Wild Dog City (Darkeye Volume 1) (3 page)

"Was she carrying milk?"

"I don't know… the dirt was on her."

"And was she hurt?"

"No, not that I saw…"

Sacha let out a small huff. "I see."

Mhumhi and Kutta looked at one another,
Mhumhi's tail wagging hard, Kutta's waving more slowly.

"Tell me," said Sacha, pacing a bit before
the cringing behemoth, "where are you going with that meat? Who are
you taking it to?"

Mhumhi glanced at Kutta again, though she was
focused on Sacha now. Domestics did not regurgitate for pups the
way they did, which was likely why the domestic had been forced to
carry the meat in his jaws, a moving target in the city full of
dogs.

He seemed loathe to answer Sacha, glancing
furtively from side to side, but a stern whine brought his
attention back to her.

"My sister," he said, finally. "She's… she's
sick, she cannot feed herself."

"Another domestic?"

"Yes…"

"Too weak to even walk to the
dispensary?"

The domestic flashed his pale eyes at her.
"It is a long walk… and she will not eat the meat. I must tell her
it is from somewhere else."

"Won't eat the meat?" exclaimed Kutta. "Why
not? What's the matter with her?"

The domestic gave her a frightened look.
"She- she thinks it made her sick. She is childish. I can help her.
But I must get her this meat, or she will die."

"And where do you tell her the meat comes
from?"

"Where… a… a rat?"

"Is she stupid? She believes meat like that
comes from a rat?" Sacha was growling softly now. "You know, that
jackal was right about something- there have been dogs that have
disappeared lately."

"Sacha!" cried Kutta. Mhumhi felt
stunned.

"You and your
sister
don't know
anything about the disappearances, do you?"

The domestic whined, a thin sound. "No! I
would not- I could not kill a dog! I would not!"

"Sacha, smell the meat!" said Kutta. "It
smells like ordinary meat, come on, he's speaking the truth. No one
would- I mean, no dog would eat another dog, that's
ridiculous!"

"Domestics don't think they're dogs," growled
Sacha, but she sniffed at the meat, then took a few steps back.
"Fine. Go on and take your meat to your stupid sister. But I don't
want to see you near our house again!"

With a final whine, the domestic snatched up
his meat and leapt straight over her, pushing roughly between Kutta
and Mhumhi to dash pell-mell down the street.

"Sacha," Kutta said, sounding weary.

"He's lying, and I have a feeling I know what
he's hiding," said Sacha. She swung her head around to look at
Mhumhi. "And you- you'd better not believe a word he said about
Mother, you know very well he was only telling you what he thought
you wanted to hear!"

"But Sacha!" exclaimed Mhumhi. "He said he
saw her near Big Park, that's not so far, maybe we could
search-"

"Big Park! You think for a minute she'd go to
Big Park?" Sacha whuffed with scornful laughter. "That's the
hunting grounds of the police pack! You know they chase down
hulkers there- why would Mother dare set foot into that place?"

Mhumhi was quiet for a moment, head turned
away, and then he said, "She found me, didn't she?"

Sacha seemed to tense, and Kutta drew
nervously away from the two of them.

"
Found
you?" she spat. "Found you? She
stole you, Mhumhi, right out from under your real mother! And you!"
She glared for a moment at Kutta, who now had her tail tucked.
"Don't you dare forget that! Don't you dare forget what she's done
to all of us!"

"So… so what?" said Mhumhi, though his voice
sounded feeble even to his own ears. "We grew up together… it's
never made any difference…"

"It makes
all
the difference!" Sacha
gave an angry little shudder. "It's good riddance she left- and
didn't you notice when she did it, just as soon as Kebero started
eating solid-"

"Stop it, Sacha!" Kutta was quivering too.
"That's enough!"

Sacha gave both of them a furious look and
ran down across the road, back towards their home.

"Mhumhi, I'm sorry," said Kutta, licking at
his ears, but he was still watching Sacha run away, looking tinier
and tinier.

"Should we stop looking for Mother?"

Kutta seemed surprised by the question. "Of
course not. Maybe we shouldn't tell Sacha about it, though."

Mhumhi let out a soft whine. "I want her to
come back, but is that bad?"

