by Erin Hunter
“Lightning tried to escape the Storm of Dogs with his speed. He ran so fast between the warring dogs that none of them could see him to tear his body apart with their teeth and claws. He was almost clear, almost free, when the Earth-Dog sent a Big Growl to open the ground in front of him.”
Even though he’d heard the story so many times, Yap held his breath and huddled close to his littermates, imagining that this time Lightning would fall and be eaten by the terrible rip in the earth....
“Lightning saw the ground open up to swallow him, but he was speeding so fast that he couldn’t stop. He feared that the Earth-Dog had him at last. But the Sky-Dogs loved Lightning.
“Just as Lightning started to plummet to his death, the Sky-Dogs sent a great wind that spun so fast and so strong, it caught Lightning as he fell, lifted him up, and whirled him into the sky. And there he remains, with the Sky-Dogs, to this very day.”
The pups snuggled more tightly against her side, gazing up at her.
“Will he always be there?” asked Yowl.
“Always. When you see fire flashing in the sky, when the Sky-Dogs howl, that’s Lightning running down to the earth, teasing Earth-Dog, knowing that she will never catch him.” She licked Yap’s sleepy face. He could barely keep his eyes open. “I’ve heard dogs say that one day, there will be another great battle, when a dog displeases the Earth-Dog. Then, dog will fight against dog, and great heroes will rise and fall. The Storm of Dogs will come again.”
Yowl gave a great yawn, floppy with tiredness. “But not for a long time, right?”
“Ah, we don’t know. It might come soon; it might not. We must always watch out for the signs. They say that when the world is turned upside down and broken open, the Storm of Dogs will come and we’ll have to fight to survive once again.”
Yap let his eyelids droop. He loved to fall asleep to his mother’s stories. This was how it would always be, he knew: her voice, fading as sleep overwhelmed him and his littermates. The Mother-Dog, curled protectively around him, the end of the story the last thing he heard. It ended the same way each time....
“Watch out, little ones. Watch out for the Storm of Dogs …”
CHAPTER ONE
Lucky startled awake, fear prickling in his bones and fur. He leaped to his feet, growling.
For an instant he’d thought he was tiny once more, safe in his pup-Pack and protected, but the comforting dream had already vanished. The air shivered with menace, tingling Lucky’s skin. If only he could see what was coming, he could face it down—but the monster was invisible, scentless. He whined in terror. This was no sleep-time story: This fear was real.
The urge to run was almost unbearable; but he could only scrabble, snarl, and scratch in panic. There was nowhere to go: The wire of his cage hemmed him in on every side. His muzzle hurt when he tried to shove it through the gaps; when he backed away, snarling, the same wire bit into his haunches.
Others were close … familiar bodies, familiar scents. They were enclosed in this terrible place just as he was. Lucky raised his head and barked, over and over, high and desperate, but it was clear no dog could help him. His voice was drowned out by the chorus of frantic calls.
They were all trapped.
Dark panic overwhelmed him. His claws scrabbled at the earth floor, even though he knew it was hopeless.
He could smell the female swift-dog in the next cage, a friendly, comforting scent, overlaid now with the bitter tang of danger and fear. Yipping, he pressed closer to her, feeling the shivers in her muscles—but the wire still separated them.
“Sweet? Sweet, something’s on its way. Something bad!”
“Yes, I feel it! What’s happening?”
The longpaws—where were they? The longpaws held them captive in this Trap House but they had always seemed to care about the dogs. They brought food and water, they laid bedding, cleared the mess …
Surely the longpaws would come for them now.
The others barked and howled as one, and Lucky raised his voice with theirs.
Longpaws! Longpaws, it’s COMING …
Something shifted beneath him, making his cage tremble. In a sudden, terrible silence, Lucky crouched, frozen with horror.
Then, around and above him, chaos erupted.
The unseen monster was here … and its paws were right on the Trap House.
