The Empty City

by Erin Hunter

  Storm was not convinced. But she hadn’t had much choice other than to trust them, though unease had never quite left her as she turned her sleep-circles and settled down.

  I need to run. I can feel it in my paws, I’ve already stayed too long, and I can’t spend another night in this cage. I won’t.

  Was this what it was like for Lucky and Sweet in the Trap House, before the Big Growl? The Trap House sounded like a terrible place. What would it be like to be surrounded by other dogs in cages just like this, frightened and cold? What if the Earth-Dog growled again?

  She shuddered.

  “You’re awake! We’re awake too,” yapped Coco, bounding into the room with Rex on her heels. Storm bit back a sarcastic growl that she could see that for herself.

  “Alpha and Beta will be up soon,” said Rex. “Then they’ll feed us and then we can go and play!”

  “Beta takes us out in the mornings,” Coco added, flopping down on her belly, her tongue lolling happily. “He always finds the best sticks.”

  They’re like pups, Storm thought. And not just because they’re young. Is that what happens when you become a Leashed Dog? You don’t need to hunt, so you just play all day?

  It almost sounded nice. Perhaps if a dog had never known anything else—or if Pack life had been no good for them, like Whine—it would be a perfectly good life.

  But that doesn’t mean it’s for me. I don’t want any longpaw telling me where I can go! I love to hunt and run. These two probably don’t even know about the Sky-Dogs or the Forest-Dog.

  Rex and Coco were pacing around the den now, sniffing things. For what purpose, Storm couldn’t tell—surely they knew all this place’s strange scents by now?

  Coco stopped, looking up quickly, as Whine appeared through the opening to the next den-space. Then, to Storm’s surprise, she bounded over and gave him a huge affectionate lick that unwrinkled all the folds on his face.

  “Good morning, Buddy!” she yipped.

  “All right, enough of that,” Whine grumbled. Rex ruffed a hello as well, and Whine acknowledged it before padding over to Storm’s cage.

  Storm tried to draw back a little as the smaller dog approached. Now that she was trapped, and not focusing all her energy on what the two longpaws were doing, she had a chance to really look at him properly.

  He was a lot rounder than he had been when he was with the Wild Pack. Clearly, the longpaws weren’t treating him like their Omega. Not that he deserved the title, Storm thought with a sniff. Sunshine was a better Omega than he had ever been. She didn’t resent her role or plot and scheme to try to rise up the ranks.

  Is that why he betrayed us? Because he was still bitter about being the Omega for so long?

  “So, Storm,” he said, as he came closer to the cage. “I never thought I would see you again, and that’s a fact. What are you doing so far from the Wild Pack camp, anyway?”

  I’m a Lone Dog now. Storm knew she should just say it and be proud, but the words seemed to stick in her teeth.

  “It’s not important,” she said instead. Whine’s bulging eyes gleamed, and Storm felt a growl start in her throat before he had even spoken.

  “They didn’t kick you out, did they?” he said, with spiteful delight in his yap. “After all that time Lucky spent defending you?”

  “No. I chose to leave,” Storm said. And it was true—but she couldn’t seem to make herself meet Whine’s eyes as she said it.

  “Hah,” Whine huffed. “Ungrateful. Half the dogs in that Pack would have died for you. Some of them did. And then you decided you’d rather be on your own? I always said you weren’t to be trusted.”

  Storm twitched away from him, stung by his words.

  It’s not true, I’m not ungrateful, she thought. They’re the ones who changed their minds about me! It was the bad dog turning them all against me, that’s all. There was nothing I could do.

  “Well, Lone Dog,” Whine went on. “If you want to go back to hunting and being alone, you’d better pay attention.”

  Storm looked down at the little dog in surprise. “You’re going to help me get out of here? Following your advice is what got me in this cage in the first place!”

  Whine wheezed with amusement. “You think I want you to join this Pack? You’d only make trouble.” He glanced behind him and lowered his voice so that Rex and Coco, who were rolling over on their backs and snapping at each other’s tails, couldn’t hear him. “I’ve got a good thing going here. A soft, dry den and plenty to eat, and you wouldn’t believe how easy it is to get more. These two Leashed idiots are just like their longpaws, soft as mud and about as clever.”

