The journey had been tiring, full of dips and inclines where the tall trees clung to the ground. Finally Lucky reached the highest point in the forest. He stopped and looked around. The Sun-Dog trod his path over the land, casting a gentle morning light. White clouds twisted in the sky and the air was damp and clean.
Almost hidden in the distance beyond the soft borders of treetops was the shimmering lake. The nearer end of the lake was in the Wild Pack’s abandoned territory. On its far side, by a collection of craggy rocks, were the friends he had left behind. He thought of Bella, his litter-sister, and the other Leashed Dogs. He wondered how they were faring in the larger Pack, and hoped that Alpha wasn’t being too hard on them. Then he pictured Sweet with her large dark eyes. His belly clenched as he thought of her, remembering that look of betrayal. . . .
He turned toward a clearing with rolling fields below. It was the Leashed Dogs’ first territory, where they had learned to hunt and work as a team. He felt a surge of pride in his friends, despite everything—they had come a long way since they had first left the city.
With renewed energy, Lucky ran, dashing through the trees to open fields of grass until he could see jagged outlines of longpaw homes rise up against the skyline. They grew up like weeds around him as he stepped from the soft, muddy grass back onto the hard, cracked surface of the streets.
Lucky slowed his pace as he entered the city, sniffing for signs of bad air, listening for the familiar rumble of loudcages. But there was only silence. The loudcages stood lifeless between pools of shattered clear-stone. Beneath their twisted muzzles were dried pools of the juice longpaws fed them.
The loudcages have been bleeding.
The roads were cracked and Lucky had to leap over a foul-smelling stream. The water glistened, its oily sheen catching the light of the Sun-Dog, which climbed overhead.
The city was still deserted. The longpaws had not returned.
It was odd to be back here, to feel the hard stone under his paws. To his surprise, Lucky realized he had become used to the feel of grass. He felt a sudden longing for his old life of wandering, scavenging food, and relaxing with his friends, never depending on anyone else. But there was no denying that part of his life had gone, perhaps for good.
The city he had left behind had not returned to normal. He could never live here again.
Lucky slunk through the quiet streets, searching for the Leashed Dogs’ homes. The buildings looked familiar, though changed. The grass in front of the houses had grown almost as tall as he was, and vines crept along the walls without the longpaws to contain them. Everything looked tired and deserted.
He reached the corner of the street where the Leashed Dogs had lived before the Big Growl. Like the other buildings, the houses looked bent, their yards overgrown with neglect. Lucky watched from a distance, sniffing the air, wondering where Mickey had gone. He expected his friend to greet him with excited yaps, but the Farm Dog was nowhere to be seen.
If he isn’t here, where is he?
Lucky’s heart sank. What should he do now? Explore the city? No, there was nothing for him here anymore. Not even the scraps of food he’d once scavenged.
Lucky shook himself, took a deep breath, and sniffed again. Mickey! Yes, he was certain: His friend was nearby. But why can’t I see him?
Lucky followed his nose over the cracked ground, his whiskers tingling; at last, he saw a flash of black-and-white fur in the shadow of a loudcage. Mickey was crouched there. Something in the Farm Dog’s scent and posture made Lucky uneasy, and he kept low as he approached, making sure he did not seem threatening.
“Mickey? It’s me, Lucky. I’ve been looking for you.”
Mickey gave a flick of the ear but he kept his eyes fixed, staring across the street beyond Lucky.
Lucky paused. “What’s wrong? What are you hiding from?”
“I’m not hiding!” Mickey growled. “I’m waiting. Look.”
Lucky followed his gaze. At the far end of the street he saw movement—two longpaws clambering out of a house near the corner of the street.
Unlike the ones he had seen in the fields beyond the city, these longpaws did not have black, mouthless faces and bright yellow fur. Instead they had pelts like the old longpaws used to, but they were torn and the skin underneath was filthy. He watched as they dragged out a large, flat object made of dried tree that had four pawless legs.
