Lick gave a rumbling laugh, a deep one that reminded Lucky just how fast the young dog was growing. “At least I’m not the only one, then.”
“It’s not something all dogs do,” Lucky reminded her. “Think of the Leashed Dogs.”
Lick sniffed wryly. “They don’t know how to do anything right.”
Poor Lick. She’s putting on a brave face, but I know she’s desperate to get her adult dog-name like the others. Covering his anger at Alpha, Lucky nudged her. “You’ll get a Naming Ceremony, don’t worry.”
“I hope so.” Lick scowled. “Why won’t Alpha let me have one now?”
“Should I tell you how I found my name?” Fiery had fallen back to pad at Lucky’s side again.
“Go on,” said Lucky, relieved to have a story to distract Lick—even if it did involve naming.
Sure enough, the young dog looked eager to hear Fiery’s tale. “What was your pup name?” she asked.
“Snail!” Fiery barked a laugh.
“Snail?” Lick shot him a disbelieving look.
“Really,” Fiery assured her. “My Mother-Dog called me Snail because I was so fond of them. I spent all my time hunting them out, turning them over, and nosing about in their shells.”
“Ugh,” said Lick with a shiver.
“Hush, Lick!” scolded Lucky, though he thought it sounded disgusting too.
“I loved snails. Still enjoy one occasionally,” added Fiery with another growl of amusement. “Of course, I couldn’t be Snail forever. So not long after my back teeth grew in, I was asked by my Pack to choose my true name.”
“How did you choose?” asked Lick, a tinge of envy in her voice.
“I knew that for such a big dog, I was fast. I knew it from when I first learned to run. I could run almost as fast as Lightning,” laughed Fiery, “or so I thought when I was young and arrogant. I watched Lightning in the sky, and thought about how he looked like a streak of flame—and I just knew. I knew instantly that Fiery was my true name. Don’t you think it suits me?”
Lucky growled his agreement, amused at Fiery’s obvious pride in his fine name. “It does. So that’s how the Naming Ceremony works? Dogs choose who and what they are?”
Fiery nodded. “Yes. A name sums up a dog’s character. That’s why it’s so important. It’s vital for a dog to get it right, because it will define him all his life.”
“I like the sound of that,” murmured Lucky.
“So do I,” said Lick mournfully.
Lucky licked her ear in sympathy. “I was always a Lone Dog, and no Pack ever taught me to choose my name. But if dogs have to be in a Pack, then I think it’s good for them to choose who they are in that Pack.”
“Exactly,” agreed Fiery. “A dog makes himself a true member of the Pack when he chooses his name. Or hers,” he added, with a kind glance at Lick.
“It’s more natural than longpaws giving us names,” murmured Lucky, feeling a twang of regret deep in his gut.
“Much more natural,” agreed Fiery. “It’s—look! There!”
A shadow flashed through the undergrowth ahead. A dull, brown flash, not a white one, but it was definitely a . . .
“Rabbit!” barked Lick. The young Fierce Dog shot after the creature in pursuit, giving a volley of barks.
“Lick!” Pounding after her, Lucky gave her a sharp nip on the haunch. “Quiet!”
Lick skidded to a halt, sending up a fluttering shower of golden leaves. “Oh.”
Fiery growled as he caught up. “There will be plenty more—as long as you don’t scare them all off.”
Lick lowered her head and tail, and whined apologetically. “Sorry, Lucky. Sorry, Fiery.”
Lucky nibbled her ear by way of forgiveness. “Don’t worry. Every dog makes mistakes.” Still, his fur prickled with unease. Fierce Dogs were bred by the longpaws for attack, not for the stealthy hunt. Lick was a sweet-hearted dog but she didn’t take naturally to caution and cunning, and that would not help her position in the Pack.
Hunching his shoulders, Lucky crept carefully forward through the tangle of branches and twigs. Fiery mimicked his movements, slinking off to his left so that he would approach the warren from a different direction. Their prey was clearly alarmed already; even though the dogs were careful to approach from downwind, some rabbits skittered away down holes. Others sat up on their hind legs, long ears erect, noses twitching suspiciously at the brisk Red Leaf air.
