Another longpaw? he thought, his heart thudding.
No, too small for a longpaw. All the same, Lucky stopped, ears pricked, and gave a soft growl.
A small fox, perhaps, on its nightly hunt. As long as it was alone, and had not brought friends, it was not a threat Lucky needed to worry about. . . .
But the shadow was creeping closer through the dense bracken, and from its rustling and occasional snuffling he could tell it was not nearly as cautious as a fox. Stiffening, Lucky yipped a challenge.
A squat, ugly little face shoved out through the leaves. It was not a fox, but the black eyes glinted with just as much cunning.
“Omega,” breathed Lucky, shocked. “What are you doing out here?”
“I could ask you the same question,” said Omega, his bark high-pitched and impudent. “You are not a patrol dog anymore. Are you, Lucky?”
“I . . . I . . .”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” said Omega. “I saw you sneaking out of the camp.”
Lucky thought his heart had actually stopped beating. Omega looked so smug, and the instinctive knowledge struck Lucky that if any member of the Pack had to find him out, Omega was the worst. “I just needed to be alone for a bit.”
“Is that right?” That glint in Omega’s eye was not friendly. “If you needed to be alone, why were you meeting up with the Leashed Dogs?”
Lucky instinctively glanced over his shoulder before he realized that he had just confirmed Omega’s suspicions. His heart thudded in his chest as his panic rose. “But I didn’t—”
“Yes, you did, you Liar Dog. Did you enjoy spending time with the little fluffy dogs? All that licking! Ugh!”
He did see me.
Omega sounded unbearably smug. “You are a spy for that Pack. I have known all about it right from the start.”
No! thought Lucky. That is not possible!
There was a horrible trickle of suspicion in his gut, though. That scent he had caught, when he and Bella had first discussed her plan . . . the half-drowned smell he could not quite place, the paw prints he could not identify. Could it have been Omega, sneaking around alone, ignored by his Pack as always?
“You spied on us!” Lucky exclaimed, and instantly knew how stupid that sounded.
“I do not spy,” Omega sneered. “I’m better than that.”
Lucky had nothing to say. There was nothing he could say. He did not know which was stronger: the fear, or the horrible shame.
“I was confused in the storm,” the small dog went on. “The rain was so fierce that night, I thought the River-Dog was going to rise and drown the whole world. I got lost and I wanted to hide until it was over. It was your bad luck I happened to be hiding near you and your friend.”
“Bad luck,” echoed Lucky bleakly.
“Bad luck. Well, either that or the Sky-Dogs led me to you.”
I would not be surprised, Lucky thought. They probably never approved of what I was doing. . . . “You’re going to tell the others, I suppose?”
He wondered how fast he could get himself and Bella’s Pack away from here, and how far they would have to go to be safely beyond the fury of Alpha.
“Actually, I haven’t decided yet.” Omega sat down and scratched an ear in satisfaction. “A lot depends on you.”
Lucky did not think his heart could sink further, but he was wrong. It plummeted like a heavy stone in still water. “What do you mean?”
“If you help me, I’ll help you.” Omega snickered. “Well, at least I won’t get you killed. I do not like being Omega. I’m not Omega; my name is Whine.”
Lucky swallowed. His spit tasted of fear, but he understood the small dog’s attitude. He would not want to lose his own name, be called “Omega” in that contemptuous way by the whole Pack. It had never even occurred to him to ask the Omega what his real name was, and he felt ashamed of it now. “I wouldn’t like it, either,” he admitted.
“I want a proper place in the Pack.” Omega padded back and forth, licking his chops. His face was so squashed and ugly, drool kept escaping and dripping from his jaws. “I have been Omega for far too long—taking orders, fetching, and carrying! And half-starving too, since nobody ever leaves enough food for me!”
“I tried to—”
“Not very hard. Not when Sweet ordered you to stop. And why would you leave food for an Omega anyway? Every Pack needs an Omega. I just want it to be a dog who is not me.”
Lucky remembered the way the other Pack members treated the flat-nosed dog: as if he were barely a dog at all, sometimes. They would have given more respect to a sharpclaw.
