by Erin Hunter
“I think this is far enough,” said Mickey, in a low voice, raising his nose to scent the air. “The foxes are close. If we do it here, they’ll find her soon and she’ll be all right.”
Storm couldn’t. She already knew it, deep in her stomach.
She looked at Mickey, the dog who had found her in the Dog-Garden with Lucky, who’d helped her escape the coyotes, who’d always been kind and fair. He didn’t want this, she was sure, or he wouldn’t care whether the fox would be all right. . . .
Then she looked at Bella—she was so cunning, so willing to bend rules and keep secrets if she thought it was the right thing to do. And Arrow had given up everything he ever knew, his loyalty to his family and to Blade, to join Sweet’s Pack and warn them that they’d been betrayed.
Alpha had sent them all to prove themselves, but perhaps that had been foolish of her. Perhaps Storm could still do the right thing.
“Bella,” she said, “Arrow . . . We can’t do this.”
“Storm, come on,” Mickey began. “It’s Alpha’s orders.”
“But we know the truth! We know the foxes didn’t kill Whisper, and we all know that if we do this, they will only retaliate again. It’s like we’re chasing our tails ’round and ’round, and all that happens is we bite ourselves. This isn’t getting us any closer to justice!”
Fox Mist glanced up at Storm, a terrible hope growing in her eyes.
Don’t look at me like that, Storm thought. I haven’t convinced them yet. . . .
Arrow and Bella glanced at each other, and then looked away, their tails between their legs.
“You’re right,” Arrow said. “But we’ve been sent on this mission for a reason, Storm. If we don’t follow Alpha’s orders, she will never truly trust us.” He looked up at Storm, and his pointed ears twitched. “You know that we need all the allies we can get.”
He means me and him, Storm thought. The Fierce Dogs.
“You weren’t part of our Pack when I allied with the foxes,” Bella said. Between them, Fox Mist’s ears turned to Bella in surprise.
“I heard about it . . .” Storm began.
“It took me a long time to regain the Pack’s confidence. I agree that hurting this fox will do no good . . . but if it’s Alpha’s order, we should follow it.”
“But it’s only the four of us here, and we were already supposed to let her go,” Storm said. “No dog needs to know we didn’t wound her. Mickey . . .” She looked up at the Farm Dog’s kind face. “You heard Bella and Arrow—they know this is wrong, they’re just too scared to do the right thing.”
“Hey!” Bella complained, but Storm kept her eyes fixed on Mickey.
“I don’t know. If we don’t show the foxes that we’re in charge here . . .” Mickey began.
“Dogs,” said Fox Mist suddenly. “Dog Storm. Dog . . . Mi-ckey. Fox Mist promises, dogs lets us go, leaves us whole, foxes goes. Goes far away, keeps peace, never returns.”
“How can we believe that?” Mickey said, but there was hesitation in his voice.
“You’ll tell them that we were merciful,” Storm said, lowering her muzzle to speak directly to the fox. “Won’t you? You’ll tell them that we could have hurt you, or even killed you, but we didn’t want to harm an innocent fox or her cubs. We didn’t kill that cub, and we don’t all believe you killed our friend—we just want peace.”
“Yes. I tells.” Fox Mist swished her bushy tail enthusiastically. “Tells foxes. Keeps peace. All foxes wants.”
Expectantly, Storm, Bella and Arrow turned their heads to look at Mickey.
“How can you want me to wound her now?” Storm whined.
Mickey closed his eyes for a moment. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” he muttered.
“I hope not,” Storm told him.
Mickey’s tail swished against the ground once, twice, and then he stepped back. “Go,” he growled. Before his growl had even finished, Fox Mist had taken off, faster than a rabbit, her small body low to the ground. “And remember your promise!” Mickey barked after her, as she vanished into the undergrowth without looking back.
Storm felt her heart lift, as if it had been weighed down with rocks that she’d finally swept away.
Bella and Arrow were both looking at her, anxious expressions on their faces.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Bella muttered.
