Sweet's Journey (6 page)

“Then the Alpha Wind-Dog said, ‘Sky-Dogs! You've seen for yourselves how the Hare taunts me! Give me legs that are longer than the Hare's. Give me and all my children the longest legs, and make us thin and narrow so that we cut through the air even faster than that trickster!'

“The Sky-Dogs knew that as long as the Hare had the longest legs, he would never give them the proper respect. So they agreed to the Alpha Wind-Dog's request. They made her legs longer than
the Hare's, and they made her body even thinner and narrower than his. And the next time the Hare challenged the Wind-Dog, she ran him down! She pounced, and held him in her jaws and said, ‘Now you must run from me and from all my children, because we will never stop till we catch you.'

“And the Fastest Hare realized he was beaten. He begged the Alpha Wind-Dog's mercy and was humbled. From that day on, all of his children had to run from the family of the Wind-Dogs.”

Sweet sat back happily, her tongue lolling, and basked in the admiring stares of the other Pack members.

“Wow,” said Spring. “I haven't heard that story before.”

“You haven't heard it,” sneered a familiar voice, “because Sweetie made it up. There're no such Spirit Dogs as the Wind-Dogs! I've never heard such nonsense.”

Sweet stared coolly at Beta as the red dog slunk into the circle. For once, her belly didn't twist with anger.
You can't provoke me now, Beta
, she thought,
any more than the Fastest Hare can taunt the Alpha Wind-Dog. I'm part of this Pack, and these dogs know it
.

Contented, she glanced around at the others, waiting for one of them to speak up, to confirm the truth of her story.

But all her Packmates did was exchange nervous glances, or stare at the forest floor. Sweet's eyes widened as the silence
stretched. She shot a look at Fiery, but even he was avoiding her eyes. He licked a paw, and made a rumbling sound in his throat, and scratched his ear.

Sweet felt as if there was a stone in her belly.
It's this Pack
, she realized.
This Pack, and its rigid rules. They'll complain about how mean Beta is, but only in private. They'll never contradict her, or tell her she's wrong. . . .

With a heavy heart, Sweet lay down and stretched out her forepaws, pretending nonchalance, but her mind was in turmoil.

Did I make the wrong decision, joining this Pack? Was all the effort worth it?

But what was the alternative?

To be all alone in a changed, broken, empty world . . .

Sweet had too much time the
next morning to gnaw at her worries, turning them over and over in her skull. She'd been detailed to the sunup corner of the camp and told to keep watch for a group of strange dogs, strays that had been scented but never fully seen. Alpha was so concerned, he'd told the hunters to join the patrol dogs for now, making sure the camp was fully guarded.

“We have to be particularly vigilant,” Alpha had told her. “I'm relying on you, Sweet.”

And she had kept a close watch on every shadow and every movement in the forest, but that didn't provide enough distraction from her worries about her place in the Pack.
Will I ever really fit in here? It's so different from my swift-dog Pack. What was that sound—a snapping twig? I wonder if Beta will ever soften her opinion of me. . . .

A high, agonized howl shattered Sweet's thoughts, sending her leaping to her paws. Despite the awfulness of the sound, she
recognized the voice.

Moon!

Fiery's mate must be about to give birth to her pups, Sweet realized as she raced back to the camp.
But something must be wrong for her to cry out like that—

Sure enough, when Sweet broke out of the trees, she saw Moon lying on her flank, legs stiff and twitching, her muzzle twisted in pain. Other dogs were milling around her, looking worried, but scared to go closer.

Sweet pushed through their bodies. “Somebody has to get Fiery!” she barked.

“He's out on patrol,” growled Spring nervously. “Hold on, Moon! It'll be over soon.”

“He'll want to be here, especially when Moon's in pain,” said Sweet urgently.

“Well, you're the fastest,” Twitch pointed out. He had a lame leg himself—it had been like that since he was a pup—and he nudged it now with his muzzle, as if to point out the hopelessness of sending him.

