Red Moon Rising

by Erin Hunter

  She couldn’t repress a happy bark. “All right. Let’s go! We’ve got work to do!”

  Storm led her patrol out of the glade and through the forest, enjoying the softness of moss and grass beneath her paw pads, and the cool breeze that brought with it a tantalizing promise of prey. Tree Flower was drawing to an end, warming into Long Light, and the forest was alive with the rustle of prey. Storm licked her jaws in anticipation.

  “Let’s split up into smaller groups,” she told the others. “There’s so much prey, that will maximize our chances. Bruno and Chase, why don’t you head to the hunting meadow below the cliffs?”

  “Sounds good to me,” growled Bruno, and the two dogs veered off.

  “He didn’t even argue,” marveled Moon as she watched Bruno and Chase disappear into the long grass. The three female dogs padded on through trees bright with new green and yellow foliage, their paws silent on fallen blossoms. “Well done, Storm!”

  “It seems like Bruno’s not suspicious of you anymore,” said Breeze. She looked cheerful as she sniffed the wind. “I’m really glad—there’s a much happier atmosphere in the camp now!”

  “I’m glad too,” said Storm softly. “It does make life a lot more peaceful.”

  “And that’s good for the pups,” agreed Breeze. “Oh, what a beautiful day for a hunt!”

  Storm gave a soft growl of agreement. There couldn’t be a more pleasant way to spend the hours of the Sun-Dog’s journey: padding quietly through the forest, noses twitching and ears pricked in concentration. For a while there was a companionable silence between the three Packmates as they focused on their search.

  “Oh!” exclaimed Breeze. “Did I scent a rabbit just now?”

  “I did, too.” Storm halted and sniffed the wind. The rabbit scent was mingled with something meatier.

  Deer!

  “Moon, you go after those. Breeze, you can help Moon drive the rabbits, but keep scouting between the groups, too—you never know what else might pop up. Meanwhile, I’ll check out that deer scent. If I catch sight of anything, I’ll call you back—it might take a few of us to bring one down, but it would be more than worth it.”

  Moon gave her an approving growl and a nod, and set off after the rabbits, with Breeze in tow. Every dog was listening to Storm’s orders, and she felt her heart beat with a fierce pride.

  I think Alpha knew how well this would go; she must have known about Bruno’s apology, too. What a wise leader she is—and kind, too. She knows I needed this.

  There was a little nibble of guilt in her belly, though. Storm was aware she had more than one reason for choosing the deer scent for herself. If I can get a sign, just an inkling that the Golden Deer is nearby . . .

  She shook herself. Stop dreaming, Storm, and start hunting!

  A warm, rich odor clung to a tussock of grass at her shoulder. Storm hesitated, snuffling at it, filling her nostrils. Not the Golden Deer, with its particular, unique spiciness; but the scent definitely spoke of deer, and made her mouth water. Casting around for the strongest trail, Storm found a promising direction and followed it, muzzle close to the ground.

  It led her across the meadow, the trail strong and easy to follow until it dispersed among a cluster of cottonwood trees. Storm walked between their smooth silver trunks, keeping her head low and her paws quiet. Above her the new leaves fluttered, casting strange dappled shadows, but the paleness of the foliage made it simple to spot the group of dark, moving shapes where the trees were thickest.

  There was a clump of goat’s beard growing between the trees, its tall plumes of feathery flowers making good cover. Storm slunk in among the plants and lay low, watching the deer. Their odor was very strong now, and she was downwind and perfectly placed. Could she even take one of them down alone? Just one . . .

  Or perhaps she should be patient and follow the original plan. She could track the herd, then go back for the others—who must have caught some small prey by now—and then they might have a chance to catch two deer. Two deer would feed the Pack for days, she thought hungrily.

  The peace in the little copse was deep and blissful, broken only by the rustling of breeze-blown leaves and the contented munching of browsing deer. So it chilled Storm’s spine when a searing howl echoed across the grass.

  The deer bolted instantly, their hooves a light thunder on the soft grass. Breathless and afraid, Storm leaped to her paws. The howling was too high-pitched and wild for her to identify the voice, but it was undoubtedly a dog, in pain and terrified. That dog needed help. There was no question of not responding.