"No, no," said Kutta, pressing against his
side. "Of course not. She's our mother. Don't think about what
Sacha says about her. You're right that it doesn't matter."

Mhumhi did not respond, head low: despite
what Kutta might say, he never could stop thinking about Sacha's
words.

"Let's go home now," Kutta said. "She'll work
herself out of it. She always does. Just don't cross her for a
bit."

"All right," said Mhumhi, but he was feeling
very hollow now. The words that the blue-eyed dog had said should
have filled him with hope, but now he could only doubt them. Where
they true? And if they were, what
was
their small, domestic
mother doing going towards the park where the massive pack of
painted dogs hunted for hot meat?

Wounded
Fox

Mhumhi trailed behind Kutta as they walked
slowly back to their home. In the late afternoon the city was
starting to come alive again. More of the little dogs were emerging
from their dwellings, mingling with their neighbors. The street was
growing crowded again.

At their doorway Mhumhi hesitated, and said,
"I'll stay out here awhile."

Kutta gave him a light, understanding nudge.
Sacha's scent was still pungent and strong on the wall outside.

After his sister had slipped around the door,
Mhumhi trotted down the sidewalk, stepping gingerly over the
smaller foxes when he came across them. Many of them were
congregating to go to the Oldtown dispensary for their daily meat,
making Mhumhi think wistfully of the stuff he'd given Kebero.
There'd be no more given to him until the next day. He sighed, and
stumbled over the back of a startled island fox.

He cut through an alley and found himself on
a new street, not lined with houses but with storefronts and open
stalls. As the shadows lengthened a few of the neon lights were
flickering with a semblance of life, but it was a poor display.
Little electricity still lived on in Oldtown.

They called it 'Food Strip Street' but Mhumhi
had never seen any food there at all. He supposed the kiosks with
their transparent shelves and clear-fronted refrigerators had once
held food, for in places you could still catch a lingering essence
of it, but they were brutally clean now, perfectly so, licked that
way by a thousand starving tongues. Now, not being a suitable place
to make a home in, the street was practically deserted. But the
fennec fox had mentioned that this had been the place where he'd
first spotted the domestic, and Mhumhi had half a mind to
investigate. At least cursorily.

Most of the storefronts were dark, but here
and there along the narrow street there would be one that flickered
and flashed its bright white interior as the lights sputtered in
and out of life. Mhumhi trailed along the gutter, sniffing at the
sidewalk. Curious puppies had explored the area earlier that day
and splashed some urine onto a metal signpost, but he couldn't
catch a whiff of the blue-eyed domestic.

Even as he thought that he looked up across
the street to one of the flickering storefronts and saw a small
dark figure watching him. At the next moment the lights failed and
the figure disappeared.

The lights flashed up again a moment later,
and he flinched, blinking. There it was. A little fox, sitting on
top of the gleaming counter, looking at him with dark eyes. It had
enormous ears which seemed nearly too heavy for its little head,
for they sagged forward and wrinkled the little brow.

Mhumhi recalled that it was a bat-eared fox,
this thing, as it leapt off the countertop and came out of the
store towards him. It was limping.

"Hello," it said.

Mhumhi was a bit surprised the little thing
was talking to him. He supposed he was being mistaken for police
again.

"Hello," he responded, trying to be polite,
and tentatively sniffed noses with the fox. It was an older male,
he gathered, and in poor health at the moment.

"I saw you earlier," said the bat-eared fox,
once they had got the measure of each other. "With the domestic and
that jackal."

"Oh, you did," said Mhumhi, somewhat feebly,
for as far as he remembered he'd given a poor show.

"Is it true, that you're from the orphan
pack?"

Mhumhi stiffened.

"I'm not trying to offend you," the fox said,
swinging his ears down and back. "I'm just curious. The one who
took you is gone now, isn't she? The white dog?"

"How do you know she's white?" asked Mhumhi,
still stiff-legged, trying to ignore the word 'took.'

"I spoke with her once," said the fox. "It
was a long time ago. She was taking care of one little puppy then.
The bush dog."

Mhumhi's own ears swung forward. Sacha… that
would have been Sacha as a puppy. The thought of it made him smile,
letting his tongue hang out. Had she been cross as a puppy, or had
she grown into it gradually? How had his mother ever managed, poor
thing?

