“This is going to sound like I can’t let go of a bone, but . . .” Storm hesitated, licking her jaws. “What did Woody think of being in this Pack?”
Breeze pricked up her ears in surprise. “Woody?”
“Yes. I mean, there were many dogs who seemed to just go along with the two Packs merging. It wasn’t their actual decision, but I guess they just accepted it at the time. I never really heard Woody’s opinion.”
“Well.” Breeze tilted her head, thinking. “He was fine with it to begin with, obviously. I don’t think any dog would have joined the united Pack if they hadn’t been. But then, he wasn’t all right with it by the end. If he had been, he wouldn’t have left, would he?” Breeze raised her brows at Storm, rather as if she thought the answer was too obvious for words.
Storm felt rather silly now, but she knew she had to press on. “Did he—did Woody get along all right with Whisper?”
Breeze looked even more astonished, if that was possible. “Why do you want to know that?”
Storm sighed, and closed her eyes briefly. “I don’t know, it just seems to me that the bad dog doesn’t have to be one who’s still in the Pack. It might be one of the dogs who left. What do you think, Breeze? The night of Bruno’s death, rain was pouring down. An outsider could easily have slipped into the camp and back out, and even if they’d left a trace, it would have been washed away in no time. Don’t you think so?”
Breeze’s lower jaw fell. “Why in the name of the Earth-Dog are you asking me, Storm?” Her voice was rising with her obvious shock. “How would I know how a dog would get in and out of camp unnoticed? I wouldn’t have the first clue!”
Storm winced. She rather wished she hadn’t asked. No wonder Breeze sounded offended—she’d obviously had no clue why Storm would quiz her about Woody in the first place, and then to ask her how a dog might sneak in and out? I should have stopped talking, about two questions ago. . . .
But she did wish that Breeze would keep her voice down. Other dogs were turning their heads now, swiveling their ears toward Storm and Breeze. “Breeze, can you talk more quietly?” said Storm.
“Oh! I’m sorry.” Breeze looked embarrassed. She dropped her voice. “Sorry, Storm. Look, I know you’re finding it really hard at the moment. You seem to be on the wrong end of a lot of suspicion from the others, and that must be horrible for you. I know you want to find out who’s responsible for all these awful things, but . . . but, Storm, can’t you leave it alone for a bit?”
“I just can’t do that,” growled Storm in frustration. “It’s so difficult, being with the Pack all day, and always watching, always wondering . . . never knowing which of these dogs is a traitor. I can hardly sleep at night.”
Breeze was very quiet for a moment, gazing intently at a patch of grass. She scraped her claw across it, then raised her head and looked Storm full in the eyes.
“Storm,” she said quietly, “maybe that’s the answer. Maybe being with the Pack, day in and day out, is just too hard for you.”
“What?” Storm blinked.
“You can’t let it go,” Breeze went on, her voice urgent and sympathetic. “You’re not getting a moment’s peace while you’re surrounded by the Pack, while any dog might be the culprit. And in the meantime, every dog seems to suspect you.”
Storm licked her chops. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, maybe you should give things a chance to calm down. Give yourself a chance, too.” Breeze’s soft voice lowered still further. “You need to take a break from all this viciousness. Perhaps it’s best if you leave the Pack for a while.”
Storm started, her ears shooting up. Her heart beat hard in shock—yet somewhere deep down in her gut, she realized this was not a new idea to her. Maybe I’ve been thinking this. Maybe I’ve been considering it for a long time, and I just didn’t know.
Maybe I’ve been denying it to myself. . . .
“Storm, listen to me.” Gently Breeze touched Storm’s nose with her own. “Let things die down. Prove it isn’t you. If you’re not here and—and Sky-Dogs forbid, something else happens—it will prove beyond doubt that you’re not the guilty dog. Then they won’t just welcome you back—they’ll beg for you to come back. . . . They’ll look to you to protect them. You’ll be a hero to the whole Pack, Storm.”
“I don’t know, I . . .” The image Breeze presented had its attractions, she had to admit. They’d beg for me to come back and protect them, would they . . . ?
“I think you need to do this, Storm.” Breeze nuzzled her unhappily. “I’d miss you so much—more than you know—but I honestly think it’s the only way. And I’m saying this out of friendship. I don’t want you to go, but I think you have to.”
