Moon swallowed, nodding. Despite her disappointment, Fiery’s loyalty to the half wolf stirred her affection for him even more. We can’t be together. But that’s no dog’s fault. We both have duties we can’t ignore.
He’s the dog I was meant to be with, I know that. But it can’t happen. And in a strange way, she loved Fiery even more for it.
“When do you leave?” She could hardly bear to ask.
“Two more journeys of the Sun-Dog, and then we move on,” he told her gently.
She gathered the scraps of her courage. “Will I see you again?”
“We’ll pass through your territory on our way,” he assured her with another lick. “I promise I’ll see you then. And say good-bye.” He hesitated, then met her eyes, his own full of sadness. “I’ll miss you, Moon.”
He turned, his paws heavy as he padded back the way he had come. His head hung low, and as he glanced back once, she saw the longing in his face. Then he vanished into the shadows of the wood.
It’s just as well he walked away, Moon thought. Her heart felt like a stone in her chest, and for long awful moments she couldn’t move. I don’t think I could have been the one to walk away from him.
She blinked hard, peering into the darkness of the trees, but he was gone. And after all that had happened, she wasn’t sure she could bear this final awful loss.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“You’ll never guess who I found out there.” Snap’s voice was full of contempt as she trotted into the clearing, tail lashing.
Moon got to her paws. She’d been expecting to see Snap return from her solitary hunt—with so few dogs in the Pack now, there was no team hunting—but it took her aback to see Snap wasn’t alone. There was a dog in the shade behind her, and Moon recognized his burly outline.
Moon’s jaw felt loose, and her heartbeat thudded in her throat. He was the last dog she’d ever wanted to see again. Grimly she gritted her teeth and stiffened her shoulders, pacing forward to face him.
“Hunter,” she greeted him coldly.
“Moon.” His tone was airy. “I’m glad to see that a few of my old Pack managed to survive.”
I must not bite him. Moon held on to her temper. “What brings you back here?”
“It’s as I said. I’m glad to see the four of you escaped the sickness, but you’ve taken very bad losses, haven’t you?”
Moon didn’t answer; she only stared at him.
“So,” he went on, “I realized where my duty lay.”
“A bit late,” growled Snap under her breath, but Moon gave her a glance to quiet her.
“And where does your duty lie this time?” asked Moon, with heavy sarcasm.
He hunched his shoulders. “With this Pack, obviously. I’ve returned to lead you.”
Moon looked at Snap, whose jaw was open in disbelief. She stared back at Hunter, but the tilt of his head remained arrogant despite their scorn. “You’re serious?”
“Of course I’m serious.” He tapped his tail impatiently. “I’m stronger than all of you, and a better hunter. You’d be fools not to jump at the chance.”
It was lucky, Moon thought, that Mulch arrived back from patrol at just that moment. Otherwise she really might have bitten Hunter. How I’d love to take off one of his cocky ears, she thought bitterly. Mulch was staring at Hunter too, now, and there was no expression of welcome in the black dog’s eyes.
I wonder if Hunter expected a slightly more enthusiastic reception, Moon wondered. The thought amused and cheered her, and she managed to take a deep breath and control herself.
“What happened to Rush and Meadow?” she asked.
“Oh, they got sick,” said Hunter casually. “I tried to look after them, but they died anyway.”
Moon was too flabbergasted by his light tone to answer him, but Mulch spoke up, his voice dry as a rabbit-bone left in the sun.
“That’s funny,” he growled, and there was an undercurrent of laughter in his tone. “Because guess who I ran into while I was on patrol? Rush and Meadow are looking very well, for ‘dead’ dogs. You must have taken better care of them than you thought, Hunter.”
Hunter opened his jaws. “I—”
“In fact,” Mulch interrupted him, “they told me they’d decided to leave you. They snuck away in the night because they didn’t like being bossed around like pups—and by a dog who’s never led a Pack before. I think the words Rush used were . . . let me see . . . control wolf.”
For a moment Hunter looked lost for words. He swallowed hard, looking furious and embarrassed. Then he licked his chops and drew himself up.
“Well, Moon,” he said grandly. He’d obviously decided to pretend Mulch didn’t exist. “Your parent-dogs always wanted us to lead the Pack together. Their dearest wish was that we should be mates, and I think we should honor that wish. You can be Beta to my Alpha.”
Moon took an angry breath. Beta to his Alpha? She’d actually been enjoying his obvious discomfort, but now he had riled her beyond belief. Her amusement died, and she felt her hackles rise.