“The right thing,” said Storm. “I’m sure of it.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Lucky was waiting by the entrance to the camp when the four dogs returned. As they walked up the hill, the Sun-Dog running down the sky behind him made his fur glow golden but his face seem very dark.
“Report, Mickey,” he said, as soon as they were close enough to hear him.
Mickey stayed quiet, his head down, until they reached the edge of the camp and he could sit beside Lucky and look him straight in the eyes. Storm’s stomach twisted . . . had he changed his mind? Was he going to tell Lucky what she’d done?
“All went well,” Mickey said. “Storm did her duty. We left the fox near their old camp—she’ll be found soon, if she hasn’t been already. We won’t have any more trouble with the foxes.”
Lucky tilted his head, trying to look into Storm’s eyes. She met his gaze evenly, despite the thudding of her heart. . . .
But no, this is wrong, she thought, panic swirling around her head. I wouldn’t be feeling calm and meeting his eyes, not if I’d just had to wound that fox. Lucky knows that. He knows me. I should be angry, uncomfortable, breathing hard. . . .
I’m never going to get away with this. . . .
But Lucky didn’t seem to see anything strange about the way Storm looked—perhaps she’d made herself so nervous he mistook it for discomfort and anger. Either way, he blinked and dipped his head to Mickey.
“Well done, Mickey. And well done, the rest of you. It wasn’t an easy task, but you’ve done something good for the Pack. Alpha will be proud.”
You’re right, Storm thought, we have—just not the thing you think we’ve done.
He would never trust her again, or any of the others, if he found out what had really happened. But Storm couldn’t make herself regret it. She had spared another creature undeserved pain, and that felt good—as if she had shone a bright light into the dark places in her own heart.
“Excuse me,” came a muffled voice from behind them. “Coming through.” Storm turned and shuffled aside when she saw Bruno, Snap, and Dart coming into camp with prey creatures dangling from their jaws. Bruno and Dart each had a rabbit, but they looked rather small, and Snap was only carrying a pair of skinny ferrets.
“Stupid foxes,” Bruno muttered as he passed. “The prey pile was full before they came. . . .”
“We’d just filled it up,” Mickey agreed. As Snap passed, he bent his head close to hers, and Storm heard him murmur, “Did something go wrong? There’s so little!”
“Just bad luck,” Snap replied, nudging the top of her head against the fluffy underside of Mickey’s chin. “It’ll be better tomorrow.”
“Pack, to me!” barked Alpha. Snap trotted over to the prey pile and dropped her catch alongside Bruno’s and Dart’s meager offerings, and Storm followed, dragging her paws a little. “It’s time to share prey,” Alpha said, and then sighed as she looked down at the small pile. “Listen, every dog. We will eat in Pack rank, as usual. But before we do, I want you all to give some thought to the dogs who will come after you.”
There was a pause, while all the dogs came to sit around the pile, looking at the rabbits and then at one another. Storm couldn’t help glancing at Sunshine. There were plenty of dogs who ranked between Storm and the Omega, including all the Patrol Dogs—Moon, Daisy, Thorn, and Beetle, even Breeze—but still, it was Sunshine who she hoped most strongly would be able to eat that night.
“Now, let’s eat,” Alpha announced, and stepped forward. She tore into the first rabbit delicately, ripping away a chunk of meat, and then stepping back. She chewed it slo
wly, though Storm was sure she could have swallowed it in one go if there was more to go around. Lucky took even less than his mate, and the rest of the dogs followed their example. When Storm’s turn came, she almost wondered if she should refuse altogether.
Lucky and Alpha were both so angry with me . . . and what if they know what I did, and they’re just not letting on?
But in the end, she did go to the prey pile and take a very small bite. It was only enough to sharpen her hunger, really, but she comforted herself with the knowledge that all the dogs would be feeling the same. Tomorrow—if Lucky would let her—she resolved that she would go out on a hunt, and she wouldn’t return unless they could feed the Pack properly.
When all the hunters had eaten, Alpha stood up. “Patrol Dogs, wait a moment. There is something that needs to be said. Moon, will you come forward?”
