Why did you have to see me, Alfie? Why—
Lucky’s fur and skin prickled as the ground started shaking beneath his paws. It was as though the Earth-Dog shared Lucky’s anger.
Then—wham!—Lucky was thrown forward, stumbling as the whole world shook again. He hit the ground and tumbled, but managed to jump back onto all four paws, his entire body trembling.
Another Big Growl!?
The fighting stopped as every dog crouched low, steadying himself. The Wild Pack all looked to their Alpha, who braced his legs against the trembling earth for a second before letting out a chilling howl.
“It’s happening again! Pack, to me!”
A tree right beside Lucky creaked and groaned and started to fall. Lucky scrambled out of its path just before it slammed into the solid rock of the hillside and started rolling across the ground that was splitting apart at Lucky’s paws. Soon, the air was filled with the shrieks of tortured wood as more and more trees fell, hitting the rocks with crashes that sounded like thunder.
Lucky fled in a panic, not knowing or caring what direction he was taking.
All that mattered was getting away from the Growl.
But the Growl was everywhere, above and around him. The whole earth seemed to slide treacherously beneath his paws. No, not again! Don’t let the Growl ruin this place too. . . .
As he bolted, Lucky glanced back to see that the other dogs, both Wild and Leashed, were also fleeing in blind terror. The shuddering earth split, a wound tearing itself down the center of the valley. A bundle of pale fur was a blur at the edge of his vision. Someone was falling into the crack. Lucky snapped his head away and veered to the right, afraid to see the death of any dog. He spotted Mickey and Bruno struggling to drag Alfie’s limp form toward shelter, and Martha limping painfully away from the crashing trees.
My Pack!
Instinct spurred him to run after them, but it was too late. Above him another gigantic tree was creaking and cracking, its roots lifting from the dirt as if it were trying to pull itself free.
Lucky leaped off the clod of earth and roots, tumbling awkwardly to the ground, and a jolt of pain went through his foreleg. For a moment, he couldn’t move. But when he looked up and saw the great tree swaying, falling back into place, he thought he was safe—until the shifting ground heaved again, and the great tree toppled toward him.
Terror ripped through Lucky’s bones as he lay on his side and stared up at the massive shuddering trunk, his brain rattled by the tree’s tortured shriek of death.
He rolled onto his paws, trying to crawl away on his belly.
But there was no escape.
Earth-Dog wants me. . . . thought Lucky, as he heard the mighty tree falling. I’m not going to get away this time.
CHAPTER TWO
The tree was coming straight down on him. He heard the creaking roar, felt the rush of wind—
Then Lucky glimpsed the sharp blade of a rocky overhang. With a last surge of desperate energy he scrabbled and slid down a boulder, shooting under the jutting rock. He cowered in its shelter, trembling like a pup under its mother’s belly.
For a long moment, all he could hear was the rumbling thunder of the tree crashing down onto the rocks, branches splitting and cracking as they hit the overhang, twigs and shards of bark exploding around him. He flinched as a splinter of wood struck his flank, but he knew he had to keep still. He could not jump up and run, no matter how strong the urge.
Please, Earth-Dog, he thought. Be merciful.
Slowly the deafening racket of the tree’s collapse rebounded and echoed and faded. All that was left was a blizzard of pine needles. At last, the ground underneath him grew still. Earth-Dog had stopped growling.
Still trembling, Lucky crept out from his shelter, forcing his body through the thick branches and foliage of the dead tree. Its trunk was as broad as a loudcage, and shudders of horror went through his spine at the thought of how close it had come to falling right on top of him. I’d be dead now. . . . My body would already be with the Earth-Dog.
Lucky licked at his leg, but the twinge of pain had faded. He realized with a rush of relief that he wasn’t hurt. He’d only just recovered from the slash on his paw from the last Big Growl. It wouldn’t do to find himself with another leg wound.
The hillside around him was torn and devastated, as if a giant dog had scraped great gashes in it with its forepaws. Awed, Lucky crept carefully down the uneven slope, hardly daring to pick up his pace. But the area where the dogs had fought was not far below him now, and Lucky trotted more urgently when he reached level ground.
