The Empty City

  “She’s fine,” Arrow said, and a look of dopey happiness came over his face. He looked so silly, but so content, Storm couldn’t help huffing at him with amusement. She would never understand what made dogs want to be mates, but she was glad it made Arrow so happy. He seemed almost like a different dog, nothing like the stressed and angry Packmate she remembered, always closely watching his own behavior in case he was accused of being a traitor. “She can’t move much right now, so I’m hunting for two. And more than two! The pups are coming soon! I’m going to be a Father-Dog any day now. Come on, let’s get back to her. She’ll want to see you.”

  Arrow turned to lead Storm over the ridge and into the trees, and Storm felt another rush of relief. It was so nice just to be able to follow another dog, one who knew where they were going. To walk into territory where she was welcome! She barely paid attention to where he was leading her, happy to trot after him, sniffing around for prey nests that she might come back to, enjoying the warm glints of light from the Sun-Dog through the trees as he poked his nose over the horizon.

  It feels like coming home, even though I’ve never been here before.

  Suddenly, Arrow stopped and sniffed the air. He made a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat and then turned left, away from what seemed to Storm to be a clear path, and splashed through a small stream before heading up a steep scrubby bank. Storm sniffed, wondering what had made him take this particular route, and a familiar scent prickled through her nostrils.

  “The wolf Pack!” she said. When she thought about her position and the direction they’d traveled, it made sense—they must be somewhere on the other side of the wolves’ territory.

  “Have you run into them too?” Arrow asked.

  “Kind of,” said Storm. She didn’t want really to talk about all the times she had snuck slightly too close to watch them, or her encounters with Thoughtful or Fading. Not right now. Perhaps when they got to Bella, she would tell them both everything that had happened.

  “The edge of their territory is just through those trees. They don’t bother us,” Arrow said, “but we keep away when we scent that they’ve been exploring up here. After all, there are only two of us. Well, three now,” he added, with a slow, happy blink in Storm’s direction.

  Storm’s heart swelled, and she splashed across the stream in two long bounds to join him on the bank.

  “There’s plenty of prey, and we were worried the wolves might want to keep it for themselves,” said Arrow. “But so far they—”

  He was cut off by a terrible sound, the howl of a dog in pain. Storm’s ears flattened against her head, and she saw Arrow’s longpaw-cut ones do the same.

  “Arrow! Arrow, where are you?!” the dog howled.

  Storm looked at Arrow, wide-eyed, but he was already running. She leaped after him, following the awful howling.

  It was Bella.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Arrow raced ahead, as if the Fear-Dog was at his heels, and Storm soon lost sight of him. She tried to keep up, but her paws were stiff and sore from her long journey, and she hadn’t eaten for a day, so he quickly outpaced her. All she could do was run as fast as she could, following the sounds of Bella’s distress, and tell herself that as long as Bella was howling, she was still alive.

  She tried to ignore the warring worries in her heart. Could it be the wolves, or the other Fierce Dogs? Or worse . . . could the bad dog have followed her here?

  Finally, Storm scrambled up over a large rock and slid down into a clearing in the forest. In the middle of the grassy space, Bella was lying on her side, with Arrow beside her. Storm sniffed for enemies, but she couldn’t smell anything but the two dogs.

  “It’s happening,” Arrow said, and for a moment Storm didn’t know what he was talking about. Then Bella took a labored breath, and Storm saw her swollen belly, and realized.

  “The pups are coming?” she gasped.

  Bella looked up and saw her, and there was excitement in her huge, dark eyes as well as pain.

  “Oh Storm . . . I’m so glad to see you! When did . . . agh.” She fell silent with a swallowed sort of whine.

  “Can you get into the den?” Arrow asked, his tail between his legs but still wagging hard. Bella struggled to her paws. Storm ran to her and put her head beneath the golden dog’s shoulder, taking some of her weight. Bella gave Storm a grateful lick on the ear as between them, Storm and Arrow steered her into a hollow, deep underneath a thick gorse hedge. The den had been filled with moss and leaves. It looked comfortable—and just big enough for two dogs.

