“That will feed all of us—with leftovers!” Dart agreed.
“Moon will be pleased,” Fiery said smugly, letting the deer fall. “Our pups are getting big and hungry.”
Lucky’s proudest moment, though, was when Sweet padded up to him and licked his ear. “Fiery told me how much you contributed to this catch,” she murmured. “I’m glad you rose to be a hunter, Lucky.”
They dumped their prey beside a pine at the edge of the camp and Lucky withdrew and lay down, panting. He was tired, but it was a good sort of exhaustion from a job well done. His feelings were mixed as he watched the rest of the Pack play and squabble and stretch aching limbs. He was still so worried about Martha and Bruno, not to mention his uncertainty about Bella’s intentions, but he couldn’t help this sense of contentment that stole over him. It was good to have a role here, to know his place, and to be appreciated for the skills he brought with him.
He thought back to Bella’s Pack and the chaos that sometimes took over, the way the other dogs had all expected him to lead them in the early days. Sometimes I just want to be given a job to do, he thought. Be part of a team. Not the dog making the decisions. Of course, Bella was that dog now—but even so. There was part of him that still felt the heavy responsibilities of being involved in that Pack. Here, he didn’t have to take charge of anything, and there was something in him that liked it that way.
The bushes rustled, and abruptly his peace was broken. Lucky didn’t even have to turn to know who was sidling up to him. His hackles rose automatically, and he stiffened but lay still.
“Hello, Whine,” he murmured. “What do you want?”
The little Omega snuffled and licked his chops. “Why, Lucky. I just wanted to ask if there was anything our fine hunter needs?”
“Nothing. Thank you.”
“I can bring you anything, as you know. That’s my job.”
Lucky turned his head sharply. He mustn’t anger the snub-faced dog—and that very fact made Lucky angry with himself.
“No, Whine, thank you.”
“You must call me Omega,” the dog said, with a submissive little whimper that sounded mocking to Lucky’s ears. “For now. Until you do what you promised to do, City Dog.”
Lucky turned his head, tempted to nip him whatever the consequences, but Omega had vanished into the tree shadows once more. Unhappiness roiled in Lucky’s belly; his earlier haze of contentment had vanished altogether.
Omega wasn’t going to forget the promise he’d forced Lucky to make, and Lucky couldn’t risk Omega telling what he knew. He’d have to eat some of this prey—steal the food he’d been so proud to bring to the Pack—and make one of the other dogs suffer for his own crime.
It has to be the deer, he realized, with a hollow sense of shame. The deer was the most impressive thing the hunters had brought back in days. With that on display, its smell and size so tempting, Alpha might not even notice something like a missing gopher leg. My crime has to be so bad that the other dogs are stunned.
He dreaded the horrible task. You are a liar, Lucky. A liar and a spy and a cheat.
But he had no choice.
Who to frame, though? Whose life should I destroy? Lucky glanced around the Pack, keeping his face calm and disinterested despite the turmoil in his innards. Who am I going to sacrifice, just to keep myself and my lies safe and hidden?
One thing was so clear in his head it hurt: When the choice was made, he’d have to go ahead immediately. No more delays; no more excuses.
Maybe that was why he was putting off the moment of decision. But it didn’t matter how often his eyes roamed the other dogs: The choice had been obvious from the start.
Mulch.
Mulch was a known food-stealer. Mulch had pawed selfishly at that rabbit, had tried to sneak an extra portion out of turn. No one would be very surprised if it was Mulch who stole a mouthful or two of deer before it was time to eat. And horribly, Lucky was already plotting the details of his deception. Mulch had long, shiny black hair, distinctive among the others of the Pack. There were already strands of it all over his new sleeping-place among the patrol dogs, but even better—or worse—there were still plenty of them in the hunter’s den. The very bed Lucky now slept in was lined with Mulch’s molted hairs. How hard could it be to transfer some of those long rippling strands to the deer’s pale-gold hide?
How hard can it be, Lucky?
Lucky closed his eyes and shoved his nose beneath his paws, feeling sick. He tried to remember how unfriendly Mulch had been to him since he arrived, but it was no good: He still couldn’t bear to think of what he was about to do to an innocent dog.
