The Broken Path

by Erin Hunter

  There was a sound behind Lucky, a gruff noise from Dart that might have been amusement. But it turned quickly into a growl of approval that was taken up by the other dogs.

  Hmm, thought Lucky. Well, it’s different. Beetle, he decided, would have to grow into his name. . . .

  Beside her brother, Nose’s eyes were open too. There was something much calmer about her, and she didn’t glance around in search of inspiration. Her whine was a little shaky, but determined.

  “I’ve thought about this for a long time,” she announced, glancing up shyly into Alpha’s yellow eyes. “I will be Thorn. Sharp and deadly.”

  Alpha gave a low growl of approval, but Lucky pricked his ears forward in astonishment. I never thought of Nose as being deadly! he thought. But maybe a dog chose what she intended to be, not what she already was. . . .

  And perhaps there was more to Nose than met the eye. What kind of dog, he wondered, would she become?

  “That’s a fine name she’s chosen,” he murmured to Bella.

  “Yes.” Bella sounded vague and distracted. “Aren’t we all afraid of thorns?”

  “But they’re good protection for a Pack, too,” Lucky pointed out.

  “Mmm . . .” Bella nodded, clearly caught up in thoughts of her own.

  “What is it?” whispered Lucky.

  “I was just wondering what name I’d have chosen.” Bella twitched her nose dreamily. “If I’d had the choice, that is. I never thought I’d regret any part of my Leashed life, but . . .”

  “You said yourself, Bella means beautiful,” Lucky reminded her with a nudge. “It’s a good name. And it does suit you.”

  Bella gave him a rueful sideways glance. “Thank you, Lucky.” But she still looked a little sad.

  Lucky was about to say something else reassuring when he felt the gentle bump of a body squeezing up alongside him. It was Lick, desperate for a better look at the two newly named young dogs on the Moon Pelt. Her eyes were wide and awestruck.

  “I’d love to have a new name one day, Lucky,” she whispered.

  Lucky’s heart tightened in his chest. Lick had been so pleased with the pup name Mickey had found for her when he and Lucky had first rescued her and her littermates, but it was time to move on now. Little Lick was growing into a fine adult dog, and she deserved her true name. “You will,” he told her softly. “What would you call yourself?”

  Lick shook her head. “I can’t tell you that,” she said patiently. “I can’t tell anyone—not until I’ve taken my place on the Moon Pelt. I won’t know until the Moon-Dog helps me choose.”

  Lucky felt a surge of affection for Lick, so good-natured and gentle despite her Fierce Dog blood. To think that some of them still have doubts that she should be in the Pack! His fur prickled with resentment on her behalf. Surely, he thought, on this night of all nights . . .

  “Alpha,” he spoke up, shunting Lick forward a little until they were both standing in the clear space within the Pack circle. “When will Lick be able to have her Naming Ceremony?”

  Alpha rounded on them. Lick stood her ground, brave but uncertain, tail between her legs. Lucky gave Alpha a challenging stare.

  But Alpha didn’t rise to Lucky’s challenge. “Back in your place, pup!” he snapped at Lick. “The Naming is over and this is not the time.”

  Lucky opened his jaws to argue, but found himself speechless. As Lick scuttled back against his flank, he realized the moment had passed.

  For now.

  The new Thorn and Beetle were jumping down from the rock, mobbed by a mass of happy dogs licking their heads and congratulating them. Fiery and Moon were by their pups’ sides, tails wagging hard with pride and happiness. Fiery in particular looked as if he might burst with delight, his dark eyes shining as he gazed at Beetle.

  At the edge of the crowd, Lucky saw Sunshine take hold of the skinned, sacrificed rabbit and begin to bury it under a thick layer of earth. He blinked in surprise.

  Spring caught sight of his expression and stepped close to him for a moment. “We don’t eat the white rabbit,” she said quietly. “We leave it as a gift for Moon-Dog and Earth-Dog, so that they’ll approve of the pups’ choice.” Then she moved off to give Thorn a long, hard lick on the ear.

  Lucky wished he could join in with the general rejoicing, but he felt too sorry for Lick. She pressed close to his side, small and dejected.

  “One day, Lick,” he consoled her with a sweep of his tongue.

