Sweet's Journey (3 page)

“I was once a racing dog, you know,” said Callie dreamily, after a long silence. “I would run for longpaws. They liked that. They liked to see us swift-dogs run in a circle, chasing a dead hare. As if we thought it lived, and we could catch it. Ha! We liked to win, that was all. Never mind the longpaws; we hated them anyway. It was each other we raced for. We were slaves to the longpaws, but
among our Pack we had honor.”

“I'm sure you did,” murmured Sweet.

“They gave us our names. ‘Callie' is short for some ridiculous longpaw word, you know?
California Dreamer
, they called me. Ridiculous name; who needs one so long? I was ‘Callie' to my Pack.” Her eyes grew misty. “It's been a good name.”

“A very fine name.”
For a fine dog
, Sweet wanted to add, but she didn't think Callie would appreciate it. Her old Beta might think she was mocking her. Sweet felt a surge of unexpected grief.

“When we stopped being any use to the longpaws, they'd abandon us,” Callie went on. “That was when I started to be happy.” She gave a gruff laugh. “But they had other animals, animals that did the same as us. Ran in circles. Because the longpaws liked it. And the longpaws would do worse than abandon them.”

“What animals?” Sweet pricked her ears forward, curious.

“Horses. You heard of those? No, didn't think you would. They're bigger than us, but just as breakable.” Callie gave her crushed leg a filthy glare. “Big bodies on skinny legs, those horses. They'd break a leg, sometimes. Then the longpaws would get out their loudsticks and shoot them in the head.”

“
Shoot
them?” Sweet blinked, mystified.

“I don't know exactly what it means, but that was the word.
The loudsticks spat something that killed them. No use, a horse that can't run. I used to think it was cruel,” Callie mused thoughtfully. “But you know what, Sweet?”

“What?”

“I wouldn't mind a longpaw with a loudstick right now.”

“Callie, don't say that!” Sweet licked her face desperately.

“What else would I say? Listen to me.” Callie twisted her head to glare into Sweet's eyes. “I'll never run again. I'm never going to
walk
. You've had my neck in your jaws before, Sweet. Finish what you started then. Sink your teeth into my throat and get this
over with
.”

Sweet shivered and backed away, whining softly. “I can't do that, Callie. I could never do that.”

“Why not? You hate me, don't you?”

“I hate no dog!” barked Sweet fiercely, still backing away.

“There you go again.” Callie's lip curled back from her teeth. “Running away from your problems.”

Sweet hesitated, then crept back to Callie's side. She lay down, careful not to brush the terrible wound in the Beta's flank. “Callie, I won't kill you. But I'm not running away. Am I?”

Callie sighed, lowering her muzzle to her forepaws. “No. No, I don't suppose you are. You're a good dog, Sweet. Don't laugh.
I've always known you were a good dog. A better dog than me.”

“Don't say—” But Sweet stopped as Callie gave an agonized whimper of pain. “Callie?”

Callie sucked in a breath, and her sides heaved. The movement opened up the wound even more, and Sweet felt a gush of new, warm blood against her flank. Shocked, she licked Callie's wound, very gently. Then she shifted away, afraid of hurting her.

“Would you mind moving 'round to the other side?” Callie's growl was barely audible. “You can lie against me there. I'm cold.”

Sweet slunk around to Callie's other flank, so that she could no longer see the blood pooling beside her old Beta's body. She lay down again, pressing close to Callie, and heard the swift-dog give a soft growl of gratitude.

“Callie?” Sweet murmured quietly, pressing her nose gently to the other dog's shoulder.

There was no sound, though Callie's flanks stirred for a while, in and out with shallow breaths. Callie didn't speak again, and Sweet barely noticed the moment when the gentle movement of her rib cage stopped altogether.

I never really cared for Callie
, thought Sweet, gazing back numbly at the swift-dog's motionless body.
But I never wanted this to happen
.

She sat back on her haunches, gathering her thoughts, not wanting to abandon her former Beta quite yet.
It's the Big Growl
, she realized with a chill of dread.
Everything has changed because of it. We don't know who our friends and our enemies are. We don't even know if the Spirit Dogs are on our side
.

It had been bad enough imagining her Pack dying in the carnage and chaos of the Trap House; actually watching Callie die had twisted Sweet's insides with horror. And now she felt more alone than ever.
Is this what happened to them all? Every single one of my Packmates—have they all gone to the Earth-Dog the way Callie just did?

Oh, I miss Lucky even more. . . .

But there was no way of getting back to him, she realized. She'd probably lost the City Dog's scent, and his company, forever.
What was more, the bridge was gone, and the River-Dog wouldn't let her cross back—if the River-Dog even cared anymore what happened to her. River-Dog was probably concerned only with her own terrible sickness.

We're all on our own from now on. But if the Spirit Dogs can't or won't help us, that makes it all the more vital to find a Pack
.

With one last sad look at Callie's remains, Sweet turned and plodded away, following the same stars as before. There was no point going back; she could only press on. The stars seemed so much farther away now, though, and the night felt colder.

Sweet did her best not to run, knowing she should save her energy. Short, sharp bursts of speed would do her no good here; how far she would have to travel, no dog knew. But still her muscles and paw pads ached by the time the Sun-Dog rose behind her.

By his low, golden light she could clearly see more of those cruel gashes in the earth as she traveled on. They were worse even than the wound in Callie's flank, the wound she'd died of. Was Earth-Dog dying too, Sweet wondered?

How can she possibly survive this?

A black misery settled over her, but it lifted just a little when she crested the rise of a grassy knoll and saw a line of distant lilac hills. If she could reach that high ground, she might be able to spot
her old Pack's territory.