Strangely enough, what he was about to do to the Pack seemed even worse. He was going to betray their trust, to sow resentment and hatred, to lie to his Packmates. He was more like them than he’d ever known before he began this game of Bella’s. He respected them, liked them, trusted them with his life each day . . .
I can’t do it. I CAN’T.
But I must, a small, cowardly voice inside him whispered. I have to do this, or I’ll die.
A great sigh escaped from the depths of his belly. He wasn’t just doing this for his own survival—he was doing it to help the Leashed Dogs. He opened his eyes again to gaze around at the Pack.
They’re not like me; they’re NOT. I don’t care. I’m a Lone Dog and I always will be. I survive. That’s what I do.
It comes down to one thing. Do I want to go back to being who I really am? Or do I want to give all that up, to be a Pack Dog, to be like Fiery, or Snap, or Sweet . . .
Or Omega.
Lucky shivered. No, he couldn’t be lulled into Pack life, just for the fun of a group hunt on a warm evening, or the bone-deep thrill of a Great Howl. Omega could not be allowed to tell his secret; he had to survive, to escape, to be Lucky again. Whatever he had to do must be done. That was all.
I’m never going to feel good about this, he thought, but I’ll just have to live with it—if I want to live at all. Because I’m Lucky, Lone Dog Lucky, and I’m going to survive.
Before he could gnaw it over for another instant, Lucky stood up. He took a deep breath. Then, shaking himself, stretching lazily and clawing the ground, he padded idly over to the hunters’ den and began to scrape at his own soft hollow, as if simply adjusting it to his needs.
Surreptitiously he nosed a few tangled bits of Mulch’s hair into a straggly pile. With a deep breath, he licked it into his jaws. It caught on the sensitive flesh inside his mouth, tickled his throat. Lucky wanted to gag, but the horrible sensation of the hair against his teeth was as much to do with his feelings, he decided, as the taste of Mulch’s fur.
It didn’t matter how carefully he checked that no one was watching; as he crept through scrub toward the tree where the food lay, he felt as if every eye in the Pack was on him—two yellow ones in particular. Don’t look around. Behave naturally! But when he cast a last glance over his shoulder, he was as sure as he could be that he hadn’t been seen. Alpha lay on his favorite rock, his eyes closed and Sweet curled against him. The others were relaxing, grooming one another, exchanging the day’s news, settling arguments, playing idle games, or staging mock-fights. The larger of the male pups, Squirm, was wrestling with his sister, Nose, nipping at her with his harmless milk teeth, while the smaller male, Fuzz, chased his tail determinedly, his short legs scrabbling in the dirt. Moon and Fiery watched them proudly, their attention fully focused on their pups.
It was now or never, and never was not an option. Lucky brushed his tongue against the deer’s flank, trying to dislodge the hairs in his mouth. He spat and dribbled as best he could, but though some of the hairs had stuck to the deer, more of them had stuck to his teeth, caught in the gaps between them.
No! Lucky began to panic, pawing at his muzzle, clawing at his teeth, all the time trying not to look too agitated in case one of the other dogs noticed. The hairs were sticky and stubborn, clinging to his tongue and the soft skin inside his mouth till he wanted t
o be sick. And wouldn’t that give him away, he thought, half in fear and half in a sort of excitable panic.
At last! One of his claws hooked into the tangled hair and pulled it free of his mouth, and he licked the rest of it against the deer’s leg. He rubbed a last strand from his nose.
And now?
Lucky peered around the tree again, his breath in his throat, but still no one was paying any attention to him—not even Omega. Whine’s so sure of himself and his plotting, Lucky thought with resentment.
There was no more time for guilt. Lucky tore into the deer’s belly, ripping open a gash in the hide and then savaging the still-warm meat, gulping down great mouthfuls as fast as he could. He’d helped catch the creature, after all; his scent on the prey would be nothing strange.
He tore, gulped, swallowed; then did it again, and again. Enough! Surely that’s enough? One more bite. Quick, Lucky. HURRY.
When he could bear the tension no longer, he sprang back from the hind, his heart beating ferociously. Turning abruptly, he crept hurriedly through the trees and trotted away from the camp boundary.
I’m surprised I’m not falling over my own paws. He was furious at the way his skin and muscles trembled, and the anger helped drive out the fear, just a little.
