SPECIAL THANKS
Special thanks to Gillian Philip
CONTENTS
Special Thanks
Pack List
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Excerpt from Survivors #2: A Hidden Enemy
Back Ads
About the Author
Books by Erin Hunter
Copyright
About the Publisher
PACK LIST
THE WOLF PACK (IN ORDER OF RANK)
ALPHA—a powerful female with a pale coat and yellow eyes
BETA—a male with shaggy gray fur
BOLD—a male with light gray fur
FLEET—a smaller male with brown-and-cream fur
NOBLE—a female with brown-and-gray fur
QUICK—a young male with gray fur and yellow eyes (pup of Graceful, half brother to Pup)
WISE—an older male with tawny fur
GRACEFUL—a female with gray fur (mother to Quick and Pup)
BRAVE—a young male with dark gray fur
DARING—a young female with gray-and-cream fur
STRIDENT—a young male with dark gray fur
OMEGA—a frail and ancient female with light gray fur
PUP—a young male with gray-and-white fur and yellow eyes, not yet Named (pup of Graceful, half brother to Quick)
LONGPAW FANGS (IN ORDER OF RANK)
ALPHA—Sundance—a large black-and-brown male
BETA—Zorro—a smaller black-and-tan male
BELLE—a black-and-tan female
CALAMITY—a young black-and-tan female
LONE DOGS
SNAIL—a male pup with long ears and shaggy brown fur
CHAPTER ONE
If Pup narrowed his yellow eyes against the sun-dazzle on the snow, he could imagine he was stalking a great deer.
He moved through the trees like a shadow, placing his pads carefully so as not to crunch on exposed pine needles. One paw raised, he froze, pricking an ear forward. An icy breeze blew his prey’s scent to his nostrils, rippling his mane of fur, which was almost as thick now as an adult wolf’s. Pup lowered his muzzle, snuffing silently at the crust of snow. Soon it’ll be a real deer, he thought, or even a giantfur. I could take either of them.
He was close to becoming a full adult of the Pack. Then he would bring down huge prey with his comrades. This is how I’ll stalk. This is how I’ll defend us all against the bite of the long cold. Pup shifted a paw, edging sideways to remain downwind of the creature. I’ll bring many deer to the Pack to fatten our bellies for Ice Wind.
Red fur flashed again between the pine trunks, a few wolf-strides ahead. Yes, deer, he thought hungrily. And elk and mountain goats and . . .
The creature he was stalking sat up on its tiny hind legs, sniffing the air for prey of its own.
. . . Or weasels. Oh well. Pup breathed a silent sigh. Keep your mind on the prey at hand, Pup.
After tonight it would be different. After tonight he would run with the Pack’s hunters. After tonight, he would have his Name.
In the dense forest Pup couldn’t see the horizon, but he knew where it lay, and he gazed longingly in its direction. That was where the full moon would rise tonight; that was where the Pack would gather and give him his Wolf Name. Impatience and excitement churned in his belly: What would it be? Because Pup was nothing. Pup was the name given to all young wolves. His true Name would be given to him for his ferocity, perhaps, or his tracking skills, or the long strides he took as he ran. Longstride. He liked that. . . .
But it was not his choice. His Pack would name him, and that was as it should be. He felt his tail lift with pride, and then it slumped back, and he blinked.
The weasel—I lost it!
A growl rumbled in his throat, but he held it there. You fool! If you’re not going to be Pup anymore, stop acting like one. Determinedly he lowered his muzzle to the ground and paced silently forward, nosing out the sharp tang that would lead him back to his prey.
There! Pup went still again, lowering his shoulders. The weasel was sniffing around a rabbit burrow, mad with hunger itself, and it didn’t see him coming. Pup sprang, snapped, and flung the weasel to the ground.
Not quite dead! It twisted, bared tiny teeth, and bit wildly at his swiping paw, but this time Pup had it. He seized its thin wriggling spine and crunched, feeling it go limp in his jaws.
You should have been a deer. Next time . . .
