Sunshine’s ears drooped. “Well . . .”
“No,” Bella growled witheringly. “We don’t.”
“We . . . we could try to find some?” Sunshine suggested, but Lucky could see that even she didn’t think it was a good idea. Daisy gave her a supportive lick on one long-furred ear.
“I think River-Dog would want us to use any food we find to keep ourselves alive. We’ll think of something else,” she said kindly. Sunshine dipped her head, embarrassed.
Lucky felt a little sorry for Sunshine. If she could suggest, even for a moment, giving their food supplies away so casually, she was still a long way from understanding survival in the Wild.
Mickey was lying with his head on the longpaw glove he’d brought with him all the way from the city, and he suddenly sniffed at it and looked up. “I have an idea. What do we dogs like almost as much as eating?” He glanced around at all of them. “Playing! My longpaw pup would always wear this while he played fetch with me.”
“How does that help?” Bella asked.
“All dogs like a game of fetch, don’t we? Let’s find the River-Dog a really good stick!”
Bella cocked her head, thinking. “That might work.”
Lucky wasn’t so sure, but Mickey looked enormously pleased with himself. “Come on, then. I bet we can find something really special. We’ll check with Martha before we offer it, to make sure we find something the River-Dog will like.”
Bella gave a bark of approval.
To Lucky it sounded more like Leashed Dog logic—Why would the River-Dog want anything to play with, as if he needed a longpaw owner to entertain him?—but if it would make the others feel better, maybe it was worth a try. And perhaps the good intentions behind the gift would win over the River-Dog. Surely he would at least be pleased with the Pack’s efforts.
Mickey was already bounding between the remaining trees, sniffing out fallen branches and twigs. The others darted to join him, nosing in the tangled foliage, clearly relieved to have something positive to do. Their excitement was infectious, and Lucky found his hopes rising as he too searched for a fine fetching-stick. It was nice to be moving toward something, rather than running away.
“How about this one?” grunted Bruno through a mouthful of birch branch.
They all stopped their searching to examine Bruno’s find. It was a beautifully shaped stick, smooth and sturdy but bent just enough in the middle to give the best jaw-hold. When they brought it to her, Martha tilted her head, sniffing at the papery silver bark.
“It’s beautiful,” she announced at last. “I think the River-Dog will like it very much.”
They were all yelping and whining with eagerness as they trotted to the riverbank, Martha limping slowly in front carrying the special stick, and Bruno padding beside her, his head proudly held high.
At the crumbling bank, Martha lowered herself onto her forepaws and gently released the gift. The whole Pack helped her nose it into the stream without touching the water. It caught on a tuft of grass but, with a last nudge, it came free and floated off into the deeper water, swirling in the lazy current.
“River-Dog!” whined Martha. “Please help us. We need clean water to drink.”
The rest of the Pack yelped in agreement, watching as the stick slid smoothly between rocks and into a fast-flowing channel of white water. It bounced and tumbled in the rushing current, and Sunshine yelped with delight.
“The River-Dog’s playing with the stick! See? He really is!”
The dogs panted happily, watching the stick drift downstream into calmer water, creating eddies of rainbow in the filmy green surface. Then it spun out of sight.
Martha’s ears drooped. “Poor River-Dog,” she said softly. “He must hate that his rivers are poisoned like this. Perhaps he’s unwell himself.”
“Let’s just hope he likes our offering,” said Bella, nuzzling her neck. “We’ve done all we can for now. We’ll find out soon enough if there’s any change.”
Lucky caught his litter-sister’s eye as they turned and padded back toward their camp. There was anxiety in Bella’s expression. She’s no more certain of this than I am, he thought.
But at least Bella was keeping the Pack’s spirits up, and it made Lucky happy to watch them turning their ritual circles and sending their thoughts to the Sky-Dogs. He felt a little more optimistic as he settled to sleep himself, his head against his litter-sister’s warm flank.
They were trying to connect with the ways of the Wild. If they were going to survive in this empty and broken world, they were going to have to learn to understand it the same way that Lucky had learned to understand the city.
It was going to take time, he knew. But as no-sun approached, Lucky felt a flutter of hope.
