A Pack Divided (5 page)

Today's catch had been poor, Storm
thought, ashamed—partly because of their pointless chase after the deer. She dipped her head as they all trailed into the camp later that day, avoiding the gaze of the rest of the Pack. A scrawny squirrel dangled from her jaws, but she wasn't proud of it—
we could have done so much better
, she thought. Breeze carried another squirrel, and Lucky had a rabbit in his mouth—a fairly fat one, but still.

If only we could have found one of those phantom deer . . .

Alpha stretched, rose to her paws and paced forward to greet them and examine their catch. There was concern in her dark eyes as she glanced at Storm, then turned to Lucky.

“Snap's still out with her hunting patrol,” she told her Beta. “I'm sure she'll bring something back, and together with your prey, well . . .”

Their Alpha was trying to look on the bright side, Storm knew, but she shouldn't have had to.

“I'm sorry, Sweet,” Lucky told her in a low growl. “We should have done better. The Moon-Dog is full tonight, and it's good to have a satisfied belly for the Great Howl.” He nuzzled Alpha's flank apologetically.

Storm didn't hear Alpha's reply; as the graceful swift-dog pressed her slender nose to Lucky's ear, Storm turned quickly and trotted away, embarrassed to witness her leaders' easy intimacy.

“Thorn,” she barked softly, relieved to spot Fiery and Moon's female pup chatting with the feisty little dog from the former Leashed Pack. “Daisy!”

The two cocked their heads toward her, whining greetings. “Was there no prey out there, Storm?” asked Daisy, letting her tongue loll. “Your catch doesn't seem so good this evening.”

Storm lowered her ears, ashamed. “It was pretty scarce, and what there was—well, it was as skinny as we are. But it wasn't that. I'm afraid we got distracted by deer scents.”

“Deer?” Thorn's ears pricked enthusiastically.

“Yes, but we couldn't find them,” sighed Storm. “We wasted a lot of time. I'm sorry.”

It was at the edge of her muzzle to mention the strangeness of
the place, and her suspicions about a connection with the Golden Deer, but Daisy was wagging her tail excitedly, and Storm decided it was best to keep her jaws shut.

“Lots of deer scents?” barked the little dog. “Well, maybe if you go back you
will
catch a deer!”

“You were just unlucky,” agreed Thorn. “Next time you go to that spot, you'll probably see one!”

“Or
lots
.” Daisy licked her chops longingly. “Lots of deer . . .” Her voice faded to a hungry growl.

Storm opened her mouth to calm the two dogs' expectations, but she was interrupted by a furious snarling argument from the nearest corner of the clearing. Turning in surprise, she saw that Rake and Ruff—two patrol dogs who had once been in Twitch's Pack—were facing down Moon. They barked angrily at the farm dog, their muzzles almost touching hers. The fur of all three dogs was raised along their spines. Around them, looking distinctly unsettled, stood Twitch, Thorn's litter-brother Beetle, and a couple of hunters who'd once followed Twitch. Breeze was one of them.

Moon's looking a bit outnumbered,
thought Storm anxiously, as Thorn trotted forward, growling, to stand at her litter-brother's side.

“You're not my Alpha dog, Moon!” snarled Rake.

Storm padded up to the knot of hostile dogs, Daisy at her flank. “What's going on? Can't you dogs just listen to Alpha and Beta and get along with each other?”

“We don't want to make trouble,” growled Ruff, “but we won't let ourselves be ordered around by just
any
dog.” She bared her fangs, and Moon gave her a warning snarl in response.

Wildly, Storm glanced around, and was relieved to see Sweet and Lucky pacing across the clearing toward them. But Rake, Ruff and Moon were still too busy glaring at one another to take any notice. Rake lunged suddenly, his jaws snapping on Moon's fur as she jerked back. She spun and bit savagely at his shoulder as Beetle and Ruff circled, snarling and darting bites at one another.

“I don't take commands from you!” barked Rake again as he dodged Moon's angry jaws. “Alpha said Twitch was in charge of the patrol dogs. That's who tells me what to do—Twitch! Not you!”

Moon stiffened, jaws dripping and blue eyes glittering as the dogs resumed their angry standoff. “You're on guard duty tonight whether you like it or not. Do as you're told.”