"Are there still more puppies?"

The question caught him off-guard. "What?
What do you mean?"

"I haven't seen any, but you're keeping at
least one in the house, aren't you?" the fox persisted, blinking
his black button eyes. "I thought I could smell it."

"What do you care?" said Mhumhi, though he
was now beginning to feel a bit nervous. Kebero was something that
needed to be fairly secret, until he grew to a respectable size, at
least. A Simien wolf puppy traveling with any one of them would
raise suspicions, and Sacha was keen not to have the police over,
hunting for pup-thieves.

"I'd like to help you," said the fox.

"Help us?" Mhumhi looked at the little thing,
which must have been all of seven pounds. "How?"

The fox sneezed, which seemed to be his way
of laughing. "With the puppy," he said. "I've long lost my own.
I've lost everything, you see, and in that fight earlier I even got
my leg injured. I thought you saw me, but…"

Mhumhi suddenly remembered the little body
he'd nearly stepped on.

"I thought you were dead!"

The fox laughed again. "I thought so, as
well, but I crawled out of there somehow. But you see, I'm in a bit
of trouble. I was wondering if you would let me stay with your
family for a while. In return, I'll help you look after the
puppy."

"Stay with…?" Mhumhi put his ears back. He'd
never heard such a bizarre request. He doubted either of his
sisters would like it very much. "We don't need any help with him,
though."

"I don't mean just looking after him," said
the fox. "I'm sure you've had trouble getting enough meat for him.
It isn't much, but I'll add my daily portion to yours. I don't use
it anyway."

"You don't use it? Then what-"

"I've found that it doesn't agree with me,"
said the fox, flicking his brushy tail. "There's better food
elsewhere, if you can scratch it out. It wouldn't satisfy a big
fellow like you, of course, but I don't need much."

"What food?" Mhumhi asked. He glanced around
at the flickering storefronts. "There's something here still?"

"No," admitted the fox. "I was too weary to
go to my normal hunting grounds, so I thought I might nose around
here a bit… but there's not so much as a crumb left here to attract
any insects."

"Insects!"

"Yes." The fox's button eyes twinkled up at
him. "I told you, it wouldn't satisfy you."

Mhumhi wrinkled his nose, drawing back his
lips slightly at the thought. "Where are your normal hunting
grounds?"

"Usually I hunt around the sewers, around the
dispensary drainage. But I didn't want to risk putting this leg in
that muck." The fox glanced back at himself, and Mhumhi suddenly
realized how he was holding his left back leg slightly raised, as
if it were painful. The fur around his heel was coarse and matted
with dried blood.

"Oh, that looks awful!" exclaimed Mhumhi,
suddenly full of sympathy for the poor old thing. "Let me see to
it!"

"No, it's been too tender-" the fox had
started to say, but Mhumhi planted one big paw over his back so he
could lean down and sniff at the wound. The fox squeaked.

It didn't seem very deep, but it cut all the
way down to part of the pad. Mhumhi licked at it, pulling at the
matted fur with his tongue, and the fox flinched mightily, but did
not make another sound.

"How did you cut it like this?" Mhumhi asked,
as he worked.

The fox's response sounded pained. "I'm not
sure- I think I stumbled over something sharp when I was trying to
get out of the fighting."

Mhumhi gave a disapproving little twitter at
the thought, but he had managed to pull most of the matting and
crusted blood away with his tongue, and exposed the wound, which
bled a little.

"That should feel better," he said, drawing
away. "It smelled a bit like it was going infected, but you're all
right."

The fox turned back and sniffed his foot,
giving it a few licks with his own small tongue. "Thank you."

"You should come back with me," said Mhumhi,
who was starting to feel warmly paternal, the fact that the fox was
likely many years older than him notwithstanding. "There are soft
places you can sleep, and you'll be out of the wet weather."

"I will if you'll have me," said the fox,
raising his brush tail slightly. "My name is Bii."

"I'm Mhumhi," said Mhumhi, wagging his own
tail, and took a moment to sniff around Bii's hindquarters and
tail, getting accustomed to his scent. Bii took it patiently,
leaning against him and raising his injured paw gingerly.