That wasn’t unusual—it was hard for even the most careful dog to catch rabbits unawares, Lucky reminded himself as another three rabbits dived for their tunnels. Seeking out the dark shape of Fiery among the foliage beyond the warren, Lucky caught the big dog’s eyes, and blinked in acknowledgment. Lucky knew what Fiery wanted, and Fiery trusted him to do it. That’s what Pack life’s all about. . . .
Turning his head, Lucky pricked one ear at Lick. Subdued now, she lowered her forequarters and crept close, her eyes eager and her tail quivering only a little.
“Lick, you can use that energy of yours now,” murmured Lucky. “You’re still smaller than we are, so you can be really helpful here.” He was pleased to see the young dog’s face brighten. “That rabbit hole, there? Pretend to attack it. Go after them and start digging.”
“Only pretend?” She tilted her sharp head.
“For now. Go on.” Lucky nodded at the entrance to the warren. “And make as much noise as you like this time!”
Lick gave a bark of joy and tore toward the hole. The few remaining rabbits scattered, vanishing down the more distant holes with a flash of white tails, but Lick concentrated on the burrow Lucky had shown her. Barking ferociously, she forced her head in, hindquarters trembling and tail thrashing, and tore at the earth with her foreclaws.
It worked as if the Forest-Dog himself had planned it. From holes across the warren, rabbits burst into the open air, fleeing in panic. Brown streaks of fur flashed across the yellowing grass of the glade, and Lucky sprang, pouncing and snapping, killing as quickly and cleanly as he could. He smashed a paw onto another fleeing rabbit and bit into its spine; then, catching his breath, he glanced up in Fiery’s direction.
Three rabbits had emerged almost under Fiery’s nose, but he didn’t lunge for them. Though his tensed muscles quivered with hunting instinct, the huge dog let them run; one tripped and tumbled over his muzzle in its panic, but he held on to his control, crouched low in stalking position.
“Now!” Lucky barked the signal as a flash of white shot from a burrow.
But Fiery was ahead of him. One swift leap, a crunch of his powerful teeth, the snap of fragile bone—and a limp and bloodied white rabbit dangled from his jaws. For an instant, Lucky felt the usual blood-tingling rush of delight that signaled a successful hunt.
Then an unexpected tremor of foreboding shivered through his body. The forest seemed to become still around him, the corpse of the white rabbit dazzling his vision so that he couldn’t move. Fiery tilted his head, and stared at him quizzically.
What’s wrong with me? We succeeded! “Well caught, Fiery!” Lucky shook himself and the paralyzing feeling faded. He raised his head and tail high as he trotted across the clearing.
Lick was still half-buried in the burrow, her muffled barks high-pitched with the thrill of the chase. Lucky paused, amused, and nudged her trembling rump. “All right, you can stop now, Lick.”
Wriggling backward, she tugged her filthy head free. Her ears were pricked high and her jaws were stretched wide, tongue lolling as she licked clotted earth from her muzzle.
“That was fun!” she whined.
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” growled Fiery drily through his mouthful of white rabbit. “You did well.”
Lucky wagged his tail slowly as he sniffed at the white-furred carcass. Again his spine prickled, but he turned to snatch up his own kills.
“Come on, Lick. You may not have killed this prey yourself, but you can help carry it back.”
“Yes, Lucky!” Happy as a small pup again, Lick se
ized two rabbits together in her jaws.
As they left the clearing, Lucky glanced back once to the spot where Fiery had killed the white rabbit. Dark red blood was pooled on the pale rock. He clenched his jaws hard around his own prey.
It was a hunt. A normal, everyday hunt, that’s all. There’s nothing special about that rabbit. Nothing but the startling white color of its pelt.
CHAPTER TWO
The way back led them through a shallow valley lined with thorn-scrub and thistles, the shadows of even the smallest trees thrown far across the ground by the Red Leaf rays of the Sun-Dog. The camp was not far ahead, but Lucky had no intention of letting his guard down.
The air was still, with a hint of frost, so Lucky was immediately alert when something rustled close by. He paused to see a golden shape push through the leafless twigs of the bushes.
“Bella,” he greeted his litter-sister warily.
Bella glanced awkwardly toward Fiery and Lick. She shook herself, but held her ground. “Hello, Lucky.”