The air was a chaos of scents—damp, wounded earth, roots, blood, and splintered wood. Strongest of all was the smell of dog-fear, though the others had run away from the battle site now. Lucky’s ears pricked as he glanced around, hoping he’d see one of his own Pack searching for him. He had no idea where they were now. Had any of the others seen him?
Or just poor Alfie?
As the image of the little dog, broken and wounded, came into his mind, Lucky heard a terrible keening noise. It was the sound of a dog in distress, hurt and helpless.
Lucky glanced around nervously, his fur bristling. Where was the noise coming from? It seemed close, but there was no sign of the dog who was making it.
As he turned, searching, he caught sight of the crack in the earth. Cold horror surged through his body as he remembered the blur of pale fur that he’d seen fall into the split in the ground.
Earth-Dog! he thought. She must have swallowed one of the dogs, showing them her fury at their fighting. Stiff-legged and shivering, Lucky began to back away from the chasm. If Earth-Dog was as angry as that with the battling dogs, who knew what she might do next, or who she might turn her wrath on?
He needed to get as far from the crack in the ground as he possibly could. He didn’t know the distressed dog who was making the agonized sound. It wasn’t one of the Leashed Dogs—he’d have recognized any of them immediately, even blurred and falling. The pitifully howling dog was a stranger—one of the enemy Pack.
None of that Pack can be trusted. Why should I rescue a stranger?
Still, Lucky’s whole coat twitched and tingled. Something was drawing him back, an urge he couldn’t resist. He pricked his ears high, straining to hear. Something about that desperate, pleading howl tugged at his recent memory. And the scent . . . it was tantalizingly familiar, but the mess of smells created by the Growl meant that he could not pick it out properly.
Lucky shook himself violently. Of course he couldn’t walk away from a dog in danger! It didn’t matter if that other dog was friend or foe. Lucky wouldn’t be a dog at all if he left one of his own kind to suffer a terrible fate. What had Mother-Dog once said? Noble and honorable. He couldn’t betray his own dog-spirit.
Taking a deep breath, Lucky loped carefully to the edge of the chasm. It was very dark but, as his eyes adjusted to the dimness after the bright sunlight, he made out the shape of a cowering creature.
The swift-dog.
It was one of the dog-wolf’s lieutenants, the one who had darted back and forth and barked the orders to attack. Now she crouched on a narrow ledge of rock, quivering in fear. Her muzzle lay over the ledge as she stared down, wide-eyed, at the deadly drop; but as Lucky’s claws scraped the loose rock on the edge of the crack, shards of stone skittered into the depths, and the swift-dog lifted her head. She stared up at him, petrified.
Lucky took a backward step in surprise.
Sweet!
His friend-behind-the-wire . . . his fellow survivor of the Trap House . . .
When she’d left him alone, in search of Pack companions, he’d wondered if she would be able to survive.
She had—and she was with the Wild Pack!
She was whimpering now, blinking her big eyes against the strong sunlight from above. As she made him out, she gave a sharp whine of shock.
“What are you doing here?”
They both asked the question together,
and for a long moment gaped at each other. Then Lucky shook himself.
“Never mind that now, Sweet. You have to get out of there.”
She crouched against the rock wall, trembling. “I don’t know how.”
Lucky took another hesitant step forward, bringing him to the edge of the chasm. He began to crouch, but loose stones slithered beneath his paws and a rain of tiny rocks clattered and pattered into the darkness. Back! Lucky stepped hastily away from the drop, his fur lifting.
“You’re not far down. Can’t you hook your claws over the edge, pull yourself up?”
“I don’t think so,” she whined. “If I start to climb and lose my grip, I’ll—”
“I’ll help you. You have to try!”
Slowly, cautiously, Sweet got to her feet and turned in a tight circle, as if she were preparing for sleep. Her tail was tucked tightly between her legs, and her sleek coat seemed to tremble with fear. Hesitantly she rose up on her hind legs and caught the edge with her claws.