  “I’ll be right outside,” Storm said quickly, “if you need anything.” She didn’t know the first thing about birthing pups, and the idea of being so close to Bella while it happened gave her a funny, shuddery feeling in her paws.

  Arrow shot her a grateful glance. “Thanks, Storm. I’m glad you’re here.”

  Storm nodded to him, and then lay down in the grass to wait.

  She couldn’t stay settled for very long. The noises coming from the den were too alarming. Although Sweet had made all the same noises when she was birthing her pups, and Storm was sure Bella and the pups were going to be fine, it was hard to relax in a new place with those kinds of sounds hanging in the air. She began to pace, first patrolling the edge of the grassy clearing, investigating all the new smells. Then she wound through the trees, never far enough that she couldn’t get back to the den in a few bounds, but exploring Bella and Arrow’s camp. It was nicely placed, down in a hollow so it would be sheltered from the wind and the worst of the rain. She started looking for a place where she could sleep and found a bush that might be suitable.

  The Sun-Dog passed overhead, and for a little while the camp was full of deliciously warm light. Storm tried to enjoy it while it lasted, but she couldn’t make herself relax.

  She knew that it could be a long while yet, and she couldn’t pace the entire time, but her paws seemed to think she could. They were full of nervous energy.

  I won’t be able to relax until the pups are born, she thought. Then, Oh, it must be so much worse for Arrow . . . and how must Bella feel?

  “Storm?” Arrow called suddenly, and Storm leaped to attention, wagging her tail. Could the pups be here already? “Can you go and fetch Bella some water?”

  “Yes!” Storm barked, delighted to have a job to do. “I’ll be right back!” She went straight to a place where she’d found some lovely thick moss, tore off a large chunk, and scrambled up the slope, heading toward the stream that she and Arrow had crossed over.

  As she was dipping the moss into the nice cool water, she thought, I wonder what Sunshine would say if she could see me. I’m an Omega now too! Storm felt a rush of affection as she thought of the fluffy little white dog. She knew most dogs would balk at the idea of being the Omega, but somehow she felt that would be disloyal to Sunshine. Besides, what could be more important than taking care of your Pack?

  As the Sun-Dog trotted slowly toward the Endless Lake, Storm made it her business to keep returning to the stream for fresh water, and to go into the forest to look for more comfy moss to bring for Bella’s den. She even caught a shrew, and instead of eating herself, insisted that Arrow come out of the den, stretch, and eat something.

  It’s going to be strange being the third dog in a Pack of three, she thought. This Omega thing isn’t so bad.

  It helped to have something to keep her mind off the birth—or the lack of birth. The longer Bella’s labor went on, the higher-pitched and more painful her whines and howls seemed to become.

  Lucky and Sweet’s pups had taken a while to arrive, but not this long. Storm tried to stay calm, for Bella’s sake, but she found herself digging little holes in the grassy ground, for no reason except that she could. She tried to clean her scratches, but after a while she had licked one of her paws so much it was getting more sore, not less.

  The Sun-Dog vanished, and darkness fell. Suddenly, the unfamiliar territory seemed threatening, and Storm found herself pat
rolling the camp again, and then standing at the mouth of Bella’s den with her ears pricked up, staring into the dark, challenging any wolf or giantfur or longpaw or anything to try to get to her. Nothing came, and the tension began to make Storm’s head ache.

  Eventually Bella’s howls eased off, as the Moon-Dog rose in the sky, darting in and out of the clouds as if she was as restless as Storm was. A weak, silvery light filled the camp, so Storm could see the pain and worry on Arrow’s face as he emerged from the dark den.

  “Something’s wrong,” he said. “The pups haven’t come, and Bella’s getting so tired, she can’t even howl anymore. . . .”

  “I don’t know how to help,” Storm whined. “What can we do?”

  Arrow wasn’t looking at her. His eyes couldn’t seem to focus on anything at all. Storm noticed that he had a patch on one of his legs where his fur was slightly thin, as if he’d been grooming it all day, just like she’d over-groomed her own paw.