“But I'm on guard!” Sweet looked desperately at the other dogs as Moon gave a series of yips, full of pain.

To her surprise, Beta trotted to her side. “I'll cover your area,”
she growled. “Twitch is right, you'll get to Fiery quickest. Go on, I'll take your place.”

Sweet had no time to express her shock—or her gratitude. Beta's words made all her worries crumble away like a sandbank in a drought. If the red dog could put aside their differences for the good of all dogs, it seemed this was a true Pack after all. Sweet gave Beta a brief relieved nod, turned, and bolted out of the clearing.

Fiery's scent was not hard to pick up; when Sweet followed the usual patrol trail, she caught his odor in her nostrils straightaway. He'd been here only minutes before, she realized, leaping a fallen log and darting on. Through the next line of trees lay a broad meadow, and in the full light of the morning sun she could make out the shapes of the patrol on the low horizon. Sweet raced to catch up.

“Fiery!” she barked, her tongue lolling as she panted. “Fiery!”

The lead patrol dog turned. He must have realized it was important, because he turned and trotted rapidly back toward Sweet, and she slithered to a stop on the meadow grass, gasping.

“Moon's pup-time has come. She needs you!”

He barely hesitated. “Thank you,” he growled, then bounded off toward the forest, astonishingly fleet for such a huge dog. Sweet
followed at his heels while the rest of the patrol stared after them.

Sweet caught up with Fiery as they reached the edge of the trees, though it struck her that few other dogs would have been able to match his desperate speed. She let him lead the way through the undergrowth, his bulk smashing twigs and leafy branches aside, and it seemed only moments until they reached the camp's border.

Sweet trotted to a halt, stiff-legged and shocked. Fiery stalked forward more slowly now, snarling.

Snap stood there, her back to the camp and her muzzle peeled back, facing down a pair of hungry coyotes.

“What . . . ? How in the name of the Earth-Dog did they get in?” barked Fiery, as the coyotes twisted to face the new threat.

Sweet's heart lurched. This was the section of the camp border she'd been guarding!

Fiery clearly had no time for fighting coyotes. He gave a deep, baying howl of anger, and the scrawny creatures, seeing instantly that they were outnumbered, panicked. Slipping and slithering, they almost fell over themselves as they fled the camp.

Fiery didn't give chase, but plunged straight on toward his and Moon's den, where the yaps and howls of pain were still high and frantic. Snap rounded on Sweet.

“Where were you?” she barked.

Sweet licked her chops, confused and afraid. “I—I had to fetch Fiery! I thought Beta was patrolling this area! She said—she told me she'd cover for me.” Her ears drooped as her breathing calmed at last. “Something must have happened. She must have been called away, Snap. I—”

“Oh, don't worry,” grunted Snap through clenched jaws. She was still getting her own breath back after the panic. “No harm done, in the end. Just as well I was here, though. With Alpha away on patrol, and everyone distracted by Moon's pup-time.”

“How is she?” begged Sweet, craning her head to peer toward the noise from Moon's den.

“I don't know.” Snap glanced grimly over her shoulder. “There's obviously a problem. She was in pain, and—ah!”

The sudden quietness was oppressive. Snap and Sweet stared at each other, and Sweet knew the hunt-dog felt the same sudden, awful fear as she did.

Then Fiery broke the silence with a howl of joy. His deep voice was joined by Moon's, feebler, but filled with relief and happiness.

Snap's ears pricked up. “The pups. They're born!”

She turned, and she and Sweet bounded toward the den together. As they reached it, Fiery was just emerging, the strain
on his blunt face still visible through the pride and pleasure.

“Three fine pups,” he announced gruffly. “Two males and a female!”

“Congratulations.”

The drawling voice made every dog turn, as Alpha padded toward the den, his ears pricked in mild curiosity.

“Thank you, Alpha,” Fiery dipped his head respectfully, but his tail still wagged with irrepressible happiness.