He bounded to the lakeshore with his blood still racing. There was no time even to drink; he simply dipped his bloody muzzle into the cool water, washing away any possible last traces of Mulch’s hair along with the deer blood. Then he loped silently around to the far side of the camp. He paused as long as he dared for breath, then wandered back in as coolly as he could.
If my Packmates could hear my heart, I’d be a dead dog in an instant. But it seemed none of them could. Slowly, so slowly, Lucky’s heart stopped pounding, and he lay down in a new spot as if nothing had happened, as if he’d merely moved position out of restlessness.
I’ve gotten away with it.
Ecstatic relief was swamped almost immediately by horrible guilt, and the terror of what might have been. Noticing Omega slinking across the clearing, Lucky curled his muzzle and gave him a silent snarl that the little dog couldn’t see.
He could not doze, as some of the other dogs were doing; his belly was full and his nerves and bones still throbbed with tension. They waited for Alpha’s signal to eat, and Lucky felt dread growing with every instant. At last, when Lucky thought he could bear it no longer, Alpha blinked and yawned, rose and stretched, and Sweet stirred beside him.
The great dog-wolf leaped down from the rock and padded to the center of the clearing, his deep bark summoning his Pack.
“Now we eat.”
It was the patrol dogs who dragged the prey into the open, and as soon as they did, Lucky saw them exchanging glances, their hackles rising and their tails stiffening. Far more nervously than usual, they dropped the food in the eating place, and hurried back from it as if they couldn’t get away fast enough.
They’ve noticed. They’ve seen the damage!
They know trouble’s coming. . . .
The hind’s leg, stiff and straight, sank to the ground as the corpse settled, and Alpha stepped forward.
He stood stiff, foursquare, and silent, and the hush spread to the whole Pack.
The air of the clearing seemed to prickle with invisible fire as Alpha lowered his head to sniff the deer’s flank. When he raised it again, his huge teeth were bared, and there was crackling fury in his eyes. Lifting his muzzle, he gave a howl of pure rage.
The silence that fell was unbroken by so much as a cracking twig. Even the birds were silent.
Alpha’s growl was deadly.
“Who. Has. Done. This?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Alpha spun around, the look of violent fury on his face like nothing Lucky had ever seen.
“Who?”
The dog-wolf slammed a paw onto the ground. Jerking to one side, he spat something out. When he raised his head again, he was looking directly at Lucky.
The bolt of cold fear through his bones was so shocking, it was all Lucky could do not to cower and confess. He was desperate to scratch at his muzzle, to remove the black hair he was sure he must have left there. No . . . no, he couldn’t have been so careless.
Could wolves read the minds of dogs? Did Alpha know?
Lucky wondered how fast he could run. Not fast enough . . .
The howl of confession was rising in his throat when Alpha took a pace forward. Not toward Lucky, though; his ice-cold eyes were locked on Mulch. With a great swipe of his paw, he sent a clod of earth flying into Mulch’s muzzle. When the dirt settled, a hair lay balanced delicately on Mulch’s nose.
The bewildered dog shook it off, making his long ears flap. “Alpha?”
Alpha didn’t answer, but stalked menacingly close to him.
Mulch cowered. “Alpha, I don’t know—”
“Silence!” The dog-wolf’s muzzle curled. “Food-thief. Did you think it was your right to eat before Moon’s pups? Before ME?”
Mulch’s jaws hung open. “I didn’t! I never—”
Alpha leaped for Mulch, bowling him over, clawing his face and neck, fangs sinking into his ears. Mulch gave a long howl of terror, scrabbling hopelessly to get out from under the huge beast. He was on his back now, and one of Alpha’s hind legs raked cruel claws into his belly. Mulch’s howl became a frantic series of agonized yelps.
Lucky wished he could put his paws over his ears. Stop, he wanted to bark. It wasn’t him, it was ME. . . .
No, Lucky. SURVIVE.
The other dogs looked on, shivering, eyes wide, tails low and tight between their legs. Sweet was stiff and trembling at his side. Lucky glanced at her, hoping desperately that she would put a stop this. Drops of Mulch’s blood spattered her face as she watched, and her muzzle wrinkled into a snarl.
Now, he thought frantically. Stop him, Sweet, before it gets worse. No one else will. . . .