  “I don’t know,” he said, to no dog in particular. “None of us know anything about birthing pups!”

  The terrible irony of it struck Storm like a blow from Lightning.

  If we were still with the Wild Pack, we would be surrounded by dogs who knew about this—Sweet, Lucky, Moon, even Sunshine would be able to help us.

  She could fetch and carry like a good Omega, but she was a big strong dog, a hunter at heart, built for chasing down prey and defending her Pack. If they were under attack from a giantfur, Storm would know what to do. But what use was she in a situation like this?

  Arrow was probably feeling the same.

  Storm glanced back at the den mouth. It was so dark in there. Were those ordinary shadows, or . . .

  No, I won’t look for signs where there aren’t any. If the Earth-Dog has something to say to me, she’ll speak more clearly.

  The night was passing quickly. The Moon-Dog was gone, but the clearing was still filled with an eerie light. Soon the Sun-Dog would be back. He slept so little during Long Light.

  Storm felt sick with worry about Bella. If she had eaten prey recently, she was sure she would have brought it back up by now. They had to do something, but what? She hadn’t stayed awake all night since the time she tried to stop herself from sleepwalking by keeping herself from sleeping at all. She was starting to feel the same horrible mixture of tiredness and jittery energy. She tried to think, but her mind was fuzzy.

  “Why aren’t they coming?” Bella whined, weakly, from the darkness. “Please, Earth-Dog . . .” She broke off with another pained howl, but Storm knew what she was thinking.

  Please, Earth-Dog, don’t take her . . . don’t take the pups.

  Now Bella’s howl was growing louder—so loud, it hurt Storm’s ears. How could any dog bear such pain? Bella would not last much longer like this.

  I must do something, anything!

  An idea crept into Storm’s mind. “We need help,” she called, over the noise of Bella’s cries. “And the Spirit Dogs can’t help us now. But I think I know who can.” She gave Arrow a hard lick on the side of his face, hoping she could give him some strength. “Hold on, Bella, I’m going to look for help!” she barked, and scrambled away, as fast as her stiff legs would take her.

  “Storm! We have no friends near here! Where are you going?” Arrow barked after her, but Storm didn’t stop to answer.

  She couldn’t tell him. She couldn’t get his hopes up. It had taken her all day to even think of it herself, but now the hope burned in her heart like the Sun-Dog.

  There’s one creature nearby who’s been friendly to me.

  Thoughtful!

  Storm splashed across the stream, and the cold water on her paws gave her a burst of wakefulness. The wolf scent began here, and she followed it, skidding as she swerved to avoid trees and rocks, running as hard as she could and pushing herself to go faster. When she was surrounded by wolf scents, certain she was deep in their territory, she raised her muzzle to the dawn sky and howled.

  “Help! I need help!”

  There was a faint growl in the distance, and Storm headed right for it, knowing that her only hope was to find a wolf, any wolf, and see if she could persuade them to let her talk to Thoughtful. It was a foolish thing to do, but she had no choice.

  She suddenly came out into a wide, clear space. After a desperate moment of staring around at the meadow in front of her, and beyond it sheer cliffs with ragged, square edges, she realized she was at the bottom of the longpaw-carved valley. Up above, on the far side of the valley, she could just make out the white path that led to the Dead Tree, and her old camp. To her left there was the high rock where she had met Fading, and on her right, the flat grassy bottom of the valley and the lake.

  She heard heavy pawsteps and scented wolves, but she couldn’t see them. She started to turn, and then something smacked into her ribs, knocking her right off her paws and sending her sprawling in the grass.

  She scrambled upright as quick as she could, but by the time she had, she was surrounded by wolves. They seemed to have come out of nowhere, or out of the fading darkness itself. Five of them, all huge, bigger than Storm by at least three or four paw-lengths, and all of them growling so low and angry that the sound vibrated almost painfully in Storm’s head. Storm’s ears pressed to her skull and she tried to look around without meeting any wolf’s eyes, afraid of provoking them. None of them were Thoughtful . . . but one of them was the towering Wolf Alpha. She stepped forward, forcing Storm to shuffle back so her tail was almost within snapping reach of the wolves’ jaws.