Maybe they can learn, he thought.
A crash woke him from a deep sleep. As Lucky jerked his head, his whole body tensing and bristling, he felt the spatter of cold raindrops against his fur. Flattening his ears against his skull, he looked up just in time to see a bolt of energy from Lightning’s hindpaws crackle across the blackness of no-sun. The Sky-Dogs snarled again.
Beside him, Bella snapped awake, trembling. The others too were waking up, whining anxiously as rain began battering their bodies. Lucky cringed at the drops, which felt as hard as stones falling from the sky. Within a few seconds his fur was plastered to his skin. Again Lightning leaped, and this time the Sky-Dogs gave an enormous deafening growl directly above them.
Sunshine sprang to her feet, yelping and barking now, and the rest followed. Lucky stood in the center of the panicking Pack, turning on the spot to watch them and beginning to get dizzy as they ran in chaotic circles.
“What’s wrong? Stop! Slow down!”
“A storm, Lucky!” howled Daisy. “We need to hide!”
Lucky barked his reassurance, but they took no notice of him. Even Bruno, usually so stolid, was whimpering as he dashed from tree to tree.
“It’s just a storm!” It was certainly a fierce one, but Lucky knew he had to calm them down. He tried a jovial bark. “You’re Wild Dogs now; you don’t have to be scared of Lightning and the Sky-Dogs’ bickering.”
“But Sunshine’s right,” yelped Martha, pressing her body close to the ground as Lightning’s bolt of power exploded yet again over their heads. “There’s nowhere to shelter! Where do we run to?”
They were panicking. Lucky could understand—their longpaws must have protected them from every storm, coddling them in their baskets and kennels whenever Lightning bounded across the sky, whenever the Sky-Dogs tussled noisily. He’d gotten them through a storm before, but it hadn’t been nearly this bad. The Leashed Dogs simply weren’t used to facing a true storm by themselves.
“Listen to the Sky-Dogs,” wailed Mickey. “They’re furious!”
“They’re only growling at Lightning!” barked Lucky, but his voice was lost in another chorus of thunder from the Sky-Dogs.
Martha cowered, trying to put her huge paws over her ears. “They’ve sent Lightning to burn the earth. They must be angry with us!”
Sunshine was a blur of white fur, dashing here and there, whining and howling her terror. At last, exhausted, she crept between Martha’s legs, shaking violently.
“It’s never going to end,” she whimpered. “First the Big Growl, then those horrible Fight Dogs. And now the Sky-Dogs and Lightning are trying to finish us off! We’ve got the most awful luck! Nothing but trouble!”
“Sunshine, calm down!” Lucky tried to lick the little dog’s black nose, but she had buried her head in Martha’s fur, and the older dog’s own whines and trembles did nothing to settle her.
Lucky feared this was going to lead to real trouble. The Leashed Dogs were working themselves into a frenzy. Mickey was backing away, staring in terror at the sky. Martha stood up and began to lumber blindly toward the river, her wounded leg threatening to give with every step. She seemed to have forgotten Sunshine, who started to bark wildly now that her shelter had been taken away. Elsew
here, Lucky could see Bruno making a sudden, clumsy break for the open ground.
They’re running! Lucky realized with horror. The Pack was splitting up. He spun around again, not knowing which dog to chase after first.
They’re going to get lost, scattered . . . Lightning will burn them. . . .
And the enemy Pack is still out there!
CHAPTER FIVE
Lucky was soaked to the skin. He raised his hackles, turned up his head, and waited for a pause in the Sky-Dogs’ snarling and growling. When it came, he gave the loudest, most commanding bark that he could muster.
“Come with me,” he ordered. “Now.”
The Leashed Dogs grew still, looking about themselves in shock. Then they crept closer to him, shivering as they moved. Lucky gave a few barks and growls of encouragement as he began to guide them toward the thicker tree cover. There might be some risk of falling trees and branches, but it would be much more dangerous to let the Leashed Dogs go on working themselves into their panic out in the open, where any stray lashing of Lightning could kill them instantly. Lucky snapped at Sunshine as she hesitated, and she jumped to follow him. Heads low, and tails between their legs, the Leashed Dogs crept into the dark undergrowth after Lucky.