“Now kick with your hind legs. And pull! You’ll be fine, Sweet—just pull—”
Gradually Sweet hauled herself up the sheer rock, hindpaws flailing. With a whine of terror she started to slip, but Lucky leaned into the crack to seize the scruff of her neck with his teeth, praying to the Earth-Dog that the crumbling stone would hold him. He could no longer encourage Sweet with his barks; he could only drag her upward, feeling her wriggle and thrash in his jaws.
Behind him, he heard a sound he recognized all too well. A violent, ominous creaking. With a desperate growl, Lucky scuffed backward, tugging Sweet hard as the swift-dog gave a final powerful kick with her hind legs. She was up and over the edge, and Lucky shouldered her sideways just as a wounded tree groaned and toppled, slamming into the ground with a crash.
They stood, panting with exhaustion and relief. Lucky blinked and gasped until he got his breath back, his heart hammering away at his belly.
Then they both yelped with joy, colliding as they sprang forward, tumbling over each other, licking and nosing and barking with delight.
“That’s the second Big Growl we’ve outwitted!” said Lucky.
“Yes! Oh, Lucky, you are lucky!” Sweet barked.
“I didn’t think I’d see you again!”
“I didn’t think I’d see you, Packless Dog!” She nibbled his neck fur happily.
“Sweet . . .” Lucky drew away slightly, remembering the moment he’d laid eyes on her again—when he hadn’t even recognized such a fierce, feral dog. “Why was your Pack attacking . . . those dogs?”
Sweet gave a yelp of derision. “Those what? They’re barely dogs at all. Did you get a good look at them? How dare those disorganized mutts think of invading our territory?”
“That’s—sort of what I mean.” Lucky averted his eyes, licking his chops. “They didn’t know how to fight, I could tell. Your Pack was”—cruelly efficient, he wanted to say—“harsh to them.”
Lucky bit back a whine as he wondered why he’d pretended not to know his friends.
Am I ashamed of them?
“Leashed Dogs,” snarled Sweet. “I don’t know what they were doing here, but they certainly won’t be invading real dogs’ territory again. They’ll know better than that now.”
I used to worry about her, he remembered. I worried that she wouldn’t be tough enough to survive. Can this really be the same swift-dog who panicked at the sight of a dead longpaw?
Catching Lucky’s shocked expression, Sweet jabbed her head forward insistently. “It was a necessary lesson. The Leashed Dogs won’t make that mistake again. That’s best for them as well as us.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Lucky whined, feeling a flash of guilt burn in his belly. This was my fault.
“Of course I’m right,” said Sweet. “And I was right to go seek out a Pack! I have missed you, Lucky . . . but I found just the Pack I was looking for. They’re strong, organized—” She stopped, cocking her head and giving him a quizzical look. “But what brings you so far out of the city? I thought you were determined not to leave.”
“I couldn’t stay,” he told her. “There was too much danger . . . you were right about that.”
Sweet gave him a playful nudge with her nose. “I’m right about most things.”
He licked her jaw affectionately. “I left the city with a Pack”—he wasn’t about to mention which Pack—“and I was just striking out alone again when I heard the sound of fighting.” He dipped his head, giving a sad, but sharp, whine. “Dogs fighting each other! When we’ve all just escaped the Big Growl! It seemed . . . strange. I was curious.” He fell silent, deciding he’d said too much already.
Sweet looked astounded. “You were with a Pack? But I thought you hated Packs! I thought that’s why you wouldn’t come with me.”
“It wasn’t like that, Sweet.” He hesitated, wondering how to explain.
She didn’t speak for a moment, her gaze focused on the ground between her paws. When she looked up again, her eyes were angry and full of hurt. “You said you were a ‘Lone Dog,’ that you wanted to be free and by yourself!”
Lucky felt prickles of regret as he remembered the things he had told her in the Food House, the day he had refused to travel with her.
“I’m not with a Pack,” he said. “Not really. It just happened. Almost by accident. They didn’t know how to get by, so I tagged along. They were strangers, but they needed my help, so I gave it to them. Just like I would have helped you, if you hadn’t run off and left me behind like you did.”