The white-and-black Farm Dog glanced at her pups, then at Twitch, and then stood up and walked toward Alpha.
“You fought very bravely against the foxes, Moon,” Alpha said. “You defended your Pack nobly, and your valor hasn’t gone unnoticed. Your punishment is ended. From now on, you will eat in your rightful place, at the head of the Patrol Dogs, and you will no longer be on High Watch.”
Moon gave Alpha a low bow and dipped her ears gratefully. Beetle yapped with happiness, and a ripple of relief ran through the Pack, hunters and Patrol Dogs alike. Storm forgot her tension and her hunger, letting her tongue hang out with joy.
“There is one other thing,” Alpha said. “Though Moon has been relieved from High Watch, I believe that these dangerous times call for it to become a permanent part of our patrol routine. Every dog will take turns, including some of the hunters when there are too few Patrol Dogs available. Tonight, it will be Storm’s turn on High Watch.”
So they are still angry with me, Storm thought, as she dipped her head in respectful agreement. They could have chosen any dog, and they chose me.
The high rock on the cliff above the camp was just as windy, and even colder than when Storm had visited Moon there. With the Sun-Dog fast asleep in his den, the Endless Lake seemed to give off great waves of cold that washed up on the beach and crept up through the ground and into Storm’s paws. She shivered and turned on the spot just like she’d seen Moon do.
If she was being punished, she would rather be told that she was, and what she had done—in front of the whole Pack, if necessary. Then at least she would know if she was still being punished for protecting the Pack by trying to stay awake, or for protecting the Pack by letting the fox go unharmed, or for some other crime she couldn’t justify to herself so easily.
The clouds that had blocked the Sun-Dog had shredded into wispy pieces now, and the Moon-Dog almost seemed to be playing chase with them as they skimmed across the sky. She darted in and out of their shade, glinting on the choppy waves of the Endless Lake and then hiding away again. Storm wished she could be up among the stars playing chase with the Moon-Dog—she would be able to see even more than she could from High Watch, and at least she wouldn’t have to be sitting still all night.
She stared down toward the camp, imagining the other dogs curling up in their new dens, sleeping on the moss that she and Sunshine had gathered, and then went very still and slowed her breath, trying to listen to the sounds of the camp and the land all around it. Her best shot at knowing if an attack was coming in the dark would be to hear it—although she wasn’t expecting one, the thought of missing any sign of impending danger made her shudder.
The cold air and the rumbling in her belly kept Storm awake for a long while, but when the Moon-Dog had wandered a little way across the sky, she felt her eyelids start to droop. She got to her paws, shook herself hard from head to tail, and started to pace, trying to focus on the feeling of the rough, cold stone and sand.
Suddenly she heard pawsteps that were not her own. They were coming toward her, up the path—more than four paws, from the sound of it. . . .
She sniffed the air carefully, and then relaxed. The scents were familiar—Pack scents. Breeze and Thorn strode out of the darkness.
“Hello, Storm,” said Thorn, bounding up the path, her long fur blowing in the cold wind from the Endless Lake. “We’re on night patrol, so we thought we’d come past and see how you’re doing.”
“Anything to report?” Breeze asked.
“No, nothing,” said Storm.
“Mother says, if you go a little farther down there’s an overhanging rock. If it rains, you can shelter under there and still have a good view of the camp.” Thorn wagged her tail. “And you can roll on the sandy bits of the earth to warm up your back.”
“Thanks.” Storm blinked happily at Thorn. “Thank Moon for me too, won’t you? I really appreciate it.”
“No problem,” Thorn panted.
“Storm, I have to ask, if you don’t mind. . . .” Breeze padded up and sat near Storm, looking out over the glinting black surface of the Endless Lake, as if she was shy of meeting Storm’s gaze. “It must have taken a lot of courage to follow Alpha’s orders and scar that fox. We could all tell you didn’t want to do it. What happened, when you got out there?”
Storm tried to breathe evenly. “I didn’t want to, it’s true. But we had to follow Alpha’s orders. She was right—we had to punish the fox.” She was shocked how easily the lies came.