Some instinct made Lucky draw back behind the loudcages. These longpaws reminded Lucky of the ones he had seen sometimes before the Big Growl, when he used to roam the streets. Unlike most longpaws, this type did not seem to live in Packs. They lived outside, huddling in their shaggy, dirty pelts. They stank of fire-juice, and would yelp and squabble among themselves constantly, and when they approached other longpaws, they would be chased away.
But now there were no other longpaws to be seen.
Lucky and Mickey watched as the shabby-furred longpaws removed more objects from the house and piled them in the high grass. They dropped them heavily, one of the longpaws leaning over to spit on the pavement. Even from this distance, Lucky could see that the pool of saliva was yellow and there was yellow froth around the longpaw’s muzzle. His face was gaunt and sallow, and Lucky spotted the bones jutting out at the base of his neck. Lucky knew that hunger made longpaws crazy, and this was the hungriest longpaw he had ever seen.
The dogs would have to keep their distance.
The longpaws were on the move, pushing open the door to the next house and stumbling inside. Lucky could hear dragging and crashing sounds.
Mickey snarled beneath his breath, his haunches low and ears pressed flat as he watched in silence. “Nasty, disgusting longpaws,” he growled, shifting slightly, still crouching by the loudcage. “They’d better not go near my longpaws’ house. They better not even think about it!”
Lucky was not entirely sure what the longpaws were thinking about. There couldn’t be any food for them to find—not after all this time. He kept a wary eye on Mickey as the longpaws advanced, disappearing into each house and reappearing with things they had found inside.
They were getting closer and closer to Mickey’s old home.
They seemed more . . . wild than ordinary longpaws. He thought about the Leashed Dogs and how they had struggled. Those who didn’t learn to survive in this strange new world would surely have starved to death. It must have been the same for the longpaws who were left behind, forgotten by those who had fled the city, just as the Leashed Dogs had been abandoned by their masters.
Mickey stood up straight, his back legs stiffening. He watched with a low growl as the longpaws stopped in front of his old home. They yapped loudly at each other, one bending forward and coughing as the other leaned against the wall.
“Mickey, it’s not safe,” Lucky said in a soft voice. “Those longpaws are dangerous. You don’t know what they might do.”
Mickey turned around sharply. “I have a duty to my longpaws’ home.” His ears twitched and he narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t understand. You were a Lone Dog before the Big Growl. What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were one of the Pack these days.”
Lucky was stung, but he pressed on. “Your longpaws left a long time ago!”
“It’s still their home,” Mickey growled. “Mine, too. All my life I’ve been brought up to defend it. I have to stop these scavengers!” He turned to the longpaws and barked furiously, his ears pressed against his head. Lucky cringed, but the longpaws ignored Mickey and stood yapping in front of the house.
One of the longpaws kicked the door open and both of them disappeared inside. Mickey threw a desperate look at Lucky.
Lucky could see how much this meant to his friend. “Okay . . . follow me, and do what I do,” he instructed. He pulled back his lips, revealing his teeth. Mickey did the same. Growling, he entered the doorway as the longpaws crossed between rooms. One of them glanced at him, but they didn’t stop what they were doing.
Mickey started to bark again. ??
?They’re ignoring us! We should charge at them!”
“Trust me,” urged Lucky. He remembered a small, wiry-haired dog with a pointy nose who he’d known in the city before the Big Growl. The little dog used to terrify passing longpaws, despite his size. He did it not by barking and hopping around but by standing perfectly still and growling. The trick was to look confident.
Longpaws don’t know what a dog is thinking. And that scares them.
Mickey took his cue, doing a good impression of Lucky, lips curled back and snarling steadily. The two dogs edged deeper into the house, approaching a small room where both longpaws were busy gathering objects. The dogs stood at the entrance, almost motionless, growling in low voices.
The longpaws looked again at the dogs, and stopped moving around. One threw his hands in the air and started barking at the dogs. Lucky held his ground and Mickey did the same, paws planted to the floor and growling all the time.