“I want to help, but what can I do?” he said, cocking his head sympathetically. And he really did want to help. It was not just that he felt sorry for Omega; the simple fact was, he could not let this ugly, sneaky dog go back and tell Alpha his secret. He had to make some kind of a deal—it was that, or kill the little dog.
And Lucky knew there was no way he could ever do that.
And that is one more reason why I will never be fit for Pack life. I certainly could never be an Alpha. The thought did not displease him. It probably went against his dog-spirit—and no doubt it was a result of his Lone Dog life and his bond with the Leashed Dogs—but at least he knew that he would never sink so low as to kill another dog.
Lucky sighed. “It is a pity you’re not with the Leashed Pack yourself,” he remarked. “You would be happier there. No dog has to be Omega in their camp.”
“I am no Leashed Dog.” Omega’s squat muzzle wrinkled even more with contempt. “But I will be of higher status than I am now, and you are going to help me get my promotion.”
“I want to help you, Whine. And I suppose I don’t have a choice, anyway.”
“No,” Whine grumbled arrogantly.
“I still don’t see what you think I can do for you.”
“It should be obvious—especially to a Street Dog like you.” Whine licked idly at a paw. “Nothing I do is ever going to impress Alpha. I can’t lie to myself about that. But if another dog behaves badly enough, or does something really stupid or dangerous . . .”
“Alpha will demote that dog to Omega,” Lucky finished, a chill running through his fur.
“Exactly. Oh, and you shouldn’t panic—I am not expecting you to sacrifice yourself. If I asked that, you might just kill me.”
I would not, thought Lucky, but I’m glad you have that wrong.
“Since you are a hunter now, you will be perfectly placed. When you bring back food tomorrow, all you have to do is make it look as if another dog has stolen some before the others get to it. You know how much Alpha hates that.”
“Yes . . .” agreed Lucky dismally.
“Anyone who eats before Alpha is going to go straight to the bottom of the heap.”
Anyone who eats before Alpha will be fortunate if that is all that happens to them, thought Lucky. “Why can’t you just do it yourself?”
“Because I have you to do it for me, obviously. Look, the risk is much less for you; you must see that. If you get caught in the act, you will be demoted, but you’ll soon have clean paws again. You can do something clever, or keep using your charm on Beta. Dogs like you are always . . .” He gave an amused whine as he finished his sentence: “. . . lucky.” Sitting down, thumping his stubby tail, Whine wrinkled the corner of his mouth.
“Do not insult me,” snarled Lucky, ignoring the sting of truth. “Remember, for this to work, you need me!”
“You need me even more. Or rather, you need me to be nice to you.” Whine’s eyes gleamed with arrogant triumph. “You know I’m right, Street Dog. You wouldn’t be risking nearly as much as I would.”
Lucky took a deep breath. He knew he could not lose his temper.
“If it happens, you will work your way back up eventually,” Whine went on. “But how can Alpha demote a dog who is already at the bottom? It would be simpler for him to just kill me.”
Lucky knew in the pit of his stomach that Wh
ine was right. He had no choice. There was no way he could allow the Omega dog to reveal his secret, or it was Lucky who would probably be killed. So yet again, he was going to have to do the bidding of another dog, and if anything this job was even more dishonorable than the one that Bella had given him. Lucky felt a surge of desire to be on his own again, free of all these terrible demands that were being placed on him.
Why did I get myself into this?
In fact, he did feel sorry for Whine, despite his cunning and his dangerous threats. Maybe it was time someone else took a turn at being Omega—they would soon work their way back up the Pack once more, but at least Whine would have had a taste of higher status, and might even be encouraged to try harder in the future.
“All right,” he said at last.
“I knew you would help!” For a moment Whine looked happy, his eyes bulging with excitement. His tail thumped the ground, but then he seemed to realize he was giving too much away. He stilled and closed his smiling jaws. “Thank you. I will see you back at the camp. And be quick.”
With a new bounce in his step, Whine turned and trotted off into the undergrowth. Lucky sagged with relief as he watched him go, but he could not calm the churning misery inside him.