The belt of trees here was dense, though it thinned out into a clearing a few dog-lengths away where a single tall pine stood alone, higher than the others. Whining reassurance, Lucky gathered the dogs into the bushiest thicket of trunks, a good leap-stride from the clearing. He didn’t know why, but he felt sure they had to stay here, concealed from the Sky-Dogs.
The thicker foliage muffled the rage of the storm, and even the rain couldn’t pelt down so hard. Lucky could hear his friends’ breathing beginning to calm down, their whining growing quieter and more subdued. They were getting ahold of themselves. Lucky let out a huff of relief. Mickey shook his head from side to side and growled, as if realizing suddenly how silly he’d been. All of them peered nervously up through the branches at the sky, waiting for the next outburst.
Then the sky exploded into brightness. Lightning hurtled to Earth, trailing his blinding energy. Lucky froze with terror as Lightning’s hindlegs caught the lone pine. It seemed to explode into flames, the ball of fire almost blindingly bright.
For an instant, the dogs were stunned into silence by the heat and the light. No-sun had been driven away by the glare and roar of the flaming tree. Lucky bit back a whine of relief and fear. I remember! Old Hunter had seen many storms, and told me that lone trees were always attacked by Lightning.
“Wildfire!” Mickey howled, tail tight between his legs.
“NO!” Any control that Sunshine had gained was torn apart, as she fled from the safety of the trees with an anguished howl.
“Sunshine!” Bella barked. “Come back!”
The little dog was already a distance away, racing toward the water. “River-Dog! River-Dog! Protect us!” she howled.
“No!” Bella sped after Sunshine, and then Lucky spotted what his litter-sister had obviously seen.
The river in front of Sunshine looked strange, like no river he had ever seen before. It looked as if it was rising, bulging. Cold horror ran through Lucky’s body as he raced after Bella, barking at Sunshine to stop.
Sunshine took no notice of either of them, and continued to bolt toward the swelling river. As Lightning slashed another path across the sky, Lucky saw the danger clearly, just for an instant. The water was higher than the bank. How was that even possible? It was a dirty, foaming line, and the river was coming toward them.
With a shock as sharp as if Lightning had run right into him, he realized. The river’s breaking free!
Bella was on top of Sunshine now, holding her down. Lucky leaped in to help his litter-sister move the little dog. He grabbed on to one of Sunshine’s forelegs while Bella took her collar between her teeth. Then they scrabbled into an abrupt turn, racing away from the looming water. Sunshine yelped—more in shock than pain—as they pulled her away.
Then Lucky heard the sudden crash and roar of the water. So much for liking the stick; the River-Dog is furious!
They burst into the trees as the other dogs stared past them, their eyes wide and their flanks heaving in horror. As he and Bella dropped Sunshine unceremoniously to the ground, Lucky spun on his paws.
The river was still rushing toward them, the clear water turned to a churning darkness. The River-Dog was baying his rage. The waves of water were racing closer, their tips edged with that sick-looking, creamy foam.
“Run!” barked Lucky.
The dogs didn’t need to be told twice. Yelping with terror, they fled farther up the valley, while behind them, the menacing torrent thundered through the trees where they’d been standing moments before. Lucky heard the tear and crack of branches pounded by water.
“Higher ground!” barked Lucky urgently. “Keep going up!” Water could not climb hills—that much, he knew.
The dogs were panting and gasping by the time Lucky let them halt, high on the slope. Flanks heaving, they stared down at the sheet of dirty, choppy water that lay across the lower meadows. Many of the trees were half-submerged, small waves licking at their trunks.
Lucky glanced at the sky. Clouds were breaking up, letting the Moon-Dog gleam between their shreds, and the rain had slackened to a spitting drizzle. The battle above them was over, and the Sky-Dogs’ rumbling growls faded in the distance. The pine was sending up clouds of sharp-scented steam, its top branches blackened, half its trunk submerged in the broken river. A few last flames flickered in its topmost branches, but Wildfire’s trail had been swallowed by the water.