  Storm had to shake herself to cover the laugh she had almost let out. It was strangely comforting to find that Whine was still his old scheming self.

  “Anyway. In a while, the longpaws will come and let you out when they feed us, and then they’ll put you back in the cage and take you in their loudcage to see the vet. That’s what happened to me.”

  Storm frowned. She had heard of the vet. Sunshine, Mickey, and Daisy still talked about it sometimes, in low voices, whenever a dog was sick or hurt. The consensus seemed to be that the vet was a horrible place where they poked and prodded dogs and gave them horrible pellets to eat.

  “But I’m not sick,” she told Whine. “I don’t need to go to the vet!”

  Whine looked her up and down, blinking and sniffing. “You’ve looked better. What did you do to your fur, get in a fight with a pack of sharpclaws?”

  Storm huffed.. “No.” She could tell him that she fought off two Fierce Dogs, but that would only invite questions she didn’t want to answer.

  “They would take you anyway. That’s what they do,” Whine said, rolling his eyes. “Believe me. I’ve been through it. They take you to check that you’re not hurt, and find out if you already belong to another longpaw—if you’re a Wild Dog, or a lost Leashed Dog. See? All the vets know all the longpaws and their Leashed Dogs. Once the longpaws found out I didn’t have a longpaw Alpha, they brought me to live with them.”

  “So what do I do?” Storm asked.

  “You be a good dog,” Whine said, his little floppy ears flicking in amusement. “Do everything a Leashed Dog would do. Then when they bring you back from the vet, they’ll trust you. They’ll take you out of the cage, and you can run off.”

  Storm eyed the little dog suspiciously. He wanted her to let the longpaws take her to the vet?

  It occurred to her to wonder if she could trust him at all. After all, he had betrayed the Pack. He had hated Storm, so much that he didn’t care if she lived or died. It was only because he’d seemed to give good advice that she had believed him so far. But it had landed her in this cage. . . .

  Before she could growl her suspicions at him, the two Leashed Dogs suddenly jumped to their paws and barreled back to the cage, almost losing control and crashing into it.

  “They’re coming!” Rex barked, spinning around on bouncing paws. “I can smell Beta!”

  “I’m so hungry,” Coco yipped, standing by her empty bowl and almost shaking with excitement.

  “When they let you out, we can eat and then we can play together! It’s going to be so much fun!”

  Storm sniffed. She couldn’t make out any strengthening of longpaw scent from the confusing swirl of unfamiliar smells. But at the mention of food, she found herself starting to drool. Those Leashed Dog pellets were strange, and not nearly as satisfying as eating prey that you had caught with your own teeth—but they were tasty.

  Maybe I should try to teach these two something about hunting before I go, she thought. They’re the first real Leashed Dogs I’ve seen since the Big Growl. What if they ever leave their longpaws, or there’s another Growl? They look like they should be hunters, and they certainly can’t rely on Whine to catch them anything to eat. She shook the thought away. They aren’t my Pack. I don’t have to take care of anyone.

  The door opened and the darker longpaw came in. He seemed to have changed
the color and shape of his fur. Now it was yellow and green and covered all of his back legs. He had something in his hands. He patted his knees and called to Rex and Coco in that strange, lilting tone of voice. The Leashed Dogs immediately ran up to him, panting and wagging their tails. Rex turned another flailing circle on the spot, and Coco actually jumped up, as if she was going to sink her teeth into the longpaw’s neck, but she just licked his face.

  “The longpaws love it when we act like silly pups,” Whine told Storm wryly, before running up to the Beta’s feet and flopping down on his back, his round belly exposed and his legs sticking out at a thoroughly ridiculous angle.

  The Beta leaned down and rubbed Whine’s belly, and then ruffled the fur around the necks of the other two dogs. Suddenly, Storm realized that he had attached something to them both—thin strings that were part of the thing he was holding in his hands.