“I would miss the Pack.” Storm’s voice was huskier than she’d expected; she realized she could hardly get the words out. “I’ll be lonely without all of you.” And with those words, she realized with shock that she’d already moved on from I would to I will.
“I think every dog will miss you too,” said Breeze, with a sudden anger in her eyes. “I think they will realize very quickly just how much they depend on you. How much you do, every day, for this Pack.”
“Thank you, Breeze,” croaked Storm. “That means a lot.”
“And let’s face it,” Breeze said, nudging her gently. “When the supply of rabbits dries up, they’ll soon understand what they’re missing.” She raised her voice again, quite deliberately. “You’re the best hunter in the Pack, Storm, and every dog knows it.”
Storm felt another twinge of embarrassment—will Breeze never learn to talk quietly?—but at the same time, she couldn’t help feeling grateful and a little pleased. She wants every dog to know what she thinks—that I’m a worthy member of this Pack. And I’ve no doubt she wants them to feel bad if I’m not around. . . .
When I’m not around . . .
It felt good to have some dog on her side, even though it was almost too late. Storm had forgotten again how good that felt. And even if Breeze was only trying to cheer her up, she’d known exactly how to do it.
The smaller brown dog leaped suddenly to her paws, letting her tongue loll and bowing her shoulders in an invitation to play. “Come on, then, Storm. Catch me if you can!”
With a yip of delight, Storm sprang after her. Breeze dodged and rolled, nipping Storm’s tail playfully. Storm doubled back and pounced, but let Breeze wriggle free again and dash in a circle.
It’s only for a moment, but this is fun. Storm felt her worries slip away as she played and romped with Breeze in the glade. They were still waiting for her, all her horrible fears and anxieties—she could almost see them, like dark shadows waiting at the edge of the camp—but just for a little while, she could ignore them. Barking with excitement, Storm leaped for Breeze, and the two dogs tumbled over and over, wriggling and yapping and play-biting. Once more, Storm drew back to let Breeze slither out from between her forepaws and race away in a teasing circle.
I can’t remember the last time I just played . . .
Breeze was pausing, wagging her tail in a taunting, tempting gesture, her head tilted as she grinned. Storm gave a mischievous bark and sprang for her.
Her forepaws thumped onto Breeze’s back, and again the two of them crashed down in a heap. The brown dog was helpless beneath her paws—hah! Standing over her, Storm took Breeze’s ear softly in her mouth and worried it. Her paws slipped on the grass and she planted one firmly on Breeze’s leg for balance.
It was only when Snap barked, “Stop, Storm!” that she became aware something had changed. Blinking, she let go of Breeze’s ear. Breeze’s yelps weren’t playful anymore. . . .
She was barking in pain.
Storm leaped away from her, horrified, and Breeze scrambled awkwardly to her paws. Storm took a cautious pace forward and nuzzled her friend.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine!” Breeze was breathless and her voice was a little shaky. She glanced around, looking embarrassed, at the Pack m
embers who had rushed over when they heard her yelps. “I’m all right, for Earth-Dog’s sake. Storm was only playing.”
“What happened?” asked Mickey anxiously.
“Absolutely nothing,” said Breeze firmly. “It was a game, and Storm landed a bit hard on my paw, that’s all. There’s nothing to worry about.” She took a step toward Storm, as if in solidarity, but winced as she put down her paw.
“Breeze, you are hurt! I’m sorry.” Storm licked her nose remorsefully.
“Oh, Sky-Dogs, don’t worry! There’s no need to apologize.” Breeze sat down close to her. “It’s my own fault. You’re a big dog, and you don’t know your own strength.”
The Pack began to disperse, muttering and growling among themselves. Snap and Chase shot disapproving looks at Storm; Mickey shook his head a little sadly. Trying to ignore them, Storm lay down, head on her paws, and watched Breeze as she began to lick carefully at her hurt paw.
It was an accident. Breeze knows that, and she doesn’t blame me.
But the Pack . . . I know how they’ll see it. How they saw it. They’ve already made up their minds what happened: The Fierce Dog lost control. Again.
