by Erin Hunter
Finally, as the Sun-Dog was getting low in the sky, she sniffed around the trunk of a large tree, and she caught a scent she would know anywhere.
Dart.
Storm had drawn near the forest where she had seen Chase meet up with her old Packmates. She had to be close now. The thin dog’s scent was strong, and fresh, and Storm was starting to follow it when a dog’s bark rang out behind her.
“Stop there, Fierce Dog!”
Storm turned slowly. The last thing she wanted to do was look threatening right now. Dart was standing behind her, with Ruff by her side. The two dogs both seemed smaller than Storm remembered. Dart had always been thin, but Storm thought she looked hungrier now than the last time she’d seen her, and Ruff was just a small black ball of fur with pale amber eyes, easily mistaken for a pup if a dog didn’t know better.
“Hello, Dart,” Storm said, making sure to keep her voice low, without a hint of a growl.
“Stay where you are,” Ruff barked. “Don’t move. Rake and Woody are within barking distance, and you can’t fight all four of us at once.”
Are you sure? Storm thought, remembering her battle against the wolves. But she couldn’t say anything like that, no matter how tempting it was. Instead she lowered her head, and then lay down with her belly on the grass.
“I’m not here to fight you,” she said.
“Chase said you left the Wild Pack,” Dart whined. “We thought you’d gone far away. What are you doing here?”
Storm hesitated for a second, wondering what these dogs would believe. Rake and Woody she had thought of as friends, once. The same couldn’t be said for Dart—she had never liked Storm, or either of her brothers.
Storm decided that honesty, as strange as it sounded, was all she had left.
“I’ve come back to fight the bad dog,” she said.
She could tell from the look that Dart gave her, eyes bulging out of her thin face, that the she thought Storm was lying. I guess you thought I was the bad dog, she thought.
“I think I know who it is,” Storm went on. “I went away and found some things out, and I couldn’t leave the Pack in danger. But I need your Pack’s help.”
As she waited for the dogs to respond, Storm’s throat seemed to close up. She had to remind herself to keep breathing. She wished it was Rake who’d found her—it suddenly seemed as if the lives of the Pack might depend on what Dart, of all dogs, chose to do now.
“We haven’t heard of any problems in the Pack since you left,” Dart sneered. “They’re just fine without you—and look at you, with all those wounds and scars. I think it’s best if you go back to whatever Fierce Dog place you’ve been hiding. We don’t need a savage dog in our territory.”
Storm let out a heavy sigh, suppressing a growl. That was just like Dart. The thin dog thought she was so clever. But if Storm lost her temper, Dart would take it as proof that Fierce Dogs were bad, and she would never get anywhere.
“Please, Dart, just listen to me,” she said as smoothly as she could. “I know you don’t believe me, but the Pack is in trouble—”
“I’m sure they are!” Dart snarled. “If you don’t leave us all alone!” She barked and snapped at the air—a nice safe distance from Storm’s muzzle, Storm noticed, but she still shrank back a little, scenting the anger and fear starting to rise from Dart. The sight of these two small dogs trying to drive her off could have been comical, after she’d faced wolves and Fierce Dogs and even the two longpaws with their silver sticks . . . but all she felt was frustration. That after everything she had been through to try to help, she was still just surrounded by this endless suspicion. She knew she couldn’t growl back or they would never listen to her. And that felt so unfair.
Storm got to her paws—slowly, so that Dart wouldn’t take it as a challenge—and bowed her head. “I still need your help.”
“What help could you possibly need from us?” asked Ruff. Storm’s heart leaped. Perhaps Ruff would be curious enough to talk with Storm after all.
But Dart barked again and stepped in front of the little black dog. “We don’t care what it is! Get away!” she yapped. Her fear-scent was strong now, her eyes were wide and dark, and her legs were trembling hard. Storm could see that Dart was scared, that staring Storm down one-on-one went against all her instincts, and Storm could almost respect that. No matter how misplaced Dart’s fear was . . .
“I’ll go for now,” she said. “But I need to ask you something, Ruff—and Rake and Woody. Will you tell them?”
