Read A Hidden Enemy Page 9


  Mulch was creeping through the twilight shadows, targeting a mouse that had fallen away from the main pile. His paw reached out, almost as if he was only stretching his muscles. . . .

  But Lucky wasn’t the only one who had noticed Mulch. As one of his claws caught the mouse’s tail, Sweet lunged for him, biting his long black ear savagely. Mulch dropped the mouse with a yelp.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” snapped Sweet. “Stay back until it’s your turn! One more trick like that and you will be demoted.”

  Mulch whimpered an apology, scuttling backward as blood dripped from his torn ear. Lucky felt his heart sink inside him. What had happened to the shy, gentle Sweet he’d known in the Trap House?

  “Snap,” the swift-dog announced. “Hurry up, or we’ll be here until the Moon-Dog goes to sleep.”

  “Coming, Beta!”

  Sweet’s new aggression wasn’t all that dismayed Lucky. What would remain of the night’s hunt for the dogs who held the lower statuses? There wasn’t much left in the way of gophers now, and the remaining squirrels were all scrawny. Once Snap had taken her share, it was Mulch’s proper turn. Subdued, the black dog snatched up a mouse and a squirrel’s leg and scurried back, as if afraid of more punishment.

  “Go on, Spring.” Sweet broke off her conversation with Fiery to snap another command.

  Spring, the hunt-dog who looked so like Twitch, stepped up hungrily and began to feed as Lucky glanced at Twitch.

  “Is she your litter-sister?” he asked.

  Twitch nodded. “Of course, she wasn’t born with a useless paw,” he growled, holding up his own. “But that’s luck for you. That’s why she’s higher than me in the Pack.”

  Lucky tried not to let his sympathy show; he had a feeling Twitch wouldn’t thank him for it. “But Pack status can change, can’t it? You could move up in the ranks?”

  “Yes, and you can move down,” Twitch pointed out gruffly.

  Lucky licked his lips nervously, watching the dwindling mound of prey now, sensing tingles in his flanks that felt oddly close to dread. “How does it work? I mean, how does Alpha decide?”

  “Alpha and Beta, you mean,” Twitch grumbled. “She advises him a lot. There are all kinds of ways to change your Pack-place. If you do something stupid or wicked or rash—something that puts the Pack in danger—you will be demoted. Do something really stupid or rebellious, and you’ll be lucky if demotion is all that happens to you. But if you do well, or serve the Pack, you will rise. That can take a long time, though.” He sighed, ears drooping. “It always seems to be a lot easier to fall down than it is to climb up.”

  Lucky could imagine that. “Can a dog ask to be promoted?”

  “Of course. But that involves challenging one of your Packmates to a fight. That’s why I’m stuck where I am. I’ve tried a few combats . . .” Twitch glared resentfully at his lame paw. “But I never win. The only dog I could beat in a fight is Omega, and who couldn’t? I’m just glad he’s around to do all the dirty work. Oh, good! Dart has finished. My turn, finally.”

  Twitch limped forward to the diminished food-heap and began to eat the scrawnier of the squirrels and a leftover piece of rabbit. Waiting his turn, Lucky stole a glance at the miserable Omega, who stood on the very fringe of the Pack, shivering—from the cold, or hunger, Lucky could not quite tell. He felt sorry for the wretched dog, but at the same time deeply grateful there was a dog lower than he was in this Pack. Guilty as it made him, he could understand Twitch’s feelings completely.

  His thoughts wandered back to his own friends. Who would have been the Omega Leashed Dog, if Bella had run her Pack by these rules? Not Daisy; she was too spirited. . . . Sunshine? He shivered to think of poor Sunshine being treated this way, with her hopelessness at living in the wild, and her obsession with her silky fur. Or maybe it would have been little Alfie?

  If Alpha hadn’t killed him.

  When Twitch had finished and Lucky padded forward, he felt a huge rush of relief. There was most of a gopher left for him, along with a half-chewed haunch of squirrel. It was no kind of feast, but it would be enough to satisfy his gnawing hunger. And for Omega, there would still be . . .

  A scrawny shrew.

