Red Moon Rising

  Daisy’s dark eyes turned to Storm, then to Mickey.

  “Isn’t this the fox we captured before?” she demanded. “This is the one Alpha told us to punish.”

  “Um, it could be . . .” began Storm.

  “I’m . . . not sure I would recognize . . .” Mickey licked his chops.

  “Yes, yes!” interrupted the fox. Storm saw Mickey wince. “That Fox Mist! Now you let go again.”

  “What?” Anger flared in Daisy’s eyes. “You two were supposed to mark her. She looks pretty unscarred to me!”

  Fox Mist was creeping delicately toward the gap between Storm and Daisy. Storm slapped a paw on the ground to stop her. “Just stop right there,” she growled.

  The fox flinched and sat down again, curling her tail around her rump and placing her head on her forepaws as if she wanted to look as small as possible. Storm couldn’t stomach the idea of hurting her, though. Her sly little escape attempt had at least given Storm a chance to avoid Daisy’s angry question.

  Storm lowered her head to glare straight at the fox’s nervous face. “You’ve obviously been slinking around our territory all night. Did you see anything?”

  “What anything?” The fox seemed to decide on a change of tactics, tilting her head winsomely. “What means nice dog, good dog?”

  “Stop that stupid flattery.” Storm growled low in her throat. “Anything odd. Strange dogs prowling. Unusual behavior. You’re not a fool—you know the kind of thing I mean.”

  “I see not anything.” The fox hunched her shoulders in a gesture of helpless apology. “Nothing funny, no dogs I don’t know. Only dogs from nice dog’s Pack, they sniff the ground, they look everywhere, foxes go hide.”

  “That would be Moon and Snap on patrol,” growled Mickey. “That’s no help.”

  The little fox shrugged again, her eyes open and innocent. “All dogs is looking the same to me anyway.” Suddenly she brightened. “No, I see something!”

  “What?” Storm tensed. “What did you see?”

  “I see dead dog.” The fox frowned solemnly. “Dog all dead, dog all bitten and dead. Just like poor fox cub in forest.” For an instant, her expression hardened and grew viciously hostile; then she seemed to master herself, and the submissive tone was back. “Up on cliff. Poor, poor dog.”

  “That was days ago.” Storm’s belly clenched in disappointment.

  “Yes, yes. Two fox-moons, three fox-moons, maybe. Big, big dead dog. I see big dog get dead.”

  Storm started. “Wait. You saw Bruno being killed?” Her heartbeat raced, thrumming in her throat and chest. This is it! She saw the murderer!

  Mickey’s and Daisy’s jaws had fallen wide, and they exchanged shocked glances. Daisy jumped to her paws; her eyes slanted, a little guiltily, toward Storm, before fixing excitedly on the fox. “Was it a dog you’d seen before? A dog you knew?”

  The fox lifted a paw to lick it, looking smugly pleased at their reaction. “I not know dog.”

  Daisy’s little body sagged with what looked, to Storm, suspiciously like relief. “Another big dog, then?”

  Storm stared. What do you mean, ‘another big dog’? Sadness threatened to choke her. Oh, Daisy, you honestly thought the fox was going to name me, didn’t you?

  “‘Big’ dog?” The fox set her paw back down. “How I know?” she scoffed. “I tell you, all dogs is looking same! Fox little!”

  “But you must have some idea!” cried Daisy. “Look at me, look at Mickey here, look at Storm. You must have been able to tell what sort of size the killer was!”

  The fox narrowed her eyes, tilting her head to one side and studying all three dogs. “Humph,” she said at last. “This dog that kill dogs and not just fox cubs—it not so big. No, not so very, very big. Maybe not bigger than you.”

  She was looking straight at Daisy.

  Mickey looked as stunned as Storm felt. Daisy was just blinking, speechless.

  “How can . . . ? That’s not possible!” yelped the little dog.

  “It’s not,” barked Mickey. “A dog Bruno’s size, taken out by a dog your size? It’s not possible. It’s ridiculous!”

  Except that I thought not so long ago that it was perfectly possible, remembered Storm, if Bruno’s jaw had been gnawed off after he was killed. But still . . . it did not seem likely. A dog of Daisy’s size would have exhausted itself biting off Bruno’s jaw. . . .