Lucky was flung back against the wire as the world heaved and tilted. For agonizing moments he didn’t know which way was up or down. The monster tumbled him around, deafening him with the racket of falling rock and shattering clear-stone. His vision went dark as clouds of filth blinded him. The screaming, yelping howls of terrified dogs seemed to fill his skull. A great chunk of wall crashed off the wire in front of his nose, and Lucky leaped back. Was it the Earth-Dog, trying to take him?
Then, just as suddenly as the monster had come, it disappeared. One more wall crashed down in a cloud of choking dust. Torn wire screeched as a high cage toppled, then plummeted to the earth.
There was only silence and a dank metal scent.
Blood! thought Lucky. Death …
Panic stirred inside his belly again. He was lying on his side, the wire cage crumpled against him, and he thrashed his strong legs, trying to right himself. The cage rattled and rocked, but he couldn’t get up. No! he thought. I’m trapped!
“Lucky! Lucky, are you all right?”
“Sweet? Where are you?”
Her long face pushed at his through the mangled wire. “My cage door—it broke when it fell! I thought I was dead. Lucky, I’m free—but you—”
“Help me, Sweet!”
The other faint whimpers had stopped. Did that mean the other dogs were …? No. Lucky could not let himself think about that. He howled just to break the silence.
“I think I can pull the cage out a bit,” said Sweet. “Your door’s loose, too. We might be able to get it open.” Seizing the wire with her teeth, she tugged.
Lucky fought to keep himself calm. All he wanted to do was fling himself against the cage until it broke. His hind legs kicked out wildly and he craned his head around, snapping at the wire. Sweet was gradually pulling the cage forward, stopping occasionally to scrabble at fallen stones with her paws.
“There. It’s looser now. Wait while I—”
But Lucky could wait no longer. The cage door was torn at the upper corner, and he twisted until he could bite and claw at it. He worked his paw into the gap and pulled, hard.
The wire gave with a screech, just as Lucky felt a piercing stab in his paw pad—but the door now hung at an awkward angle. Wriggling and squirming, he pulled himself free and stood upright at last.
His tail was tight between his legs as tremors bolted through his skin and muscles. He and Sweet stared at the carnage and chaos around them. There were broken cages—and broken bodies. A small, smooth-coated dog lay on the ground nearby, lifeless, eyes dull. Beneath the last wall that had fallen, nothing stirred, but a limp paw poked out from between stones. The scent of death was already spreading through the Trap House air.
Sweet began to whimper with grief. “What was that? What happened?”
“I think—” Lucky’s voice shook, and he tried again. “It was a Growl. I used to—my Mother-Dog used to tell me stories about the Earth-Dog, and the Growls she sent. I think the monster was a Big Growl....”
“We have to get away from here!” There was terror in Sweet’s whine.
“Yes.” Lucky backed slowly away, shaking his head to dispel the death-smell. But it followed him, clinging to his nostrils.
He glanced around, desperate. Where the wall had tumbled onto the other dog cages, the broken blocks had collapsed into a pile, and light shone bright through the haze of brick dust and smoke.
“There, Sweet, where the stones have crumbled in. Come on!”
She needed no more urging, leaping up over the rubble. Aware of his wounded paw, Lucky picked his way more carefully, nervously glancing around for longpaws. Surely they’d race in when they saw the
destruction? Wouldn’t they come and drag them back to the Trap House?
He shuddered and quickened his pace, but even when he sprang down onto the street outside, following Sweet’s lead, there was no sign of any longpaws.
Bewildered, he paused, and sniffed the air. It smelled so strange....
“Let’s get away from the Trap House,” he told Sweet in a low voice. “I don’t know what’s happened, but we should go far away in case the longpaws come back.”
Sweet gave a sharp whine as her head drooped. “Lucky, I don’t think there are any longpaws left.”
Their journey was slow and silent. A sense of threat grew in Lucky’s belly; so many of the roads and alleys he knew were blocked. Still he persevered, nosing his way around the broken buildings through tangled, snaking coils torn from the ground. Despite what Sweet thought, Lucky was sure that the longpaws would return soon. He wanted to be far away from the destroyed Trap House when they did.