Pup trotted back up the slope to where the trees thinned out and the snow was deeper. A gray wolf sat there, gazing down at him and holding the corpse of a white rabbit beneath one powerful paw.
“Mother-Wolf.” Pup dropped the weasel respectfully before her, and licked her face in greeting.
“Pup. I watched you.” His Mother-Wolf, Graceful, caressed his jaw in return. “You’re a fine hunter already. But you need to concentrate.” She sounded amused rather than angry.
“I know. I was thinking too much about the moon.”
“That’s not surprising.” Graceful’s voice was soft and full of affection as they turned together and carried their prey back toward the Pack-den. “I can’t believe you’ve grown so fast, and so strong. Tonight will be the finest in your young life, Pup, and I already know you’ll make me proud.” She hesitated, glancing back toward the pine forest, and her voice grew quieter. “I know your father would be proud, too. I wish he could be here to witness your Naming Ceremony. I wish your littermates could be here.”
Pup felt the old twist of sadness in his belly, but it was muted now. He’d never known his littermates, after all: Too weak to survive, they had died within weeks of their birth. He’d been the strong one. Sometimes he wondered, with a vague longing, how it would have been to grow up in the rough-and-tumble of a big wolf family, with brothers and sisters around him, and a wolf-sire to watch as they learned to play and hunt and fight together.
No. Even if his siblings had lived, there would have been no wolf family, at least not a real one. His father, after all, was no wolf.
Pup nuzzled Graceful as they walked. He wished his Mother-Wolf could be less sad; talking of her lost pups and mate always made her melancholy. She shouldn’t think about them—not tonight. Pup was proud, anyway, of his own survival, the sturdy determination that had seen him through. He and Graceful were the family that mattered: the two of them and—of course—the Pack.
The others were resting together in the low golden light of sunset as he and Graceful padded back into their sandstone-walled valley. Wolves sprawled on rocks, soaking up the last of the sun’s rays, or play-fought in pairs, or nibbled fleas and ticks from one another’s shaggy coats. Some rose to greet Graceful with a lick and a soft whine; many of them didn’t. No wolf took any notice of Pup, but he didn’t mind. He was used to that. After tonight, he knew, it would be different.
“You take them both to the prey-store,” Graceful said, dropping her rabbit and nudging Pup with her nose. “Let them see you contributing your prey to the Pack.” Pup gave a whine of happiness and carried both her rabbit and his own weasel to the prey-store, in a small dark cavern beneath the rocks. There was a fine haul there already; hunting had been good, and the Pack would share tonight as they always did.
He was backing out of the shadowy overhang when he heard voices above him. A slab of sandstone jutted out there, catching the last sun, and two older wolves lay on it, gossiping lazily.
“Should be a good Howl tonight,” growled one. Bold, Pup realized, recognizing his voice.
“No clouds. The moon will be bright,” agreed the other, Fleet. “The Great Wolf will hear our Howl and answer us.”
“Pity, in a way,” yawned Bold. “The last Howl wasn’t such a perfect night, when Strident and Daring got their names. And tonight it’s that half-breed runt’s turn.”
Pup went still, his blood running cold in his veins.
“Oh, it hardly matters,” said Fleet. “Whatever Name he gets, it won’t be of any consequence. He’ll be Omega soon enough.”
“True.” Bold gave a rumbling grunt. “How did a wolf like Graceful take up with a filthy dog, anyway?” he muttered. “No wonder most of the pups died.”
Pup felt his heart shrink inside him. He crept from the prey-store, his flanks pressed close to the rock wall until he was safely out of sight of the two elders. He knew what the Pack thought of him; he should be used to it. Yet each time he overheard their snide remarks, it was as if the Great Wolf had drawn a sharp claw across his belly.
If it was just him, he wouldn’t mind so much, but Graceful . . .
She was sitting alone as usual, he saw, as he looked across the small valley. Self-possessed as she was, he knew she must be lonely. His Mother-Wolf never had been forgiven for taking a dog as her mate, and for giving him pups. Would things have been different, Pup wondered, if his father had lived? Would they treat Graceful with more respect? Would they even, perhaps, have accepted her half-blood offspring more easily?