Lucky laid his rabbits on the ground and barked to Fiery. “I’ll catch up with you.”
Fiery looked back over his shoulder, nodded, then summoned Lick on.
Lucky shifted his attention to Bella, who was pacing back and forth, not meeting his eye. My litter-sister, he reminded himself; and yet she seemed more of a stranger than Fiery. Not so long ago she had been ready to sacrifice him for the good of her Leashed Pack.
Bella stopped pacing at last and scuffed the ground with a forepaw, her claws raking gashes like wounds in the dry earth.
“Lucky,” she mumbled at last. “We haven’t really spoken since—”
“Since when?” barked Lucky sharply as her voice trailed into silence. “Come on, Bella. Can’t you say the words for what you did?”
She lifted her golden head and watched him steadily for the first time. Lucky saw her throat muscles contract.
“Since I abandoned you with Alpha’s Pack,” she growled in a low voice. “And since I led the attack with the foxes.”
“I’m your litter-brother,” barked Lucky bitterly. “But it seems I’m just here to be used like a sacrifice.”
“Oh, Lucky.” Bella’s voice was full of misery. Wrapping her tail tightly around her rump, she crouched down on her forequarters. “Do you remember the Pup-Pack? Do you remember all those nights we curled up together, staying warm against our Mother-Dog?”
Lucky growled, deep in his throat. “Do you think reminding me of our Pup-Pack will make me forget what you did?”
“No! That’s not what I’m trying to do, Lucky. Do you remember all the stories Mother-Dog told us?” Bella’s soft brown eyes were pleading. “She taught us about wolves, didn’t she? Stay away from wolves, she used to say. They’re bad. Keep your distance, pups! I thought that trying to defeat Alpha was the right thing. I thought it was the most important thing.”
“Huh. You let pup-tales scare you into betraying me. Is that what you mean?”
“He’s only a half wolf,” Bella went on desperately. “But he looks like a wolf, doesn’t he? I thought he was a threat to all of us. To you as well!”
“Which is why you asked me to spy for you in his Pack?” snapped Lucky. “And lied to me at the same time? You’ve got very strange ideas about how to protect me, Bella.”
“I was trying to do the right thing, truly. I thought you’d be in more danger if you knew what we were planning.”
Lucky twisted his muzzle contemptuously. “And where does that leave you now, litter-sister? You’re living with the half wolf! In his Pack! What happened to keeping your distance? That’s not doing what the Mother-Dog told you, is it? You can’t use her words as an excuse.”
Bella lowered her body deeper into the dirt and shuffled forward, thumping the grass pleadingly with her tail. She pressed her jaw to the earth, and blinked up at him. “I know now it was wrong, Lucky. I never intended for you to get hurt. I meant well, but it was a mistake.”
Her eyes glistened and her ears drooped miserably. She’s waiting for me to forgive her, thought Lucky, tormented. The trouble is, I can’t. Not yet.
“You think meaning well excuses what you did?”
Bella sprang to her paws suddenly, and Lucky flinched. Her eyes, so dark and unhappy before, now flashed with anger as she growled:
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Lucky!”
“What?” Lucky lifted his ears in shock, his body still.
“What about when Alpha threatened to kill me?” Her bark was furious. “Yes, I’m your litter-sister. And you did nothing to defend me!”
Shame twisted in Lucky’s gut, undermining all his anger. She’s right. Bruno spoke up for Bella, but I didn’t.
Lucky sat down on his haunches, studying his litter-sister. Her expression was a tormented mixture of fury and remorse.
He remembered the day when he’d found Bella again, the day she and her makeshift Pack had fought off the foxes that had threatened him in the longpaw mall. He remembered his shock at seeing her after so long, and his happiness. He remembered the surge of joy when he’d decided to stay with her and her Pack for a while. And what dog would have thought it would turn out as it did?
I don’t want it to be like this between us.
A scent tickled his nostrils. Glancing toward the scrubby thornbushes that protected the camp, Lucky caught sight of two dark eyes in a slender, pointed face. The young Fierce Dog had been watching them the whole time—and listening.
“Lick,” he barked.