  At that moment, another cloud passed across the face of the Moon-Dog, plunging the clearing into deeper darkness. It felt like a sign that the ceremony was over, and a last ragged howl of happiness went up from the gathered Pack. More dogs joined in, near and distant . . .

  Lucky froze, his ears lifting along with the roots of his fur. Those aren’t the voices of our Pack! Lucky’s blood ran cool as river-water as his eyes met Alpha’s.

  “Quiet!” roared the dog-wolf.

  A horrible silence fell.

  The guttural howling did not sound so distant now. It drifted eerily through the trees, a sound filled with menace.

  “Fierce Dogs,” whimpered Sunshine.

  Alpha sprang up onto the flat rock, baring his fearsome teeth. “Listen to me,” he snarled, meeting the eyes of each of his Pack in turn. “Those dogs aren’t attacking. Not yet. For tonight we’re safe, but they’re close and it would be unwise to stay here. Go to your sleeping places, and do not leave this camp. Not for any reason.” His muzzle curled in rage, but Lucky thought he heard defeat in his growl. “Tomorrow, we look for a new camp.”

  There were a few growls and whines of muted protest, but they were quickly silenced by a glare from Alpha. Every dog, including Lucky, knew their leader was right.

  With a heavy heart, Lucky set off for his own sleeping place, only to see a small shadow slink across his path and pause. Coming to a surprised halt, Lucky recognized him at once: Whine. The little dog swiveled his head, exposing his teeth in a mocking sneer.

  “Did you enjoy our little tradition, Street Dog?” He cocked his ugly head. “Of course it was new to you, wasn’t it? You’ve never earned a proper name yourself. That’s why you’ll never be a proper Pack Dog.”

  His temper already on edge, Lucky was about to bite Whine’s ear when Bella bounded between them. She growled threateningly at the former Omega. “You think not? That shows how much you know. Lucky did earn his name!”

  For a moment she and Whine glared at each other; then he jerked his head contemptuously and waddled off.

  “Thanks,” murmured Lucky to his litter-sister. “I’m glad you said that, even if it’s a lie.”

  “But it isn’t.” Bella pricked one ear forward, confused. “Don’t you remember? That day at the longpaw house, when you got your name? They didn’t give it to you—you took the word they spoke, and kept it for yourself!”

  Lucky stood still, lost. The memory stirred again at Bella’s words—a longpaw pup, a bitter scent—but as the recollection slipped away, he shook himself free of it in relief. Some instinct was telling him not to explore that memory, and he was happy to listen to it.

  “Time to sleep,” he yawned. “The others may want to celebrate longer, but all I want to do is get to my den. Come on, Lick.” He nudged the younger dog. “You must be tired too.”

  A lot had happened that day, and there was too much to think about.

  The two of them padded over to their dens and slumped down beneath the moonlight. Lick’s flanks were snuggled warmly against Lucky’s, and soon they rose and fell with the deep breathing of sleep. Her paws twitched as she chased something in her dreams, and she let out a small growl.

  You don’t need to run tonight, Lucky silently told her. Stay safe, little one.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Lucky woke with a start, shivering in the darkness. The remnants of a dream slipped away like a molting coat—ice shards, stinging and cutting, whirling in a blizzard, while dogs tore at one another in a battle that never seemed to end.

>   The Storm of Dogs . . .

  It was the same dream he’d been having since the Big Growl.

  The cold he felt was real enough. Beyond the snug nest of leaves and moss where he lay, he could hear the wind whining in the trees, and a breath of it whispered across his flank. He shuddered and scrambled up.

  The space at his side, where Lick had fallen asleep against him, was empty. The warmth of her body was gone. Lick! Where is she?

  Lowering himself to his forequarters, Lucky crawled out beneath the branches and stood up on all four paws, stretching. Surely the reckless pup had not gone far. Not in the middle of the night, when the Fierce Dogs had howled so close that the Pack could hear them. Surely not?

  Fear for Lick making his fur spring erect, Lucky slunk through the camp, giving Alpha’s sleeping body a wide berth. The dog-wolf sprawled, sound asleep with a trickle of drool at his jaws, his huge, webbed paws twitching in a dream. Lucky’s heart was pounding against his ribs, but if Lick was out here—and she wasn’t anywhere to be seen in the sleeping huddles in the clearing—then Lucky had to find her, and soon. If Alpha woke and found her missing, he would throw her out of the Pack for good. No dog was permitted such disobedience, let alone the already unwelcome Lick.