“Twitch!” Rake spun to face his old Pack leader. “You tell her. She's undermining your authority!”

Twitch didn't seem to want to be involved; in fact, he looked as if he'd rather be anywhere else. Shifting his hindquarters, he glanced from Rake to Moon to Ruff. He gave an uncertain growl, low in his throat, but before he could come up with an answer, Daisy bounded forward.

“You should respect Moon!” she told them in her high-pitched yelp. “We all should!”

Beside her, Thorn and Beetle growled their hearty agreement, then slunk protectively to their Mother-Dog's sides. Storm realized Thorn was on the point of flinging herself violently at Rake's throat. With some desperation, Storm glanced over her shoulder to find Lucky, but he had paused a few paces from the fight. His face was filled with uncertainty.

It was Alpha who shouldered her way into the middle of the quarreling dogs. She stood firm between Thorn and Rake, glaring at them sternly.

Alpha said nothing, but Thorn and Rake both dipped their heads, cowed. Each took a pace backward, as the swift-dog turned on her slim legs, meeting the eyes of the patrol dogs.

“I won't have this,” she growled. “Do you hear? The last thing this Pack needs is fighting dogs.”

Rake opened his jaws, then seemed to think better of it. He
shut them again, and licked his chops nervously.

“Moon and Twitch are two of the most experienced dogs in this Pack,” Alpha went on, with a distinct undercurrent of threat in her soft voice. “They both deserve respect. If I hear of any patrol dog failing to give it to them—to
either of them—
there will be consequences. Serious consequences, do you all understand?”

Every patrol dog lowered his or her eyes, and tails dropped to clamp against their rumps.

“Yes, Alpha,” muttered Rake, and Ruff gave a hasty nod of agreement.

“Of course,” grunted Thorn.

They kept their gazes down while their Alpha studied them severely, but as she turned dismissively and stalked away, Storm didn't take her eyes off the patrol dogs. From the looks they were giving one another, they weren't at all submissive now. Fangs were subtly bared, eyes flashed with hostility, and as soon as Alpha was out of earshot, there was a distinct low snarling in several throats. Violence was on the edge of breaking out again; Storm could sense it in the air. Even Twitch and Moon, who had always got along so well, were avoiding each other's eyes.

Alpha, with Lucky at her flank, returned to her sleeping-place and flopped carefully down, head on her paws as she watched
the patrol dogs from a distance. The tight group was breaking up now, but Storm did not like the way it was dividing. There was a very obvious split as the dogs turned their backs on each other: Twitch's old followers, and the patrol dogs who had originally been with Sweet's Pack. And there were no amicable licks or forgiving nudges as the two groups hurried to opposite sides of the clearing.

Daisy and Thorn were crouching in a huddle with Moon and her other patrollers, but as Storm trotted to join them, Daisy glanced up at her, brown eyes apologetic.

“Storm, if you don't mind . . . I think this is patrol-dog business? We all need to talk. For a bit. Alone?”

Storm hesitated, one paw off the ground. Feeling horribly awkward, she glanced around the camp. The hunt-dogs were all in little groups of their own by now, chatting lazily about their day, and Storm didn't think there was a single cluster of dogs she could butt her way into uninvited. She swallowed as she nodded at Daisy and slunk away from the patrol dogs.

With a suddenness that took her breath away, she was swamped by longing for Martha. In that moment she missed her foster-mother so badly, she wanted to howl to the sky all alone. When Martha had been alive, there had always been at least one
dog who was happy to welcome her, to let Storm cuddle against her huge flank and confide her hopes and worries and miseries.

A small shiver ran along Storm's spine as she remembered her dream from the previous night: Martha's kind eyes filling her vision; her warm, gruff voice that had always been full of comfort.

The darkness is in you. . . .

Storm shivered and gave a plaintive whimper.
What's wrong with me?

Maybe nothing. After all, Lucky had had terrible dreams, once. He'd dreamed of the Storm of Dogs, and the nightmares had tormented him for many journeys of the Moon-Dog. But those dreams had predicted Storm's victory over Blade; they'd been a
good
omen. That wasn't what her dream had felt like. It seemed to promise only horror and darkness.

