Dead of Night

  “We’ll see,” Arrow said. “When Alpha questions this fox, perhaps we’ll find out what really happened.”

  Storm nodded, hoping that at least Alpha would have the sense to listen to what the fox said and not dismiss it all as not-dog lies. She wondered suddenly whether Arrow felt any regret for catching the fox. She wanted to get to the truth as much as any dog, but if Woody was speaking for the majority of the Pack . . .

  She tried not to think about it. There was no point until they’d heard what the fox had to say. Instead she focused on doing what Lucky had told her—scenting and listening carefully, her ears pricked for any sound of scraping earth or branches and rocks moving. If the fox escaped while she was on watch, she was sure Lucky would never ever let her forget it.

  There wasn’t any scrabbling from the fox inside the cage, but if Storm concentrated hard enough, she could hear its breathing and its paws padding on the earth as it paced around and around in the tiny space.

  In fact, as Storm concentrated even harder and focused in on the sounds from the cage, she could hear something else too—a high-pitched muttering, almost too quiet to make out. The fox was murmuring something to itself.

  “Not stay here,” it was saying. “Nasty dogs, bad dogs. We go. We get out. Home to Fox Father. We get home, cubs. . . .”

  Horror shot through Storm, and all her fur seemed to stand on end. She glanced at Arrow and Woody, but neither of them seemed to have heard—or if they had, they hadn’t understood.

  This fox is pregnant!

  The foxes believed—wrongly—that the dogs had killed a cub of theirs before. Now the dogs were in danger of doing just that. If they hurt this fox, or even killed her, her pups would die too.

  Storm wondered, Would this change anything? Would the Pack find mercy . . . or would some dogs think that ending more fox lives would be better?

  Storm shuddered and pawed the ground miserably. Perhaps the other dogs wouldn’t think of that—just this once, she hoped it really was her Fierce, dark side giving her these thoughts, a darkness that the other dogs didn’t have.

  She had to believe that the Pack would do the right thing. The Pack wouldn’t—couldn’t—harm innocent pups . . . not even fox pups.

  She wouldn’t let them.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Storm picked up her front paws one at a time, and then stood and leaned forward so that her spine stretched out, the stiff muscles in her neck and back creaking. As she sat up again, her stomach audibly rumbled. She’d missed last night’s prey sharing and hadn’t minded at first, but now the day was wearing on and she found herself drooling as she thought ahead to her next meal. The Sun-Dog was on the descent to his den beyond the Endless Lake, but it would still be a long time until he vanished completely.

  In the cage of branches, the fox had stopped moving a little while ago, though its soft breathing and the occasional muttered curse on all dogs confirmed to Storm that it was still inside.

  On the other side of the clearing, Storm saw Lucky and Alpha emerge from their den and dip their heads together for a moment. Then Lucky looked around the camp until he found Breeze, who was resting just outside the new patrol den.

  “Breeze, can you come here a moment?” he barked. Breeze obediently stood, shook herself, and padded over to Lucky. “We’d like you to sit with the pups for a while,” Lucky said.

  “I’d be honored,” said Breeze, her ears pricking up. “Can I ask, is Tumble . . . his leg . . .”

  “He’s doing well,” Alpha said. She gave a small sigh, relief and tiredness mingling in her voice. “He’s asleep now, and his leg is already healing. There may not even be any permanent damage—thanks to you.”

  Breeze looked incredibly pleased, and Storm hung her head a little as the brown dog sat down at the mouth of Alpha’s den and peered inside.

  No thanks to me.

  She knew she had an opportunity to make it up to them, that she had been given an important job in guarding the fox, but there was a hollow feeling in her heart when she thought about that now.

  She wanted to help the Pack. She wanted to do things that would make Alpha and Lucky trust her. But she couldn’t let any dog hurt the pregnant fox. . . .

  Lucky had fetched Twitch, and now the three lead dogs were heading toward the cage. Storm sat up straighter, trying to ignore the twist of anxiety in her stomach.

  Lucky, Twitch, and Alpha are all reasonable dogs. They’re kind dogs. They won’t do anything bad. They won’t.

  “It’s time,” said Alpha to Woody. “We need to interrogate the creature.”