  Why, Lick? Why wander off tonight of all nights? But even as he asked himself the question, Lucky knew why. Her hurt at her exclusion from the Naming Ceremony must have gone deep.

  You silly pup—Alpha will come around! He’ll soon realize you’re worthy of your place in the Pack.

  But Lucky had to find her first. After a moment’s hesitation, he stepped over the border of the camp. Now he was really disobeying orders. Sniffing the air silently, he trod through the mat of dry leaves toward the edge of the forest, trying not to make them rustle. There was frost in the air, but through its crisp smokiness he could make out that other smell again, that strange-pup scent he’d caught earlier. It hadn’t faded much. Lucky frowned. Could it be Lick’s after all? Surely he couldn’t be mistaken?

  He stood still at the brink of the sandbank. This was where Lick had waited for him and Bella earlier, and it seemed a good place to try first.

  Sure enough, as Lucky slithered quietly down the sandbank and into the clearing beyond, he made out a moving silhouette. The Moon-Dog was lower in the sky now, and did not glow as brightly as she had at the ceremony, but still Lick was outlined in frosty light. Lucky breathed a sigh of relief.

  Lick was tugging at something, her forepaws down and her haunches high, and Lucky was about to whine to her when he saw a small, dark shape tumble out of the bushes. Another pup! And Lick was playing with him, mock-fighting over a stick. Their low, friendly growls and whines were clearly audible on the cold air.

  Lucky started forward, then halted in astonishment.

  Grunt!

  It was Lick’s litter-brother, the one who had left willingly with Blade when she came to Alpha to demand the return of the pups. Something had changed about Grunt, though—Lucky could detect the difference in his scent: a sharp hardness. The pup reeked of aggressive confidence. There was so much in him that Lucky didn’t recognize.

  Lucky’s heart tightened with anger. Grunt had been the only one of the Fierce Dog pups who was eager to be taken by Blade—and he’d stayed willingly with her even after she killed his other littermate, Wiggle. Grunt truly was a Fierce Dog in his bones!

  And what about Lick? Lucky had risked his own life and reputation to keep her in Alpha’s Pack—yet here she was, secretly meeting her Fierce Dog kin. Tensing his muscles, Lucky sprang down the slope and flew across the hollow. He was on the pups before they knew what was happening.

  Lick gave a yelp of alarm, but too late. Lucky rolled them both over and slammed a paw onto each pup’s belly, pinning them to the ground. They lay on their backs and stared at him, panting, frozen with shock.

  They had both grown a lot since they were helpless pups. Grunt, recovering from his fright, wriggled and growled, and Lick’s muscles bunched as she resisted, but in moments the pups had quieted.

  Resentment and aggression were burning in Grunt’s eyes. Lucky vividly remembered him endangering his Packmates by trying to pick a fight with a giantfur. Together the Fierce Dog pups could no doubt fight Lucky off, but there was more to this than sheer strength, and they knew it as well as Lucky did. I’m Lick’s Pack superior, thought Lucky, and a higher-status dog than Grunt, and his instinct is still to submit. He found himself grateful for the strictness of the hierarchy. This was how dogs survived.

  The silence stretched until Lucky knew they had accepted his authority; at last he stepped back, releasing them and sitting back on his haunches.

  “What is going on?” he growled.

  Lick rolled onto her forepaws and crept forward, Grunt just behind her. But the male pup’s muzzle was curled and his shoulders hunched with aggression.

  “That pup-scent yesterday,” Lucky snapped at Lick. “It was Grunt, wasn’t it?”

  She nodded miserably. “Yes. I’m sorry, Lucky. I couldn’t help but come. I had a dream—”

  Lucky made a gruff sound of disbelief. “A dream?”

  “Yes.” She met his eyes more confidently. “Don’t ask me how, Lucky, but I knew if I came here I’d find Grunt. The dream told me so.”

  Lucky blinked at her, unsure how to react. Was the pup lying? Making up stories to get out of trouble? But I’ve also had strange dreams. He remembered the ice shards in the air and the terror he’d felt as he’d watched the Storm of Dogs raging, soaking the frozen ground with blood. . . .

