The Empty City

by Erin Hunter

  Her back legs wobbled as Coco got up to her paws. The young dog’s legs shook once, and then she braced them and held still. Storm put her paws up over the ledge and glanced back one last time at the Leashed Dogs, looking up at her with sad eyes but wagging tails. Then she pushed off Coco’s back and scrambled, clawing at the wooden wall with her back legs and wriggling herself up and out through the hole. It wasn’t dignified, and she bruised her belly on the sharp corner of the wall, but finally she was dropping down outside, and her paws landed safely on the soft, muddy ground.

  She broke into a run at once. The longpaws might have heard her; they could be back any moment! And besides, after a long night in a longpaw cage, her legs were itching for a good run. She streaked across the grassy meadow, kicking up little pieces of mud as she went, feeling the wind pulling at her ears.

  She didn’t know where she was going, but she looked up and saw the same strange scene as before. Behind the trees, the ground grew in points, reaching up into the sky. I’ll head that way, she thought, as she darted under the canopy of the forest. If I know where the Endless Lake is, and where the High Ground is, I’ll never be truly lost.

  Storm ran as fast as she could through the maze of tree trunks, until she was certain that the longpaws wouldn’t follow her so far. Then she slowed to a happy trot, enjoying the feeling of the needles beneath her paws and the scents of prey. Her belly rumbled again. She wished that the longpaws had fed her before she’d escaped, but she was looking forward to a hunt and the warmth of fresh-caught prey. She felt as if she had been in that cage for days and days, instead of just one night.

  Something suddenly rustled in a nearby bush, and Storm jumped as a small bird took flight, flapping away in a panic.

  Just a bird, Storm thought—but it had stirred another memory, one she hadn’t given much thought to when she was still in the longpaw den.

  In her dream, she had been walking through a forest, and something had been watching her, stalking her . . . laughing at her.

  She shook herself. She was certain that the Fierce Dogs hadn’t followed her, and that the wolves wouldn’t bother her if she wasn’t on their territory. There was no dog here to worry about.

  She was all alone, again.

  Despite the joy of being out in the world, and the prospect of real prey and even the idea that she might find out what was on the High Ground . . . there was a strange feeling in Storm’s belly. A prickling sadness that seemed to grow heavier and heavier with every step she took away from the longpaw Pack. She slowed and stopped, looking back over her shoulder toward the meadow and the wooden den.

  Don’t be silly, she chided herself. You don’t want to go back there! They’ll take you to the vet. They’ll make you patrol on a string and sleep in a cage. And you’ll have to spend all your time with Whine.

  But even Whine suddenly didn’t seem so bad. After all, he’d been part of a Pack once.

  That was it. And now Storm could see that this heavy feeling had been building all this time. It went away when she was with the wolves, or when hunting was going really well, but it was always there.

  I don’t want to be a Leashed Dog. I just miss my Pack.

  They were mean and distrustful and they never listened to Storm, even when she was right. But they could be kind and loyal, too, and if only the bad dog hadn’t kept making them think she was plotting against them . . .

  Storm sat down on her haunches and howled.

  “I can’t go back! They’ll never take me back. And why would I want them to, after what they’ve done?” she growled to the sky.

  But then what would she do? Lone Dog life was too hard, too lonely. She knew that now. Would she just keep walking until she stumbled across a dog Pack who would take her?

  No. There’s no need. Hope sprang up in Storm’s chest. There are two dogs out there I know would want me in their Pack.

  I just need to find them.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The Sun-Dog was going down, its reflection glimmering on the surface of the Endless Lake as Storm emerged from the tree line.

  She had walked all day, almost nonstop since she’d left the longpaw den, using the Endless Lake and the High Ground to guide her steps, and there had been no scent or track marks that would lead her to Bella and Arrow. Her hope from earlier had disappeared almost as quickly as her extra energy from a sheltered night and good food. How had she expected to find Bella and Arrow? How many territories would she have to search? She could walk forever and never find them.