  Behind them, the other dogs looked up, and one by one they got to their paws and followed, crowding around behind their leaders.

  Woody seized one of the branches from the cage in his teeth. He braced his thick legs against the ground and pulled. For a second Storm worried that the whole thing would collapse, and the fox would be able to slip away through the trees and out of camp. . . .

  Would that really be so bad?

  She shook herself, trying to get rid of the traitorous thought.

  The branch came away, leaving a hole easily large enough for a fox to run out through—but only if it wanted to run straight into the legs of Alpha, Lucky, and Twitch, and then all the rest of the Pack.

  In a flash of puffed-up red fur, Storm saw the fox leap to her paws, turn on the spot, and then give a snarling hiss and back away, huddling against the trunk of the tree, as far from the dogs as she could get.

  She looked very small. Her bushy tail was fluffed up and wrapped around to hide most of her body, which was only about as big as Sunshine’s. Storm could see that behind her tail, her sides were slightly round. If she’d been a dog, she might have looked simply overfed, but her haunches and shoulders were as skinny as the rest of her kind—it was only the cubs inside her that had swelled her belly.

  “Fox,” Alpha said. “I am Sweet, Alpha of the Wild Pack. Do you know what that means?”

  The fox did not reply. Her ears flattened to her skull, and her eyes were wide and dark.

  “Your kind has attacked us for the last time,” Alpha growled. “We will not let you go until we have the truth from you. Your pack attacked us once before in this place. You tore apart our home and stole our prey.” She bared her teeth. “You tried to hurt our pups, but you were not successful. And worst of all, you attacked and killed an innocent dog on the borders of our camp.”

  Storm saw the fox’s ears twitch, but she still hid her muzzle behind her tail and said nothing in reply to Alpha’s list of crimes.

  “If you don’t answer, we will kill you!” Woody barked. “Then your pack will understand what it means to attack dogs in their own territory!”

  A rumbling growl came from the fox, and she somehow pressed herself even tighter against the trunk of the tree, but she still said nothing. Storm’s heart started to pound—if the fox refused to say a word, what could the others do? Would they simply follow through with Woody’s rock-headed threat?

  She wanted to give Lucky more credit than that, but she couldn’t risk it. She had to do something.

  “What is your name?” she said, trying to sound as stern as she could.

  The fox stared at her, and still didn’t answer, but its eyes narrowed just a little. Some of the fear went out of them.

  “Why are you asking its name?” Woody muttered. “What does it matter? It’s not a dog.”

  “My name is Storm,” she went on, ignoring him. “This is Arrow. This is Lucky. That”— she glanced over her shoulder for the dog the fox could probably see most clearly—“that is Bella. What is your name?”

  The fox let out a snort, ruffling the fur on its tail. “Dogs . . .” she muttered. She seemed to consider for a moment, and then raised her head just enough that her muzzle was visible. “Fox Mist is I. Stupids. What names? What is ‘Bella’?” She gave Storm a thoughtful look. “You. At least you has a true name.”

  Alpha growled low in her chest, and Fox Mist shrank back onc
e again. “Fox Mist, then. You have attacked our Pack, hurt our pups, and killed one of our dogs. What do you say to that?”

  “Dogs kill!” Fox Mist howled, and Storm saw several dogs jump. “Dogs kill cubs, attacks foxes! No reason, but for vicious!” She sat up clumsily, flicking her tail out of the way and facing Alpha with what looked like the fox version of indignant pride. “Dogs attack. Dogs steal. Dogs takes everything. Takes and takes and takes,” the fox spat. “No dens, no prey. What do foxes do? They takes back.”

  “And what about Whisper?” Twitch growled. “What did we do to you that meant you had to lure an innocent dog out of camp and kill him?”

  Storm held her breath. The fox’s gaze flicked from Twitch to Alpha to Storm.

  “What dogs? What kill?” she said, low and uncertain.

  “You know what dog!” Woody barked. “His name was Whisper, he was gray and short-furred, and he was a good dog. And you evil not-dogs killed him in the woods, in the middle of the night, and left his body for us to find!”

  The fox glared at him. “Knows not,” she snarled. “Foxes knows not evil. Knows only survive. Dogs comes to fox place, kills Cub Fire at dog place. Now dog dies at dog place . . . dogs say foxes kill?” Fox Mist shook her head. “Foxes not. Dogs begin. Foxes only finish.”