  The three dogs were so taken aback, they were too slow to react as the fox shot suddenly past Storm. A streak of gray, she vanished into the bushes with an impudent flick of her tail.

  “Let her go,” growled Mickey angrily. “She’s clearly told us all she knows.”

  “Sure,” said Daisy, her voice brimming with fury. “Let her go—just like you two did before!”

  Storm licked her jaws, distressed. “Look, at least now we know something—”

  “How can either of you believe a word a fox says?” demanded Daisy. “You can’t trust a fox! And you can’t make friends with them!” The little dog’s hackles bristled; her legs were stiff and her tail quivered as she glared at Storm and Mickey. “How could you have let her go? You said you’d punished that fox! You lied! You lied to our Alpha!”

  “Daisy,” pleaded Mickey, “you have to understand. We’re not friends with that creature, we just—it seemed wrong to scar her. It would have been . . .”

  “Unnecessary,” put in Storm.

  “Yes, and brutal,” Mickey added. “She was pregnant with cubs! We thought it would be wrong.”

  “What does it matter what you thought?” Daisy looked less furious now, and more stunned with disbelief. “That wasn’t your decision to make—you had no right to judge! You went against Alpha’s orders, both of you!”

  “We . . . we just couldn’t go through with it,” began Mickey, but Daisy gave an angry yelp, cutting him off.

  “And then you came back to camp and you lied!” Her dark eyes blazed. “You lied in our faces. You lied to the whole Pack.”

  Storm couldn’t say a word. She was too shocked by the sight of Daisy in a rage—a justifiable rage, she realized miserably. The little dog’s face was full of horror, and revulsion, and worst of all, savage disappointment.

  “You lied to us all,” Daisy spat, turning her tail on both of them. “How can any dog trust either of you now?”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “I cannot believe this. I can’t. But I have to.”

  Alpha’s voice was like a longpaw whip, cutting Storm to the bone. She had no idea what her leader’s expression was like; she couldn’t look at the swift-dog’s face. Storm just stared at the ground beneath her nose, wishing she could sink into it and hide between the Earth-Dog’s paws for a while: maybe a whole turn of the Moon-Dog. It should be easy enough: Like Mickey beside her, she was already pressed low to the ground, submissive and ashamed.

  Alpha’s terrifying, enraged voice rose to a howl. “The pair of you betrayed the Pack!”

  “We’re so sorry, Alpha,” whined Mickey.

  “You!” Alpha snarled at him. “I would never have believed this of you, Mickey!”

  Against all her better instincts, Storm’s hackles began to rise. What does Alpha mean by that? Is she saying that she would expect it from me?

  Remorseful as she was, it burned Storm’s pride that she had to cower here in front of Alpha with the whole Pack watching. I don’t care what they think. It would have been wrong to wound that fox for no reason. It was a stupid order!

  I know we shouldn’t have lied to the Pack. But I’m not sorry I took mercy on that fox. I’m not!

  Resentment burned in her belly, a small ember of pure rage and hate. Didn’t they all call her dangerous? Didn’t they think she was the brute around here?

  Yet their beautiful swift-dog Alpha was the one who’d given that stupid, brutal command—and she stands there implying that she wouldn’t have expected better of me!

  And humiliating me like this, in front of the Pack that already distrusts me . . .
r />   Aware that her bitter fury must be showing in her eyes, Storm forced it down like a tough bite of prey. I have to submit. It’s Pack rules.

  Just bear it, Storm.

  Still unable to look at Alpha’s face, she flicked a quick glance at the rest of the Pack. None of them looked sorry for her, or even for Mickey. Every dog avoided her eyes, but she could see that their expressions were sullen and angry.

  “Disobeying an order’s bad enough,” barked Chase, “but lying to the Pack?”

  “It’s not acceptable. I don’t care if they thought they knew better than Alpha.” That was Daisy, still clearly seething with shock.

  “No dog knows better than their Alpha,” came Sunshine’s small voice. “That’s Pack law.”

  Sunshine? The little Omega’s disapproval hurt Storm worse than any other dog’s contempt.