  Lucky stared at it, his stomach burning with guilt. Catching Omega’s mournful eyes as he cracked the rabbit’s thigh bone, he pushed aside a detached foreleg with his paw, shoving it surreptitiously closer to the dead shrew. He could manage without that mouthful, whereas Omega . . .

  Teeth snapped harshly, right against his ear. Lucky flinched, nearly dropping the rabbit leg.

  “Next time, I will bite it off,” growled Sweet in the silence.

  Lucky gazed up at her, dumbstruck. “But—”

  “No pity in this Pack, do you hear me? Fill your belly. You are a patrol dog, and I will rip your ear off if you let us down because of weakness. Eat your fill or leave this Pack right now. Do you understand?”

  The eyes of every Pack member were on him. Lucky heard murmurs from some of the dogs, who seemed unable to believe what had happened. He heard Mulch growl, “That must be his City-Dog ways.”

  Desperately Lucky searched Sweet’s face, looking for some trace of fellow-feeling, some hint that this display was only for the Pack’s benefit. But her gaze was unforgiving. She wasn’t doing this for show; she meant it.

  So this was how she’d risen so far and so fast in the Pack. There was a ruthlessness in his friend that Lucky had not seen when they were captives in the Trap House, and she had clearly learned to use it.

  “Your pity won’t do Omega any favors,” said Sweet, with a disdainful glance at the ugly little animal.

  “I know. I just—”

  “It seems that you need a lesson in Pack life, City Dog.”

  There were muffled sniggers from some of the other dogs at Sweet’s words, and Mulch in particular seemed to be enjoying his humiliation—probably because it took the focus away from his own bad behavior. “Indulge this pathetic dog’s weakness—pamper him with food he has not earned—and he will never rise any higher in the Pack. Will he?”

  Alpha watched her approvingly, and Lucky felt his belly burn with jealousy as well as shame. “I understand . . . Beta,” he said.

  “Good. If you do not give him a reason to, he will never better himself. Will you, Omega?”

  The little dog snuffled and nodded, submissive. “Yes, Beta. You are right.” He gave Lucky a resentful glare. “I don’t want your pity.”

  Alpha gave a growling laugh. “Well said, for once, Omega. The City Dog would be holding you under his paw, not helping you.” When the dog-wolf’s unsettling eyes turned on him, Lucky found himself cowering inwardly. “You are not yet fully accepted in this Pack, Lucky. It would be wise of you to remember this—and do things our way from now on.”

  Sweet gazed at Lucky, her anger replaced with a sort of thoughtfulness. “He will learn, Alpha. I guarantee it.”

  With those words, Lucky’s telling-off seemed to be over. He was grateful to Sweet for bringing it to a close. As he settled back to his food, subdued, he felt a reluctant admiration for her. Deep inside him—right there in his dog-spirit—he understood she was right. Sweet was not simply being harsh; she was being fair, and true to the Pack. Omega would not be allowed to starve, after all—the Pack needed him too much for all the lowly jobs. And Lucky sensed the Forest-Dog would approve of Sweet’s savage discipline, the spur that would make Omega try harder to improve his rank.

  All the same, none of that made Lucky feel any better. His appetite gone, he turned back to his rabbit and tore at it without enthusiasm, gulping down meat that tasted bitter.

  “Wonder how much he’ll leave for Omega now,” he heard Mulch say.

  “It’s his first meal with us,” said Snap, her voice low and even. “I’m sure he’ll learn our ways soon.”

  Lucky swallowed another mouthful of tough meat, wondering at how this Pack of dogs could work so well together in some ways, even as they seemed to have regular dis
agreements. Snap wasn’t exactly standing up for him, but she was still quick to tell Mulch he was wrong. And yet, there was a sense that everyone was pulling in the same direction, hoping to achieve the same goals.

  Packs are just strange, I suppose, he told himself, thinking about Bella and the Leashed Dogs. They may have been clumsy hunters who pined pathetically for the security of their lives with the longpaws, but none of them would have willingly seen a Packmate go hungry. This Wild Pack, on the other hand, were content to talk lazily among themselves as they watched Omega creep forward to nibble on his scraps, stretching out his time with the shrew to make it last longer, chewing down even the tiny bones.