  She shook off these thoughts as her stomach rumbled. She’d managed to catch a small weasel in the forest earlier, but it hadn’t been enough for a whole day of walking. It was time to hunt.

  I never thought I’d want any part of a Leashed Dog’s life, but a bowl of those strange pellets would be very tasty right now.

  She stepped once more onto the sandy ground at the edge of the lake, looking up at the wheeling white birds that nested in the rocks along the bank.

  They’re so big, she thought. I bet they’re delicious. But they have their guard up all the time! How can I get close enough to catch one?

  Another of the plump birds circled overhead and let out a squawk that sounded annoyingly like a taunt. She watched as it flapped down and started pecking at a dark shape that looked like it had washed up out of the lake. It looked like something that had once been alive, but a long time ago. Would these birds eat almost anything, as long as it didn’t fight back?

  I wonder . . .

  She took a few unsteady steps forward, and then let herself slump down in the sand. She lay perfectly still on her side, resisting the urge to wriggle to get more comfortable, and shut her eyes.

  If they think I’m dead, maybe they’ll come and try to eat me, and I can get my teeth into one then. . . .

  But playing dead was difficult. She knew that her breath was moving the sand in front of her face, but if she tried not to breathe, then she would die for real. She couldn’t smell whether the birds were coming, so she had to try to keep looking convincingly dead.

  Then she shuddered, sending grains of sand skittering away from her. An image had passed across her vision.

  Whisper.

  His body, the way they had found it in the woods . . . the limpness in his legs, the tongue lolling from his mouth, his eyes open and staring . . .

  She leaped to her paws and shook herself hard, sand flying all around her. She couldn’t do this. It didn’t feel right, somehow.

  I’m sorry, Whisper.

  Storm started to run, following the line of the Endless Lake. She barreled through a flock of birds, making them scatter. If she only had hind legs like a sharpclaw—Lucky had told her once that they could jump many times their own height—but she didn’t, and she wouldn’t waste any more time here trying to catch these stupid birds. She would keep moving until she scented prey that she could catch.

  And she wouldn’t think about Whisper. Or about his killer, the bad dog, who Storm had never caught. Who she was still running away from, even now.

  She had crested a small hill of sand and thick pale grass, and as she looked out across the water, she could see a blocky shape silhouetted against the last of the Sun-Dog.

  “Another floatcage,” she muttered, thinking of the longpaws she had seen getting in and out of one of those, back near the Pack camp. “More longpaw stuff.”

  Lucky had said that before the Big Growl, this was all longpaw territory, from the big City across the river to the Light House, and probably much farther. Was this their territory too? They could move such huge distances so easily in their loudcages and floatcages and loudbirds.

  Is there anywhere that’s not longpaw territory? Storm wondered. And what if they want to take all of it back? Where will the Wild Pack go then?

  The Wind-Dogs were running faster now, whipping up the surface of the lake and blowing the floatcage from side to side.

  Storm’s nose twitched, picking up a scent.

  Is that .
. . Fierce Dog?

  She felt hope leap in her chest. It was familiar, but so vague, and the salty tang of the lake was so strong, she just couldn’t be sure. Even if it was a Fierce Dog, she was close enough to the forest that it could be Pistol or Dagger instead of Arrow.

  Still, she wouldn’t run away from it. She wouldn’t let those two stop her from finding a Pack where she could belong.

  She followed the scent along the beach. Her paws sank into the sand, the wind blew more sand into her eyes, and her whole body felt heavy with hunger. Storm plodded on as the Sun-Dog sank lower in the sky. She wondered briefly if she should turn inland to hunt, but then she worried that she would lose the scent—it was almost completely gone already. She couldn’t bear to give up even the smallest chance of finding Bella and Arrow.

  The last lingering light of the Sun-Dog faded around her.

  She knew she couldn’t keep walking all night, so she turned and walked up the beach a little, onto a rocky slope that led down to the water. The Moon-Dog was already bright in the sky. Her silvery light combined with the sound and smell of the lake was strangely comforting. It was so familiar, and it truly did seem to go on forever.