Ruff didn’t answer; she just growled quietly from behind Dart’s shaking legs. Storm backed away, and finally turned her back on the two dogs and walked away into the nearest stand of trees. She walked slowly until she was out of sight and scent of Dart and Ruff, and then curled up in a comfy patch of moss, turning a sleep-circle before she settled down. But she wasn’t planning on staying there long.
What do I do? she thought. She felt strangely calm. Dart’s attitude was a problem, but wasn’t it better to try out her story on the one dog who was least likely to believe her? All she needed to do was find the rest of the Pack and get them to listen.
Ruff was halfway there. She wanted to know what I was here to ask. But how can I get their attention without scaring them?
Her stomach rumbled, and Storm’s ears pricked up.
“That’s it!” she muttered. They didn’t exactly look well-fed. Maybe they’ve been having trouble hunting. . . .
Four dogs wasn’t many for a Pack, especially when two of them were as fragile as Dart and Ruff. If Storm wanted their cooperation, perhaps she needed to appeal to their appetites.
As the Sun-Dog dipped toward the horizon, Storm padded out of the woods with a couple of squirrels and a weasel dangling from her jaws. They smelled delicious, but she resisted the urge to take a bite.
She followed Dart’s and Ruff’s scents to their camp easily, even with the tasty prey scents in her mouth. The camp was a little space under the shade of a huge spreading bush, barely a rabbit-chase away from the place they’d caught her. The bush had flowered during Long Light, and now the space underneath it was covered in soft, sweet-smelling petals.
Three of the four dogs were up on their paws by the time she reached them, their ears pricked, and in Dart’s case, her teeth bared. Storm padded toward them slowly, but without showing fear, wagging her tail as if she was greeting old friends. Was that a glint of happiness she saw in Rake’s eyes as he saw her?
Woody was the only one not standing, and as Storm approached and set her catch down at the edge of the petals, she noticed that he shifted uncomfortably, as if to hide one of his back legs from view.
Perhaps that’s why they look so hungry. If Woody’s hurt, they only have one competent hunter to feed four dogs.
“Storm,” Dart snarled, “I told you to leave us alone!” But Storm saw her gaze flick to the squirrels, and her tongue shot out and licked around her muzzle.
“I brought these for you,” Storm said, ignoring Dart and speaking directly to Rake, Woody, and Ruff. “I just want to talk. I promise.” She stepped away from the prey and backed off, sitting down out of reach and bowing her shoulders low to the ground.
The dogs stared at one another, and then at the prey. Ruff started toward it, then backed off again.
“Please, take it. I can get more.”
Rake huffed at her, blowing the long gray fur on his muzzle, and stepped forward to pick up the prey. “Thank you, Storm,” he said, dropping one of the squirrels in front of Woody. Storm watched, interested, as he gave the weasel to Dart and Ruff to share, and took the other squirrel for himself.
Dart held back, her head up haughtily, but Ruff could hardly contain herself. She sniffed at the squirrel, backed off, and then approached it again, before looking up at Rake with watery eyes.
“Are you the Alpha, Rake?” Storm asked.
Rake nodded. “And Woody is my Beta. Ruff is our Omega.”
Storm tried not to visibly relax, though relief w
as flooding through her body. “Then you can decide whether I’m a threat, can’t you? All I want is to ask a few questions. You know me, Rake. We shared a Pack once, hunted together, ate together, slept close together in the hunters’ den. You were with me when we buried Whisper. You know I didn’t kill him.”
Rake tilted his head, one ear raised. “I don’t know that for certain.”
“I’d never hurt any of you,” Storm said. Not even Dart.
“Alpha, she’s a Fierce Dog,” Dart growled. “Who knows what she would do.” But her voice sounded weak, and she looked down at the squirrel in front of her paws again and trailed off.
Storm said nothing. She’d said and done everything she could.
Rake glanced at Woody. Rake’s long-furred face didn’t give much away, but they seemed to have come to an agreement.