Who was he going to target? He had friends and comrades in the Pack; they trusted him.
But I have no choice!
He was more certain than ever that, as soon as he could free himself from both of these Packs, he was leaving. He was going back to being a Street Dog, a Lone Dog—a happy dog.
In the meantime, he had to go through with all his deceptions. I am doing this for Bruno and Martha, he told himself firmly. It does not make me a bad dog, or an evil one. I’m just tangled up in a mess, and there are things I have to do to get out of it.
It was all about survival for Lucky now.
The world has changed. For a skin-shivering instant, he thought the Forest-Dog himself had whispered in his ear.
Yes, the world had changed. And Lucky needed to do whatever it took to stay alive, to see the Sun-Dog rise and stretch again. Once he had achieved this, then . . .
Then he was going to be free of all of them.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Lucky watched as the patrols left camp the next day. He was resting in the snug hunters’ den, Snap’s warm back against his. Fiery was standing up and stretching in the misty morning light, his tail thumping slowly with contentment. Lucky pricked his ears, his nerves singing inside his skin as Mulch padded by. The black dog showed no open hostility, but there was a sullen look on his face as he glanced at Lucky.
Lucky found himself enjoying his new status, now that Twitch wasn’t constantly dragging him out to check the boundaries or keep an alert eye on Moon and the pups. His first long, lazy day as a hunter would have been easy and trouble-free, had his neck fur not prickled every time Omega slunk into sight. Once or twice the cringing dog cast Lucky a look that was sly and knowing. Stop it! Lucky thought. You don’t want any of the other dogs to notice. He wasn’t sure Omega was clever enough to hide his newfound satisfaction.
The Sun-Dog was loping lazily down the sky and the shadows were lengthening by the time Fiery barked gruffly, summoning the hunters. Lucky didn’t resent this command. His new role and higher status excited him; besides, his blood thrilled at the thought of a hunt. Let’s get started! He was first to Fiery’s side, and when Snap and Spring joined them they all trotted out of the camp with ears and tails held high.
The sunlight was still warm, and the Sun-Dog cast golden shadows that dappled the landscape and sprinkled the lake like glittering clear-stone. It could not have been a better evening for him to begin, Lucky thought: With any luck their prey would be drowsy and off-guard after the heat of the day. He hoped he’d make a good first impression, and prove himself worthy of his promotion.
Lucky was relieved to discover that Fiery was a good leader. He didn’t waste time or effort bossing the other dogs about how to track scents or stay hidden. He trusted them to get on with their jobs. It was so different from Bella’s pack, where Lucky’d had to go through the motions of beetle-catching over and over again for Sunshine’s benefit. . . .
Fiery was a good hunter, too, even if he wasn’t the cleverest of dogs. Watching him and Snap and Spring as they prowled was like watching three paws of a single dog. Lucky realized with pride that he was the fourth paw.
“Stop here,” commanded Fiery in a low voice as they approached the edge of the forest. Lucky, Snap, and Spring halted and waited in alert silence. Fiery lifted his muzzle and sniffed the air, one paw raised and trembling slightly with anticipation. Snap and Spring watched him, patient and trusting, and Lucky was happy to go along with their instincts. Later, perhaps, he’d get a chance to prove his own individual skills—the way he could silently pad up to a prey, or snap a neck with his jaws.
At last Fiery glanced back at them all and nodded. “Twitch reported a few deer here this morning. Let’s be quiet.”
Lucky and Spring followed Fiery as Snap slunk quietly off to the side, soon disappearing into the undergrowth. Twitch had been right, Lucky realized as his nose prickled with the musky scent of large prey animals. He was determined not to let down the hunting group, but he was confident too. I’m good at hunting, no matter how much they sneer at my old city life. Deer were fast, sure enough—but so were rabbits, and a deer made a bigger target.