Hesitantly Lick squeezed through the thorns and padded across to Lucky and Bella, her tail tucked low. The late Red Leaf sunlight made her glossy hide a dark, shining bronze, reminding Lucky uneasily of Lick’s former Pack-Alpha, Blade.
Still, the humble voice was nothing like Blade’s. “I’m sorry, Lucky. I shouldn’t have eavesdropped, but I was worried.”
Lucky gave Bella a bemused glance, then turned back to Lick. “What in the name of the Earth-Dog were you worried about? You know Bella.”
“That’s just it. You and Bella.” Sitting down on her haunches, Lick lowered her ears. “I wish I still had my littermates. You don’t know how truly lucky you are.”
Lucky felt a heavy weight of shame in his belly. Of course, Lick had lost her siblings, Wiggle and Grunt—one dead, and the other taken by the vicious Blade.
“I’m sorry, Lick,” he growled quietly. “I hadn’t forgotten your loss. But between Bella and me, it’s just—things have happened. We need to . . .”
Lick raised her sad eyes. “You should be grateful to still have each other,” she mumbled awkwardly. “That’s what I think. That’s all.”
The young Fierce Dog rose and padded back toward the camp, tail drooping and shoulders slumped. Lucky’s heart turned in his chest and his tail thumped the ground in pride. Lick had shown wisdom beyond her years.
I wish Alpha could have heard that pup just now, he thought. That would have shown him what a kind-tempered dog she is.
There was a soft whine from Bella, and he finally met her eyes. He recognized an aching there, one that felt familiar.
Lick’s right. We’re both upset right now, but—
He had barely opened his jaws to speak more kindly to his litter-sister, when a deafening crack shattered the sky, and brilliant light burst from it. Both of them jerked their heads up, startled, their quarrel forgotten. Above them the clouds were dark and grim, looking heavy enough to crush the world.
“Lightning!” yelped Bella. “He’s barking!”
“We need to take cover,” whined Lucky.
He snapped his jaws to pick up his rabbits. Then they bounded together across ground that was already spattered with huge drops of rain. Again Lightning leaped, and his roaring bark shook the sky.
“Lucky!” howled Bella in terror.
“Quick! This way!” Lucky had spotted a sandy bank, already sodden but smoother and closer than the little gorge. He sprang up onto the shifting surface. Only at the last instant did
he spot the dark mouth of a small cave, right beneath his paws. And where there were small caves like this, there could be—
A badger! It lunged from its burrow in fright and fury. Lucky’s speed had already taken him beyond the badger-hole, but Bella was at his heels—and the creature turned on her, scrambling onto her back. Lucky caught sight of vicious, beady eyes and the broad, white stripe down its face just as it sank its teeth into Bella’s neck and raked long claws into her shoulder. She yelped and staggered in pain.
Dropping his rabbits again, Lucky sprang down from the top of the bank, putting out his paws to knock the badger back—but its speed was astonishing. It whipped around and lashed its claws at his muzzle, digging them deep. Pain like fire shot through Lucky’s face and he shook his head frantically, but the vicious creature clung on, its small teeth bared in a savage snarl.
White light flooded the bank as Lightning leaped again. The badger, startled, loosened its grip at last, and Lucky flung it off; it tumbled and rolled. Bella pounced, pinning its tail to the sandy ground. Lucky sank his teeth into the back of its silvery neck, holding it down as it wriggled and thrashed.
His chest ached, and pain still shot through his muzzle like hot spines, but Lucky focused on pressing all his weight down on the badger. I can’t let it bite! He’d had encounters with these creatures before, and knew that they’d fight to the death if they had to.
Once again Lightning sprang, shaking the clouds. With his flash of light came a scent that singed Lucky’s nostrils—something horribly familiar.
It’s coming, he thought. The bad rain—the rain that burned our hides in the last camp!
He twisted in fear to look at the sky. The badger took its chance, flinging him off and hurling itself aside to elude Bella as she lunged for it. Enraged, it lashed its long claws at Lucky’s flank.
In the instant after its strike, Lucky felt nothing; but then the rain hit them, a torrent of water and wet ash. Black flakes clung to his sodden fur and trickled wetly into the wound. The rain burned worse than the badger’s claws; it seemed to cut right through his flesh and eat at his bones.