  “What do you mean by this, little dog?” she snarled, in a voice that Storm thought could scare the seabirds off the cliffs from a hundred rabbit-chases away. “You are a spy, and a thief—yet you have come onto our territory and howled for our attention. Why?”

  I’m not— Storm thought, but she stamped the words down. There was no time to protest.

  “I need help,” she barked, trying to sound desperate, but not afraid. She hadn’t felt small in a long time, but right now she felt like a pup again, trying to justify herself to bigger, scarier dogs. “My Packmate’s life is in danger, and—”

  “No,” said the Alpha.

  Storm’s heart sank like a stone. She wondered, could she say she just needed Thoughtful to come help? But she couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t be getting the kind wolf in some sort of trouble with his Alpha. Still, she tried—“Please, I know you have no reason to help us, but please . . .”

  “We do not go running off before sunrise to help dogs with their problems.” The Wolf Alpha swished her tail. “Do not come here again.”

  Without the Alpha giving any signal that Storm could see, the two wolves on Storm’s left sprang. She tried to dodge them, but there was nowhere for her to go but into the jaws of the wolves on her right. She tripped and fell onto her side. The wolves quickly pinned her with their big, heavy paws. She writhed and tried to bite them, panic overwhelming caution, but it was no good.

  The Wolf Alpha placed a paw on Storm’s flank. She felt the claws digging into her fur, and howled in frustration and fear as the Alpha scraped along the skin. Then she and the other wolves drew back.

  Storm got up, gasping, the scrape stinging horribly. Emotions fought inside her like a couple of angry sharpclaws. She had failed. But she was alive.

  “Never come into our territory again. This is your second warning,” said the Alpha, and lunged, snapping her jaws shut just a paw-length or two from Storm’s nose. She flinched away, but far too late. If the wolf had meant to hurt her, she would have.

  The Alpha snorted and turned away, and all the wolves trotted after her, not looking back. They didn’t even stay to chase Storm off their land.

  They think I won’t try to stay, Storm thought. They think I’ll be too afraid.

  They weren’t wrong. Storm tried to turn and run back to Bella and Arrow.

  I’ve failed. I left them all alone for nothing.

  Although her heart was pumping as if she was racing across
the ground, she couldn’t manage much more than a slow trot. Her legs were shaking too much. She went as fast as she could, feeling devastated that her plan hadn’t worked, worried that when she got back something terrible would have happened.

  Then she heard pawsteps behind her. Another wolf. Probably sent to make sure she left, after all.

  I’m going! she thought, in a panic, and tried to run faster. She didn’t turn back. They might see that as another attempt to talk, or even to get back into their territory.

  “Wait, Storm,” came a soft bark, and Storm stumbled to a halt and turned.

  It was Thoughtful. He was following her, but keeping himself half-hidden among the trees. Hidden from his own Pack, Storm realized. He nodded to her and cast a shifty glance down the valley toward his Pack’s camp.

  “I heard you. I’m sorry about the others. We enforce our borders, no excuses, no matter how harmless the outsider—that’s just how it is. You’re lucky you were only on your second warning.”

  Storm stared at him, confused.

  She didn’t think she had ever in her life been called “harmless.” From her very first days with the Wild Pack, some dog or other had always thought that she was dangerous, trouble, just because she was a Fierce Dog, no matter how small or how scared she was deep down.

  It was disorienting to talk with a creature who thought a grown Fierce Dog was no threat to them at all.

  “Your Alpha wounded me,” she reminded him balefully. The cut was stinging. It was deep and ran across several of the barely healed scratches she’d received from Pistol and Dagger.

  “Yes, but not badly . . .” He shook his head, speaking quickly and quietly. “If you break the Great Wolf’s rules, you will be given four warnings, one for every season of the moon—each stronger than the last. This was your second. If I were you, I would make sure I didn’t get to four.”

  Storm tried to take all this in, but she couldn’t focus. It sounded like nonsense to her. In fact, it sounded like he was telling her that she could break the rules one more time without being punished.