by Erin Hunter
Spring raised an eye muscle doubtfully. “Really, Lick? Doors are hard to break.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Lick shrank back, embarrassed. “I don’t want to do anything stupid, anyway.”
“No, wait,” murmured Lucky, feeling his heart turn over at such timidity in a powerful Fierce Dog pup. “Spring, let her try. We’ve got nothing to lose. We haven’t found anything else.”
“All right.” Spring still sounded doubtful, but she took a pace back from the door. Beetle and Thorn exchanged glances, Beetle’s muzzle curling slightly.
Lucky gave Lick an encouraging nudge. “Go ahead. But if it breaks, be careful of what comes out. Rats can be vicious. Be alert for them, and don’t let them rush you.”
The young dog licked her muzzle nervously and swallowed, but she tensed her powerful shoulders, gathering her strength. Crouching, she flung herself at the door.
She rebounded, staggering. The door trembled in its frame, but didn’t yield. Lick growled softly.
“I don’t think it’s impossible,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “The wood’s strong, but it does give.”
“Try again,” Lucky urged.
Once more, Lick clenched her jaws and sprang, slamming the full weight of her body against the door. This time Lucky heard a clear, sharp crack as the peeling wood quivered.
“It’s damaged,” he told her excitedly. “One more try should do it, Lick!”
A low snarl of determination rumbled in Lick’s throat and she crouched back on her haunches. As she hurtled at the door she ducked her head, crashing into it with her full weight and strength. With a screech of splintering timber, the door collapsed inward, and Lick fell after it, tumbling and rolling.
Beetle and Thorn gave joyful yips of triumph as Lucky and Spring stared at the broken door. “I knew she’d do it!” yelped Thorn. “See, Beetle?”
“Well done, Lick!” said Spring, her whine full of admiration. “Now, let’s go!”
Lucky squirmed through the doorway, ignoring the splinters that caught in his fur. As the others shoved in behind him, he could hear more splinters snap from the broken door. Lick was already on her paws and racing after the rats, her jaws snapping and slavering. The creatures were everywhere—scurrying across tables, clawing their way up torn lengths of curtain, surging in a wriggling mass over abandoned rotten food. A moment’s stillness fell as the rats turned, and Lucky found himself staring into a pair of glowing, beady eyes. A rat was only a paw’s length in front of his muzzle, and his fur sprang on end.
The rat squealed, spun, and bolted. Then the rest were shrieking and fleeing in panic, swarming over one another in their eagerness to escape.
There were so many of them, it was hard to not catch prey—Lick had broken the spines of two of them before Lucky had even caught up with her. The escape holes were blocked by a mass of squabbling, furred bodies, so some rats had no choice but to turn on the dogs and fight—and Lucky knew how savage they could be in a corner.
Spring gave a high howl of panic, and Lucky saw a rat fasten on her throat fur with its long, yellow teeth. He turned to dash toward her, but could only yelp as small teeth bit into his own leg, sending a sharp, hot stab of pain through his flesh. He shook the rat off, snatching and snapping its neck before it could fly at him again. As he heard Lick give a yelp of pain, Beetle barked, “Get off her!” But Lucky saw it was Thorn he was rescuing, grabbing a rat from her shoulder and shaking it to death in his jaws.
Snarling, Lucky twisted to drag another rat from his own back. Lick was snapping at one that clung to her hind leg, but she jerked her head up at a terrible noise from the corner of the room. Spring was howling and yelping in distress. There are so many rats, realized Lucky with a shiver of horror. Maybe this was a mistake!
“Lick!” barked Lucky. “Quick, help Spring!”
A huge number of the fierce-eyed rats had piled onto Spring, clawing and biting. One clung to her muzzle, its eyes red with fury as it sank its teeth into her face. Lick reached her in a moment, but as fast as she flung the rats off her Packmate, more attacked.
Lucky shook himself free of three more rats and bounded across the room, his paws slipping on blood. “Beetle! Thorn!”
The two young dogs raised their heads from their own battles, eyes alight with wild excitement. As soon as they saw Spring’s distress, they raced to her and joined Lick, tearing rats from Spring’s back and haunches. Lucky sank his jaws into the rat that clung to her face, ripping it free and crunching it between his teeth. The stench of it caught in his throat, almost making him choke.