Though I doubt I'll find any of my old friends
. Sweet heaved a sigh of grief, then shook herself.
Callie and I survived the Trap House. Maybe some of the others did . . . ? Even one . . . ?

As she forced her aching legs to move, every step jolting her slender joints, she began to catch dog-scents again, and her ears pricked with hope. At the same time, her skin tingled, alert to the chance of danger. The scents grew thicker and more numerous the farther she walked, and there were none she recognized. Every tree and every rock was thick with dog-markers, filling her nostrils with overpowering messages, and Sweet knew this must be the territory of a Pack.

I will have to be submissive to get through this territory in search of my friends
. Nerves jangled beneath her fur.
Be careful, Sweet, be wise . . . and be humble
.

Taking a deep breath, she paused, then headed for the dark line that marked the beginning of a forest. She didn't want to be caught unawares. Sweet placed each delicate paw with care, her ears alert for the slightest noise, the tiniest movement in the shadows.

Her caution was unnecessary. With a crashing of undergrowth, a muscular red dog bounded out of the trees and stood
foursquare, growling and glaring at Sweet.

“Stop right there, intruder. No dog trespasses on our land!”

Sweet swallowed hard, lowering her forequarters and wagging her tail. “I'm sorry. I don't mean to trespass.”

The red dog's lip curled. “Then what are you doing here?”

Sweet let her tongue loll, trying to look as friendly as she could. “I'm looking for my own Pack, that's all. Have you seen any other dogs like me?”

The red dog gave a bark of laughter. Her eyes were narrow and contemptuous. “Like you? There are no dogs like you on this territory. They wouldn't survive!” She paced forward, circling Sweet and sniffing at her disdainfully. “You're skinny. You're weak. Any dogs like you will have taken a very wide path around, because our Pack doesn't tolerate weaklings. Are you prepared to fight your way through us?”

Sweet turned her head to watch the red dog. She was frightened, but she didn't want to make any sudden moves. “All I want is to pass through here. I'll keep moving, I promise. And I wouldn't dream of hunting on your territory.”

The red dog laughed again. “As if we'd let you!”

It seemed so horribly unfair and unreasonable, after all she'd been through. Sweet clenched her jaws to stop herself growling.
As the red dog walked around to face her directly once more, Sweet slowly stood upright, meeting her gaze defiantly.

An expression of surprise crossed the red dog's face, but then her muzzle curled. She ground her forepaws into the earth, her shoulder muscles bunching for an attack—but at that moment, a pale shape appeared in the trees behind her.

Sweet took a single step back, startled but curious. Her nose twitched at the new dog's strange scent. As he came forward, the red dog's attitude seemed to change instantly. Her head dipped slightly in submission, her hackles lowered and the aggression melted away as she stepped aside.

He
must
be her Alpha
, thought Sweet.
He has all the power here—it's as clear as the scent-markings on the boundary trees
.

He was a massive creature, as close to a wolf as Sweet had ever seen. His shaggy fur was rippling shades of black, gray, and white, and his eyes glowed yellow and fierce, but without the snarling aggression of the red dog. Behind him came an even bigger dog, burly and blunt-faced, and a much smaller white-and-tan female with a mean expression.

“Who's this, Beta? And what is her business in my territory?” The half wolf's rumbling voice seemed to silence every sound in the forest.

Sweet ducked her head quickly and respectfully, opening her jaws to respond, but the red dog got there before her.

“She's begging for passage through the woods. Can't survive without her friends,” she sneered. “Though I doubt they've survived anyway. We should get rid of her—drive her back where she came from. It will be kinder in the long run, Alpha.”

Sweet gathered her dignity and stood straighter, ignoring the red dog to address the half wolf directly.

“I don't mean to cause trouble,” she told him, quietly but firmly. “And I won't. If you're willing to let me pass through your territory, I won't hunt. You can send a dog with me as an escort, to make sure.”

The half wolf said nothing for long moments; he just examined her with that piercing yellow gaze. Sweet couldn't suppress the tremor that went through her muscles, but she managed not to let it show. The whole forest seemed to hold its breath until at last the half wolf gave an upward jerk of his head.

“Very well.” There was a look in his eyes she couldn't quite read. “Fiery here will escort you through to the far edge of our territory. But don't get your hopes up. There have been no other swift-dogs in the forest that I've seen—and I see everything.”

“Which doesn't mean,” snarled the red dog, in obvious
annoyance at the Alpha's concession, “that you can come crawling back to us when you fail. We've enough mouths to feed without a useless creature like you.”

Sweet expected the Alpha to confirm his Beta's sentiments, but to her surprise he said nothing. He swung his great head to stare at the red dog. After only moments, the Beta averted her eyes and licked her jaws, scowling.

“I won't be back,” said Sweet proudly. “I won't be a burden to any Pack, believe me. I'm looking for dogs like me—a Pack that's
welcoming
.”

A hint of amusement crossed the Alpha's stern face, and his muzzle wrinkled. He knew full well, thought Sweet, that her remarks were aimed at his Beta. The red dog was silent, but her hackles bristled.

With a last nod to the Alpha, Sweet followed the burly dog Fiery as he led her into the forest, following clear dog-trails that hinted at a well-established, well-organized Pack. Fiery's sheer size was intimidating, but Sweet found that she wasn't scared of him. He murmured an occasional word to guide or reassure her, but on the whole was amiably silent for the whole long trek, till Sweet saw a stretch of water glint between pine trunks.

Fiery led her to its edge, then jerked his head toward it.

“Here,” he said gruffly. “We're nearly at the edge of our lands, and you'd better have a drink to keep you going. It'll be a long walk before you find any other dogs.”