The sky was darkening by the time he felt they were far enough from the Trap House to rest; Lucky sensed anyway that Sweet couldn’t go much farther. Maybe swift-dogs weren’t as good at long journeys as they were at quick dashes. He gazed back the way they’d come, shadows lengthening across the ground, hiding spaces emerging in dark corners. Lucky shivered—which other animals might be out there, scared and hungry?
But they were both exhausted from escaping the Big Growl. Sweet barely managed to tread her ritual sleep-circle before she slumped to the ground, laid her head on her forepaws, and closed her troubled eyes. Lucky pressed himself close against her flank for warmth and comfort. I’ll stay awake for a while, he thought, Keep watch … yes …
He woke with a start, shivering, his heart racing.
He’d slept no-sun away. His dreams were full of the distant rumbling of the Big Growl and an endless line of longpaws running away from him and loudcages whining and beeping. There was no sign of others here now. The city seemed abandoned.
Beneath the thorny scrub, Sweet slept on, the flanks of her sleek body gently rising and falling with each breath. Lucky stretched life back into his limbs.
Something about Sweet’s deep sleep was comforting, but suddenly he needed more than the scented warmth of her sleeping body; he needed her awake and alert. He nuzzled Sweet’s long face, licking her ears until she responded with a happy murmuring growl. She got to her feet, sniffing and licking him in return.
“How’s that paw, Lucky?”
Her words instantly brought the sting back. Remembering the wound, he sniffed at his paw pad. An angry red mark scored the flesh, pulsing with pain. He licked it gently. It was closed, but only just, and he didn’t want to make it bleed again.
“It’s better, I think,” he said, more hopefully than he felt; then, as they both slunk out from beneath the dense branches, his spirits slumped.
The road before them was broken, wildly tilted, and cracked. Water sprayed high into the air from a long tube exposed by crumbling earth, making rainbows in the air. And it wasn’t just here; in the sloping city streets, as far as Lucky could see, the light of the rising Sun-Dog glinted on tangled metal. A slick of water lay where he remembered that there had once been gardens, and the longpaw homes that used to seem tall and indestructible were now crumpled and slumped as if pummeled by a giant longpaw fist. The distant wail of broken loudcages went unanswered.
“The Big Growl,” murmured Sweet, awestruck and afraid. “Look what it’s done.”
Lucky shivered. “You were right about the longpaws. There were packs and packs of them. Now I don’t see a single one.” He cocked his ears and tasted the air with his tongue: dust and an under-earth stink. No fresh scents. “Even the loudcages aren’t moving.”
Lucky tilted his head toward one of them, tipped onto its side, its snout half-buried in a collapsed wall. Light gleamed from its metal flanks but there was no roar and grumble; it seemed dead.
Sweet looked startled. “I always wondered what those were for. What did you call it?”
Lucky gave her a doubtful look. She didn’t know what a loudcage was?
“Loudcages. You know—longpaws use them to get around. They can’t run as fast as we can.”
He couldn’t believe she didn’t know this most basic detail about the longpaws. It gave him a bad feeling about setting out with her. Sweet’s naïveté wouldn’t be much help when they were trying to survive.
Lucky sniffed the air again. The city’s new smell made him uneasy. There was a rottenness, a lingering whiff of death and danger. It doesn’t smell like a home for dogs anymore, he thought.
He padded over to where water sprayed from a wound in the earth. In the sunken hole was an oily lake, its surface shimmering with rainbow colors. It gave off an odd smell that Lucky didn’t like, but he was too thirsty to care, and lapped the water greedily, doing his best to ignore the foul taste. Beside him he saw Sweet’s reflection as she also drank.
She was the first to lift her dripping muzzle, licking her pointed chops. “It’s too quiet,” she murmured. “We need to get out of this longpaw town.” Sweet’s fur lifted. “We should go to the hills. Find a wild place.”
“We’re as safe here as anywhere else,” said Lucky. “We can use the old longpaw houses—maybe find food. And there are plenty of hiding places, believe me.”
“Plenty of places for other things to hide,” she retorted, bristling. “I don’t like it.”
“What do you have to be scared of?” Her legs looked long enough to race through high grasses and her frame was slender and light. “I bet you can run faster than anything!”