Spring melted away into the bushes to his left, so that Fiery and Lucky were the only dogs following the main trail. The pungent scent of deer was strong now. When Fiery nodded at him, Lucky knew immediately what to do; it wasn’t unlike the times when he’d join up with other City Dogs, just for a hungry night or two, to hunt in a group. Lucky followed the rules and tricks he’d learned then; he separated from his leader, taking a wide circle but keeping Fiery in view.
A ray of sunlight through the branches burnished a furry golden flank; leaf and branch litter rustled beneath delicate hooves. Three of them, Lucky counted, and the deer were still browsing, unaware. He went entirely still as a slender head lifted to snuff the air. Suddenly there was alarm in the buck’s huge, dark eye.
But it wasn’t Lucky’s scent the buck had caught. It leaped with a flash of white tail, and the hinds followed, but they were fleeing from Spring at the far side of the clearing—and toward Lucky. The buck bounded, crashing through bracken and brush, the two hinds following in a panic, but one hind was slower than the other, and was dashing in a straight line between Fiery and Lucky.
Lucky’s blood raced as he smelled her fear, his muscles tightening. He sprang at the same time as Fiery, and they fell on the hind together. Lucky’s teeth closed on her flank as Fiery seized her throat, and the deer stumbled and went down with a high squeal of terror.
Lucky held on grimly on as she kicked and struggled, but Snap and Spring were with them now too, piling onto the struggling prey. As Fiery held the hind down, her eyes lost their terrified light and she sank down into the undergrowth, kicking feebly. Lucky couldn’t help feeling a thrill of pleasure at their success. They’d hunted well.
When the fight had gone from the hind completely, and she went limp and heavy with death, Fiery drew back. He was panting with effort, but clearly pleased.
“Well done, Lucky,” he said gruffly. “And you two. That was fine flushing.”
“Alpha’s going to be happy with this,” Snap barked.
“Don’t relax,” growled Fiery. “He will be happy, but we can do better. Let’s prove it! The gopher meadow next. Spring, you guard this prey.”
Fiery was right. As Lucky had suspected, it was a particularly good evening for hunting: warm enough to draw out small animals into the open, but with a light breeze that kept the dogs’ scent from their prey. They caught two rabbits and a sleepy gopher before Fiery was content, and even as they returned to Spring and the deer, Snap caught sight of a weasel that froze and bared its teeth before losing its nerve. When it scurried into a rabbit burrow Lucky thought they’d lost their
prey, but Snap wormed her way after it and reemerged with an earth-spattered head and a limp stoat in her jaws.
She’s surprisingly nimble, thought Lucky in admiration. I don’t know many dogs who could have followed a weasel down that hole. Or many dogs who would have dared. . . .
Spring, still dutifully guarding the dead deer, barked a greeting as they trotted back to her with their haul. “No trouble. A fox liked the look of this deer, but I made him change his mind!”
“Good,” said Fiery. “I knew I could count on you, Spring. Now let’s get back to the Pack. The pups are growing fast now, and Moon will be hungry.”
There was a note of fierce pride in the huge dog’s voice, and Lucky felt a new affection for Fiery—and his pups—steal into his heart. Besides, he’d seen how Spring’s rib cage swelled with pleasure at Fiery’s compliment. The big brown dog was a fine leader in all kinds of ways.
Alpha and Sweet and Fiery each have their own methods, he mused. Their ways are different. But all of them manage their parts of the Pack unchallenged. Lucky stored the knowledge away. I’m not going to be in a Pack forever, but still—there are lessons here worth learning.
It was hard work dragging the deer back to camp together with the rest of their prey, but Fiery was big enough to do most of the heavy work, helped by Lucky. He took hold of a hoof in his jaws and pulled it along, the hardness of the hoof clattering against his teeth. The other dogs gripped the smaller prey. Saliva pooled in Lucky’s mouth at the taste of deer flank, but he knew better than to risk a bite—and he was surprised to find himself unwilling to take any share before he was with his Pack. Strange, he thought, but it does feel right to wait. . . .
The feeling intensified inside him when they reached the camp, where the other dogs bounded out to greet them with delight. They barked and whined in excitement, praising the hunters’ skills and yelping with appreciation.
“Well done!” Twitch said, looking at Lucky.