by Erin Hunter
She’s too brave! Pride burst in Lucky’s heart at the same time as a terrible fear for her. Great fighter or not, if she’s not careful, he’ll kill her! “Lick, no!”
The scene turned silver, and Lick and Terror were outlined in a pure, blinding dazzle. Lightning. The Spirit Dog leaped across the sky, his brilliance piercing the branches just as the two dogs crashed together once more, their jaws colliding.
For an instant, Lucky could see nothing. But as Lightning’s flash died and Lucky’s vision returned, he saw that Lick’s jaw had locked with Terror’s. Both dogs smashed into the earth, and with a great wrench Lick tore herself away.
Lucky’s breath stopped. The young Fierce Dog shook her head violently, dropping a lump of flesh to the churned mud. Her flanks heaved, dark with rain and sweat and blood, and she glared down triumphantly at her enemy.
Lucky started forward, afraid Terror would rise to attack again, but he didn’t. He lay twitching, blood pouring from his mouth into the sodden earth.
Then Lucky saw clearly. Terror’s lower jaw had been ripped clean away from his face. The frenzied, yellow eyes rolled, and a horrible gurgling came from his throat.
The sounds of fighting died around them until there was only the rush of the rain, the harsh panting of exhausted dogs, and that awful, choked gurgle from the dying Terror.
A pitiful, petrified howl sliced through the night, and suddenly Terror’s Pack was scrabbling, sliding, fleeing in panic.
“Terror!”
“Our leader! Our Alpha is dead!”
“Run for your lives!”
Mud showered the clearing as they skittered and slid and tried to flee, shouldering one another aside in their desperation. When the last enemy had plunged whining into the undergrowth, Lucky took a trembling step forward and stared at Terror. There was a dull roaring in his ears, and his own rasping breath. Then the other sounds returned, louder than ever.
Twitch gave a whimper of fear. “Is he dead?”
“No,” growled Lucky, watching the blood soak into the earth beneath Terror’s destroyed head. “But he is dying.”
Martha shuddered and turned away, but Lick moved closer to her beaten enemy. Idly she stretched out a paw and prodded his flank. She’s not shivering anymore, Lucky thought with a strange surge of dread. She doesn’t seem to even feel the cold now.
Lick tilted her head hopefully toward Lucky. “Should I make sure the mad dog does not attack us again?”
Lucky’s spine chilled. Her question was so straightforward, so honest. She’s trying to help, Lucky told himself, staring into her bright, innocent eyes. She wants to protect us all. . . .
He shook himself hard. “No,” he barked. “He won’t survive that wound. Leave him to Earth-Dog. She’ll take him now.”
“Earth-Dog is welcome to him,” snarled Lick, flicking the bloody stump of Terror’s ear with a claw. “I hope she punishes him.”
Before Lucky could say anything, a frantic howl split the air.
“Fiery’s dying. He’s dying. Help me!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Every dog seemed to snap out of a horrified trance, and they rushed to Moon, who lay grieving by Fiery’s side. The big dog struggled up onto his forepaws, his eyes glazed, but the effort was too much and he slumped back to the ground, spattering himself and Moon with mud. The rain was easing at last, and the breeze shook showers of it from the branches above; it was easier now to smell the stench of Fiery’s blood. Lucky’s heart weighed in his chest like a stone; the Forest-Dog seemed to whisper to him that there was no hope for Fiery now. If they were near the longpaw-place that Bella called “the vet’s,” maybe they would have a chance. . . .
But not out here, in the middle of the woods, when the only longpaws nearby were the ones that had done this to Fiery.
Moon’s low whine was full of agony as she pressed her face to her mate’s. “Fiery,” she whispered. “Please. You’re so strong. You’ve always been strong. You fought Terror . . . please fight this now.”
“Terror was outside me.” Fiery choked out blood, his voice hoarse and ragged. “This is inside me, Moon. I can’t fight it.”
“I know you can. My strong Fiery. Please try.” Moon shut her eyes tight, pressing close to him.
With a huge effort Fiery raised his head and nuzzled her. “I can’t win this fight, Moon. I’m going to die.”
Moon released a grief-stricken howl. “Don’t talk that way. Earth-Dog will think you want to die. She’ll take you!”