  Storm sniffed around the rocks until she found a cool cave just large enough for her to curl up inside—it was dry and had grass growing around its mouth. She hoped that meant she wouldn’t wake up with the lake lapping at her nose. She turned a tight sleep-circle and settled down with her muzzle resting on her back paws.

  I wonder what the Wild Pack are doing now, she thought, as her eyes drifted closed. Or Arrow and Bella. I wonder if I’ll ever see any of them again.

  Lucky frowned at her with worry. “Turn around, let me see where it hurts.”

  Lick obeyed, scuffing her paws sheepishly as she showed him the scratches on her shoulder.

  Lucky shook his head and licked them gently. It made them sting a little less.

  “You need to control that temper of yours,” Lucky said. “It’ll get you into trouble one day.”

  “Grunt started it,” Lick mumbled. “It’s not my fault. He always plays rough. What should I do, play dead?”

  “That’s enough,” said Lucky, which Lick noticed was not an answer. He went back to licking her scratches.

  She sniffed. There was something strange about the scents in this place. She could smell the Endless Lake and cool earth, but also . . .

  “Lucky, can you smell that?” she asked.

  Lucky huffed into her fur, as if he was annoyed by the question. “Don’t distract me right now, Lick.”

  “But I mean it,” she told him. In frustration she stepped away from him, nudging his muzzle away from her with her nose. “There’s a dog! A strange dog, coming closer! Can’t you smell it?”

  “Don’t be silly!” Lucky growled. “You’re always making things up.”

  “I don’t make things up,” Lick growled back. “You just never believe me. Why don’t you ever listen?”

  “That’s enough, pup!” Lucky backed away. “If you’re going to make trouble, you can stay out here until the Pack decides you can come back.” He turned and walked away from her, vanishing slowly into the darkness.

  “Wait, Lucky—there’s a strange dog out there! It’s not safe!” Lick tried to follow him, but he was gone. “Lucky, don’t leave me here . . . don’t go . . .”

  Storm woke up with a start, her heart racing. For a moment, she peered across the sand in the weak early light, looking for Lucky. Then she realized that their argument had only been a dream.

  The Fierce Dog scent was still there, hanging in the air, still frustratingly too weak for her to be certain whether it was Pistol and Dagger, or Arrow, or even some other survivor of the Storm of Dogs.

  Whoever it is, I won’t let them sneak up on me this time. She was going to look for them, and if she found herself in another fight, so be it. She was hungry, but still strong.

  She left the cave and looked around at the stretch of lakeshore. The Sun-Dog was still in his den, but she could already see his light. Soon he would poke his head up above the trees behind her. To her left, she knew she could follow the line of the Endless Lake and she would come back to the broken longpaw place, then the Light House, and then the Wild Pack’s camp. To her right was a mystery, except for the faint Fierce Dog scent.

  She set off, determination in every step, the sand shifting under her paws.

  I’ll need to find prey soon, she thought. I could head into the trees and come back here after I’ve eaten.

  But she still didn’t like the idea of losing the scent—she had a horrible feeling that it would evade her again if she let it go for a moment. So she ignored the hollow feeling growing in her stomach and walked on, climbing a ridge of rock that rose above the sand. She knew she could cope with hunger a lot worse than this. She sniffed the air every few pawsteps, and the Fierce Dog scent did, at last, grow stronger and stronger.

  Soon she realized that she must be within the dog’s territory, or at least somewhere it had stayed for a while. The scent came and went, more recent trails overlaying older ones. On one tree it would seem as if the dog had been gone for a long time, but a few pawsteps later it was as if it was right behind her.

  She turned carefully, determined not to get trapped again.

  It smelled like it might be Arrow—but if it was him, why was it only his scent she could find?

  She felt her heart start to beat faster as her excitement mingled with worry.

  If Arrow is here, where is Bella?

  Bella could have left Arrow alone, or been hurt, or died. . . .

  She stopped and shook her head, trying to clear that thought out of her mind.

  She skirted the edge of a huge rock that reminded her of the overhanging boulder on High Watch, where she had been sent as a punishment when Sweet found out she had disobeyed orders and spared the fox. Where Bruno had been killed.