  “Walk?!” Rex barked, as if it was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to him.

  “Yes! We’re going on a walk!” Coco answered.

  “I guess we’re going out to play before breakfast today. Okay—bye, Storm, we’ll see you later!” Rex yapped as the Beta led them through the door. They didn’t seem to mind at all that the longpaw could keep them from running where they wanted!

  Storm gazed after them in horror. “Why didn’t he let me out?”

  Whine shook his head and tried to scratch behind his ear, although his little back legs could barely reach. “Longpaws are strange. They’re so predictable—except for when they’re not. They probably think you’re not strong enough to keep up with morning patrol yet.”

  For a moment, Storm bristled, insulted. Why would they think that? She was a big, strong dog, twice as strong as either Rex or Coco—wasn’t she?

  Then she looked at Whine, who was panting with the effort of getting his back paw behind his head.

  “Why didn’t they take you?” she asked, cocking her head to one side. “Is it because you can’t keep up?”

  Whine growled. “And what’s wrong with that? I’ve got short legs, and I’m not as young as I used to be.”

  “I think you’re up to something,” Storm bit back. “You’ve always been sneaky. Maybe I should stay with this Pack, make sure that you’re not plotting against those two good pups.”

  Whine sighed and shook his head. “All I’m plotting these days is how to get into the food boxes and blame it on Coco. Don’t look at me like that,” he said, when Storm’s ears flattened and she bared her teeth. “Nothing will happen to her. The longpaws love them. They love me too, although I can’t work out why. It’s not like a Wild Pack here. Even if you break the rules, the punishments are never worse than having to sit outside for a while.”

  Whine seemed to give this some thought for a moment, and then he licked his chops with his long pink tongue.

  “Anyway, I want you out of here, believe me. I’m not having you turning Fierce and messing this up for me. The sooner you leave, the better.”

  Storm suppressed a growl. I am Fierce, she thought. I don’t turn Fierce.

  “I’m not going to the vet,” she said, as calmly as she could. “Who knows what they’ll do to me there? Is it true that they stab you with long thorns?”

  “Yes,” said Whine with a shudder. “And sometimes it’s worse than that. Coco went to the vet once, and . . .”

  “What?” Storm prodded him, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what was so bad that even Whine didn’t want to talk about it.

  “She had to live with them for a few days, and when she came home, they had cut down a patch of her fur right to the skin and made a cut as long as your paw, and then mended it again.”

  Storm’s jaw dropped. “Why?”

  “Who knows why longpaws do things?”

  “I’m not going, Whine. You have to help me get out of here before they take me.”

  Whine trod a circle, clearly torn between not wanting to do what Storm told him to do and wanting to get her out of his cozy longpaw den. Finally he nodded.

  “I have an idea. But we’ll need Rex and Coco. When they get back, we’ll get to work.”

  Storm settled down in the soft blankets in the bottom of the cage and rested her chin on her paws.

  There was nothing to do now but wait. She hated waiting. She tried to stop her mind from racing around, chasing visions of longpaws with sharp thorns holding her down. . . .

  When Rex and Coco came back, they were panting, and Storm could smell the fresh scent of the outside world all over them. Rex had a twig stuck in his tail.

  How hard did the longpaws make them run? she wondered. I always thought no longpaw could keep up with a dog.

  She was hoping that the Beta would let her out of the cage and feed them now, but he just made some more noises to the Leashed Dogs and went back to the other part of the den, shutting the door behind him. Rex and Coco flopped down on one of the pelts on the floor, their tongues lolling and eyes starting to blink closed.

  “Don’t go to sleep!” Whine yapped, bouncing up to them. “Come on, get up! Storm needs your help.”

  At that, the young dogs’ ears pricked up, although a little less quickly than before.

  “Help? Why?” Coco yawned. “Are you sick? Should we get Alpha?”

  “No!” Storm said quickly. “I just need to get out of here.”

  “You mean you’re not staying?” asked Rex, his ears and tail drooping. Storm was strangely touched.