With the help of Lucky and the young dogs, Spring at last shook herself free of the squealing rats. Maddened by their bites, she plunged into the fleeing mass and attacked them, flinging small bodies aside. By the time the last rat had scuttled into a hole in the wall, dragging its bloodied tail, the five dogs hunched panting in a small pile of dead creatures.
Beetle shook himself and licked at a bite on his leg. “That was fun!” he barked.
Spring tossed her head violently, as if a rat still hung there. Her muzzle and ears were bleeding from deep bite marks. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she shuddered.
Lucky’s flanks heaved, but he felt a rush of satisfaction as he gazed around at the pile of prey. “This was a good hunt. Well done!” he barked at the three young dogs.
Lick looked quietly proud, her eyes shining. “Are you all right, Spring?”
“Thanks to you,” said Spring gruffly. “And Lucky and Beetle and Thorn, of course. Rats are nasty things.”
“Nasty but tasty,” yelped Thorn brightly.
Spring gave a bark of laughter. “At least Alpha should be pleased with us now. Let’s get these back to the Food House.”
By the time Spring and Lucky had divided up the spoils into manageable burdens for each dog, and they wriggled back through the broken door, the sky had completely cleared and the Sun-Dog shone bright and strong. There was something odd about the beauty of the day and the delicious warmth, thought Lucky, when longpaws still lay lifeless all over the settlement, the death-smell growing stronger all the time. Still, the Sun-Dog was out and they would eat well today, and Lucky’s mood lifted. Lick, Thorn, and Beetle were almost bouncing with pride and pleasure as they trotted off down the hardstone track, their jaws filled with rats. Spring was limping slightly at his side, but her wounds didn’t look too deep and her eyes were bright with the pleasure of a hunt well executed.
Lucky’s jaw ached with the strain of holding his own mouthful, but he was happy. Lick had well and truly proved herself to Spring, and they were returning to the Pack with a prey-haul they could be proud of. Each of the five hunters had pulled their weight, even the young ones.
All the same, Lucky felt tired as he padded with Spring after the three young dogs, and the warmth of the Sun-Dog made him long to drop the rats and have a satisfying pant. That was a good hunt, but how long will a nest of rats keep the whole Pack fed? They hadn’t solved the problem for good. And that meant the Pack would have to return to Terror’s forest—or leave this place, too, and set off again on the search for safety. At the thought, fatigue settled over Lucky’s bones.
He felt almost sick at the thought of moving on again, and most of the Pack must feel the same. Surely their journey would end soon? They had to find a territory to call their own—a place to hunt, and raise pups, and howl to the Moon-Dog in peace.
As they passed through the center of the settlement, the broad, shining pool was too much for Lucky to resist. That will make me feel better! With a glance at Spring, they both dropped their rats and paused to sniff at the water’s edge.
“I think this water’s all right, in spite of the rain,” Spring muttered hoarsely. “There’s so much. The rain can’t have been enough to poison it. . . .”
“I think so too.” Lucky splashed into the pond, cooling his hot forepaws. With no more hesitation he dipped his muzzle into the water and began to lap. Delicious!
Spring follow
ed his example. “Oh, that’s much better,” she said, sighing with pleasure and licking her dripping chops. “Let’s go on.”
Lucky was about to reply when he frowned. A scent tickled his nostrils—something familiar. A Pack dog. But who was it? Nervous curiosity tightened his gut. “You go ahead and catch up with the others,” he told Spring. “I won’t be long. There’s something I want to check.”
“So long as you’re quick,” muttered Spring, with a glance in the direction of the Food House. She seized her rats and set off at a trot after the younger dogs.
Lucky pawed his rats into a heap. He knew it should be safe enough to leave them for a little while, and he had to find out which dog had passed so recently. Had one of the Pack wandered off alone? The scent was so familiar. Was Snap trying to get back in touch with Twitch?
No, not Snap. The scent had the tang that still clung to the Leashed Dogs—that faint sweetness that spoke of comfort and longpaw furs and bland, plentiful food. None of them had quite shaken it off yet, even after so many Moon-Dog journeys spent in the wild. Lucky quivered with apprehension as he padded along the scent-trail, nose to the ground.