“Ask your questions, then,” said Rake. “And we’ll take your offering of prey, with thanks. Go ahead,” he said to Ruff, whose little black body was practically vibrating with excitement. Ruff set upon the prey with almost savage enthusiasm, and Dart had to snarl at her and shoulder her way in to make sure she got her share.
“Thank you,” Storm said, getting up from her position of submission.
Rake and Woody began to eat too, and Storm let them get a few mouthfuls down before she took a deep breath and spoke.
“I want to ask about Breeze. What was it like, being in a Pack with her?”
Rake and Woody both looked up at her with surprised expressions. Ruff was too busy devouring her squirrel to even do that.
“What do you mean?” Woody barked. “You know what it’s like. She chose your Pack, not ours. She’s a loyal Packmate. Hard worker.”
What did I expect? Storm told herself. Did I think they would say, oh yes, Breeze is evil, we knew that all along?
“She’s certainly been loyal to Sweet,” she said slowly. “Was she . . . just as loyal when you were in a Pack together? With Terror?”
Ruff jumped at the mention of Terror’s name and looked up, almost as if she thought he might be here with Storm. Rake cast her a worried look.
“I know you were all loyal Packmates then,” she added. “And Chase told me that Terror took her in and protected her, when she had no other dog to look after her. So I understand that. . . .”
“Yes, Breeze was loyal to Terror.” Rake shook himself. “Storm . . . we don’t talk about that time much. Is this important?”
“Very important,” Storm said. “Please, tell me.”
Rake shook himself again, as if there was something stuck in his fur that he was trying to dislodge.
“All right, then. You remember that sometimes, he would order us to do things that were . . . nonsensical. Or dangerous.”
“Both,” Woody growled. “Often.”
“He’d make us attack other dogs, ones who were much bigger, or in larger Packs—like yours. Or he’d say we had to prove how tough we were by going without food.”
Ruff whined into her prey, and Storm was suddenly incredibly glad that she had fed these dogs.
“We only obeyed him because we were afraid,” Rake said. “At any moment he could be possessed by . . . by his Spirit Dog. And when that happened, some dog would always get hurt. But Breeze was the only one of us who didn’t hesitate to follow his orders.”
“I remember once, Terror drove her to the edge of a rushing river and ordered her to leap in. He said . . . what was it? ‘Pull the tail of the Fear-Dog! Make him hear you!’” Woody licked his muzzle and looked up at Storm. “She was afraid, but . . . excited, at the same time. I’ve never seen a dog look quite like that. She jumped right away. She almost drowned.”
“I never understood it,” yapped Ruff. She spoke slowly, as if every word took a huge effort to get out. “We talked about running away. Me and Rake . . . and Whisper. But not Breeze. Even when he wasn’t there, she was on his side.”
“And also, there was . . . ,” Rake began. Storm saw Ruff flinch again, as if she knew what he was about to say, and Dart took a few steps to stand close by the little dog’s side.
“The punishments,” Woody said. “When we disobeyed him, he would always have one of us punish the others.”
“And it was Breeze?” Storm prompted. “She was the one he had carry out these . . . punishments?”
“She was such a kind dog,” Rake put in. Storm tilted her head at him, unsure how he could say that when he knew what she’d really been like. “It was only when she was doing Terror’s bidding that she could be frightening. Without Terror’s orders, she was as good a Packmate as you could wish for.”
“Is that what you wanted to hear? All Terror’s dogs were broken, but you already knew that,” Dart sniffed, in a way that would have struck Storm as dismissive and cruel if she hadn’t still been standing protectively in front of Ruff. “Breeze is a good dog. If you think she has anything to do with the bad dog, you’re barking up the wrong tree. She loves those pups, for one thing. She only stayed with the Wild Pack for them.”
Storm’s ears pricked up. “Really?”
“Yes. Once she’s finished with the pups, she’s going to come and join us. She said so,” Dart huffed.
“You see, Storm?” Rake said. “She loves pups. Even though she’d rather come with us, she couldn’t leave them. That doesn’t sound like a bad dog to me.”