Storm sat on her haunches, torn by different urges. She licked her jaws and gave a low unhappy whine. In the center of the glade, Lucky lay curled up with Sweet, talking quietly; Storm didn't feel she could interrupt their moment of private intimacy.
But I need to ask someone about my dream, someone who knows what it's like. . . .

As she hesitated, the undergrowth rustled, and with a crunching of leaves and a snapping of twigs the dogs of the second hunting party trotted into the clearing. Storm breathed a sigh of
relief as she got to her paws, tongue lolling. Snap and her hunters had brought a good deal more prey than she, Lucky, and the others had managed. The Great Howl wouldn't be a gloomy affair after all.

Wagging her tail, Storm waited until Alpha had risen to greet the hunters and admire their catch, then took her opportunity. She padded close to Lucky and settled down at his side.

“Storm.” He licked her ear affectionately.

“Lucky, can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can.” He seemed distracted, preoccupied with Alpha and the hunters, but Storm took a deep breath and plunged on.

“Do you still dream about the Storm of Dogs?”

His sidelong glance was a little startled, but then he shook his golden head and looked back at Snap and Alpha. “No, Storm, that's all over. I haven't dreamed about it since it happened.”

“Well.” She licked her jaws with a tongue that felt dry. “The thing is, Lucky . . . I had a dream last night. A bad dream.”

“Oh, you don't have to worry. All dogs have bad dreams sometimes. It's natural.” He nodded toward Snap. “Look at that fine rabbit Snap caught!”

Storm opened her jaws.
But Lucky
, she wanted to blurt out.
Martha said something terrible, and I woke up outside the camp, and I still don't know how I got there, and—

It was no use; she couldn't bring herself to say it. The words dream-Martha had said, Storm realized, were something she was too ashamed to share with any other dog.

Even with Lucky . . .

Because what if it wasn't an ordinary dream? What if, like Lucky's nightmare, it had meant something?

Lucky's dreams, after all, had warned him about a great battle. They hadn't warned him about
himself
!

But what if my dream is true, too?

Above their heads the Moon-Dog was
full and silver, glowing with a light that cast deep shadows. Gazing up at her, Storm's heart felt full, and for a moment all her fears and worries about the dream fell away, as if she'd shaken water from her fur. The Great Howl was the one thing that could always draw the Pack together, make every dog set aside the petty differences and small irritations of the day; it could even make a dog forget the awfulness of a dream—if only for a little while.

I'm counting on it.

The Pack sat, crouched, or sprawled in the center of the clearing, forming a loose circle around Alpha, who gazed transfixed at the night sky. As the mutters of conversations faded, and the Moon-Dog rose higher, the swift-dog tipped back her slender head and parted her jaws. Closing her eyes, she let a howl rise in
her throat, swelling until it echoed and resounded in the trees.

One by one, the other dogs joined their voices to Alpha's. The sound grew, the dogs matching their voices together until the howl seemed like a solid, living thing that rippled across their fur and thrilled in their muscles and blood.

Storm's own howl was building inside her, and she raised her jaws to release it. Her cry merged seamlessly with the others, and she felt the stirring joy of the Pack's togetherness.

She paused.
Except we're not all together. . . .

The sensation of the howl felt thinner than usual; it didn't fill her bones as it should. Sneaking a glance to her side, Storm saw that her suspicions were right. Some of the Pack members weren't howling at all.

Ruff
, she realized, catching sight of the female patrol dog's sullen, silent expression.
And Chase. And Breeze . . .

All dogs of Twitch's old Pack. Are they still angry about that confrontation with Moon?
Shocked, Storm lowered her head, her voice catching and halting in her throat.

How can they resist the pull of the Howl?
Bewildered, she cocked her ear. Her tail was tight between her hindquarters.

I don't want to be unhappy, not tonight!
With a stirring resentment toward the silent dogs, Storm threw her head back once more and
rejoined the Howl, giving her voice even more intensity to make up for the surly absentees. Deliberately she shut Ruff and Chase and Breeze out of her mind, forcing herself to focus only on the voices of the Packmates who howled with her. Slowly, inexorably, she felt herself drawn in again, until she was one with her Pack once more, their voices and dog-spirits blending with the night air and rising to the Moon-Dog.