  Bounding out of the goat’s-beard bush, she veered through the tree trunks and raced across the grassy meadow. Her thoughts tumbled over one another even as she sprinted, desperate to reach the distressed dog. We should never have split up. We still have an enemy, and that bad dog is still among us!

  Oh, Sky-Dogs, I hope I’m not too late—

  She plunged into another thickly wooded patch of forest, nearly tumbling over in her speed. The howling was closer now. It’s Moon!

  The deer-scent in her nostrils had been overwhelmed by the reek of rabbit, so she knew she was on the right track. But that scent in turn was abruptly swamped by the pungent, pervasive odor of wild garlic. It seemed to fill Storm’s whole skull, making her eyes water and her nose sting. Her sense of smell was useless now—she could only strain her ears forward and crane them to the side, hunting for clues, trying to home in on the source of the howling.

  She was so busy listening, focused on the terrible cries, that she almost careered into the steep hollow that opened before her paws. Scrabbling to a halt just in time, she stood on the edge, surrounded by a thick tangle of tough grass and more pungent wild garlic. Panting, Storm stretched out her neck and peered down the slope. It was almost vertical, a hidden trap for any unwary dog.

  “Moon!” she barked. She could make out Moon’s black-and-white fur through the undergrowth; the Farm Dog was sprawled at the foot of the sharp drop. “Moon!”

  The pale shape moved, struggling to rise. Heart in her throat, Storm watched as Moon got gingerly to her paws, head hanging down. At least she had stopped howling, but there was still shock and pain in her blue eyes.

  Moon tilted her head up, meeting Storm’s frightened stare.

  “Moon, are you badly hurt? What happened?”

  The Farm Dog lifted a paw, wincing in agony. Next to her, Storm could make out a dead rabbit, its head and flank patched with blood. All around Moon were scattered rocks, some larger than a dog’s head. They were smeared with fresh earth.

  Those rocks have only just fallen!

  “Moon, are you all right?” she barked again, torn with anxiety.

  Moon gave a low growl, one that swelled with anger till it was almost a howl again.

  “No, Storm, I’m not all right.” Moon’s white muzzle curled back to show angry fangs. “I’ve just been attacked!”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Hold on, Moon. We’ll get you out of there.” Storm crouched at the edge of the drop, pricking her ears forward and peering over. It was a horribly long drop—Moon hadn’t been badly hurt, but that must have been by pure luck. If she’d fallen another way, the fast-running hunt-dog might have broken her neck.

  Was she pushed? Is there an enemy nearby? Storm gave a few rapid, loud barks of summons, then turned back to her friend. “What happened, Moon?”

  “It was a stupid accident,” growled Moon, pawing awkwardly at the dead rabbit. “I was so focused on tracking this rabbit, but I couldn’t rely on my nose because of the stench of that wild garlic up there. I had to keep my eyes on the wretched creature. So I never saw the land fall away.”

  “It could happen to any dog,” Storm told her, relieved. “I can’t smell a thing, either. You were lucky you weren’t knocked out, and that you could howl. I came as soon as I could.”

  “Oh, you weren’t the first,” snarled Moon.

  Storm flinched back, startled. No, I got here ahead of the others—
wait! Moon said she was attacked. “What do you mean?”

  “I tried to climb out of here at first, but it was hopeless. Too steep, and the slope is crumbly. I knew I’d have to howl for help, so I did—and some dog came, all right. Some dog came, saw me down here, and dislodged these rocks to topple them onto me!”

  Storm felt her heart thunder against her ribs. What? Is the traitor here, now?

  She glanced around and spotted a crumbling overhang a little to their right. It wouldn’t be hard to loosen stones from there and send them tumbling down on a dog lying below, as helpless as a wounded deer.

  Storm’s stomach plummeted, but she also felt a throb of excitement. Moon was all right, and perhaps she had seen the traitor!

  “Who, Moon?” she asked breathlessly. “Who did this?”

  “I don’t know!” Moon gave a strangled howl of frustration. “I couldn’t see from here. The dog was nothing but a shadow. But that . . . that creature shoved the rocks down deliberately—that much I do know!”