The longpaws yelped to each other. Up close, Lucky could see the yellow spit gathering at their mouths. Their lips had a green tinge, which reminded Lucky of the poisonous river-water that had made Bruno sick. The one that had tried to shoo them away had angry pink scabs along his jawline. He took a step back but the other longpaw made a grab for a deep, clear-stone dish, and waved it in front of Lucky. The hairs prickled along Lucky’s back and fear coursed through him, his paw pads suddenly damp with sweat. Despite this, he held firm. The longpaw flung the object and it flew past Lucky’s head, smashing against the wall. Lucky flinched but continued to growl, and Mickey only snarled louder.
Lucky’s ears flipped back at the sound of a deep groan. The house was speaking! His body tensed. Was it moving? Would it collapse?
The longpaw who had hurled the clear-stone hastily gathered up more objects to throw at the dogs. Lucky sensed Mickey stiffen, preparing for an onslaught, but the Farm Dog didn’t even whimper when a heavy object clipped his ear. Lucky was impressed.
“You’re doing great!” he told Mickey. “You’ve got them spooked!”
There was a twitch of pleasure in his friend’s tail as he held his stance and continued to snarl.
Lucky could see the longpaws exchanging nervous glances, backing against the wall of the small room. Then the house growled loudly and a shower of dust fell from above them. One of the longpaws started coughing and Lucky barked at them:
“Get out of here! This is not your place! Get out before we make you!”
His bark echoed back at him in the small room and seemed to dislodge more dust, which fell in white shrouds.
The longpaws cowered, backs against the wall. Lucky felt a wave of satisfaction when he caught the scent of their fear. He knew that they would not defend themselves against an attack—they would run away at the first opportunity. He turned to bark to Mickey but the ground shuddered beneath their paws as the house growled again. With a whine, a long wound tore open along one wall, crawling upward and bleeding more dust and debris.
The longpaws yelped fearfully, dropping the objects they had gathered and shoving each other out of the way as they made for the door. They hurried past the dogs, coughing as they broke into the open.
Lucky nudged Mickey urgently. “We have to get out!” he barked.
Mickey’s eyes were wild, shooting around the room.
“But my longpaws—”
“Now!” snarled Lucky.
With an ear-piercing crack, the side of the room started sinking and the ceiling rocked.
The house! thought Lucky. It’s falling down!
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lucky and Mickey scrambled outside and bolted across the road to a stretch of grass in front of another longpaw house. They spun around in time to see a wall of Mickey’s old home buckle. Its guts sprayed through cracks and rained on the front lawn. There was the sound of tearing and cracking. The buckling wall folded inward, crushing whatever remained inside. Mickey walked a tight circle, trembling and yelping in despair.
Lucky caught his friend’s wild expression. “No!” he barked. “Stay back! Your longpaws are far away.”
Mickey dropped to the ground, his flanks heaving. “I know,” he whined. “But . . . I must defend the house!”
Lucky licked his friend’s nose. “There’s nothing to defend,” he soothed. “Your longpaws left long ago.”
There was another crack and the front door bulged forward. Debris from the broken building poured out of it, blocking the path.
“You would have been killed if you had stayed there a moment longer. Both of us would have been.”
Mickey yelped in acknowledgment. Both dogs crouched low to the grass, panting. The noises had died down. Now there was only the occasional clunk or crash and billows of white mist around the building.
Without warning, Mickey sprang to his paws, throwing back his head and howling: “All the good longpaws have gone! They’ve gone! Only the bad ones are left!”
Mickey walked a few paces and howled again, now addressing his departed longpaws. “Why did you leave me? I would never have left you! Why did you go?”
Lucky stayed quiet. Let him get it out, he thought.
Mickey’s howls grew louder. “You let me come upstairs, you gave me treats. . . . You took me to the big garden, we played together. . . . I waited for you when I was alone in the house. . . . I thought about you all the time. Why didn’t you take me with you?”