“Yes, Moon,” he said softly. “She will. I have no choice now. It’s my time.”
The rain was a steady, sad drip around the dogs as they stood, sodden and bloody, their tails tucked between their legs. A shred of moonlight trickled through the overhead branches, gleaming on puddles. Twitch lay down awkwardly on his belly, his eyes filled with misery. Still standing guard over the dying Terror, Lick stared at Fiery and Moon, trembling.
“Lucky,” she whispered. “We have to help him.”
Martha nudged her gently. “We can’t, Lick. I’m sorry.”
“Martha’s right,” murmured Lucky, taking a pace back. He raised his head to meet his friends’ eyes. “We should give them some time together. Moon needs to say good-bye to Fiery. Then . . .” He sighed. “Then we have to go. We need to find the Pack again.”
Twitch climbed stiffly to his paws and he, Martha, and Bella crept away from the terrible scene, but Lick stayed still. Her eyes were locked on Fiery, but she didn’t move from her post above Terror.
“Lick.” Lucky turned back to her. “You have to come.”
“I’ll guard Terror,” she growled.
Lucky sighed. “He isn’t going anywhere. Give Moon and Fiery space, Lick.”
“But—”
“I said come.” He let the hint of a growl enter his voice.
Clearly reluctant, Lick gave Terror a last contemptuous glare, then padded over to join the others, keeping a respectful distance from the two mates. Lucky, Martha, Bella, and Twitch sat on their haunches, looking at one another, or at the ground. As the faltering rain dripped and the Moon-Dog rose higher in the sky, Lucky felt Lick lean against him. At last she nestled down, warm at his flank, as sleepy and affectionate as a pup again. Was this the Fierce Dog warrior who just ripped off another dog’s jaw?
He found it so hard to believe; if he hadn’t seen it himself, he would have scorned any dog who told him what she had done. Raising his eyes over her sleek, soaked head, he met Bella’s sad eyes.
“Oh, Lucky,” whined his litter-sister softly. “This was a wasted journey. We lost Fiery after all.”
Lucky swallowed, but he didn’t lower his gaze. “I don’t think we wasted our time, Bella. We couldn’t have left Fiery to be poisoned by the yellow longpaws.”
“But we didn’t save him.”
“I know. But we tried. And in a way, we did save him. Fiery’s going to die free, at his mate’s side.”
“And we killed Terror,” murmured Lick drowsily, half-asleep. Her tongue came out to lick her bloodied jaws.
A shiver rippled through Lucky’s fur, but he nodded. “Terror’s Pack might have a chance to thrive now. They had no proper Pack life with a leader like that.”
“I wouldn’t have sacrificed Fiery for them,” murmured Bella sadly. “Or for those other animals we freed.”
“Neither would I.” Lucky gave her a comforting whine. “But it’s what’s happened. And now we know, too, how bad the yellow longpaws are. We know where their camp is, and we know to avoid them at all costs. We’ve seen what happens to any dog they capture.” He lifted his muzzle to scent the breeze from the trees. “As for the other animals—well, I know foxes and coyotes and sharpclaws aren’t exactly our allies”—he saw Bella flinch at that—“but I’d rather they were roaming the woods than being tortured and poisoned by those evil longpaws.”
“I agree with you,” murmured Bella, lying down with her head on the ground. “But that doesn’t make up for Fiery dying
.”
“No. All we can do is take these lessons with us, and protect the Pack in the future. That has to be worth something, doesn’t it?”
“Lucky’s right.” Lick stood up suddenly, and Lucky wondered if she’d really been asleep. “Fiery’s death is terrible, but the Pack can learn from it. The Pack will be stronger for this.”
She’s dealing with this so well for such a young dog, Lucky thought, licking her muzzle. But of course, her earliest memory was the death of her own Mother-Dog, and she lay with that other dead pup for a long time. Lick was born in the shadow of Earth-Dog, after her Growl had faded away. Perhaps she isn’t as frightened of death as she ought to be. . . .
Was that a good or a bad thing? Lucky wasn’t sure.
A terrible, whining howl broke into his thoughts, and every dog turned to Moon, sitting up on her haunches by the unmoving body of her mate.