I feel them
, she thought with a thrill.
Not my Pack, the Others. The Spirit Dogs. I feel them!

Beneath her paw pads she could feel the pulse of the Earth-Dog's great heart, beating through the landscape. From far away she heard the rush of the River-Dog, could feel her flow as clearly as she felt the blood in her body. In the trees around her, she was aware of rippling movement in the shadows, and she knew it was the cunning Forest-Dog, who guarded and protected them all. He ran and dodged and hunted there, bringing prey and good luck to the Pack. In her mind's eye she saw the dark glow of his gaze, watching over them.

The Forest-Dog reminds me of Lucky
, she thought in a daze of contentment
. But then, he
is
Lucky's Spirit Dog.

Who is
my
Spirit Dog?
Storm blinked her eyes open to let the brilliant moonlight dazzle her.
Who will guide
me
, Moon-Dog?

For a moment she thought the great silver Spirit Dog was really going to answer her. Something filled her head, something huge and wondrous, so that she felt she was floating as she howled.

Then it happened. A darkness blotted out the Moon-Dog's form: the dark running shape of a vast and terrifying Fierce Dog. Cold gripped Storm's heart as her voice caught in her throat again, choking off her howl.

As it moved across the Moon-Dog's form, the dark Spirit Dog seemed to pause, turn, and fix eyes on Storm that were darker than the night sky, but which glittered with a starlike glow.

A Sky-Dog!
Yet even as she thought that, Storm knew it was no Sky-Dog. This was a Spirit Dog she had never seen before, one she had never even heard of. His terrible eyes remained locked on hers for a moment longer; then he was turning, and his long loping stride carried him away across the blackness of the sky. The Moon-Dog's light glowed fiercely on the Pack once more.

The other dogs were still singing their cries, but Storm's body felt empty of breath. She couldn't give voice to a whimper, much less a howl. Glancing to one side and the other, she realized none of the others had even paused in their song. The eyes of her Packmates were closed in ecstasy, or they were riveted on the light of the Moon-Dog. Storm realized the truth like a bite to her belly.

No other dog saw what I saw!

In desperation she scanned the upturned faces of her Packmates.
Did no dog see the fierce Spirit Dog? Did I imagine him?

No!
She realized that, with absolute certainty, when her eyes locked with Arrow's.

The other Fierce Dog was not howling, either. He was watching Storm, his dark eyes knowing, as if they shared a secret. A great and terrible
family
secret . . .

The shock of connection made Storm jerk her head away, and she stared up at the sky in near panic.
I am not like Arrow! I am not the same as him!

She was one of this Pack! She'd been raised by Lucky and Martha, not by Blade; she'd learned to be a true, kind, and loyal friend, not a bloodthirsty warrior-dog.
I'm not like Arrow! I was never one of Blade's Pack!

No matter how hard she tried, though, she could not raise her voice again to join with the Pack's howling. And she realized, with a shock, that it was because of fear.
I don't want to see that Spirit Dog again. If I raise my head and howl, he might return.

I don't want him to come back. . . .

Feeling shrunken back to pup-size, she sat quietly, tail between her legs, deliberately avoiding Arrow's gaze. He was still looking
at her, she knew it, but she would not meet those conspiratorial eyes again.

As the Great Howl faded, Storm sat silently, staring straight ahead. Only when most of her Packmates had risen and shaken themselves and headed for their sleeping dens with contented barks and growls of good night did she finally get to her paws.

I'm not going to talk to Arrow about this. I don't care what he thinks.

Breeze, though, was glancing up at the Moon-Dog as she paced toward her den, and Storm licked her chops, filled with curiosity.
Why didn't Breeze join the Howl? She was so loyal to the Spirit Dogs earlier, when she argued with Bella; she believes in the Spirits and trusts them. Even if she was angry, why wouldn't Breeze howl?

Determinedly, Storm caught up to pad at her flank. “Breeze, why didn't you join in the Howl?” she blurted out. “You and your friends? Don't you want to feel part of the Pack?”

