Waggit Forever (9 page)

W
aggit awoke with a start. He had no idea how long he had been sleeping, but the day seemed to be drawing to a close. He sprang to his feet in confusion. His strange dream about the Gray One filled his brain. Or was it a dream? It had seemed so real. He walked to the far end of the cave, but there was no evidence of any such creature having been there. The sun was now lower in the sky, and its rays came horizontally through the entrance, flooding the cave with light. He looked but could see no paw prints, no silver hairs caught
against the roughness of the rock, no indication that a wolf had lain in this spot earlier in the day—except for a faint smell, ancient and primal, that lingered in the air and then vanished.

He shook himself fully awake and went out into the meadow. Looking around, he saw a pathway to his left, actually no more than a trail that seemed to wind its way down the hill. He followed it, jumping over fallen trees and at times scrambling down rocky outcroppings. After running for some time, he came upon the path he had taken earlier in the day, the path that had led to the cliff. Retracing his steps, he found a very worried team.

“Oh my dear,” cried Magica, “where have you been? We looked all over for you, but not knowing this realm, we didn't know which direction to go in.”

“Yeah,” screeched Alicia, “and we ain't got no water here, and I'm parched.”

“Don't worry yourself, my lady,” said Waggit, sounding remarkably like Tazar. “I have found the perfect home for us, a home so good I can scarcely believe it's real.”

The dogs crowded around and bombarded him with questions: “How far is it?” “What's it look like?”
“Is there shelter?” “Does another team claim it as their realm?” This last question he couldn't answer, for he didn't know, but he had a feeling that it belonged to them and that they would be unchallenged. As far as he could remember, the Gray One had told him as much. Instead of answering the dogs' questions, he simply said, “Follow me and all will be revealed.”

Eagerly they trooped up the path, chattering with excitement. Up and up they went, farther than Waggit remembered, but he assumed that this was because they were moving more slowly than he had on account of Lowdown.

But after a while he began to get worried. All the woods looked the same, and without the well-defined pathways they were used to, it was difficult to tell exactly where they were. He realized that he had missed the trail, and now it was beginning to get dark.

“Stop,” he said. “We've got to go back. I made a mistake.”

There was a moment of silence, and then some low grumbling.

“Oh no, I'm tired.”

“You're tired! I'm tired and hungry.”

“And thirsty!”

“Are you sure you didn't dream this place?”

“This ain't as nice as the old park. It's spooky.”

Waggit was beginning to realize how hard it was to be a leader, and how easy Tazar made it look most of the time. He wondered if it had been a mistake to admit he'd made a mistake. Whether it was or not, now was the time to be firm.

“We just missed it is all,” he said with a confidence that he didn't necessarily feel. “We'll find it if we go back.”

And so everyone turned around and went back down the path. They were nervous and jumpy, and the woods were getting darker by the minute. Several times Waggit thought he recognized the way and then realized that he was mistaken. His heart began to pound with fear and anxiety, and the weight of his responsibility became almost unbearable.

Then he saw it. Deep in the woods there was a flash of silver and a blaze of yellow eyes!

“This is it,” he cried. “This is the way. We'll soon be there.”

And indeed they were. As the trail broke free of the woods and they entered the meadow, a bright
full moon appeared, flooding the landscape with its cool, blue light. It made the area look magical, and the dogs stood in stunned silence, which was broken by Magica.

“It's beautiful, Waggit. It's the most beautiful place I've ever seen.”

As if released from a spell, the dogs ran around the meadow howling with delight. They ran in and out of the caves and splashed in the pool. Lowdown hobbled up to Waggit and lay down next to him.

“You done good,” he said. “It ain't ever gonna get better than this.”

“I didn't do anything,” Waggit replied. “I mean, anyone could've found this place. I just happened to be the one.”

“It ain't just that, although that's major,” insisted Lowdown. “It was you who persuaded Tazar to leave in the first place. He'd've never done it without you pushing him. That's one of the good things about being young—you believe you can do anything. By the time you get to my age, you know that you can't, and more and more things seem impossible.”

“Lowdown,” Waggit said after a pause, “do you believe in the Gray Ones?”

“Certainly,” answered Lowdown. “Why wouldn't you?”

“But have you ever seen one?” asked Waggit.

“Just because you've never seen something don't mean it don't exist,” replied Lowdown.

“No,” said Waggit. “I suppose you're right.”

“Not only right, but hungry,” said Lowdown. “Time to get a hunting party organized.”