“Fiery,” Moon bayed in grief. “He’s dead. My mate is dead.”
Hesitantly Lucky padded forward to her side, pressing his warmth close to her shuddering flank. He licked her shoulder gently. “Oh, Moon,” he said softly. “This should not have happened. But Earth-Dog will protect him now.”
“We have to give him to her.” Moon’s growl was choked. “I won’t leave him here.”
“Of course not.” Lucky nuzzled her neck. “We’ll help you.”
The earth was soft, a mire of mud and pine needles; at least that made it easy to dig out a hole with their forepaws, though water kept pooling in the bottom of it. Martha and Bella came to help, raking out the clumped earth until it was heaped up at the side of a deep trench. Twitch hobbled to the edge, looking on mournfully.
“I’m sorry I can’t help, Moon,” he whined. “My foreleg . . .”
“That’s all right.” She paused, lifting her earth-spattered face to give him a lick. “I know you liked Fiery, and that you’d help if you were able.”
As gently as they could, the dogs tugged Fiery’s corpse to the edge of the hole, and rolled him into it. For long moments they all gazed at his unmoving body before reluctantly scraping back the sodden earth with their hindpaws.
“Earth-Dog,” whimpered Moon. “Take my Fiery. Look after him. Give him to the world.”
Lucky laid his head on her back and closed his eyes in grief. “She will,” he said.
He hoped that sounded convincing. Because, for the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure if it was true. How could the Spirit Dogs treat us like this? If they really exist, if they’re really watching over us, how could they let such terrible things happen? He gave a small, helpless whimper.
“What about Terror?” Bella stepped back from Fiery’s grave.
And Lick? Lucky realized he had almost forgotten her in the hard, sad work of burying Fiery. He furrowed his brow as he turned to find her. She didn’t help. Why not?
Lick was standing over the limp body of her enemy once more.
“The mad dog is dead,” she yapped. “At last. Should we dig a hole for him?”
Lucky blinked, looking from Lick to Terror. The dead Alpha was a shapeless mass on the ground, sodden with mud and blood, barely recognizable as a dog at all. It was as if the rain had already tried to wash him away.
He was dying, thought Lucky. We knew that.
He raised his gaze to Lick. Her face was calm, her eyes gentle and clear. Curious under his intent stare, she tilted her head to the side and pricked her ears.
Terror couldn’t survive that wound. That was obvious.
Lick wagged her tail slowly, hesitantly. Seeming bewildered, she gave Lucky a soft, questioning whine.
It’s probably better for Terror that he has died.
Yet something about the corpse made Lucky uneasy. He turned to look at it once more. Had it moved? Was there anything different about the way it sprawled there? Was there a new expression in its staring eyes?
Lick couldn’t have. There was no need.
Right?
The Sun-Dog glowed bright gold through the branches as the exhausted little party set off again. The dogs were dazed and forlorn, paws dragging in the sodden ground. Moon went ahead, not looking back, head raised high but her ears drooping and her tail low. Twitch limped a little way behind her. Behind Lucky, Martha and Bella brought up the rear, keeping each other company in unhappy silence.
A little way behind Twitch, Lick walked alone, the tip of her tail twitching slightly, her ears pricked for danger. Lucky found he didn’t want to catch up to her just yet. She seemed lost in thought. Are they dark thoughts? Lick, I don’t know what to make of you now. . . .
Falling back a little, Lucky walked beside his litter-sister. Bella glanced at him.
“Do you really think you can control her, Lucky?”
Surprised, he lifted an ear, but he didn’t look at Bella. He stared at Lick, still padding calmly along.
“I don’t know,” he murmured at last. “Maybe I don’t have to. She’s obviously going to be a great warrior. Dogs do what they have to do to survive, don’t they?”
“Do you think that’s all it is?” Bella pricked her ears at him, her face solemn.
Lucky sighed. “We can all be savage when we fight, can’t we? Instinct brings out the beast in us.”
“But this was different,” Bella prodded.
“Yes. This was . . .” Lucky shook his head sadly. “She has a killer instinct. It’s not surprising that she used it to battle Terror, is it?”
But I still can’t shake the feeling something happened back there, when the battle was already over. That something was done while my back was turned. . . .