When his muzzle bumped against a wooden barrier, he blinked. Hesitantly he licked his chops. The fence was partly broken and long, yellow grass pushed through the boards. Beyond it, the stench of death was stronger and closer than ever, but there was a smell too of raw, fresh earth—and a Pack dog. Clawing a gap wider, Lucky wriggled through into a wildly overgrown longpaw garden.
He stood up tall, alert for trouble—and found himself staring straight into a pair of sad, brown eyes in a black-and-white face.
“Mickey!” he blurted. “What are you doing?”
Mickey lowered his head, but his eyes held Lucky’s, mournful and determined. He nodded at a longpaw corpse in the straggly, wet grass. Lucky swallowed.
“It’s so young,” whined Mickey. “Like my longpaw pup. My own longpaw, back in the city.”
“But Mickey . . .” Lucky reminded himself to keep patient and calm; he understood the Farm Dog’s feelings, even if he couldn’t share them. The longpaw looked so pathetic, abandoned there in the weeds. “Mickey, we can’t help this longpaw. It’s not yours, remember? This is a stranger.”
“I know that.” Mickey’s expression was sad but stubborn. “I do understand, Lucky, but he’s so like my longpaw. The size of him, his hair, everything. I scented him here and—I couldn’t just leave him like this. It isn’t right.”
Between Mickey’s white paws, filthy with dirt and grass, the Farm Dog had dug a deep scrape in the earth. It obviously wasn’t easy work. Out of longpaw control, the grass and roots had grown wild and tangled.
“You wanted to give him to Earth-Dog.” Lucky nodded.
“I hope some dog would do it for my longpaw, if I couldn’t,” said Mickey quietly.
“I understand.” Lucky sighed. “But Mickey, if Alpha finds out this is where you’ve been—”
A sound made him turn on his hindpaws, his lips drawing back. He relaxed when he saw three familiar dogs squirm beneath the fence.
“Lick, Beetle, Thorn.” He eyed the young dogs warily. “What are you doing here?”
Beetle glanced at Thorn, and Lick took a pace forward. “Spring caught up with us. She said you’d scented some dog, and that you’d gone to check it out.”
“We wanted to make sure you were all right,” added Beetle.
Lucky felt a rush of affection for the three young dogs. “But your prey—”
“We’ve left the rats where we can pick them up later,” Thorn told him. Mischievously she added, “Like you did, Lucky.”
“We thought it was more important to come after you,” said Beetle defensively. “Spring said it was all right.”
“Well, I’m all right too,” said Lucky, tilting his head in amusement. “But thanks for being concerned. That’s good Pack responsibility.”
Beetle and Thorn’s chests swelled visibly. “We heard what you and Mickey were talking about,” Beetle whined, with a glance at Mickey. “And we think Mickey’s right.”
“If he wants to give the longpaw to the Earth-Dog, he should,” said Thorn. “And the Earth-Dog would want it, too.”
She gave Beetle a nudge with her shoulder. The two of them and Lick trotted over to Mickey; then showers of earth and clods of mud flew as they began to swiftly turn Mickey’s shallow scrape into a deeper hole.
Surprised and touched, Lucky watched the three young dogs dig with their powerful paws. Mickey looked a little taken aback but grateful as he joined in once again.
It probably isn’t the best way to spend their time, thought Lucky, but I’m proud of them. This is Pack behavior, too, isn’t it? Knowing how Mickey feels, and helping him—even if they don’t understand him.
And I’m one of this Pack too. Biting back his misgivings, Lucky joined them to help claw out the loose earth.
With the extra pairs of forepaws, the work went far faster than when Mickey had struggled alone. In a short time his shallow scrape of a hole had been dug deep and long enough to hold the small body of the longpaw. Beetle kicked out a last flurry of earth, then scrambled up from the trench.
“Now,” said Thorn, “let’s bury Mickey’s longpaw, and we can all go back to camp together.”
“He isn’t my longpaw,” said Mickey, with a look at Lucky. “But he easily could be. That’s why—”
Lick gave his ear a fond swipe with her tongue. “We understand, Mickey.”
Once more Lucky felt his heart swell with affection for the young Fierce Dog; but he was glad this time that Alpha wasn’t here to see her. The dog-wolf, he was sure, would disapprove of what they were doing.