Eventually the black-and-white dog fell silent. He flopped back onto the grass and dropped his head, his eyes still fixed on the house.
“I thought they’d come back,” he whimpered. His ears twitched. “The other longpaws, the bad ones . . . we challenged them, we scared them with our growls and teeth. I could smell their fear-scent. That’s not how it used to be. I’ve never threatened longpaws before.”
“The world has changed since the Big Growl,” said Lucky.
“That’s the thing. It wasn’t only the earth that was scarred and altered,” whined Mickey miserably. “It has changed the dogs who walk on it.” He sniffed the ground. “Earth-Dog, what happened to you?” He pawed the ground a moment and sighed, turning his shining, dark eyes to Lucky. “I was wrong to leave the Pack and come back here. I realize now that we have nothing left but each other.” Mickey tilted his head. “Lucky, I’m sorry I was so unfriendly when you arrived. It was those horrible longpaws, and you took me by surprise, that’s all. I’m glad to see you but . . . why are you here? Did you leave the Pack too?”
Lucky looked away, beyond his friend, to the dust that still swirled around the broken home.
“I had to go, Mickey.” He shivered when he remembered how Alpha had thrown him out. None of the dogs had stood their ground against the half wolf, not even the Leashed Dogs. He didn’t want to talk about that now.
“I know, I know, you’re a ‘Lone Dog,’” Mickey barked. “But you relied on longpaws as much as we did. With them all gone, maybe there’s no place for Lone Dogs anymore? The Pack is our family now. We need to go back, Lucky. We need to tell them that we made a mistake.”
Lucky swallowed, his throat dry. He was happy that Mickey was ready to leave this place of death and decay. Mickey would be safer in the Pack. But the dogs would never allow Lucky to come back. He felt a sad weight on his chest.
“You’re right; this is no place for a dog anymore,” he said. The city was poisoned. Nothing could live here for long.
Mickey was gazing at him, a twinkle in his brown eyes and his tail thumping the ground. “It’s not that far, Lucky. We both made it in good time, didn’t we? If we hurry, we could even be there by next no-sun.” He rose to his paws, panting.
There was genuine cheerfulness in his face. Lucky couldn’t remember the last time he had seen it. He’s so happy because he doesn’t feel lost anymore. He’s finally accepted that his longpaws have gone. I can’t tell him now that the Pack forced me out, not yet.
Lucky rose to his paws. “If you really want to go back . . . well, I’ll come some of the way with you.”
> Mickey barked excitedly, licking Lucky’s ears.
“I can’t rejoin the Pack, though,” Lucky added quickly.
Mickey started hopping and prancing back and forth. “Can’t or won’t? When will you stop pretending that you’re better off on your own? You’re safer and happier in the Pack; you know you are!” He nipped Lucky’s ear playfully. “You clearly belong with other dogs. And the Pack needs you, as well. We’ve only survived this far with your help.”
Lucky didn’t answer this but gave Mickey a good-natured shove with his head, pleased to see his friend’s spirits so high. He hadn’t expected him to recover so quickly.
I’ve come all this way to keep him safe, Lucky thought. I can’t waste an opportunity to do just that. “Let’s go,” he said, his tail starting to wag in spite of himself.
Mickey growled happily, nudging Lucky as the two dogs play-fought in the long grass. Then Lucky broke away and started bounding along the road, making toward the path out of the city.
“Wait!” Mickey barked.
Lucky turned, his ears pricked up. “Is something wrong?”
“No. There’s just something I need to do. . . .”
Lucky watched as Mickey disappeared behind a loudcage, the one where he had first spotted the black-and-white dog watching his longpaws’ house. A moment later, Mickey reappeared, the longpaw glove held in his jaws. It was worn and filthy, stuffing trailing from a tear in the fabric, but Mickey carried it as though it was the most precious thing on earth. His tail no longer wagging, he walked solemnly toward the house. Lucky was about to stop him when Mickey paused before the front lawn that was now dusted white.