“I didn’t want to leave you behind,” said Sweet, her voice small. “But you wanted to stay in the city. And I needed a Pack. I wish I could make you understand, Lucky.”
Inwardly he squirmed. He understood far better than she thought he did. “And you found one. You must have done well, Sweet. They were treating you like a leader during the fight.”
“I’ve advanced quickly,” Sweet agreed a little reluctantly. “It’s the way of a Pack, that’s all. Things change.”
Lucky raised his head and sniffed the wind, which was rising again after the stillness that had accompanied the Growl. There were distinct smells of life—and death—creeping into the air.
“I have to get going, Sweet.”
“Again? But where will you go?”
Lucky was silent as he thought about it. He was desperate to find Bella and the others, to find out what had become of Alfie, but he couldn’t tell Sweet that. He had as good as told her that he had nothing to do with the ragtag Pack she had been fighting. He couldn’t go back on that now.
Sweet nuzzled him. “Why don’t you come with me, Lucky? Come and meet my Pack. You’ll like us. You’ve just saved my life, so they’ll like you.”
“I don’t know . . .”
“Lucky, you can’t survive on your own. What if the next Growl catches you, and there’s no one to help you like you helped me? And so many of the streams are poisoned! You might not find clean water to drink. You must come with me!”
A shiver went through Lucky’s fur, and he gave himself a brisk shake to disguise it. “I’m sorry, Sweet. I’m still a Lone Dog.”
“All dogs should stand together at times like these,” said Sweet, her nose turning up. “You’re strong, you’re clever—you should offer all that to a Pack, not keep it for yourself!” Sweet sounded almost angry, but her voice softened. “You’d be happy, Lucky. I promise.”
Lucky averted his gaze, feeling the old stubbornness back in his belly. “I’m happier on my own.”
Sweet dipped her head. “I can’t make you change your mind, can I? Then I wish you well. Please take care.”
“I will.” Lucky padded away, still feeling the tug of regret and unable to resist a last look back.
Sweet was already bounding across the broken ground, elegantly leaping over fallen trees. A memory struck him sharply: Sweet bolting from the cold room in the Food House, terrified by the dead longpaw inside, and the destruction of the city outside. Her speed was the
same, but in every other way she seemed different. Her head was high and her ears were pricked. Her coat was sleek and the muscles beneath were strong and defined.
Lucky felt the strongest urge to bark after her, to call her back and ask if she’d come with him instead. She’d be a great addition to Bella’s Pack. And what if he never saw her again? He was going to miss her. . . .
But it was too late. Sweet was already out of sight, and Lucky would never catch her now. There was nothing left to do but continue his search for the Leashed Dogs.
As he padded on, he felt flutters of fear in his fur. They’ll be all right, he told himself. They’ve survived one Growl already. Surely they’ll have survived this one, too. . . .
CHAPTER THREE
It wasn’t difficult to follow the trail of Bella and the others farther into the shattered valley. All Lucky had to do was pad after the trickles and pools of blood that Alfie and Martha had left. The metallic scent of it made his bones and muscles cold; a terrible anxiety drove him on to leap cracks in the ground and force his way through thickets of fallen branches.
At least, he thought, the valley would recover swiftly. Saplings would grow again to replace the trees, and the cracked ground and uprooted bushes would soon be covered with new moss and grass and plants, hiding the damage.
Unlike the city, which would never be able to heal itself.
Leaping on top of a thick pine trunk, Lucky made out the river beyond, very close now. Like the streams near the city, the silver of its surface was tinged with that same iridescent sheen. The poison really had spread this far, even in the short time since he’d left Bella’s Pack. Lucky’s heart sank. Maybe the valley wouldn’t recover as quickly as he’d thought. . . .
There was a ridge of ground that fell sharply toward the river, and tree roots half-exposed by the rush of water jutted out over the bank. When he jumped down it he found a sandy hollow beneath the roots. Huddled there were the seven Leashed Dogs, their hackles stiff with fear.