  She fought a shiver of guilt. “It wasn’t my fault,” she growled, as if she could scare away the gray, sad spirits of the Bruno and Whisper before they started to follow her. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t do it!”

  It didn’t help. In fact, the farther she walked, the more she felt like she was being watched. The Fierce Dog’s scent kept getting stronger and then fading again, almost as if . . .

  Is it here, following me?

  She wheeled to face the trees, scanning the landscape. With the Endless Lake behind her, it wouldn’t be able to creep up on her. She’d had enough of this. If she had to fight this dog, she would fight it on her own terms.

  “Hello?” she barked, as loud as she could. “Come out! I know you’re there!”

  She thought about adding that she was looking for her friends, or that she didn’t want to trespass on some other dog’s territory—but she stopped herself, waiting to see what the dog would do.

  “Storm?” came the reply.

  Storm’s heart gave a huge lurch of relief as a pair of pointed ears appeared over a rocky ridge, and then the rest of Arrow bounded into sight.

  I can’t believe it! I found him!

  Storm hardly dared to trust what she was seeing. But her joy was suddenly marred by a stab of worry. What if he wasn’t pleased to see her? What if she was an unwelcome reminder of the Wild Pack? Sure, he and Bella had invited her before, but things might have changed. Storm thought back to her sleepwalking. Things had definitely changed.

  Arrow gave a bark of joy and thundered down the slope toward her. “Storm! It’s really you!”

  Storm stood and watched him approach, too overwhelmed to move.

  He’s happy to see me. He really is happy I’m here!

  A heavy feeling in her belly was starting to lift, one that she hadn’t realized was there until it was suddenly gone. She’d never thought, for all her determination, that she would really find Arrow, and yet here he was.

  “Storm, what are you doing here?” Arrow cried, bounding up to Storm and licking her nose. “You’re a long way from the Wild Pack camp
! Is Lucky with you?”

  Storm felt herself bounding and leaping in response as she returned his licks.

  “No,” Storm said. “I—I’ve left them. Like you did. You and Bella said I could join you. . . .”

  The Fierce Dog just stared at her, his joy gone—now he just cocked his head in confusion. Storm almost flinched at his narrow-eyed gaze. Please don’t make me talk about it, she willed him silently. It hurts too much, and it’ll only make me so angry.

  She stared back at him, waiting for his reaction.

  Please ask me to stay.

  Arrow looked Storm up and down, and a low whine escaped his throat.

  She braced herself.

  If he doesn’t want me, I’ll be fine. Lucky was a Lone Dog.

  Arrow’s expression was solemn, and Storm’s tail drooped between her legs. “Storm, all these scratches—the Wild Pack didn’t . . .”

  “Oh! No, no, I didn’t fight them. I just left,” Storm assured him.

  I wouldn’t fight my own Pack. You know me. Please, Arrow.

  Arrow suddenly seemed to notice her anguish. “Storm, of course you can stay with us. We would be honored to have you in our Pack.” Storm felt all her muscles relaxing as giddy glee rushed through her body.

  “Oh, thank you, Arrow! Thank you! I promise I will be a good dog!” Storm felt like a pup again. All exhaustion was forgotten as she gamboled in the sand, whining happily.

  Arrow wagged his tail, but his face was serious. “But Storm, I’m worried about you. You look thin. You must have been traveling a long time. I didn’t even recognize your scent at first. I thought it might be Pistol or Dagger!”

  “Oh, so you’ve met them,” Storm said, stiffening up again just at the mention of the Fierce Dogs’ names and flicking her ears in distaste.

  “Not face-to-face, thank the Watch-Dog,” said Arrow. “Bella and I scented them as we were traveling and stayed well clear, but I sneaked around and spotted them hunting.”

  “They gave me these scratches,” Storm said, licking at her paw. The scratches had hardly bothered her since she’d spent the night with the longpaws, but she guessed they must look worse than they really were. “Anyway, where’s Bella? Is she all right? I didn’t scent her on the way.”