“What does she do?” barked Chase. Other dogs yelped in echo of her question.
“She just walks.” Daisy nodded at Storm. “That’s all. She wanders around and she wakes up in odd places. There’s nothing bad about sleepwalking. She can’t help it.”
For an instant, there was shocked silence. Then the Pack erupted in a cacophony of barking.
“This makes her more dangerous!” yelped Snap.
“Daisy, how could you keep this from us?” howled Chase. “You’re the one who said we had to be honest with each other!”
“Storm walks around in her sleep and doesn’t know what she’s doing?” barked Moon in disbelief. “How can that possibly be innocent?”
“It may not be her fault,” muttered Mickey, with a sideways apologetic look at Storm, “but it certainly does raise some questions.”
“She could have been doing all the terrible things that have happened around here,” yapped Chase, “and she wouldn’t even know she was doing it!”
“No,” whined Storm, trying desperately to make herself heard. “No, that’s not possible. I couldn’t have—”
“Quiet!” Alpha’s sharp bark silenced every dog. She glared around at the Pack, finally letting her eyes come to rest on Storm. “This is something we can—and will—discuss later. For now, we have something much more important to do. Storm! You say you smelled Tumble, down at the Endless Lake?”
Storm nodded, relieved that, at least for now, she had a respite from their questions and accusations. “Yes, Alpha. His scent was there, and it was fresh. I’m sure of it.”
“But he was nowhere in sight?”
“No! Or I’d have gotten him, no matter what, and brought him back to you!” Storm’s eyes pleaded with her leader. You have to believe me, Alpha.
“Very well.” Alpha nodded to Lucky, who looked somber and fearful. “Every dog to the beach, now—except for Sunshine. She will stay and watch the rest of the pups.”
Sunshine nodded and scurried over to guard the three remaining pups. At once, with a summoning bark, Alpha leaped and bolted away into the forest, as fleet as the wind. Lucky was hard on her heels. The rest of the Pack fell in behind them, and Storm joined them, pounding through the trees as fast as she had in her terrible dream. Faster. A rising panic threatened to make her trip and stumble. I don’t understand any of this. How could I have dreamed such a vivid dream of Tumble, the very night he went missing?
Her breath ached in her chest, just as it had in her dream. Her muscles stung with the effort. It’s as if I’ve run this route before. She felt sick.
And just as she hadn’t been able to catch the Fear-Dog, there was no way Storm could keep up with Alpha. She had never seen the swift-dog run so fast. Only when she reached the beach did Alpha finally slow to a halt, casting around with her raised muzzle for any trace of her pup.
“Spread out,” she called, as one by one her Pack emerged panting from the trees behind her. “Look for any trace of Tumble. If Storm is correct, and he’s been here, we should be able to find his trail easily enough.”
Daisy, though last to arrive on her short legs, gave an immediate yelp. Every dog turned to her; she stood, tail quivering, beneath a small dune just next to the trees. “I have his scent over here!”
The dogs raced over, plunging through the soft, dry sand. Storm snuffled with the others, trying to follow Tumble’s scent—but it petered out after only a rabbit-chase.
“That doesn’t make sense.” Mickey stood stiffly, his nostrils snuffling at the breeze. “How can his scent just vanish?”
“I’ve found it again!” barked Breeze. She was some way down the beach; sure enough, when the others ran to her side, they could smell the pup’s distinctive scent once more. But yet again, it disappeared within a few paces.
It’s as if he was carried, and set down now and again, thought Storm. Carried in a big dog’s jaws . . . A thrill of horror went through her bones. The Fear-Dog in my dream carried him like that!
“Here!” called Snap, who was farther down the beach, near the wet sand where the lake-tide reached.
This time only Mickey and Lucky ran to investigate; the other Pack members continued sniffing for Tumble in a wide arc across the sand. An occasional yelp signaled that a dog had picked up the scent again, but no dog managed to follow it for long. Alpha was lashing her tail in frustration, gazing around the beach in increasing desperation. Storm saw that her eyes were more and more frequently drawn to the crashing waves of the lake itself, and then they would fill with terror.