  “You will both eat last tonight.” Alpha’s tail lashed the air. “And not just tonight. That will only be part of your punishment; you both need to learn a harsh lesson.”

  “Alpha.” Storm lifted her head defiantly. “If the fox had been terrified of us, it wouldn’t have talked to us. At least we know now that Bruno’s killer was a smaller dog.”

  “Hah!” barked Moon with contempt. One of her pups was killed by a fox, remembered Storm. “You believe a single word a fox says? Are you really that foolish, Storm?”

  Lucky was gazing at Storm with pained disapproval. “That fox wanted to get away from you—it would have said anything, Storm. Foxes cannot be trusted. Not ever.”

  “But, Lucky—”

  “And what’s more,” he growled loudly over her protests. He glared at her. “What’s more, foxes are cunning. It would take one look at you and know what you wanted to hear: that the killer was a small dog, smaller than you.”

  Storm felt as if he’d kicked her in the ribs with his hindpaws. “Lucky, that’s not true, you know it’s not. There were three of us there and—”

  “That’s enough!” He silenced her with a cold bark. “Be quiet, Storm. You’ve said more than enough. Don’t talk to me again until you’re ready to be a true Pack Dog.”

  She couldn’t speak. She stared at him, the hurt burning through her like a forest fire. She could only plead with her eyes—Lucky! You know me better than this. . . . Or, are you the same as the others? Have even you always been suspicious of me, deep down?

  Lucky stared at her for a few long moments, then turned away in disgust.

  The mood among the Pack was dark as they gathered around the prey pile later that evening. Storm found it hard to care that she and Mickey would be the last ones to eat; misery and anger had killed her appetite anyway.

  There was none of the chat and banter and joking that usually accompanied the assembly of the Pack. Subdued, arriving in ones and twos, every dog lay down, heads on their paws, and watched the prey pile silently. Alpha sat in her usual place, her face stony. Lucky, beside her, was solemn and thoughtful; even the four pups were quiet.

  What Mickey and I did seems to have been the last bone that choked the dog. I’m sure in normal times, Alpha wouldn’t be this angry and unforgiving.

  It was as if Alpha’s and Beta’s approval and trust had been a strong beam of sunlight warming her flank, and now the Sun Dog had hidden behind a black cloud, and she felt even colder than before he’d turned his face on her.

  One by one, Alpha called up the dogs, her voice short and sharp. Any low conversations that accompanied the Pack’s meal were stilted, and soon over. No dog seemed especially hungry. Storm thought with longing of how she and Lucky had raided the longpaws’ spoil-box with Mickey, Chase, and Snap. They’d had so much fun, and they’d joked and boasted with the Pack about their escapade. Every dog had liked them, and every dog had appreciated the prey they’d brought back.

  How can things have changed so quickly?

  At last Omega had eaten her fill, and Alpha barked, “Mickey.”

  As the Farm Dog sloped forward, his tail low, Storm thought, Even Mickey gets to eat before me. It’s obvious who Alpha blames most.

  When it was her own turn, Storm grabbed a rabbit leg and returned sullenly to her own place, gnawing at it with little interest. She was still eating when Alpha growled, “Pack, I want to hear your reports. What did the patrols find today?”

  “Not much,” said Moon wearily. “We saw some blood, on the path and on bushes. It was Breeze’s.” She nodded at the brown dog, who still looked weary and nervous. “There were tracks in the path, like something had been dragged along—but we couldn’t make out any other scent.”

  “It was the same with our area,” added Snap. “We saw the trail, but caught no scent. This dog is cunning.”

  “We didn’t see anything,” said Thorn apologetically. “But then, we weren’t where Breeze said she was dragged. We tried to find any spots the bad dog might have crossed as it approached the camp, but there was nothing. Not a single paw mark.”

  “Whatever dog we’re up against, it’s horribly clever,” said Sunshine in a small voice.

  “Yes,” agreed Alpha. “You haven’t remembered anything else, Breeze? Anything that could help us?”

  “I’m sorry.” Breeze’s head and tail drooped. Her scratches had stopped bleeding, but they still looked nasty. “It was so confusing. And terrifying. And so dark.”

  “It’s all right,” said Alpha, though she growled the words through gritted teeth. “It’s not your fault.” As she said that, she turned her head to gaze directly at Storm and Mickey.