  But this is different. Lick is saying the dream told her what to do!

  “She’s telling the truth,” muttered Grunt angrily. “I had the same dream. And I sneaked away from my Pack, so why shouldn’t she?”

  Lucky bristled at the pup’s defiance, and a memory tugged painfully inside him: little Wiggle, so shy and timid and vulnerable, so desperate to stay with Lucky in Alpha’s Pack. Lucky had let him down; they all had. And now he was . . .

  “Wiggle is dead.” He turned savagely on Lick. “Have you forgotten how he died? Grunt was involved in that. There are dogs it’s better not to know, Lick—even if they are your own blood and flesh.”

  Grunt took a pace forward and bared his teeth, his tail quivering. “I did not kill my brother!”

  “You were there when he died,” Lucky pointed out sharply.

  “Yes, but it wasn’t my fangs that drew his blood. I wasn’t responsible!”

  “Did you do anything to save him?” Lucky snarled low in his throat. “Did you even try to stop Blade?”

  Grunt fell silent, lowering his head. From his throat came a faint whimper of shame.

  “Nothing,” said Lucky. “You did nothing to help him, did you, Grunt?”

  Grunt’s head came up sharply. There was a stronger gleam of aggression in his eyes now, and his growl was cold. “That’s not my name anymore. I’m Fang.”

  Lucky saw Lick’s head droop at the news. Another pup with his true dog-name, he thought dismally. Poor Lick.

  In the silence that fell, Lucky stared at Grunt. He saw that the young dog’s ears were oddly misshapen, torn and stunted so that they stood erect, their edges ragged. How . . . ?

  Lucky’s eyes widened as he realized: Grunt’s ears were a crude copy of the older Fierce Dogs’. Those brutes had had their ears neatly trimmed erect by their longpaws. Now Grunt’s had been torn to the same shape—by the teeth of Blade, or one of the others. They’re mimicking what the longpaws did, Lucky realized, as a cold tremor ran the length of his spine. How it must have hurt. Lucky wondered if they’d had to pin the pup down to keep him still. . . .

  How could that Pack be so cruel? Lucky couldn’t help shuddering. Is there anything Blade won’t do?

  As pity for Grunt—no, Fang—swelled inside him, Lucky felt his anger draining away. “What happened to your ears, Grunt?” he asked gently.

  Fang looked away. “That’s private,” he said sullenly. “It’s my Pack’s
business.”

  “Maiming a fellow Pack member? That’s every dog’s business, I think.” Lucky took a pace toward the pup, but Fang shook his injured ears and gave a low growl.

  “I told you,” he snapped. “It’s for the Pack. It’s tradition.”

  Lucky sighed and shook his head. “Lick,” he said softly. “Why have you risked everything to come here? Even your life! You know what Blade’s capable of—and Alpha too. If Alpha finds out—” He took a breath, imagining the possible consequences. “Your brother has always taken foolish risks, but not you. Why, Lick?”

  The young dog blinked up at him, but before she could speak a great shadow fell across the pups, and the air seemed to grow suddenly colder.

  A sleek shape emerged from the trees. Lucky’s heart almost stopped as he recognized the glittering eyes, the glossy, muscled body.

  Blade!

  Teeth glinted in the starlight as Blade prowled forward, her eyes locked on Lucky. “To me, Fang,” she snarled.

  Lucky half expected the pup to protest—he’d always resisted being ordered around—but Fang immediately bowed his head and slunk to Blade’s side, his tail tucked between his legs. Blade lashed out with a paw. Blood sprayed from the pup’s flank, and he yelped and stumbled sideways.

  “Get out of my sight,” she snarled, and Fang limped miserably away, heading for whatever temporary camp the Fierce Dogs had established. He didn’t look back once at Lick.

  There was silence in the glade, though Lucky was sure Blade must hear his heart thumping.

  “Street Dog,” she growled silkily. “You have something that belongs to me.”

  Lucky tilted his head and sighed, hoping he looked confident. He hoped Blade couldn’t smell his fear.

  “Lick doesn’t belong to you, Blade. She’s not your Leashed Pet.”