If Tumble’s gone, Storm thought, I can’t imagine Alpha’s and Lucky’s grief. . . .
Hesitantly Storm padded toward the water. It was hard to pick up any kind of scent on the sodden sand, beyond the smells of water grasses and crabs and salt, but she felt she had to try. But if Tumble did go into the Endless Lake, what can I do? There will be nothing any dog can do.
A memory came to her: Spring’s limp body, floating in the lake after that terrible storm, one ear flopped over her dead eye. Even the River-Dog couldn’t have brought Spring back. If Tumble went into the water, there’s no hope for him. . . .
Wrapped in horrible thoughts, she barely heard the howling at first. Then it penetrated her thoughts: a piercing, summoning cry. “My Pack! My Pack!”
Alpha!
Storm’s heart turned over in her rib cage, and she raced up the beach toward the sound. Other dogs were running too, from their searches across the wide bay, and they exchanged glances of fear as they converged on their leader.
The howl was coming from the bottom of the cliff, where two great slabs of gray stone had split and collapsed against each other. In the tiny gap between them, hidden by yellow grasses and scrubby brush, was a dark, cool cave. The echo of howling came from inside; Storm wriggled through into murky half-light, her Packmates behind her.
There stood Alpha, still howling her summons—in between frantic, furious licks to a cowering Tumble.
Storm felt dizzy; her heart raced and pounded with relief. The little pup’s golden coat was sodden and dark, and he was trembling—but he was alive, and he seemed unharmed.
Lucky shoved past Storm to his mate’s side, and he too fell to licking warmth back into his pup, his tongue almost knocking the little dog onto his side. “Tumble. Tumble. You’re all right.”
“We’ll get you home,” Alpha was murmuring as she licked the top of Tumble’s golden head. She had stopped howling; the whole Pack was crammed into the cave. “We’ll take you back to your sisters. We missed you so much, Tumble. Thank the Sky-Dogs we found you.” She closed her eyes briefly, tilting her face toward the unseen sky.
“What happened to you, pup?” Mickey asked, his brown eyes huge.
Tumble opened his little jaws, but he was still shaking too much to speak. It took a lot more licking and nuzzling from his parent-dogs before he calmed down; the whole Pack waited patiently, tails wagging with relief and happiness.
“What happened, little one?” Alpha repeated at last, gently. “Why did you come here?”
He still quivered, and his voice shook. “I had to hide, Sweet. I had to hide!” He sounded small and terrified in the echoing darkness of the cave.
“Why, pup?” coaxed Lucky, licking his ears gently. “Why did you have to hide?”
“I don’t know,” he whimpered. “I don’t know. She told me I had to hide.”
Alpha and Lucky, startled, stared at each other over the pup’s head. Then Alpha nuzzled him again. “Who, Tumble? Who told you to hide?”
In the silence, the little golden pup raised his trembling head. His whimper was barely audible.
“Storm did,” he whispered. “Storm told me I had to hide.”
“What?” Lucky’s head snapped up, and he glared at Storm. Alpha lifted hers more slowly; again she gave Storm that cold, furious look.
Storm stammered, “Tumble, I—what—I don’t unders—”
She took a pace toward him; he flinched back between his Fa
ther-Dog’s paws, recoiling, pressing himself close to the ground.
Lucky looked down at him. Very softly, he asked, “Did Storm bring you here, pup?”
Tumble swallowed and nodded, quickly and frantically. “Yes,” he whispered. “Storm picked me up and brought me. Storm was scary, Lucky!”
For a moment, Storm thought she was going to faint. There was no light of cunning in Tumble’s eyes, no hint that he was lying or playing some strange pup-joke. He was scared, and shaking; and he was telling the truth. Storm’s head whirled even as her heart plummeted in her chest.
“Lucky, I didn’t. You have to believe me,” she pleaded. “I can’t have—I didn’t—”
It’s hopeless. And it isn’t true. I obviously did.
But I never meant to do it.
“Lucky!” she blurted again. “I must have done it in my sleep. I—I didn’t know! I didn’t mean to. I would never hurt Tumble, you know that!”