“It’s over,” breathed Martha. “The Sky-Dogs have stopped fighting.”
“For now.” Sunshine shivered. “I’m sorry, Lucky. I’m sorry, Bella. I didn’t know what to do. I was so scared. . . .”
“Don’t worry too much,” said Lucky. Thinking his bark might have been a little gruff, he gave her ear a reassuring lick. “But try not to panic. Trust in your Packmates. They are who you need to rely on now.”
The hillside seemed very exposed, but that didn’t bother Lucky when he thought about what might have happened to them had they stayed lower down the slope. He picked his way farther up, through flattened grass and tangled twigs, letting the others follow at their own speed. They’d been barked at more than enough since his return, and any haste or urgency might cause one of them to make a wrong step in the dark. This was something they could not afford.
Still, they were close behind him when he paused on a ridge and cocked an ear. The ground fell away quite sharply, as far as a dog could safely jump, then leveled out into a shallow dip like a longpaw drinking bowl. It was sheltered, and the surface looked like it had not been wounded by the Big Growl.
“Let’s sleep here,” suggested Lucky.
“Is it safe?” Daisy was trembling, only partly from the exhaustion of the climb.
Lucky licked her ear. “It’s as safe as it can be, I think. I doubt we’ll find any other shelter up here.”
“Lucky’s right,” agreed Bella. “Don’t worry, Daisy. We’ll look after you.”
Lucky gave her an affectionate glance. He had a feeling that after what had happened to poor Alfie, Bella would be more protective of the smaller dogs than ever. “It’ll be sunup soon. We should get a bit of extra sleep if we can.”
Lucky was almost too tired to tread his ritual circle, and when he curled up by himself the tip of his tail flicked restlessly. The others soon fell into an exhausted sleep, but Lucky found he could not.
Wriggling, he tried to make himself more comfortable, but his fur was still sopping wet, and he could feel every little stone and twig against his body. He stood up to give himself an extra shake, but it didn’t help much. The air was cold against his wet skin, and his ears and tail felt bedraggled and heavy.
Once more he curled on the ground, his head on his paws, and closed his eyes determinedly. Please, Moon-Dog, he thought. Let me rest. . . .
&
nbsp; CHAPTER SIX
He must have drifted into sleep eventually, Lucky realized, because the Sun-Dog had bounded high into the sky by the time his eyes next blinked open. Rising and stretching gratefully, he gave himself a huge shake. His fur was dry at last, and he felt both warmer and much better.
The rest of the Pack was a little way down the hill, excitedly dashing along the river’s new banks, sniffing at the water. Lucky stared. The river’s overflow had become a lake. It had subsided quite a bit from its high point in the night, and now shone silver in the sunlight, lapping peacefully at the grass and tree trunks it had flooded.
Spotting him, Daisy barked a joyful “Good morning!” and bounded up the hill to jump and nip at his muzzle.
“Come and see, Lucky. You won’t believe what we’ve found!”
“What is it, Daisy?” He could hear the fondness in his own voice. He was glad the little white dog was happy again. She trotted down the slope ahead of him, tail wagging, and for a moment Lucky thought with alarm that she was going to plunge straight into the river. But she stopped right on its new edge, where it had eaten away the bank, and turned to face him again, panting happily.
Lucky peered past her, puzzled. “What is it?”
Bruno padded to his shoulder. “No, Lucky—there. Beneath the bank. The river must have washed away some loose earth. And look what it has uncovered!”
Still doubtful, Lucky dropped carefully to a flat patch of sand. He looked closer. Bruno was right—the rising water had washed away rocks, roots, and soil, revealing deep caves in the rock.
“That is amazing.” Lucky padded closer, sniffing at the great holes. They looked as if a gigantic dog had scooped them out of the high bank. Lucky frowned, thinking this must have been a very careful dog, because all the holes looked the same. Each one was as high as a fully grown longpaw, and the walls inside were of smooth stone, dry and clean and . . .
Unnatural.
His flanks tingled as memories drifted through his mind. Uncomfortable memories of rooms in the Trap House—long cold-rooms between the cage-rooms—but these caves were smaller, and of course there were no cages inside them.