“What was it like?” Breeze whispered. “Actually wounding the fox like that?”
Storm shuddered. “It . . . it was . . .” She fished into her memory for other wounds she’d made, but she knew that in the heat of a battle or a hunt wasn’t the same.
“Oh, Storm. Was it so terrible? Did it . . . did it struggle?” There was horror in Breeze’s voice.
“She wasn’t happy,” Storm said. “She . . . yes, she tried to get away . . . it was . . . bloody,” she finished, feeling sick with herself, hoping that it would be enough to put Breeze off asking any more.
“Well, they should think twice about attacking the Pack again now,” Breeze said, giving a brief shiver and then getting to her paws.
“I hope so,” Thorn said quietly. “I hope it doesn’t just make them angrier.”
“Come on, Thorn,” said Breeze firmly, as if determined to change the subject. “We’d better get on, or we won’t be able to cover enough ground before dawn.”
“All right—good night, Storm,” Thorn said, dipping her head as they started back down the slope.
“Good night.” Storm watched them go, waited for a moment longer, and then padded down in the direction Thorn had shown her. Sure enough, the rock jutted out and up, as thick and solid as a huge tree trunk, and underneath it was a space big enough for a dog to shelter where she could still see out over the camp, and over the lake in the other direction. It was a little warmer there, protected from the worst of the cold wind, and Storm huddled down gratefully, hoping that she would warm up soon.
Storm mostly listened and watched for movement near the camp—for foxes, or coyotes, or any sign of the bad dog who had caused all this trouble. But finally she did glance over at the dark lake, and she saw something strange. There were lights, out on the lake where she knew there was nothing but water. They were too bright and too low to be stars, and too small and too steady to be the reflection of the Moon-Dog. Unless the stars had fallen into the lake and were bobbing gently on the surface. She considered that possibility for a while, before she realized what she had seen floating on the lake before.
A longpaw floatcage!
It had to be. Only longpaws and Spirit Dogs could make light like that.
Storm stared at the lights, her hackles raised, ready to howl the alarm if necessary—but how would she know if it was necessary? Would it come closer, or would it just stay out there on the lake?
Storm had had only had a few brief encounters with longpaws, and they had all been frightening and strange. But she wondered if that had been because the longpaws were alone, cut off from the rest of their Pack. Longpaws used to be everywhere be
fore the Big Growl—at least according to Lucky and Mickey. Lucky had lived in their city, hunting for their scraps instead of for prey, and Mickey had even lived in one of their houses! When he spoke about them, they didn’t sound so bad—almost like being in a Pack where your Alpha was a longpaw and they made sure you had food and somewhere warm to sleep, but in return you had to give up your freedom.
Some dogs might like that, Storm thought. Things would be much simpler.
But Storm knew it wasn’t a life for her. She would rather go hungry some nights, as long as she could run and play and defend her own territory, and not have to bow to some creature she couldn’t even understand.
What would it be like if they came back? If there was a longpaw in every house in the lake town, and loudcages running up and down the streets all the time? Would they bother the dogs, scare away the prey? Would they try to make them come and live in their houses and wear collars like the Leashed Dogs had? What would they do if the dogs didn’t want to go?
Perhaps they would never come back. The floatcage was bobbing farther away now, its lights dwindling until they were just a flickering dot on the dark horizon. Storm watched until they had vanished altogether.
I’ll report it to Alpha in the morning, she thought. There’s nothing to be afraid of right now.
The thought felt so comforting. She knew it wasn’t true—there were still coyotes, and she didn’t know for certain how the foxes would react to Fox Mist’s return, and under it all there was the threat of the bad dog, and her own dreams. . . .
But here on High Watch, the world felt so peaceful and quiet that her eyelids started to get heavier again. She shivered.
Can’t fall asleep. I’m on watch. I’ll get up in a moment and walk again.
Any moment now . . .
Storm stretched out luxuriously, turning her belly to the sky and feeling the sweet warmth of the Sun-Dog soak into her coat. The earth beneath her was warm too, and she flicked an ear lazily to dislodge a small insect that had mistaken her for a blade of grass.