Mickey trod carefully around the longpaw’s body, then took hold of its fur covering at the shoulder. Following his lead, Beetle took the other shoulder and they gently dragged the longpaw until it slumped into the hole. Panting, the two dogs stepped back; Thorn, Lick, and Lucky scraped earth back into the trench with their hindpaws, covering the small body. Soon the longpaw was entirely buried; all that was left to show where he had been was a mound of fresh earth in the wilderness that had been a garden.
For a long, awkward moment, the dogs stood in silence and gazed at the grave. The death-smell was fading, smothered by the fresh, rich scent of the soil.
Thorn cocked her head and flared her nostrils. “Earth-Dog has taken him already. Do you smell her?”
“Yes,” agreed Beetle. “That must mean she’s happy with us. The longpaw will be fine there, Mickey.”
“Earth-Dog will put him back into the world.” Lick nudged Mickey gently.
Lucky felt a strange lump in his throat at the matter-of-fact sense of the young dogs. Blinking, Mickey crouched on his forequarters and touched his nose to the mound of soil.
“Take care of this small longpaw, Earth-Dog,” he whined. Sitting back on his haunches, he let out a single low, sad howl.
Respectfully the young dogs waited until Mickey had got back to his paws and was walking away from the longpaw’s grave, then fell in behind him. With a final glance at the buried longpaw, Lucky followed.
He knew Beetle, Thorn, and Lick had come through for Mickey when he’d needed them. But was it right to waste time like that? What they’d done was right for the longpaw, but was it right for the Pack? Lucky sighed. Nothing about this new life is straightforward.
Relief flooded through him when they found the pond and Lucky’s rats undisturbed. “Nothing took them. I hope your prey is as safe,” he remarked to the others.
“I’m sure it will be.” Lick pawed at the sparkle of the Sun-Dog on the water, then dipped her head to drink, followed by Beetle and Thorn. She licked her dripping muzzle. “There’s nothing in this place to steal our food, Lucky.”
That’s probably true, thought Lucky, but will that last? Terror’s Pack is just outside the town, and we haven’t seen the last of the Fierce Dogs either. Lucky picked up his rats and led the way back toward the Food House. The Sun-
Dog had bounded up the sky almost to his highest point, and the puddles left by the previous night’s rain had nearly all dried, leaving cracked fringes of yellow scum. If anything, the powdery remains smelled worse than the dead longpaws, and Lucky avoided the patches as best he could. It was hard to believe such deadly destruction had happened here, where the houses were still in one piece and there was barely a split in the hardstone tracks. Lucky paused to stare at a dead loudcage, its rainbow-colored blood leaking onto the ground. Where the liquid touched one of the dried-up puddles, it hissed and foamed, and a sharp odor scorched Lucky’s nostrils.
Dropping his prey, he shook his head to clear it. Mickey, Thorn, and Beetle were padding ahead, but Lick had fallen behind, so he waited for her.
“Lick,” he whined, “can I talk to you for a moment?”
She set down her rats, then sat back on her haunches. “What is it, Lucky? Have I done something wrong?”
“No, I—well . . .” Lucky flattened his ears in confusion and let his tailtip smack the ground. “Mickey’s gone ahead, so I just wanted to say . . . What you did, it was kind. But I don’t think you should encourage Mickey too much.”
Lick cocked her head, puzzled. “Encourage him?”
“About the longpaws. I know he felt strongly about that young one, but he shouldn’t be feeling that way—not after all this time. It’s as if he can’t let go—as if he has to keep the longpaws alive in his mind.”
“It’s only in his mind, though.” Lick wriggled down until her forequarters were on the ground too, but she gazed up at Lucky. “He doesn’t really try to get back to them, you know. He hasn’t left the Pack since the time you found me and Fang and Wiggle. So where’s the harm in it?”
Lucky felt exasperated, but whether with Lick or with Mickey he wasn’t sure. When Mickey had left his longpaw’s leather glove in the city, Lucky had thought he had finally broken the connection. Now he wasn’t so sure. “His loyalties are torn, don’t you see? He can’t commit to the wild life—not completely. And that’s bad for the whole Pack.”