  Storm shuddered as a shocked murmur passed through the crowd of dogs.

  “What is it saying?” Rake growled.

  Storm knew exactly what Fox Mist was saying. She had come directly to the same conclusion that Storm had. If only the Pack would listen—but they were snarling and baring their teeth, raking their claws over the ground, angry and disbelieving.

  “We should kill it,” barked Ruff. “We must have revenge for Whisper!”

  Dart and Woody howled their agreement, and several of the others gave uneasy, uncertain whimpers. Storm saw Bella and Arrow glance at each other, their ears pinned back. They seemed to be having another of their strange, silent conversations, before Bella stepped forward and spoke up in a loud, firm bark.

  “We can’t,” she said. “She’s our prisoner. That would be murder.” Storm blinked gratefully at her, and then stared at Lucky.

  You know the foxes didn’t kill Whisper, she thought, staring hard, as if she could send her thoughts directly to his mind. You don’t want to believe it, but you know it’s true. I told you, all of you. You can’t let them hurt her. . . .

  Lucky hesitated, staring at something only he seemed to be able to see, and despite herself Storm gave an anxious whine.

  “Woody, Ruff,” said Twitch, turning to address his old Pack, “I know that you miss Whisper. I do too. But we’re not Fierce Dogs—we can’t kill a creature who is under our protection.”

  Storm hung her head. He was sort of right—Blade would not have hesitated to kill an enemy they had captive, not unless she had an even crueler use for them. Still, the words hurt, and the uneasy glances that Ruff and Woody were giving her hurt even more.

  “Fox Mist does nothing to dogs,” the fox snarled, and Storm could hear that she wanted to sound brave, but her voice was shaking. “Only breaks twigs, only to hurt dogs home as dogs hurt fox home! Dogs let Fox Mist go . . . foxes leave, no more attacks.”

  “Enough.” Alpha was staring at her paws, but now she raised her head and fixed Fox Mist with a cold stare. “Our Third Dog is right: We are an honorable Pack; we do not kill for vengeance. But Woody is right, too: We must make sure that your kind leave us alone. Our Pack must be safe. We will make an example of you.”

  Fox Mist scrabbled back again, panic in her eyes, and Storm couldn’t keep quiet anymore. She pushed herself forward.

  “Alpha, wait. We can’t hurt this fox. I heard her talking—and you can see for yourself—she’s going to have pups. We can’t hurt her if it risks harming them!” Storm watched Alpha, expecting her eyes to soften, thinking that she must change her mind.

  Any dog who has been a mother would agree with me, right?

  But instead Alpha’s eyes narrowed. She glared at Storm, colder and angrier than ever.

  “Why should that make a difference to us? These foxes attacked my pups, Storm. They wounded Tumble, and they would have done much worse if Breeze hadn’t stopped them. And don’t forget that foxes back in our old territory killed Moon’s pup, Beetle and Thorn’s litter-brother!”

  Storm couldn’t help casting an awkward glance at the three Farm Dogs. They looked away, hanging their heads with grief. Storm didn’t want to upset them, but . . .

  But that’s all the more reason for us not to commit the same crime!

  “Beta, please,” she began.

  Lucky bared his teeth at her, and then at Fox Mist. “We have to protect the Pack. Especially those dogs who can’t protect themselves. . . .”

  “No, wait,” said a soft voice suddenly. Storm looked up, hope flaring in her heart, to see Moon stepping forward and meeting Lucky’s and Alpha’s gazes evenly. “Alpha, Storm is right. It wasn’t these foxes that killed Nose. I miss him every day . . . but we don’t have any proof that these foxes killed Whisper, just like they don’t have any proof we killed their pup. If we kill this fox and her pups now, her pack will only attack us again and try to hurt our pups in revenge. It will never end!”

  The silence that followed seemed to go on for a very long time. Moon and Alpha looked at each other, while the rest of the Pack seemed to hold its breath. Moon’s ears twitched, and Alpha huffed through her nose.

  Then Alpha gave a jerk of her head. “I will follow Moon’s advice on this,” she said stiffly. “We won’t kill the fox, or its pups. It will be released back to its kind. But it deserves punishment,” Alpha added. “We must devise some way to show the foxes that more attacks will not be tolerated.”