“Not around corners, I can’t.” She glanced nervously to left and right. “And a city has lots of corners. I need space to run. That’s where I can pick up speed.”
Lucky scanned the area, too. She was right—the buildings crowded in on them. Maybe she had good reason to be edgy. “Let’s at least keep moving. Some of those longpaws might still be close by, whether we can see them or not. I don’t want to go back to the Trap House.”
“Me neither,” Sweet agreed, her lip curling to show her strong white teeth. “We should start looking for more dogs. We need a good, strong Pack!”
Lucky’s muzzle wrinkled in doubt. He was not a Pack Dog. He had never understood what there was to like about living with a big mob of dogs, all dependent on one another, and having to submit to an Alpha. He didn’t need anyone’s help, and the last thing he wanted was someone who needed his. Just the thought of relying on other dogs made his skin prickle.
Obviously that isn’t how Sweet feels, he thought. She was enthusiastic now, rattling off stories. “You would have loved my Pack! We ran together, and hunted together, catching rabbits and chasing rats …” She became more subdued, and looked longingly toward the outskirts of the wrecked town. “Then the longpaws came and spoiled everything.”
Lucky couldn’t help responding to the sadness in her voice. “What happened?”
Sweet shook herself. “They rounded us up. So many of them, and all in the same brown fur! Staying together, that’s what got us trapped, but”—her growl grew fierce—“we wouldn’t leave a single dog behind. That’s Pack law. We stuck together, in good times and … bad.” Sweet paused, her dark eyes distant, unable to repress an unhappy whimper.
“Your Pack was with you in the Trap House,” murmured Lucky sympathetically.
“Yes.” She came to an abrupt halt. “Wait, Lucky, we have to go back!”
He darted in front of her as she spun around, blocking her way. “No, Sweet!”
“We have to!” Lucky scrambled sideways to stop her from slipping past him. “They’re my Packmates. I can’t leave until I find out what’s happened to them! If any of them are still—”
“No, Sweet!” Lucky barked. “You saw how it was in that place!”
“But we might have missed—”
“Sweet.” He tried a gentler tone, tentatively licking her unhappy face. “Back there, it’s ruined. They’re all dead, gone to the Eart
h-Dog. And we can’t hang around here—the longpaws might come back....”
That seemed to convince her. Sweet glanced over her shoulder once more, then turned away again. With a deep sigh she began to walk on.
Lucky tried not to show his relief. He walked close beside her, their flanks brushing with every second step.
“Did you have friends in the Trap House too?” Sweet asked.
“Me?” said Lucky lightly, trying to cheer her up. “No thanks. I’m a Lone Dog.”
Sweet gave him an odd glance. “There’s no such thing. Every dog needs a Pack!”
“Not me. I like being on my own. I mean, I’m sure a Pack’s best for some dogs,” he added hurriedly to spare her feelings, “but I’ve walked alone since I left my pup-Pack.” He couldn’t repress the proud lift of his head. “I can look after myself. There’s no better place for a dog than the city. I’ll show you! There’s food for the finding, and warm crannies to sleep in, and shelter from the rain—”
But is that still true?
For a moment he hesitated, letting his eyes rove over the smashed streets, the shattered walls and broken clear-stones, the tilting roads and abandoned loudcages. This isn’t safe, Lucky thought. We need to get out of here as soon as we can.
But he wasn’t going to share that fear with Sweet, not when she was already so anxious. If only there were some distraction—
There!
Lucky gave a high bark of excitement. They’d turned a corner, and right in the road was another wreck. Lucky scented—food!
He broke into a run, leaping in delight onto the side of the huge overturned metal box. He’d seen longpaws throwing things they didn’t want into these, locking them afterward so that Lucky was never able to feast on the unwanted food. But now the box was on its side, the half-rotten contents spilled out across the ground. Black crows were hopping and jabbing around the piles. Lucky held his head high and barked as loud as he could. The crows cawed, alarmed, as they half-fluttered away.
“Come on!” he yelled, springing into the stinking pile. Sweet followed, barking happily.