  Neither Pack was where Lucky belonged. More than ever he wished he could be on his own again, free and easy, with responsibilities to no one: no dog to lord it over him, and none that he could bully and boss himself. He could barely stand to watch as Omega bit hungrily at the last bare bones.

  The Pack dogs were stretching now, getting to their feet, shaking themselves, and licking the last traces of blood from their chops. Almost before Omega had gulped his last sliver, they were gathering in a new circle, away from the prey-tree, and Twitch whined to beckon Lucky over.

  He was rising to join them when a new sound swelled around the clearing. Lucky’s breath caught in his throat and he paused, his misery forgotten as he listened. The sound seemed to echo in the marrow of his bones before it broke on the air. He raised his head, a thrill lifting his fur.

  The Pack had turned their eyes to the darkened sky. The noise that came from their throats was high and wild and haunting. As Lucky stared, he caught sight of Omega’s small shadow slipping past him. Two of the dogs in the circle made way for him and the little creature took his place between them, lifting his muzzle and singing out a long howl to the stars.

  Shivering, Lucky crept forward. Just as it had for Omega, a space opened for him in the circle, and he found himself next to Sweet, her slender head aimed toward the sky as she howled.

  For a moment she grew quiet, pricking her ears to hear the song of the Pack, and she turned her head to Lucky, her eyes distant and solemn. There was no trace now of the arrogant Beta dog.

  “At night we howl to the Spirit Dogs,” Sweet told him softly. “Sing with us, Lucky. Join the Great Howl.”

  Those words were like a spirit-force inside him, filling his bones and guts and muscles—something mystical that had to be released into the air, into the sky . . . into the world. His spine tingled with an unfamiliar longing, a need. Lucky tilted his head to the night and howled with the other dogs.

  On the opposite side of the circle he saw the black-and-white shape of Moon joining the circle, and the round, fat shadows of her three pups. Even they, with their half-blind eyes, opened their tiny, soft jaws and whimpered little cries to the sky. Though he had never had a glimpse of them beyond their noses before, a surge of fierce pride and protectiveness filled Lucky’s body and he howled longer and louder: for the Pack’s pups, for Omega, for Sweet and Alpha and the rest.

  The stars seemed to whirl above him, breaking and reforming into the shapes of running dogs. Not just the stars, though: As if imprinted on the inside of his eyes he saw other dogs, shadow-dogs, flickering across his mind. The ghostly silhouette of a great hound raced between the slender pine trunks of a huge forest; another tumbled through a surging river, but not drowning or fighting: It was part of the torrent, swift and joyful. Clouds drifted across a bright sky, and between them leaped slender, ferocious Warrior-Dogs, springing from cloud to cloud, their leader a bright slash of light that hurt the eyes.

  In his very bones, Lucky was aware that the dogs around him were howling to particular Spirit Dogs. There was a high, silvery note to Moon’s howling that her pups did their tiny best to echo; Lucky wondered if she was crying out only to the Moon-Dog. Dart, the brown-and-white patrol dog, let out a cry to the Sky-Dogs, so fierce and clear that it somehow seemed to echo as far as the horizon. Fiery’s deep rumbling howl was as rich as rocks and soil; and though Mulch’s cry was thinner, it too was filled with love of the landscape. The two of them were calling, each in his own way, to the Earth-Dog.

  And the Spirit Dogs answered them.

  Was he imagining the phantom hounds that raced across his vision? Lucky hesitated, opening an eye and breaking the spell for a fleeting instant. Were the other Pack members seeing them, too? It was impossible to tell. Closing his eyes, he resumed his howling, higher and fiercer than before, and he thought he heard an answering song within him: the great ghostly dog that hunted through the dream-trees in his mind’s eye.

  Lucky felt like he could howl forever. The Spirit Dogs were inside him—they were inside all of them, joining with the Pack and leaping in the shadows around them.

  But slowly, gradually, the Great Howl died away as the ghostly dogs faded from his vision. Lucky wasn’t quite sure when the last faint howl was swallowed up by the night and the silence fell, but he blinked as if he had awoken from a dream—a dream he did not want to end. The surge of loyalty still tingled in his flesh, and he felt a huge, irresistible tug toward every member of the Pack. He forgot his feelings of only moments ago: his resentment, his shame and humiliation. These were his brothers, his sisters, his hunting-and-fighting friends, and he would never leave them, never. . . .