Probably not. He sighed, still eyeing Graceful, and padded on. He was jolted out of his reverie when something collided with his shoulder.
“Watch it!” a young wolf snapped, her fangs grazing his neck.
Pup started. He’d walked right into a small gang of his Packmates, and he’d accidentally shouldered Daring, of all wolves. She had a vicious temper at the best of times.
“Sorry—” he began.
“So you should be, runt.” Strident curled his muzzle and growled. “Why can’t you look where you’re going?”
“It was an accident,” snarled Pup. “Now let me through.”
“Ha.” Daring hunched her shoulders and stalked around him, stiff-legged. “You don’t tell us what to do, runt.”
It was too much. Her contempt, and Bold’s overheard scorn, made anger flare in Pup’s gut. His hackles sprang erect and he faced Daring full on, his lips peeled back and his own teeth showing.
“Back down, runt.” Daring barked a laugh. “You can’t challenge me when you don’t even have a Name.”
“Back down yourself,” he snarled. “That works both ways.” Challenges were only permitted between fully grown wolves—not that he was afraid of Daring. She was only a few moons older than he was. If she wanted to ignore the rules, he was more than willing to fight.
“You lot!” The angry yelp made the young wolves turn as one.
Beta was watching them, his eyes cold and hard. Daring shrank back under his stare.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Beta snarled. “Daring, see to Alpha’s bedding. Strident, Fleet wants a young wolf to take a message. Get out of my sight! And the rest of you. Go!” As the wolves bounded hastily away, he snapped, “Not you, Pup.”
Pup couldn’t help crouching lower as Beta glared at him. For long moments the Pack’s second in command was silent; then he curled his muzzle back from his teeth.
“After moonrise tonight,” he growled, “you can be beaten in any challenge you choose. But not before. Do I make myself clear?”
Pup dipped his head, but this time it was as much to hide his anger as to show submission. So even his Beta thought he was destined for nothing better than Omega status?
I’ll show them all, Pup thought grimly. I’ll prove my blood runs as fierce and strong as any of theirs.
As soon as he had his Name, he’d challenge Daring—and he’d thrash her, in fair combat. And then? He’d fight his way up the hierarchy, one wolf at a time. He’d climb the ranks till nobody dared treat him—or his Mother-Wolf—with disrespect.
I’ll never be any wolf’s Omega. Pup looked to the place where the moon would rise, and swore it to the Great Wolf himself.
Never.
CHAPTER TWO
Pup’s gnawing anger stayed with him all the way to the den he shared with Graceful, but as soon as he slunk into its familiar warmth, his spirits lightened.
“Hello, Quick,” he growled.
His half brother cocked his head and gave him his usual sardonic wolf grin. “Hey, Pup. Soon to be Not-Pup.”
Most of Graceful’s first litter thought Pup was as far beneath them as the river in the canyon. Pup knew they had never forgiven her for taking another mate—a dog!—after their own father was killed in a battle with the Far-Cliff Pack. Quick was different, though. He still came to visit Graceful and he didn’t wear a permanent sneer around her lone half-blood offspring.
What was more, thought Pup, he was fun to be around. Quick was named as much for his wit as for his speed in the chase. His remarks could be a bit too smart, but at least he wasn’t mean or scornful.
Quick let his tongue hang out. “Now that you’re going to get your Name, you can start sending your enemies to the Great Wolf’s caverns. Who’s going to be first, Pup?”
“Daring,” growled Pup, his hackles rising.
“He won’t be sending any wolf,” said Graceful calmly, licking at a paw. “That’s not the point of a Name, Quick. Behave yourself.”
“If I behaved myself, Mother-Wolf, I’d never have any fun.” Quick nibbled the tip of her ear affectionately. “Hadn’t we better get going? There’s a fat deer leg I’ve got my eye on, and I don’t want to miss it.”