  As if it’s our fault! Storm felt hot rage in her throat.

  “Storm. Mickey.” Their leader’s voice was curt. “You will take High Watch tonight.”

  “Yes, Alpha.” Mickey crouched submissively, his tail tucked between his legs. That was probably more sensible, Storm thought, than glaring in defiance. But she couldn’t help it.

  “Not just for tonight,” Alpha went on. “You will both stay up there for three full journeys of the Moon-Dog and the Sun-Dog. You can take turns sleeping, to relieve each other during no-sun.”

  Storm got to her paws, shaking at the injustice, but she couldn’t speak—even if Alpha would have allowed her to. Instead, the swift-dog went on, “Your time on High Watch would be longer, by the way, if the Pack didn’t need you to hunt. And when you return? You will both still be held in disgrace. You will be considered bad dogs until you prove yourselves worthy of the name Pack Dog once more.”

  The rest of the Pack remained motionless, staring at Storm and Mickey, but Snap bounded to her paws. “Alpha!”

  Alpha didn’t even look at her. “Yes, Snap?”

  Storm saw the way that Snap’s tail was quivering and knew what the small dog was going to say. I don’t even have the energy to growl at her now. . . .

  “That’s where Bruno was murdered! You can’t send Mickey up there for three days—not with Storm!”

  “Quiet,” said Lucky tersely, standing up. “That’s enough, Snap. This is Alpha’s decision. Mickey will be fine.”

  “You don’t know that—!”

  “Beta said enough!” Alpha turned at last to Snap, glowering. “If Mickey and Storm trust each other enough to conspire against the Pack, and defy my orders, then they can certainly trust each other on High Watch.”

  There was no sound for a moment. Snap stepped back, still looking unhappy.

  “Now,” said Alpha. “Both of you. Get yourselves to High Watch, and out of my sight.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Distantly, from across the river and the meadow, the noise and clatter of the longpaw town was winding down. Some lights flickered off; others began to shine like tiny Moon-Dogs as the gray dusk deepened. Longpaws barked farewells. Loudcages growled, rumbled away, and faded.

  It was funny how far sounds traveled, thought Storm, gazing down toward the broken settlement. The place is just as far away as it was before, but the noise is so much clearer from up here. The Wind-Dogs must carry it.

  Behind her, Mickey paced up and
down the path the Pack had beaten on the cliff top. He looked so tired, Storm realized, but he was trying to keep himself alert. He kept turning, almost against his will, to look at the rock where Bruno’s body had been found.

  With weary paws, his head sagging, he plodded over to where Storm sat looking landward. “Have you seen anything new?”

  “No,” she sighed. “It’s just the same as last night.”

  “I’m starting to wish that something would happen,” yawned Mickey. “It would be less tiring if we had something to do.”

  And we’d be of much more use to the Pack, thought Storm resentfully. I don’t think I can stand another day and night of this. Another idiotic decision from Alpha, though I’d better not say so to Mickey. “I don’t want to be assigned to High Watch again till next Tree Flower,” she grumbled. “I’m sick of this.”

  Mickey made a sound that might actually have been agreement; Storm wondered if he was as annoyed at Alpha as she was. “Well, it’ll be over soon.”

  “Yes, though not soon en— Wait, what’s that sound?” Storm got to her paws and pricked her ears, staring down at the longpaw town. “Look. It’s Beetle and Thorn! What are they doing?”

  Mickey came to her side and peered down. The dusk was deepening, but the weak glow that lit up the digging-and-building area picked out the movement at the fence quite clearly. Yes, it was Moon’s two pups. Thorn had already scrambled beneath the high wire fence; behind her Storm could make out Beetle, clawing at the ground, flattening his back to wriggle through and join his litter-sister. Both the young dogs stood for a moment, scratching and shaking themselves, and peering around the raw earth and new walls.

  “What in the name of the Earth-Dog are they up to?” Mickey blinked and tilted his head.

  “I don’t know.” Storm licked her jaws. “Looking for food?”

  “In there? I doubt it.”

  So did Storm, to be truthful. “Maybe Alpha has sent them on a scouting mission?”