of the den.

This time the rest of the Pack joined them in the clearing before the trees. They formed a loose circle around Lucky, placing their individual offerings between their forepaws.

Lucky looked from the reassuring face of Martha to Daisy, Snap, Dart, and Storm. His eyes trailed across the rest of the Pack, over to Moon and her pups. He shifted from paw to paw, feeling strange. He wasn't used to rituals beneath the light of the Sun-Dog, and he felt awkward sitting alone with his Packmates staring at him.

Standing between Bella and Mickey, Sweet raised her muzzle. “My chosen Beta stands before the Pack. Make your offerings.”

Bright-eyed Snap was the first to step forward. She placed her gift in front of Lucky—the bones of a small creature, recently caught and killed. Small lumps of red gristle still clung to the curving ribs. Lucky sniffed the offering, then looked up at Snap. As their eyes met, she spoke solemnly.

“I bring you this gift so that you will lead successful hunts and make sure that the Pack never goes hungry.” She reached forward to touch his nose, then stepped back to rejoin the ring of dogs.

Martha was the next to step into the circle. She laid a bright-yellow stone in front of him. He recognized it as one of the pebbles from the bank of the pond. She had probably gone to collect it with Sunshine, who was proudly clutching a white water stone in her mouth.
“This stone was particularly clear and smooth,” said the great black dog in her deep, gentle voice. “I bring you this gift so that, as the River-Dog softens the hard edges of the bank, you will smooth over the cracks and divisions in the Pack to keep us working as one.” She touched his nose, and he closed his eyes. There was something so warm and reassuring about her company. For a moment, Lucky remembered his Mother-Dog.

My dear pup, the world outside may feel large and dangerous. But whatever happens, the Spirit Dogs will be watching over you. When you call for them, they will come—they will protect you.

When Lucky opened his eyes, Martha had retreated to the circle and Bruno was stepping forward. The gruff old dog dropped a sturdy branch on the ground before Lucky. He kept his head low as he spoke. “The branch is strong. It represents your courage and honor. No wind or rain can ever break it.”

Lucky's fur tingled, and he gazed at Bruno.
He won't meet my eye. He still feels bad about siding with the dog-wolf when he wanted me out of the Pack.
It was Lucky who reached over and touched Bruno's nose, silently vowing to let the old brown dog understand that he could stop feeling bad about the past—it had long been forgotten.

Soon every dog had made an offering and explained its symbolism. The Pack stood in a respectful silence, most eyes on Lucky—their new Beta. Only Storm did not look at him. Instead she gazed up at the sky.

Lucky padded up to her. “Is something wrong?” he murmured.

“Not ‘wrong,' but . . .” She cocked her head, still looking up. “Have you noticed how the Sun-Dog runs from one side of the sky to the other? He makes the same journey every day, always in the same direction. How does he get back to the start of his journey without us seeing him?”

Lucky frowned. He had never thought of that before. “I don't know,” he admitted.

Storm lowered her eyes. “You don't?”

Lucky was sorry to disappoint her, but Storm wasn't a pup anymore—she had to learn.
She wants me to give her all the answers. But sometimes, there are no answers.

He was startled by Sweet giving a piercing howl. He saw his mate's face aimed toward the sky, her neck fur bristling as the sound surged from her throat. After a long howl, she brought her head down, letting her eyes rove over each and every dog.

“The ceremony is over,” she said, “and my Beta is confirmed. Tomorrow the Pack will be stronger than ever.”

She threw her head back to howl again. This time, every dog howled with her.

That night as Lucky lay beside Sweet in their den, he felt closer to her than ever. It was official now—they weren't only mates, they were Alpha and Beta. He sighed as he closed his eyes and felt the rise and fall of Sweet's flank against his.
If only I'd known what the future held when we first met in the Trap House. I wouldn't have waited till the Big Growl! I'd have gnawed my way through to her cage and told her that we'd be okay.

He closed his eyes, lingering on this thought. He pictured the wire bars of the cages. He could almost smell the dogs imprisoned in rows and the fear-scent rising off their fur.

Lucky turned to Sweet, but cold lengths of wire had appeared between them, and he could no longer reach the swift-dog. The air hissed with danger, and Lucky's tail shrank against his leg. He sniffed urgently, sensing sleeping dogs in neighboring cages. Something deadly was coming, but it had no shape, no scent
. . . .

Lucky sprang to his paws with a startled whine, just as the ground started shaking beneath his paws. The Big Growl!
But it's already happened!
Lucky howled.
The Big Growl destroyed the city, but we survived! Why do I keep coming back to the Trap House? What does it mean?

On the other side of the bars, Sweet was still asleep. Lucky had opened his mouth to bark when he saw a small, plump dog hurrying along the corridor. Intrigued, Lucky cocked his head to look, pressing his paw against the wire door to his cage. The door faded in front of him, and Lucky scrambled out onto the ground. As he turned to look around the Trap House, the wire cages disappeared before his eyes.

Lucky gasped in amazement. Shivering, he glanced down at his paws. The ground beneath him had turned to ice. What was happening?

He looked up into a dark, freezing world. Mist hung over the horizon, like a pelt on the sky. The thickset dog emerged from the gloom. The fur along his back was dark, but his forepaws were white. Lucky gave a startled bark.

Alfie!

The Leashed Dog turned to Lucky, bright-eyed. He carried no wounds from his fight with the Wild Pack's former Alpha. It was almost as though he had never been hurt.

“You're alive!” Lucky barked, running to his old friend.

Alfie took a step back and shook his head slowly.