  Storm tried to beat down her disappointment. The priority here was to get Moon out of her predicament. “You’re lucky you weren’t killed. Can you walk?”

  Moon staggered to her paws and gingerly tested her weight. “Nothing’s broken, I don’t think. Just bruised.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Storm reassured her. It could have been much worse. “Where are the others?”

  Pawsteps and harsh panting echoed abruptly at her ear, and Storm jumped back in shock. When she turned, Bruno, Breeze, and Chase were at her side, out of breath from running, their eyes full of panic. Of course I didn’t smell them coming, she realized, annoyed at herself. It’s that Earth-Dog-cursed garlic.

  “What happened?” barked Bruno.

  “It’s fine,” Storm reassured him, gesturing to the precipice with her nose. “Moon fell, but she’s not badly hurt.”

  “No thanks to that traitor dog!” barked Moon angrily from below them. “I thought our territory had been cleared, but the bad dog has struck again! I could have been killed.”

  Chase gave a sharp yelp of horror, while Bruno looked shocked into silence, and Breeze growled in appalled dismay. “How did it happen?”

  “Moon fell by accident—but then a dog pushed those rocks over on top of her.” Storm stood back to let her three Packmates peer over the edge. “We can’t worry about that right now, though. We have to get her out.”

  “How can we pull her up from all the way down there?” Bruno’s eyes were wide and afraid.

  “We don’t have to.” Storm scratched experimentally at the steep ground. “Look, the earth is crumbling. I’m sure it can be loosened. We’ll dig until the slope’s shallow enough for Moon to climb.”

  “Good thinking,” yapped Chase, and she set to work. The others joined her, scraping and digging, kicking the loose earth away with their hindpaws.

  It was tougher than Storm had expected. All four dogs were soon panting hard, and their progress was slow. Below them, Moon scraped weakly at the foot of the drop, doing her best to help. Storm’s paw pads ached; she could feel stinging scratches on them from the dry, stony ground, and she could hear Bruno’s harsh, exhausted breathing at her ear, but at last the slope was excavated enough.

  “Try now, Moon,” barked Storm. “Breeze, Chase—give her a helping paw.”

  Moon took a determined breath. Scrambling and scrabbling, she hauled herself up, slipping now and again despite the dogs supporting her flanks. At last, Chase and Breeze got her to the rim of the hollow, and Moon flung herself over it with a last desperate gasp.

  The white-and-black dog stood trembling for a moment, her flanks heaving, as the other four dogs licked her face and shoulders. “Well done, Moon,” murmured Breeze, nuzzling her.

  “Well done, all of you,” Moon said. “I just wish I’d been able to see that dog!”

  Storm turned and studied the land around them. The overhang didn’t look particularly unstable, and there was no better time than the present to investigate. She began to climb up toward its jutting tip.

  “Hurry, Storm,” Moon growled, an edge of panicked anger in her voice. “I want to find any clues that might tell us who pushed those rocks down.”

  “Storm will find anything there is to find.” Breeze looked anxiously toward Storm, who nodded. “But, Moon, your legs are unsteady. Lean on my shoulder and we’ll start back to camp.”

  Moon’s breathing was still harsh and rapid, but Breeze’s words seemed to calm her. She nodded. “All right, Storm. Go ahead and investigate. But I want to hear about anything you find.” She propped her shoulder against Breeze’s, and together the two female dogs began their slow trek back in the direction of the camp.

  Storm watched them go, then turned and continued toward the overhang, her heart beating hard. She placed her paws carefully as she climbed up the bare rock. It was solid, and no dislodged stones rattled down beneath her treads. She scented the air and the rock, but once again, all smells were smothered by another odor—one that didn’t belong there.

  Storm edged out more confidently onto the jutting rock’s flat top and gaped at the shocking mess that had been left on the overhang’s surface. The hollow, raw gaps where the loosened stones had been: Those she was expecting. More surprising were the ragged plant stalks that had been torn up by the roots and strewn around.

  Wild garlic.