Storm gave a huge, miserable sigh.
And if I can hurt Breeze without even trying, without even knowing I was hurting her . . .
Maybe they’re right.
She was running, running hard. It had never been more important to race as if Lightning himself were chasing her. Her paws pounded, her heart thrashed, her chest ached with the effort. But she had to run faster, and faster, bolting through the utter darkness.
She had to reach her quarry in time! He was ahead, just barely ahead. . . .
The Fear-Dog. The shadowy, menacing Spirit Dog flew before her, huge and terrifying. But why was he running away from her? Why should he flee? Why didn’t he just turn, and snarl, and gulp her down his ravenous throat?
And suddenly Storm knew.
She knew why she was chasing the Fear-Dog. Gripped in those dark jaws, whimpering and mewling, was a golden pup.
It was Tumble—small, helpless, and vulnerable. And the Fear-Dog was carrying him away.
Straining every muscle and sinew, Storm sprinted after the horrific shadow. His giant haunches were always at the limit of her vision, dashing between the trees, and however fast she ran, she could not catch up. The Fear-Dog was silent, but she could hear Tumble’s desperate, terrified cries. The Fear-Dog halted, turning to stare mockingly at Storm; Lucky and Alpha’s pup dangled from his jaws.
“Help me, Storm,” Tumble yelped. “Save me!”
Still she could not reach him. The Fear-Dog turned his rump on her once more, contemptuous, and bounded on.
Storm’s breath burned in her throat and chest. She flew through the trees and burst out suddenly onto the beach that fringed the Endless Lake. Ahead of her the Fear-Dog raced; its massive paws left no marks in the sand, while Storm’s sank and slithered on the shifting ground. The Fear-Dog and its terrified captive were drawing farther away! They were heading straight for the thundering white waves. Storm gave a desperate, wailing howl with her remaining breath.
The Fear-Dog was going to drown Tumble!
Storm’s eyes snapped open and she gasped in a lungful of air. But with the air came cold, salty water, and she coughed and staggered to her paws. She sneezed, blinking in shock, and looked down. Her paws were submerged in the foaming waves of the Endless Lake.
No!
Snorting again, shaking her head and then her entire body, Storm snuffed at the bitter, salty air. She bounded onto dry sand. There was a scent she was half expecting, though she had thought it was only a dream. She sniffed again, to be sure, and her heart turned over in her chest.
Tumble. Tumble has been here!
She spun on her paws, tail stiff, her nostrils flaring wide and her eyes searching all around. There was no sign of the pup in the dim predawn light, though she was certain now that she had smelled him. Yes, Tumble was here. But he isn’t anymore. . . .
Terrified, she turned again, staring out at the crashing waves of the lake. It could have swallowed him without a trace. I would never know!
Her eyes ached from scanning the bright surface in search of Tumble’s golden coat, but she could see nothing. Not that that means anything. The Endless Lake could eat a pup whole and barely even notice.
Has Tumble gone in there? Has he drowned?
With a howl of frantic terror, Storm spun and raced back up the beach, heading for the Pack, terrible thoughts tussling in her mind. She’d dreamed about the pups in danger from the Fear-Dog before—but then she’d gone to the longpaw place, and there had been no scent of them, they had all been safe with the Pack. . . .
Whisper warned me that there would be a death in my dreams, and that came true.
What if she’d ignored her Fear-Dog dreams, but they were warnings too? What if something terrible had happened, because of her?
Where is Tumble?
CHAPTER TWENTY
Storm barely paused for breath as she leaped the thorny scrub at the edge of the camp, not bothering to find the easier entrance. Barks and howls rang in her ears; the Pack was already awake, and they knew something was wrong. Their voices collided, rising and falling, echoing into the forest till Storm couldn’t tell which dog was barking.
“Where’s Tumble?”
“TUMBLE! Tumble, where are you?”
“Has any dog seen Storm? She’s missing, too!”
Lucky’s panicked voice rose above the uproar. “Tumble! Tumble, my pup, answer me! Please!” He buried his nose in a tussock of grass, then abandoned it to race across to an old stump. “Tumble!”