Lucky froze in his steps. He could see now that the outline of Alfie's body blurred against the sky, just like the clouds. Then Lucky understood.

This isn't the waking world. . . .

“
Why am I dreaming of you?” he asked.

“Because everything changed when I died,” Alfie replied. “After my death, every dog was set walking along a new path, and yours has brought you here.”

“Here? But where am I?” Lucky looked around in the shifting darkness.

“It's almost over,” Alfie growled, turning away. “Can't you feel it?”

Lucky was silent, waiting for a shiver in his fur or a sense in his gut—but there was nothing.

Alfie's voice grew softer. “The Pack may still survive, as long as every dog does their duty when the Storm comes. Yours will be the most important of all.”

Lucky couldn't help the whine that came out of his throat. “What duty?”

Alfie turned back to him. The thickset dog looked old and tired suddenly, his body beginning to fade into the swirling mist.

Lucky sprang forward. “Don't go, Alfie!” The ground groaned beneath his paws, and his ears were filled with the sound of cracking ice. Terror shot through Lucky's fur as the ground shattered beneath him, caving into a great hole
. . . .

Instantly he was on his paws, blinking into the darkness. His heart raced in his chest and he gulped for air. Sweet still slept peacefully by his side.
It was just a dream.

A thickset dog skulked outside the den. Lucky caught a flash of dark fur as he disappeared between the shrubs.

Alfie . . . ?

No, Alfie was dead.
This
must be the mysterious dog he had seen before, near the cliffs. Lucky rose silently, stepping around Sweet. He paused at the entrance to the den, wondering if he should wake her.
No. I'm a Beta now; I have to prove I can act on my own initiative.
He padded into the icy night, sniffing the air.

A bank of clouds blocked the light of the Moon-Dog. Dart, who was the Patrol Dog watching over the camp tonight, was nowhere in sight, no doubt out pacing the boundaries of their territory. Lucky put his trust in his nose, following the scent of the strange dog. It was maddeningly familiar, but the salt wind that drifted from the Endless Lake made it hard for him to place where he'd smelled it before. Lucky frowned, treading a path between low hedges. Could this be a Lone Dog? But why would
any
dog want to settle so close to a Pack?

His head snapped up. He realized with surprise that the smell had grown stronger—the dog up ahead must have stopped.

Lucky paused, sniffing carefully. He couldn't smell any other dogs. He decided to press ahead, scrambling beneath a dangling branch until the scent struck him all at once.

Fang!

Just then, the young Fierce Dog stepped out from behind a tree, wobbling badly. Lucky took in his appearance with a gasp. Storm's litter-brother had a wounded paw that still seemed to be bleeding from a deep bite. He stumbled, and Lucky sprang forward and gave him a gentle nudge to keep him upright.

“You'd help me, after everything?” Fang whimpered. His voice cracked as he spoke, and he looked exhausted. Slowly he settled down onto his hindquarters.

Lucky took a step back. “What happened?”

Fang lowered his head. “Mace attacked me when I tried to leave Blade's Pack. I got away, but not before he gave me a good bite. The Sun-Dog has run across the sky several
times, but it hasn't quite healed.” The young dog's head drooped. “I've been waiting by your camp, trying to work up the courage to ask for help healing the wound, but I lost my nerve.” He sighed bitterly. “I waited for Dart to go patrol the boundaries, and then I sneaked into your camp. I didn't want you all thinking that I wanted to join your Pack. I know there's no chance of that. But I hoped that if some dog came to find out what was going on and followed me out of the camp, they might help.”

Lucky narrowed his eyes. Fang had seemed intensely loyal to the Fierce Dogs—and willing to kill his own litter-sister to prove it. What had changed? “Why did you leave Blade's Pack?”

Fang lowered himself onto his belly. Lucky had never seen the young dog looking so dejected. “In the Trial of Rage, Storm proved she was a better fighter than me, and that she had more self-control too. After that, Blade was furious that she had to honor the agreement to let Storm go. She said it was all my fault that we had been humiliated by ‘inferior' dogs. She encouraged every dog in the Pack to torment me.” His lip twitched into a snarl. “It would have been better if Storm had killed me.” He fell quiet for a moment, then looked up at Lucky. “And it's not just me they're after. They're plotting against your Pack. I guess I wanted to warn you. You helped me a lot, in the beginning—you and Mickey. I didn't want Blade to track you down.”

Lucky's fur bristled. “She's planning an ambush?”

A night bird hooted from a nearby tree and Fang jumped, his eyes jerking toward the sound. He scrambled shakily to his paws. “It isn't safe to talk here. I've made a temporary camp and it's hidden. Blade knows nothing about it. It isn't far. I'll take you there and explain, if . . . if you think you can help me?” Fang took a step forward and faltered, his face contorting with pain.

Lucky hurried to his side. “Here, lean on me.”

They moved slowly around the outskirts of the valley, past the pond and the circle of trees. Lucky panted with effort as he helped Fang along. He could feel the weight of the Fierce Dog's muscles packed beneath his fur.

“It's not much farther,” muttered Fang through gritted teeth. “Down along the cliffs.”

By the time they reached the cliff face, Lucky's body blazed with heat, despite the icy wind. He helped Fang limp along the sharp rocks. It was barren along the wall of the cliff, open to the cold and rain. Surely no dog would sleep without shelter when it was this cold? Lucky looked at Fang, whose eyes were half-closed in pain. “Are you so afraid of the Fierce Dogs that you've made your camp
here
?”

A snarl behind him made him stumble in shock. “No . . . but Fang
is
so afraid of us that he'll lead his former protector into a trap.”