  The uprooted plants hadn’t grown here, on the bare rock. The traitor had dug them up, brought them up here, and scattered and trampled them all across the jutting overhang, and the reason was obvious: Storm could detect no trace of the bad dog’s scent. She growled angrily at the coldhearted deception.

  One thing’s for sure: This was a trap. A planned, deliberate, cruel attack. The culprit thought it through.

  Whoever had covered the camp in rabbit blood, whoever had hidden savage shards of clear-stone in the prey—the same warped, calculating mind had devised this trap. Her anger turning to fear, Storm shuddered.

  Below, Chase and Bruno were staring up at her, blinking against the sunlight. Storm shook herself and trotted back down to join them.

  “Come on,” she said in a low voice. “We’ll catch up with Breeze and Moon. There’s nothing to be discovered up there.”

  “What about the hunt?” whined Chase.

  “It’s more important to get back and tell Alpha about this.” Storm set off toward the glade. “The forest will wait for us, and so will the prey. But the traitor could strike again at any moment.”

  Is Alpha ever going to stop that furious pacing? wondered Storm. Agitated, the swift-dog strode one way and then the other, over and over again, her thin tail lashing. “This is terrible news, Storm,” she said at last. “I thought perhaps our troubles were finished. I thought it too soon.”

  Storm didn’t respond.

  I hoped so too. But I never really believed it. I only wish that knowing something like this would happen meant I could have stopped it! The injustice of it made her want to howl. What good was it being aware of the danger they were in if she couldn’t do anything about it?

  At last, Alpha came to a halt and gave a sharp bark. “Beta! Third Dog! To me.”

  Twitch and Lucky had been hovering nearby, aware that something was very wrong, and they bounded quickly across to their leader. Their eyes darkened and their tails stilled as they listened to Alpha retell Storm’s story. By the end, when Alpha fell silent, they were exchanging glances full of fear and fury.

  “This can’t go on,” said Twitch softly.

  Lucky nodded in agreement. “Alpha, I think we need to hear everything that today’s hunters can tell us. Let’s find out what the others in the party have to say—they might have noticed something strange, even if they didn’t realize it at the time.”

  “A good idea, Beta.” Alpha turned her slender head and barked, “Chase! Bruno! Breeze! To me, now.”

  Storm felt a small wrench of unease in her gut. She didn’t want all the hunters to fall under suspicion. This had been her
hunt, her responsibility; the thought of more trouble and resentment stirring in the Pack as a result of her patrol was horrible. Oh, I hope Alpha doesn’t start throwing accusations. . . .

  But her anxiety turned quickly to resentment. As Alpha finished asking her questions and pricked an ear, Chase took a pace forward.

  “The trouble is, none of us saw anything, Alpha.” She lowered her head respectfully. “Maybe if Storm hadn’t split us up and sent us in different directions—”

  “Hey!” protested Storm. “We agreed on that tactic!”

  Chase gave her a sidelong look, not quite meeting her eyes. “Well, you were the one who sent Moon after the rabbits. . . .”

  Storm stiffened, feeling a growl rise in her throat. “I don’t like what you’re implying, Chase.”

  “Wait.” Breeze stepped between them. “Storm didn’t know the hollow was there. None of us did! And you know, maybe it was actually an accident—”

  Moon gave a furious snarl, and Breeze shrank back. “Are you calling me a liar, Breeze? I’m sick and tired of not being believed! It’s like being accused of prey-stealing all over again—which I still didn’t do, by the way!”

  “Stop, stop.” Twitch limped forward on his three legs to touch his nose gently to Moon’s, then to Breeze’s. “No dog is being accused of anything, Moon.” He nuzzled Storm, including her in his conciliatory words. “We’re just trying to work out exactly what happened, and when. Now isn’t the time for us to turn against each other. It’s more vital than ever for the Pack to stay friends—to stay loyal to one another. It seems to me that this infighting is exactly what the traitor dog is trying to provoke.”

  Alpha nodded. “Wise words as usual, Twitch. Storm, Moon: He’s right. There are no accusations here, believe me.”

  Tipping her head back, she let out a short, summoning howl and waited as the Pack hurried to gather around her. She gave each dog a long, steady gaze as they waited expectantly.