As Storm burst out of the trees, every dog spun around, startled, and the volley of barks that met her felt like an incoming wave of the lake. Mickey and Snap dashed toward her, Chase in hot pursuit.
“Storm, where have you been?” yelped Mickey.
“What have you been doing?” barked Snap. “Tumble is missing!”
Daisy bolted between the two bigger dogs, her eyes pleading. “Storm, do you know where Tumble is? Have you seen him?” Behind her, Sunshine was yelping, too, but her cries were too full of distress to make any sense. Breeze, too, was howling incomprehensibly.
Alpha, though, was not howling or whining. She was silent, her face drawn with worry, but she stalked through the throng of dogs toward Storm with her teeth bared.
She was right in Storm’s face when she stopped and barked, “Where have you been? Where is my pup?” Her dark eyes blazed. “You must have something to do with this, Storm! Where is Tumble?”
Storm felt a wrench of hurt, deep inside her chest. She opened her jaws to deny all knowledge, but the words would not come.
Maybe she’s right. I did dream of Tumble. And I sleepwalked. I was at the Endless Lake.
And Tumble. He was there too, though I didn’t see him.
Storm’s heart turned over. Did something happen to him while I was sleepwalking? Or . . . could the Fear-Dog really have taken him?
“I was . . .” Her voice caught, as if there were a thorn in her throat. Every dog fell abruptly silent and stared at her.
“Yes, Storm . . . ?” Alpha’s prompt held a growl of warning. “Speak!”
“I was at the lake.” The admission rushed out of her, hot and shameful. “I went down there, because I . . . I couldn’t sleep, and I . . .”
“You were at the lake?” Alpha’s voice was cold and dangerous. She looked as if she was holding back terrible fear and anger, and there was no room for any other emotion right now. “And Tumble? Was he there, too?”
“He was—yes,” croaked Storm.
A gasp went up from the Pack members, along with growls and exclamations of disbelief.
“Tumble had been there,” she corrected herself, glancing from face to face. None of her Packmates looked sympathetic; they seemed only angry, and anxious, and confused. “I could smell him, I . . . but I couldn’t see him. I couldn’t see him anywhere.
I did look, Alpha—I knew something was wrong, but he was nowhere in sight! And that’s why I ran back just now—to tell you all . . .” Her voice faltered. I sound as if I’m lying. I sound like a dog with something to hide.
And I am. But how can I tell them about my sleepwalking?
Every dog stared at her, their eyes narrowed. Snap exchanged a glance with Mickey. Sunshine looked miserable and a little suspicious. Twitch looked disappointed. Chase’s eyes were downright hostile.
As for Alpha, Storm still didn’t dare even look at her.
Chase snapped, “What were you doing there? At the lake?”
Storm turned toward the little dog, lowering her shoulders, pleading. “That doesn’t matter right now. We have to get back to the lake and find Tumble!”
“Oh, but it is important,” cut in Moon. She was standing farther back, looking thoughtful, but her eyes were hard. “You’re often where you’re not supposed to be. Where do you go, Storm? You’re always sneaking around, turning up in odd places at odd times. What are we supposed to think?”
Dogs were nodding, murmuring agreement.
“It’s true,” muttered Snap to Mickey, loud enough for Storm to hear. “Even you can’t deny that.”
To Storm’s horror, Mickey didn’t. He said nothing, but he didn’t contradict his mate. And he wouldn’t meet Storm’s eyes.
“Wait a minute.” The voice was Daisy’s. The little white dog padded to Moon’s side and stared up at her. “Storm’s done nothing wrong,” she barked.
“You don’t know that—” began Moon, but Daisy shook her head.
“I do.” Daisy turned to look at the rest of the Pack. “I know something the rest of you don’t.” She then turned her gaze on Storm, her black eyes apologetic. “Storm walks in her sleep.”
“What?” barked Alpha.
Storm’s rib cage felt heavy with dread and shame. Oh, Daisy. The little dog was trying to help her, she knew—but she wasn’t sure this would make things better. My secret. It’s out. And I have a feeling it is only going to make things worse.
“I’ve known for a while,” Daisy admitted, padding up to Alpha and crouching in apology. “It’s completely harmless. Storm didn’t want you to know, so I kept quiet, but she doesn’t do anything sinister.”