The team hadn't eaten anything all day, and it didn't take much to persuade the best hunters to swoop into the woods in search of prey. Even though he was the best of them all, Waggit didn't join the chase. He chose to stay behind with Gordo to scout out suitable locations for Eyes and Ears duty, while Magica and Alona organized the living arrangements. As usual, Gruff's and Alicia's only contributions were to criticize what everyone else was doing, while Lowdown snoozed contentedly. Much as they searched, neither Waggit nor Gordo could find any ideal lookout positions. The rock face surrounding the caves was too high and too sheer to be of any use, and the woods were too far away. Waggit decided that the best thing to do would be to have a sentry posted at the mouth of the large cave.

He had barely reached this conclusion when the hunting party returned. The hunters were ecstatic with what they had found.

“It wasn't like hunting,” Raz panted excitedly. “It was more like choosing.”

“I never saw so many animals,” Cal agreed. “You almost tripped over them.”

“Even Little Two got a hopper,” said Little One.

“And it was bigger than your nibbler,” retorted Little Two.

“If the woods are always this full,” said Cal, “I'm not even going to bother with nibblers anymore. They're too small and too full of bones.”

The rest of the team agreed that mice weren't worth the effort, even though a few days ago they would have given anything for one. After the meal was consumed and cleared away, the team settled down for what remained of the night. Because they were so far away from any humans, there was no supply of the newspaper and cardboard that usually made up their bedding. Instead, Magica and Alona had pulled up ferns and carefully spread them around the interior of the cave. They wouldn't last as long as paper and cardboard, but they smelled sweeter and were easily replenished
from the ones that grew nearby.

Waggit decided that he would take the first watch of Eyes and Ears, and then Gordo would replace him when he got sleepy. He lay down in the entrance to the cave and looked out over the meadow still bathed in moonlight. He felt at peace with the world. The water from the spring chimed musically as it splashed over the rocks; he could hear the deep, slow breathing and the occasional grunt, snore, and even belch of the team sleeping behind him; a soft mild breeze carried the scents of meadow grass and wild honeysuckle into his nostrils. All was well, except that the true leader of the team was not with them. Much as he was enjoying his new responsibilities, Waggit missed Tazar and longed for his return.

Suddenly he heard rustling coming from the woodland to his right. The hackles on his back stiffened with apprehension. Could this be a rival team come to reclaim their territory? He knew it couldn't be Ruzelas, because they would be making far more noise. As he watched, a doe glided slowly and gracefully out into the open meadow, followed by her fawn, still wobbling precariously on young legs. They both set about grazing. Waggit was amazed. He had never
seen animals that big in a city park; in fact he had only ever seen deer on his journey back from the country, and had found them a little scary. He growled softly, trying to not wake any of the team. The mother slowly turned her head, gave him a look of indifference, and then continued eating. This was clearly a very different park from the one they were used to.

Shortly before daybreak Waggit felt his eyelids getting heavy, and an overwhelming desire to sleep overtook him once more. He got up and moved as quietly as he could toward Gordo's large slumbering body and nudged him with his nose.

“Whaa…?” mumbled the sleeping dog. “Whassup? Is it breakfast?”

“No,” whispered Waggit, “it's time for Eyes and Ears.”

“Oh, okay,” Gordo said good-naturedly, and lumbered off to the mouth of the cave.

Waggit was just about to settle down to sleep when there was a yell from the new sentry.

“Waggit!” he shouted. “Longlegs. There's Longlegs in the grass.”

His cries awakened all the dogs, who ran to the entrance to see what the problem was. Gordo pointed
toward the deer with his nose.

“Longlegs,” he repeated, “and where there's Longlegs, there's sure to be Uprights.”

“That would be true,” said Waggit, “if they were Longlegs, but they're not. I can't remember what Felicia called them, but they're not Longlegs, and Uprights don't sit on them, so let's all go back to sleep.”

“Sorry, Waggit,” said Gordo somewhat shame-facedly. “I just ain't ever seen nothin' like that before.”

The deer, while perfectly unconcerned about one dog growling at her, decided that a whole pack was another thing altogether, so she and the fawn skipped hurriedly into the woods. With Gruff complaining about the frequency of false alarms, the dogs returned to their places and tried to get back to sleep before the dawn broke and awoke them all once more.

T
he next few days the team spent getting to know their new surroundings. Although not as big as the previous park, because of its steepness it was more difficult to get around, which was one of the reasons it wasn't swarming with people. It was particularly hard for Lowdown, who spent most of his days around the cave or in the meadow, rarely venturing farther away. He seemed quite content to pass the time like this, though.