“Three fine pups? That's good news for the Pack.” That seemed to be the extent of Alpha's interest, though, because he turned to Sweet and Snap, his face becoming grim. “You two, and Beta . . . come with me.”

Her stomach heavy with foreboding, Sweet followed him, together with Snap and Beta. A rabbit-chase from the other dogs, Alpha turned and sat on his haunches, then stared at them each in turn.

“How did coyotes get into this camp?” he asked. His tone was too quiet, too calm.

Sweet opened her jaws to explain, but again Beta was too fast for her. “They got in from that direction,” said the red dog, jerking her muzzle toward Sweet's patrol zone. “
She
was supposed to be guarding that spot, I think?”

“I went to find Fiery!” Sweet looked desperately from Beta's sly face to Alpha's. “We all—the dogs who were here agreed that Moon needed her mate. I was the fastest!”

“That's no reason to abandon your post!” snapped Alpha.

“But I didn't! Beta said she'd cover for me!”

“Liar.” Beta's low snarl made Sweet's blood run cold. “I haven't seen you all day.”

Sweet opened her jaws, but no sound would come out. Of course, if Beta had been lured away somehow—if she'd been distracted enough to allow the coyotes to breach their boundaries—she would want to play down her own mistake. But did she have to lie and blame everything on Sweet? Sweet's nerves prickled with fear and disbelief.

They'll think I ran away—again. . . . It's happening again! I'm the Dog Who Ran Away. . . .

“But I didn't!” she barked out loud in panic. “I didn't run away!”

“You two.” Alpha glared at Snap and Beta. “Leave us.”

Snap shot Sweet a sympathetic look, but Beta's eyes were cunning and vindictive as she slunk away. Sweet swallowed hard as their pawsteps faded into the trees. Then she turned, skin quivering, to face Alpha. His stern yellow stare was unnerving.

“You're putting me in a very difficult position, Sweet,” he growled softly. “Making these puppish errors.”

“I'm sorry, Alpha. I misunderstood. I thought that Beta—”

“You're just getting used to Wild Pack life. . . .” He interrupted as if she hadn't spoken. “So I have to make allowances. I won't punish you as you should be punished. Not this time.”

Sweet dipped her head. It was probably best to keep silent, she decided, though confusion and anger stirred in her gut.

“Next time, you'll find I'm not so understanding,” he growled silkily. “Tonight you'll be on watch from dusk till sunup; I don't care how tired you are. You
will
protect this Pack throughout the no-sun hours. Perhaps that will teach you Pack discipline.”

Sweet watched the half wolf as he stalked away toward his den. A sense of injustice roiled in her belly, but there was something else, too.

She knew Alpha expected her to be grateful for his mercy, but she wasn't. All she felt was resentment, and a deep, gnawing suspicion.

The half wolf was up to something; she knew it.

In the darkness of the wild wood, later that night, Sweet lay with her head on her paws and gazed up at the Moon-Dog. Her huge
eye was full and bright in the sky again, reminding Sweet that she'd been with this Pack now for a full Moon-Dog journey.

And now, for the first Great Howl since she'd joined them, she was exiled to the camp's edges, her punishment for letting those coyotes sneak in. Through the trees she could hear the first voices rise, then others as they joined in harmony. The Howl swelled and rose, making the night air quiver, and raising Sweet's fur at the roots.

It felt strange. Despite her isolation out here, she didn't feel lonely, as she had when as an outsider she'd first heard their distant howling. Even though she wasn't with them right now, she felt the connection in her bones and her blood: a living, thrilling link to her Pack, and this forest, and the wounded earth they walked on.

The wounded earth that never howled, that clenched its fangs against the pain it must feel at being torn apart . . .

Sitting up, Sweet tilted her head back. Unable to repress it, she let the howl grow in her belly and her throat, swelling until the cry of emotion escaped her. Even if she wasn't among them, she could howl with her Pack, she could join her voice and her whole being to theirs.