Suddenly the swift-dog leaped forward in a graceful spring, and Lucky almost gasped with relief. She’s stopping him! Oh, thank the Sky-Dogs—
But he wasn’t to get off so lightly, Lucky realized. He gaped as Sweet bared her teeth and sank them into the base of Mulch’s tail, renewing his howls of pain. And then Sweet was attacking him too, her jaws snapping at those vulnerable ears as Alpha seized the folds of flesh at Mulch’s neck and shook him like a rat.
Lucky couldn’t stand it anymore. With a bark of protest he bounded toward the struggling Mulch, but when Sweet took her teeth from Mulch’s ear to give him a warning glare, he came to a shocked halt. Her muzzle curled back from her bloodstained fangs, but that wasn’t what brought him up short. He was sure he didn’t imagine the softness in her dark eyes.
She doesn’t want me to get hurt. She’s protecting me!
Trembling, he stepped carefully back as Sweet renewed her assault, biting and scratching.
It felt like a turn of the Moon-Dog before Alpha finally clouted Mulch one last time on the head and stepped back, snarling softly. Sweet sat down beside Alpha, tongue lolling as she gazed at Mulch with contempt.
Mulch rolled onto his belly, but when he tried to crawl away he could only flop, his flanks heaving, a terrible high-pitched whimper coming from his throat. The rest of the Pack watched him with pity, but none of them, Lucky noticed, moved to help him.
“You,” growled Alpha at the cringing, wounded dog, “are now Omega.”
“Which is more than you deserve,” added Sweet, licking blood idly from a forepaw.
“But, Alpha . . .” Mulch’s breathless whine was barely audible.
“And since you feel inclined to argue, you may not challenge another dog until a full turn of the Moon-Dog.” Alpha flicked the tip of his tail. “Your hairs were on the carcass, Omega. Your hairs. How dare you try to deny it?”
Mulch laid his head on his forepaws, doing his best to raise his haunches, miserably submissive. He had clearly decided it was not worth arguing anymore.
There was a slight coughing sound from the ci
rcle of watching dogs, and the former Omega crept forward a little. His bulging eyes flickered briefly to Lucky, but they held no expression.
Don’t start thanking me, thought Lucky ferociously. Don’t you dare be so stupid!
But the little dog was now gazing pathetically up at Alpha, who watched him in scornful silence for a few moments.
“Yes. I suppose you’re a patrol dog now, Omega. Or Whine, as we will call you. For now.” Turning his back, Alpha padded back toward the prey-heap.
Sweet cast a last disdainful glance at Whine before following her leader. “And try to prove yourself worthy, Whine. For the Sky-Dogs’ sake, and your own.”
Any appetite Lucky still had after the theft of the deer was gone. He couldn’t take his eyes off Mulch as the beaten dog slunk into the bushes to lick his wounds. Lucky had to force himself to join the feeding, lying down miserably next to Twitch.
“Don’t feel bad for Mulch,” Twitch told him airily. “I mean, Omega. He deserved that.”
He didn’t, thought Lucky.
When Fiery and Spring had eaten their fill, Lucky had to creep forward and force himself to eat a second full meal, though he was afraid it might choke him. Doing his best to mask his disgust, he ripped mouthful after mouthful from his share of the carcass and gulped it down his tight throat. I have to eat. It’s supposed to be the first I’ve eaten all day. . . .
If he had to bring it back up later, he’d do it in secret; but Lucky couldn’t let the others suspect that he’d already eaten. There was a thin covering of leaf litter beneath the tree, and he managed to push a few bitefuls beneath that, but he couldn’t risk Sweet seeing him do it, so most of it he had to choke down. His body heaved with the effort and he had to concentrate on each swallow. He couldn’t even show his relief when he’d eaten enough, and could crawl back from what was left of the hind.
I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy deer again. . . .
After Snap, Twitch, and Dart had eaten, it was Whine’s turn. Lucky had never seen a dog wolf down food with such relish, and he’d had no idea such a small, pathetic dog could cram so much meat into his belly. Obviously the pudgy creature’s conscience was clear about what they had done. Despite the abundance of tonight’s prey, despite what had been a huge bounty when the Pack began to eat, Whine left scarcely anything for Mulch, and Lucky felt his anger at the sly little dog grow darker and deeper.