Although it was extremely rare to see humans where
the team lived, it did happen occasionally, and as a result they had to be on their guard at all times. The ones who did venture up their way were usually hardy souls wearing heavy hiking boots and backpacks, often with binoculars around their necks. These were the easiest to avoid, because they spent most of their time staring up in the trees trying to get a glimpse of some birds in the branches.

“I don't know why they spend so much time looking at flutters,” Gordo was heard to say one time. “It's not like they eat them or anything.”

There were sections of the park that were as full of people as any part of the Skyline End. At its farthest point the park became a long promontory bordered by two rivers, the Wide Flowing Water on one side and a smaller one on the other. Where the hill flattened out as it came to the edge of the water, there were ballparks, playgrounds, gardens, a couple of small snack bars, and all the other aspects of human presence that the dogs tried to avoid. However, it was in areas such as these that dogs could scavenge, and although the Tazarians loved having a ready supply of fresh meat, sometimes they just longed for pizza.

On one such scavenging expedition they came into contact with the Terminors for the first time. Gordo, Cal, Raz, and Waggit were searching for tasty human food in the trash cans near one of the ballparks. Their noses had indicated that one possibly contained delicious morsels, and even though Gordo had used his considerable weight against it, he was unable to knock the container over because, like many of the others, it was chained to a bench. They were discussing other possible methods of liberating the food when they heard a low growl behind them.

“Hey, you guys,” said the owner of the growl, “I hope you know this is our realm.”

They turned to see a small but fearless-looking dog fiercely staring them in the eyes. He was part Chihuahua, part who-knows-what, and one of those little dogs who use aggression to make up for their lack of size. Waggit stared him down.

“And which realm would that be?” he asked.

“The realm of the Terminors, thank you for asking,” replied the dog with a sneer, “and thank you for leaving.”

“I thought,” said Waggit, “that the Terminors were
street dogs, not park dogs.”

“We are,” agreed the other, “and over there is one of our streets.”

He nodded toward a road that led into this part of the park.

“But this,” said Raz, joining the conversation, “is part of the park.”

“I ain't gonna argue with you, brother,” growled the little dog. “I'm telling you—this is our realm and you're not welcome here.”

“Welcome or not,” said Gordo, stretching himself up to his full height, “we
are
here, and if you give us any more trouble, I'll sit on you.”

Even this dire threat didn't seem to faze the little guy.

“Listen, fatty, you don't scare me. You move one paw print closer and I'll get the rest of my team, and then let's see you throw your weight around.”

“Slow down a moment,” Waggit cut in. “We were told by Beidel that if we needed help, we should get in touch with your team—you would be there for us. You don't seem especially helpful at the moment.”

“Beidel?” questioned the Terminor, looking nervous for the first time. “You know Beidel?”

“Sure we do,” said Cal. “The Ductors brought us here.”

“Wait a moment,” said the Terminor. “Are you those crazy dogs living on the hill?”

“We are dogs,” Waggit assured him, “and we do live on the hill, but I don't think we're any more crazy than any other dogs.”

“If you live on that hill you are,” said the Terminor. “Either that or ignorant.”

“Ignorant of what?” asked Waggit.

“The Curse,” replied the Terminor, “the Curse of Damnation Hill—your new home. They didn't tell you about that before bringing you here?”

“No,” said Waggit. “That seems to be something they forgot to mention. Tell us about it.”

“Well, it ain't a pretty story, let me say that,” said the dog. “My name's Cabrol, by the way, and I apologize for being a little harsh just then.”

Waggit introduced himself and the other Tazarians, and then Cabrol continued with the tale.

“This all happened many risings ago, before any of us were born, or even those who went before us. The way I heard it is that an old, old Upright used to live on the hill. He had long whiskers, and ate only berries
and tree roots and stuff like that and never went anywhere. Then one day a team of Wild Yellows came to the hill.”

“Wild Yellows!” exclaimed Waggit, who had never heard of coyotes being in the city. “How did they get here?”

“Who knows,” said Cabrol. “Like I said, this was many risings ago, maybe even before the Uprights built their dens around here. Perhaps they swam over from the Far Distant Territories; with Wild Yellows you never know, but for sure they was here. Anyway, they came across the ancient Upright, and they scared him, and he started to throw rocks and stuff at them. So they attacked, which of course you would if someone's throwing things at you. But being Wild Yellows, they got to howlin' and nipping and torturing the old one. There's something comes over them that they can't control—it's like a blood lust, and once that's up, they don't know how to stop it. So they killed him, and he died a hard death. But just before he passed on, he cursed them and their species forever. Now, whether you like it or not, we are the same kind, and the Curse lives on to this day.”