Lucky didn’t answer. If anything, he drew his protective paws closer around his trembling pup. Glancing up at her Packmates, Storm saw that, one by one, they were stepping back from her, drawing away. Their eyes were bright with fear and anger and mistrust. Even Daisy’s . . .
Alpha spoke at last. “Pack,” she said, and her voice was chillier than the water of the Endless Lake. “We must get Tumble back to the camp, and to his den. We cannot stay here. . . .” She glanced at Storm, then deliberately averted her eyes.
“We will talk about this later, as a Pack. The matter demands a proper gathering, and a Howl. But first, we must look after Tumble. The most important thing right now is that he’s safe.”
Lifting him gently in her jaws, Alpha carried her pup out of the cave and into the warm light of the Sun-Dog. Lucky followed her, and the rest of the Pack went behind him; not one of them looked back at Storm. She stood in the cold darkness of the cave and watched them all turn away.
The worst thing of all was that Storm couldn’t blame them. They had every right to turn their rumps on her. Even Mickey and Daisy. Especially Lucky.
Oh, Sky-Dogs. The full horror of it rushed through her blood, swamping her, threatening to crush her.
What have I done?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Storm lay on her belly in the center of the camp. Her paws were in front of her and her head was raised; she didn’t want to lower it to rest. Every member of her Pack sat in a circle around her, and despite her shame at what she had done, she did not want to look humiliated and beaten.
What I did was terrible. But I didn’t mean to do it.
The late-afternoon Sun-Dog breathed warmth on her back, but her blood felt cold. I’ll never be truly warm again.
She blinked, gazing into the eyes of her Packmates. They were all quiet—some sullen, some hostile, some just miserable—as they waited for Alpha and Beta to emerge from their den. The two of them had vanished in there to settle Tumble back with his litter-sisters, but every dog knew they had also gone to discuss the way forward for the Pack. Twitch, the Third Dog, had been summoned inside after a while, and he had not yet reappeared.
Now the Pack awaited their leader dogs’ decision in an unnatural, heavy silence.
Storm twitched an ear. She thought that even the birds must have caught the mood in the glade, for there was no singing. Somewhere, distantly, there was a crack of undergrowth as a group of deer moved through the forest, but no Pack Dog was thinking of prey right now.
Storm watched each dog’s face, studying their expressions one by one. Not one of them would meet her eyes. That’s not good. . . .
She could smell the mistrust on the air: the sharpness of suspicion and hostility. Some looked sadder than others—Mickey, Daisy, Sunshine, and Breeze—but still, they didn’t dare look straight at her. Thorn and Beetle stared gloomily at the ground. As for Moon and Snap and Chase, their dislike was almost tangible.
They’re all just waiting for Alpha’s judgment, Storm thought. They’re waiting for her word before they tell me what they think. . . .
But Storm realized, with a sudden clarity, that she didn’t have to.
What am I waiting for? I know what I have to do.
I’ve known for a while now. It’s something I should have done long ago.
The shadows crept across the glade, growing longer as the Sun-Dog yawned and stretched and settled to his rest. Stars began to wink in the darkening sky. Beetles scurried in the grass and a lizard darted beneath a stone; Storm could hear the tiny creatures very clearly, as if all her senses were suddenly much sharper than they had ever been.
Maybe that’s because I’m going to need them. Now more than ever.
At last there was movement at the entrance to Alpha’s den; there was an audible sigh of relief throughout the Pack. Every dog seemed to tense in expectation, fur prickling and tails trembling.
Storm did not feel the general ripple of apprehension. She felt calmer than she had in a very long time as Alpha, Lucky, and Twitch emerged from the mouth of the den.
Their faces were very serious as they paced into the center of the glade. Storm rose to her paws and faced them squarely. Before Alpha could even open her jaws to speak, Storm took a single step forward.
“You don’t need to say anything.” Storm was glad that her voice sounded so level. “I know what you’ve talked about; well, it wasn’t necessary.”
Lucky sat back on his haunches, watching her nervously, but Alpha remained standing, listening intently as Storm spoke.