  “Do you . . . really want me to stay?”

  “Yes!” Rex yipped. “You’re a good dog. Beta says so. He likes you. So we like you too.”

  Storm huffed. If only life in the Wild Pack had been this simple.

  “Storm needs to go,” Whine told them. “She needs to get back to her own Pack. They miss her.”

  Storm’s heart felt as if a vet was stabbing one of their long thorns into it. She glared at Whine, who glared back with one bulbous eye. He’s saying this to get their help. Not to make you feel bad, Storm thought.

  . . . probably.

  “You pups don’t know,” Whine said, “but being in a real Pack . . . it’s a very special feeling. Having a bond with so many dogs . . . it’s like you’ve all made a promise that to keep each other safe. It’s having somewhere you will always be wanted.”

  “You’d be wanted here,” Coco told Storm, putting her forepaws on the cage. “We would keep you safe!”

  “But she already has a Pack,” said Rex slowly. He frowned. “Imagine if we got lost and found our way to Storm’s Pack—we would want to come home to Alpha and Beta, wouldn’t we? Even if the Pack promised we could play all day and chew on anything we liked?”

  “Of course,” Coco said. She thought about it for a moment. “Yes, of course. I understand now.”

  “So, first we need to get Storm out of this cage,” said Whine. “Rex, I need you to do that trick we’ve been practicing.”

  Rex looked worried. “But it’s Bad. Alpha was really upset last time. . . .”

  “You won’t get in trouble, I promise,” Whine wheedled. Storm wondered if that was true.

  “Oh all right,” said Rex. He trotted up to the door on Storm’s cage and carefully grabbed a bit of the metal between his teeth. Storm backed away, wincing, as he wriggled and chewed and his teeth scraped against the surface. Then suddenly, one of the pieces moved, and the cage door swung open.

  Storm bounded out, shook herself from head to toe, and then stretched hugely, reaching her front paws out as far as they would go.

  “Agh, that’s better!” she yipped happily. Then, as she scrambled to her paws, she gave Rex a suspicious glare. “Why didn’t you say you could do that?”

  “It’s a bad dog trick,” Rex said sheepishly. “I should only do it when Buddy says so.”

  Storm caught Whine’s eye, and he looked away quickly. There’s only one bad dog in this household, Rex, she thought, and it’s not you.

  But in the end, she was glad that he was here, causing t
rouble for these silly dogs and their silly longpaws, rather than out in the wild, where he could do real damage. It looked like Whine had found his place in the world. Storm hoped she could find hers too.

  And I never thought I would need Whine’s help to do it!

  “What now, Buddy?” she asked him.

  Whine turned his squashed face up, and she followed his gaze to a high-up piece of clear-stone in one wall, where light was filtering into the room. Storm could see that there was a tiny gap between the clear-stone and the wood. “They leave that window a little bit open, to let the outside scents in,” he said. “All we need to do is give it a push.”

  Storm went over to the clear-stone and reared up, walking her front paws up the wall until she was stretched out as tall as she could go. “I’m not going to be able to reach it.”

  “I can help,” said Coco. Storm backed off and tilted her head at the dog—she was not quite as big as Storm. How was she going to get up to the window? But instead of trying, Coco lay down against the wall with her paws braced on the ground. “I can make you taller!”

  Storm eyed her skeptically. “Are you sure? I’m not exactly a small dog.”

  “I can do it,” Coco panted. “As long as you don’t stand on me for very long. You’ll have to move quickly.”

  Storm’s heart suddenly felt full of warmth for these two dogs. Even Whine had turned out to be far more generous than she had expected. She licked Coco’s wolfish face in gratitude, then turned and nuzzled Rex, and then Whine, nipping playfully at the little dog’s wrinkled neck.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I won’t forget any of you.” She reared up again, putting her front paws on the wall, and then stepped gently onto Coco’s back with her hindpaws. The boost was enough that she could just get her nose onto the clear-stone. She pushed it, and it flapped open. Outside, the smell of pine and grass and rain was strong and fresh.