And if it was? I didn’t hear any savage barking or tearing. Is a killer still a killer if death comes as a mercy?
A little way ahead, Moon halted and gazed up at the sky, sighing distantly. “The Sun-Dog has nearly finished his journey. He stays such a short time in Red Leaf season; perhaps he hates that the frost is coming. It always seems like he tries to set the trees on fire, but they never burn away.”
Lucky licked her ear gently. “We should make a camp for no-sun,” he said. “Every dog is tired.”
“Will it rain again?”
Lucky’s heart turned over at the sorrow in Moon’s voice. “I don’t think so. The sky is clear. Let’s sleep under these trees, and move again at first light.”
“We should howl for Fiery,” Moon murmured. “We’ll do it when the Pack is together again.” She turned her sleep-circle, exhausted, and settled into a leafy nest, closing her eyes. “We’ll howl to the Spirit Dogs for him, and send him on his way.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The forest was especially silent during the darkness of no-sun, with barely a rustle of insects or a whisper of breeze to disturb the dogs’ sleep. Yet Lucky found himself restless, waking often, shifting his position, and fidgeting. Every twig and tiny stone seemed to dig into his hide. He kept seeing strange and horrible things—visions from his dreams of the Storm of Dogs mixed with the vicious fight with Terror’s Pack. He was afraid that if he slept soundly, another of those terrible dreams would visit him. Even the stillness of the trees unnerved him.
A new sound broke into his shallow doze, and he lifted his head. Pawsteps. And they’re nearby.
He got up as quietly as he could, not wanting to disturb Moon’s exhausted sleep. Was it Terror’s Pack, sneaking back for revenge?
No, the paws aren’t coming toward us. He blinked into the darkness, making out a moving shadow. It’s Lick! And she’s creeping away.
Perhaps she just needed to stretch her muscles or make waste, but Lucky felt an intense urge not to let the young Fierce Dog out of his sight. Softly he padded after her, catching up at the bottom of a shallow slope. Lick turned, blinking, but she didn’t look surprised or guilty.
“What are you doing, Lick?” he murmured.
She glanced away, into the trees. “Nothing, Lucky. I just wanted to be alone. I feel . . . guilty.” She sighed.
His fur bristled with renewed suspicion.
“What about?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t like the mood of the others. It’s strange, that’s all. It’s nothing definite, but I can tell. They think I’m bad, don’t they? Evil and vicious, like Terror.”
Lucky licked his dry jaws, his gut twisting. “To be honest, Lick, I was surprised at the way you fought Terror. That doesn’t mean it was wrong,” he added hastily, “just that you didn’t hold back, not even a bit.”
“Should I have? Am I evil?” Her dark eyes met his, anxious.
“No! I know in my gut you aren’t.” He sat down on his haunches and gazed at her. “There’s anger in you, but that’s not surprising. And you’re fiercely loyal, and passionate. You want to protect your friends. That’s not evil!”
“But I think . . . maybe . . . I could be.” She shuddered and shut her eyes. “Like Blade.”
“Lick.” He nuzzled her gently. “That’s why I want you to stay close to me—to all of us. Stay with the Pack. Without the Pack, you might find your rage getting the better of you, taking control of you. Do you see?”
Lick shuffled down onto her belly, gazing up at him with pleading eyes. “I won’t grow up to be like Blade,” she whispered fiercely. “I don’t want to! I want to be a good warrior and a good Packmate—not a savage killer. I want to be a good dog!”
Lucky rested his muzzle affectionately on her head, closing his eyes and ignoring the gnawing uncertainty. It was a nagging voice in his head, asking him over and over again how such a natural-born killer could be good.
What would Alpha have said, he wondered with a shudder, if he had seen Lick fight Terror?
What would Sweet have said?
The nagging voice faded, and he felt a flare of rebellious anger in his rib cage. He didn’t know what they would have said. But he knew very well what they should have said.
They should have thanked her for it. They should have been grateful. Lick is the only reason the dogs who left the Wild Pack are returning.
“Listen to me, Lick. We didn’t save Fiery—but we’d all have died if it weren’t for you. And I’ll make sure every dog knows it.”