  There was another pause as each dog seemed to consider this—Storm was certainly racking her brain for some punishment she could suggest that wouldn’t hurt the fox or risk her cubs, something that would make the Pack feel better without bringing the foxes back for yet more revenge. . . .

  A movement caught her eye. Lucky had suddenly tilted his head, as if struck by a thought. He looked up at Alpha and spoke slowly.

  “Alpha, do you remember when the Leashed Dogs first joined this Pack . . . when the half wolf believed I was a traitor? He wanted to give me a permanent mark, so that I would never forget it, and every dog would know.”

  Storm frowned. She didn’t remember this—was it before Lucky and Mickey had brought her and her litter-brothers out of the Dog-Garden?

  And why was Lucky bringing up anything the half wolf had tried to do? Surely they should be trying to do the opposite of what he would have done!

  “We should mark this fox,” Lucky went on, raising his voice, presenting his idea to the Pack. “Scar it, like Tumble will be scarred, so that the foxes will always remember what they did and know that if they attack us again, they will suffer the same.”

  Fox Mist hissed. “Does nothing to dogs,” she muttered, panic rising in her voice. “Nothing! Dogs hurts foxes, for nothing!”

  “It’s kinder than what your pack tried to do to us,” Alpha snarled. “Be quiet and hold still, and we will not hurt you as much. . . .”

  “No, please, Alpha . . .” Storm blurted out. “This is wrong, it’s savage!”

  Alpha drew back and fixed Storm with a furious glare that made her paws tremble.

  “You will scar the fox,” she growled.

  Storm wanted to say no, but the words stuck in her throat.

  “Mickey, go with Storm and the fox,” Alpha said, turning to the Farm Dog. Mickey’s ears twitched, but he stood up straight and attentive.

  “Yes, Alpha.”

  “Take Arrow, too—and Bella. You’ll take the fox back to where its Pack was seen last. Storm will wound its leg and leave it for the other foxes to find. Storm, Arrow, Bella—Mickey is the leader of this mission, and you will all do as he tells you, do you understand?”

  Storm thought she understood perfectly. Mickey was the only one of
them who Alpha truly trusted. The other three of them were expected to do this to prove their loyalty to the Pack.

  By harming an innocent fox who was only attacking us out of desperation. By making sure that the foxes will never leave us alone.

  How could that be the right thing to do?

  The journey was long, and it was miserable. The warmth that Storm had enjoyed earlier had abruptly slipped away as the Sun-Dog hid his face behind a thick bank of gray cloud. The dogs were forced to walk slowly, in tight formation around Fox Mist so that she couldn’t get past them and escape. They didn’t talk, and they couldn’t run, so there was no sound but the stirring of the wind in the trees and the dogs’ own breathing, interrupted every so often by a soft whimper of fear or exhaustion from the fox.

  Storm was bringing up the rear, walking so close to Fox Mist that she had to keep watching where she put her paws, in danger of treading on the fox’s tail. She felt sick with herself, and sick with the whole Pack for their rock-headedness.

  Why did I speak up? It’s only a wound. I’ve wounded before—foxes, dogs, coyotes, not to mention prey creatures.

  But that had been in the heat of battle, or during a hunt. This was different—it was so cold.

  Fox Mist stumbled, and Storm nearly walked over her. The huddle of dogs came to a halt, and Mickey twisted back to look at the fox, dipping his head to be nearer level with hers.

  “Come along,” he said, without much feeling, but without any cruelty either. “It isn’t far now. I can scent the foxes ahead.”

  Fox Mist made another whimpering sound, took a step forward, and then as quick as Lightning running across the sky she turned and threw herself between Arrow’s paws, slipping under his belly—but Bella was too quick for her, seizing her scruff and dragging her back like a naughty pup.

  “Too slow,” she said, her voice muffled through a mouthful of thick red fur. She wrangled the fox back into place, and Arrow closed up the gap again.

  They walked on, trudging over the grass, with Mickey sniffing for any sign of the foxes and Storm bringing up the rear, her steps growing slower and slower. With every plodding pawstep, her heart felt heavier, until she thought she couldn’t carry it any farther.