Woody and Ruff both nodded, seeming reassured by this, as if they could put the disturbing memories of Terror’s Pack behind them.
But Dart’s words seemed to echo in Storm’s head, as if they’d been barked into the air by the great Alpha Wolf:
Once she’s finished with the pups.
“Is that really all you have?” Dart asked. “Breeze is the bad dog? Who are you going to accuse next—Sunshine?”
“Breeze was loyal to Terror, beyond what any other dog felt, right?” Storm said, trying to ignore Dart’s sneer. “What if she’s still angry about his death? What if all of this is about revenge? Twitch, Lucky, Moon, Bella—they were all there when he died, and the bad dog has targeted them all.”
“You killed Terror,” Woody pointed out. He shifted his weight, and Storm saw that his paw was red and raw. “And you haven’t been harmed.”
“But I have,” Storm said quietly. “I was blamed for everything that’s gone wrong, until I had to leave the Pack. If Bella and Arrow hadn’t already been driven out, I would have had nowhere to go.”
Rake looked a little uncomfortable at this, but he said, “Storm . . . Whisper and Bruno were the ones who were killed, and neither of them had anything to do with Terror’s death. Whisper was fighting on his side at the time. Why would Breeze—or any crazy dog—blame him?”
“I—I don’t know,” Storm admitted. “But they probably got in her way, or something. . . .”
It was a weak explanation, and Storm knew it. She glared at her paws.
I’m sure I’m right! I just don’t have all the information yet.
“I need to ask one more thing,” she said. “Will one of you come with me to the Wild Pack and tell them what you’ve just told me? I don’t want you to lie or exaggerate. Just tell Sweet about what Breeze was like in Terror’s Pack.”
The dogs looked at one another, and there was a long silence. Storm’s heart sank.
“Thank you for the prey, Storm,” Rake said, and it sank even further. “But we don’t want to get involved in this. Woody can’t walk that far anyway, and Omega and I are both needed here.”
Storm didn’t protest. She didn’t think it would do any good.
“If you want my advice,” Woody said gruffly, “I say don’t go back at all. Just leave the territory, go back to Bella and Arrow if you can find them. You’ve been living in exile—the Wild Pack won’t listen to you now.”
Storm tried not to let her frustration show. She bowed to the four dogs again.
“Thank you for your help,” she said. “I’ll go now. Spirit Dogs be with you.”
“And with you, Storm,” said Rake.
/>
Storm turned away and kept her ears pricked and her tail high until the trees had swallowed her and she could no longer hear or smell the camp of petals. Then she allowed herself to growl, low and angry. Her ears flattened and she looked up at the darkening sky.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Once she’s finished with the pups . . .
The words hadn’t stopped ringing in Storm’s mind all night. She had eaten and then forced herself to curl up and sleep, knowing that running into the Wild Pack camp in the middle of the night would hardly win her any friends. She needed to be careful about this.
But not too careful. Or Breeze might finish the pups before I can finish her.
Storm didn’t know, and couldn’t guess, exactly what Breeze’s plans for the pups were. But she was convinced now that at the very least Breeze didn’t care whether one or more of them drowned in the Endless Lake, and if she was using them to hurt Lucky, eventually she would decide to do her worst.
When the world was light enough to see again, Storm got up and started to approach the center of the tangle of smells that made up the Wild Pack territory. She wove between the long, thin shadows of trees and crossed a line of scent from a recent patrol, feeling like a trespasser and like she was coming home, all at the same time.
She pushed through some undergrowth, and her paws touched down on a patch of wonderfully soft moss. Storm sniffed, and then froze. She was standing in a tiny clearing beside a large tree, and beside her were two uneven mounds. One was already overgrown, covered in moss and the small green leaves of new plants. The other was barer, still obviously dug up fairly recently.
Whisper and Bruno.
Storm sat down, the breath huffing out of her chest as if she’d been struck in the back by a huge paw.
“Whisper, am I right about this?” she whispered. “Did Breeze kill you both? What can I do to stop her hurting any more dogs?”