“None of you trust me now. Some of you never did, and others . . . you trusted me when I helped find the pups, before, but ever since . . .” She cleared her throat and licked her jaws. Perhaps she shouldn’t have mentioned the pups—Alpha’s expression turned hard, and several of the others were staring at her as if they couldn’t believe they had felt so kindly toward her. “And after what happened with Tumble, I can’t blame you. I don’t deserve your trust.”
Some of the dogs shuffled uncomfortably and shared awkward glances; others gaped at her, but all remained silent.
“There’s something I want to say, Alpha.” Storm looked levelly at her leader. “With my waking mind and body, I would never, ever do anything to harm this Pack. I’m sorry I kept my sleepwalking a secret; that was a mistake, and I’m sorry. I know I don’t have it in me to harm any of you—least of all the pups. But you don’t know that. You have no way of knowing it, and I can’t prove it. So I understand why all of this makes you so nervous.”
Alpha gave a single, slow nod.
“I also want to say,” Storm went on, her gaze roaming over each Pack member, “that I still think there’s an enemy dog walking among you. And it isn’t me, however bad this situation might look. Telling a pup to hide, putting him in danger without knowing I was doing it—that looks terrible. I’m sorry that I scared Tumble; I never meant to cause him harm. But picking up a pup in your sleep is one thing. Murdering a Packmate is another thing altogether.”
Alpha and Lucky shared a look, Storm noticed. They both looked unconvinced, and that hurt Storm like broken clear-stone in her belly.
She drew a heavy breath. “But even though I didn’t mean to, I did put Tumble in danger. And that’s why I can’t stay in this Pack any longer.” Storm raised her head, blinking hard. “I’m leaving. It’s the only way.”
She closed her eyes briefly in the silence that followed. Her calm was beginning to crumble now. Hold it together, Storm, just a little longer. . . .
She suppressed a shudder and gazed around the Pack. Mickey and Daisy still looked sad, Sunshine had lain down on her belly, her face resting miserably on her forepaws. Beetle and Thorn looked a little shocked. But no dog protested; no dog moved or barked out that she should stay. Storm felt as if her heart were twisting and wrenching inside her, as if it were being bitten by a hungry fox.
I know I have to leave. Everything I’ve said is true.
But it hurts that none of them want me to stay.
Alpha still said nothing, and neither
did Lucky. The two leaders, with Twitch, stood and watched as Storm backed up a few paces. At last, taking a deep, ragged breath, she turned her rump on the Pack. One pace, then two, then a third: Storm strode determinedly out of the glade and across the camp boundary.
She could still hear no whines or barks behind her; the Pack was watching her leave in complete silence. She carried on placing one paw in front of the other. Storm realized she wasn’t even aware what direction she was going; she simply kept padding on, putting a rabbit-chase between her and her former Packmates, then another, and another. With each step it became a little easier to keep walking, despite the terrible ache in her rib cage and belly.
I hate leaving. But I have to leave.
They don’t trust me, and it hurts. But they have good reason.
Keep walking, Storm. Just keep going.
Images came into her head, making her gut twist with pain: Daisy’s cheerful face, Mickey’s wagging tail as he bounded ahead of her on a hunt. Moon’s exasperated expression as she heard of more antics from Beetle and Thorn. Breeze, curled around the pups, protecting them as they slept; and Sunshine, waving her raggedy plume of a tail for Tiny to chase.
There are lots of dogs I will miss. Even the ones who didn’t trust me. They were my Pack, and I may never see them again. . . .
Storm came to a halt and shook herself violently. She gave a ferocious growl, curling her muzzle.
Be strong, Storm! These thoughts aren’t helping.
The Pack would be better off without her; she had to believe that, despite what Breeze had said about her being the best hunter. And she would certainly be better off without the Pack. It had become impossible: the wary glances, the muttered remarks. Life as a Lone Dog would be simpler, more relaxing; she wouldn’t always have to watch her words, she wouldn’t have to pad so carefully around the anxieties of her Packmates. If she wanted to snarl with rage and bite her own tail in frustration, she could do it without striking terror into every dog in earshot.