That was Quick, thought Pup: always thinking about his belly. But his half brother was as patient as any of the Pack when the wolves gathered later that evening to share the prey. No wolf would dare eat out of turn, not under the keen eye of Alpha. A powerful pale-coated wolf, she lay on a high slab of rock, holding a haunch of elk down with one huge paw as she gnawed, one yellow eye always on her Pack.
Particularly, tonight, on Pup.
Only when the Pack had eaten and the moon had risen, swollen and silver and high above the tree-spiked horizon, did the wolves gather for the Howl. Pup loved these moments beneath the night sky, when the Great Wolf ran through their dreams, but tonight he found it hard to concentrate. His belly was tight with nerves; the prey was plentiful, but he’d barely been able to gulp down half a rabbit. Perhaps that was why, as wolf voices swelled around him and melded into one great cry, his howl did not seem to quite fit with the others’.
Pup shook himself and tried again, striving to match his pitch to Quick’s beside him. His voice was never as strong and as pure as the other wolves’, but that was only because of his youth. Wasn’t it?
He’d heard the others talk sometimes of how, during the Howl, they would feel the Great Wolf lope down from the stars to walk among them. How she would listen, and answer, and give help to wolves she favored, wolves who had the courage to ask it of her.
Pup squeezed his eyes tight shut. Great Wolf, he thought, give me your blessing. Make me a true Wolf. Make me a part of this Pack.
However hard he thought it, however loud he howled, he heard no reply. Inside his skull there was only the echo of his own cry. Blinking one eye open, Pup risked a look around the Pack. Their uplifted faces were fierce and joyful, as if every one of them had the Great Wolf howling at their side.
He did not have time to crush down the jealousy that rose in his throat. As the Howl died around him, Alpha gave a ringing bark.
“Come forward, Pup, son of Graceful.”
His legs trembled as he rose and paced to the center of the circle. Yellow eyes followed his every move. I mustn’t look afraid.
“You have come of age, Pup, and now you join our Pack as a true wolf.” With a few sharp rips of her fangs and claws, Alpha tore open the belly of Graceful’s white rabbit, then flayed it of its skin. Laying her paw on the bloody white pelt, she waited till Pup came forwar
d to sit on it. Then she raised her head again.
“Wolves of my Pack. Name this Pup for his qualities.”
Pup swallowed hard. He’d seen this ceremony many times now, and a thrill always ran through his spine when the wolves called out the names they thought would fit the candidate. Sometimes they quarreled over which was best; sometimes a name just seemed to slide over a wolf like a second pelt, and then it was easy and fast. What will they suggest for me?
He waited in the silence. No wolf spoke.
Pup swallowed again. He looked around the Pack, desperate to hear a name called, any name. Still there was no sound but the gentle sigh of the wind in the pines.
His blood ran hot, then icy cold. Please . . . one of you . . . name me.
His eye caught Graceful’s. There was shock in her expression. She turned her head to stare at each wolf. Wolf-mothers and sires were not permitted to name their own pups, so she could say nothing herself, but she looked devastated that no other wolf would speak up.
Just when Pup thought the silence might stretch till it snapped, he saw Graceful nudge Quick, hard, with her shoulder. His half brother blinked in surprise, and his friends around him shot him mocking, expectant looks.
Quick. Please, say something. Please.
The young wolf’s jaws opened, and he licked his lips, glancing from left to right. He seemed surprised that it had fallen to him.
Quick, you know me! Pup’s heart lifted, and the shame of the crushing silence began to slip away. Quick would think of something fine; Quick knew he was a good hunter, that he was strong and fast and brave. Quick would come to his rescue, and then this would be over . . .
Quick drew in a breath, licked his chops again, and gave a sharp, laughing bark.
“DOG.”
For an instant the scene seemed to freeze before Pup’s eyes. Then the howls rose around him again, but this time they were howls of laughter. Daring was yelping with helpless hilarity, and one of Quick’s friends rolled onto his back, unable to contain his hysteria. Even the older wolves were barking with amusement.
“Dog!”