Breeze shot her a thoughtful look as she licked her jaws. “I can't speak for the others,” she said at last. “Maybe they were just too angry to howl tonight.”

“But that's just what the Great Howl does,” pointed out Storm. “It soothes anger, brings us all together! And the Spirit Dogs—”

“I know that's the idea, that it unites the Pack,” admitted Breeze, hesitating to sniff the night air, “and I trust in the Spirit
Dogs. But for me, it wasn't the anger. Maybe for Ruff and Rake and Chase, but not me. I've never howled with the Pack.”

“What?” Storm pricked her ears, shocked.

“It's true. When we were Terror's Pack, we never howled. We didn't want to attract the attention of the Fear-Dog.”

“That's ridiculous,” exploded Storm.

“Is it?” Breeze hunched her shoulders against a shudder. “Think what you like, but Terror knew about these things. When Twitch took over as our Alpha he reinstated the Howl, but I never joined in, even then.” Furtively she peered into the shadows around the glade, then nudged her head closer to Storm, and whispered nervously, “I don't want the Fear-Dog to find me. The way he found Terror . . .”

Storm stared after Breeze as the hunt-dog hurried to her den.
What a ridiculous notion. Terror put the fear of . . . well, the fear of the Fear-Dog into that Pack.

It's not true. Lucky said there was no such thing as a Fear-Dog. And there isn't.

All the same, Storm shivered as she crept to her own nest of soft leaves and grass, and she raked her bedding with her claws to enclose her body more snugly. Even then, she couldn't get comfortable. The chill was in her bones, not in the night air, and her
snug nest felt as if it was full of stones. She shifted restlessly, twisting and turning.

Was it the Fear-Dog I saw?

The thought popped unwelcome into Storm's skull, making her snap her head up and pant for breath. Lucky had said the Fear-Dog was a figment of Terror's warped imagination—but Lucky had been wrong before. . . .

Arrow had seen that Spirit Dog too. Could he and Storm have brought the Fear-Dog down on the Pack?

Squeezing her eyelids tight shut, she forced herself to think only of drifting into unconsciousness.
I will go to sleep, I will . . .

Except that I can't.
Her legs kicked in frustration.
I'll never sleep again. . . .

What? What's going on?

Storm's legs were not thrashing against leaves and grass anymore; they were bounding freely over the forest floor. Urgency seized her chest, and she picked up speed.

There was something she had to do. She had to get there now. She had to do this!

Even though she couldn't remember exactly what the vital thing was . . .

The shadow that raced at her side did not belong to her. She could hear its
footfalls, and she could make out its darkness from the corner of her eye, but she didn't want to look. Instead she ran faster than ever.

“You can't outrun me,” said a voice. “You never could. I will always be with you.”

This time, Storm made herself look. She turned her head to glare at the darkness.

“Blade!” She wasn't out of breath, yet she couldn't seem to run fast enough to outpace the shadowy Fierce Dog. “You're dead, Blade. You can't be here.”

Blade peeled back her lips in a scornful snarl. “You think it's that easy to get rid of me? I'm stronger than death, Storm. I know the truth about you; I've always known it. That's why I'll always be at your side. That's why I'll always be with you.”

Storm licked her jaws, but she couldn't make them moist. Her tongue was coated in dust and ashes. “Are you the Fear-Dog?”

Blade barked a hollow laugh. “You know better than that, Storm.”

Storm couldn't look away. She could only run, and stare in horror at Blade, and try not to fall.

“The Fear-Dog is patrolling tonight.” Blade's whispering voice was dark and deadly. “But I am not the dog who brought him here.”

Storm skidded, stumbled to a halt, crashed to the ground. Leaves and grass broke her fall, but there were sharp stones beneath them, and she yelped in pain and terror.

And woke up. She froze in disbelief. She hadn't fallen at all; she was on her four paws, in a turmoil of leaves and sand where she must have skidded and twisted. Her flanks heaved as she fought to control her desperate breathing.

Storm eyed the darkness around her. Spun on her haunches, and stared.

She was no longer in the camp. She was no longer in the glade. She was deep in the forest. And for the second time, she had no memory of how she had gotten there.