  It was fleeting, fading, but the intensity of that Pack-spirit lingered in his brain and heart. Now he saw what bound these dogs together, despite the brutality and harshness of their lives. For the first time, he could truly understand what Sweet had told him.

  Lucky felt dizzy with the echo of the Great Howl as he padded silently to the patrol den, where Dart and Twitch were already yawning and treading their ritual circles. The leaf-strewn space was close to the entrance of the clearing, and Lucky knew that no enemy could get past them, not with Twitch and Dart on guard there with their ears pricked and their eyes shining. A fierce certainty raced through him: No dog would get past him to his leader, to his Pack and the Pack’s pups. No dog would dare. . . .

  As he lay down, his head on his paws and his ears still alert for any threat, he gazed at the softest hollow of all—the sheltered glade that was Alpha’s sleeping place. The dog-wolf was curled up there with Sweet, his massive tail tucked close to her slender muzzle.

  Something other than loyalty and protectiveness was shivering through Lucky’s flesh now. It was not Pack-love that prickled his neck and raised his hackles . . .

  It was the sharp fang bite of jealousy.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Jaws, snapping and tearing . . .

  The screaming barks and yelps of wounded dogs . . .

  The howls of battle-rage as teeth tore into flesh.

  Two shadowy leaders howled their hate at each other, commanding their Packs to rip and kill. . . . And they did, two armies destroying themselves, dragging each other down, down to the Earth-Dog. Sharp fangs sank into Lucky’s ear, just as Sweet had threatened that hers would do, and he felt that ear ripped from his skull. But when he spun around to defend himself he could see only darkness, could feel only the spatter of blood in his face. There was no enemy for him to fight, no way of battling to survival.

  There was only a raging torrent of savagery. . . .

  The Storm of Dogs—

  Lucky started awake with a terrified growl. The muzzle that nudged and nipped him was no horrifying phantom. It was just Twitch. The black-and-tan long-eared dog’s weak leg was shaking with weariness as he limped to lie down near Lucky.

  “Wake up, Lucky. It’s your turn on watch.”

  Lucky got to his feet, his own legs trembling. He took deep breaths to calm his fear. There was no battle—no dying and killing—only the same forest hollow where he had slept for five no-suns now. The woods were silent around them but for the whisper of branches, and the rustle of beetles and other small prey.

  “Go on, Lucky!” Twitch insisted. “I need to sleep.”

  Stretching, shaking his fur, Lucky let Twitch slum
p into his sleeping place with a tired sigh. “I haven’t been on watch before. Are you sure—”

  “Beta says you’re ready. She says that you fit in now, and that you show commitment to the Pack.” There was approval in Twitch’s voice. “She says that she trusts you. That means we all do.”

  Lucky gave a soft growl of acceptance and pleasure. “Where should I patrol? And who will be with me?”

  “At night, we patrol alone,” Twitch said. “You just have to pad around the edge of the camp, and keep your eyes open for anything that should worry us. Since you’ll be by yourself, it’s safer to keep moving. Don’t stay in one place too long.”

  Still bleary, and a little shaken by his dream, Lucky made his way to the clearing’s entrance. He was tired, but he was grateful as well for being woken from that terrible dream. And he could not deny a glow of pride that Sweet thought him so worthy of trust. He had been with them now for only four full journeys of the Sun-Dog, yet he was being given responsibility for guarding the whole Pack.

  He would not let them down.

  Just as he was thinking this, his gut turned over with realization. For a moment, in the blurry aftermath of sleep, he had forgotten the real reason he was here. Each night, the Great Howl drew him in and wound its spell tight around his heart, bonding him closer to the Wild Pack. Each morning he woke, remembering the thrill in his blood, and the memory was always followed by a sting of shame and disgust. How easy it was to forget, to be drawn in—to feel his blood singing that he was one of them, a Wild Dog, forever.

  But the shame grew less each morning.

  No! Again he reminded himself that he was not part of this Pack. He was here on a mission, and now was the time for him to fulfill it. He might not have a better moment to slip away, to reveal the Wild Pack’s weak points to Bella. And once he was gone, he would not come back. Not ever.