The Tazarians were silent as they tried to take in
this alarming information.

“What happened to the Wild Yellows?” Waggit finally asked.

“Nobody knows,” replied Cabrol. “But what we do know is that any dog who's tried to live there since then—well, let's just say strange things have happened to them.”

“Strange things like what?” asked Cal nervously.

“They got sick,” said Cabrol, “or trees fell on them or rocks came crashing down the cliff and hit them. Some just disappeared and were never seen again. No dogs have ever lived there longer than one Change. If they came during the Chill, they left before the Long Cold.”

“Waggit, this is terrible,” cried Gordo.

“It's only terrible if it's true,” Waggit reassured him.

“Hey,” Cabrol said, “I wouldn't lie to you. Why would I do that?”

“I'm not saying you're lying,” replied Waggit. “All I'm saying is that when stories get told, sometimes they get changed in the telling, and what you end up with isn't exactly the same as what happened.”

“These wasn't all stories, Waggit,” said Cabrol solemnly. “I knew some of them personally.”

There was really nothing they could think of to say after that, and so the Tazarians left Cabrol and started back up the path toward the hill they now knew was called Damnation Hill. They were so disturbed by what the Terminor had said that they even forgot to get the food out of the trash can. By now it was quite dark, and as they struggled up the narrow track that led to the meadow, Waggit stopped and turned to the other three.

“What we heard just now,” he warned, “I don't think we should tell the rest of the team. For one thing, it may not be true, and for another, if it is true, there's nothing we can do about it right now.”

The other dogs all agreed this was the sensible thing to do, even though Waggit knew there was little chance that Cal or Raz would keep the information to themselves and practically no possibility that Gordo would.

Their worries about the stories Cabrol told soon took second place to an event that was far more important than the legend of the hill, something that eclipsed all others. Like many of life's important occasions, it happened on a very ordinary day. Cal, Raz, Little One, and Little Two had all volunteered to go
out hunting, which usually meant they would chase a few squirrels for the fun of it and come back saying they hadn't seen anything worth going after. Magica had decided to clean out the cave. She had removed all the old ferns, most of which had gone brown with age while Alona pulled up new ones to replace them. Gordo, who was at his happiest when he was doing something for Magica, was sweeping out the areas she had cleaned up. Holding a branch with a few leaves on one end in his mouth, he moved his head from side to side so that the leaves could brush the sandy floor of the cave. Whether or not this made their home cleaner was hard to say. What was certain was that it irritated both Gruff and Alicia. Gruff had been struck several times by Gordo with his enthusiastic but poorly aimed whisks of the branch, and Alicia was in the middle of a sneezing fit brought on by the clouds of dust that Gordo's “broom” created.

Lowdown and Waggit were lying in the sun idly talking about this and that when Waggit suddenly pricked his ears and stood up. The first thing he saw was the top of the broken skateboard, and then, as she slowly climbed up the steep track that led to the meadow, more and more of Felicia was revealed. The
skateboard was jammed into her backpack, and she was wearing a new hat with a wide brim and a fold of material that hung down the back, covering her neck. Her face was red with exertion and she was puffing loudly, but she had a broad smile on her face.

“You couldn't find anywhere more difficult to locate or to get to?” she asked, climbing up the last few feet.

She sat down on a fallen tree trunk at the edge of the meadow, wiping the sweat off her forehead with a large green handkerchief. As she did, the dogs ran over to her yelping with joy, even Gruff and Alicia. The commotion they made filled the woods, and their sounds were carried to where the so-called hunters were playing. Soon they joined the crowd of dogs, so that the entire team was milling around Felicia. They peppered her with questions that came so fast, she could barely answer one before she got hit with another.

“Where have you been?”

“What have you been doing?”

“How did you find us?”

“Where's Tazar?”

It was Waggit who asked the last question, and the team went silent, because they knew that the answer
would be crucial to all of them. Felicia answered it by rising to her full height and looking back down the trail that she had been on.

“Unless I'm very much mistaken,” she said, “there's a dog coming up this way who looks remarkably like him. Excuse me,” she called down the trail, “but are you Tazar?”

“Always have been, my lady,” came a familiar voice, “and with a bit of luck I hope I always will be.”