“I value loyalty in a leader,” she growled slowly, choosing her words with care. “I value loyalty in a mate. You’ve shown none. Of course I won’t accept you as my mate, Hunter.” Her voice rose and she almost spat her anger: “I reject you with every part of my dog-spirit.”
His ears tightened against his skull, and Moon caught a glimpse of that vicious light in his eyes, the gleam she’d never noticed when her parent-dogs were alive. “Then you’re a fool,” he snarled.
My parent-dogs always thought Hunter would be a strong leader, because he was a strong fighter. But I don’t think they would choose him now, if they’d witnessed his behavior. Any Pack deserves better.
Moon stiffened her muscles and lashed her tail, hiding her aching heart behind a frosty coldness. “I may be a fool. But I will say this: Snap, Mulch, and Omega are my Packmates, and I am their Alpha, but I do not choose for them. It’s possible they think I’m a fool too.” She turned to Snap, and nodded. “If you three wish to follow Hunter, I won’t try to stop you. He’s strong; he’s right about that. He’ll lead you well.” The strength of her voice faltered slightly as her gaze moved to Mulch, and then to Omega. “I’m not interested in ordering dogs around, and you should all have a say in what happens to this Pack. You must make your own choices. I won’t follow Hunter—not if he was the last dog left in the world—but if you want to go with him, I won’t try to stop you.”
The three of them glanced at one another, and Moon couldn’t help but hold her breath. Please don’t leave, she found herself begging them inwardly. I don’t want to be the last of my Pack. I don’t want to be alone.
But she wouldn’t ever say it aloud. She only licked her jaws nervously as Snap stepped forward.
The tan-and-white dog gave Hunter a cool stare. “I too value loyalty in a leader,” she said. “And if my Alpha is true to me, I will give that loyalty back till the day I go to the Earth-Dog.” Snap swept her gaze contemptuously away from Hunter, and looked at Moon with much softer eyes. “I will not follow Hunter, and I won’t submit to him. He’s proven himself a coward and a betrayer. You are my Alpha, Moon.”
Mulch sprang forward to Snap’s side. He didn’t even look at Hunter, but focused his gaze on Moon. “I’m with Snap,” he said. “Everything she says is true. You’re my Alpha, Moon. I follow you, and no other dog, not as long as you want me in your Pack.” For the first time he slanted his eyes at Hunter, who was clenching his teeth in fury. “We’re better off without this false dog.”
Hunter rose to his four paws, trembling as he glared at the squat little Omega, the last dog to make his choice. Omega twisted his already wrinkled muzzle, and his pink tongue darted out to lick his ugly jaws. He looked very uncomfortable—and no wonder, thought Moon, when Hunter was several times bigger than him—but he spoke firmly.
“How could I trust Hunter?” he whined. Backing away from Hunter’s furious eyes, he tucked his tail between his legs, and went on stu
bbornly. “I couldn’t trust you ever again. You’d abandon me in the flash of a rabbit tail. I’m staying with Moon.”
Moon closed her eyes briefly, feeling a wave of relief and gratitude wash over her. But as Hunter growled, she opened her eyes again and met his gaze steadily.
“You’re pathetic,” he snarled at her. “Choices? Omegas don’t make choices! Hunt-dogs and Patrol Dogs don’t vote for their leaders! Your Pack’s mine for the taking. It’s my right! Your Father-Dog gave me that right. He chose me to be Alpha!”
“He did not,” barked Moon, her fur bristling with anger now. “And if he’d seen how you’ve behaved, how you let down this Pack, you’d be lucky if he made you his Omega! Alphas don’t run away from danger. They stay where they are and protect their Pack!”
“Your Father-Dog wished for me—”
“Don’t you dare!” Hunter’s twisting of her Father-Dog’s wishes finally broke Moon’s fragile self-control. She lunged for him, jaws wide and lips peeled back from her fangs, and had the satisfaction of seeing him flinch away. He dodged her attack, but Snap and Mulch flew at him from each side, snapping at his flanks, barking their fury.
Hunter twisted and ducked, barking once in fright. Then, abruptly, he bunched his muscles and leaped past Snap, fleeing for the trees with his tail clamped between his legs. Moon’s teeth closed with a clash, just shy of his rump, but he gave a startled yelp anyway. Even Omega was prancing behind them, watching from safety but urging them on with high-pitched barks, and Snap and Mulch harried Hunter all the way into the trees.
Moon skidded to a halt as they chased the traitor off. Her blood was pounding and her chest heaving, but nothing had given her so much satisfaction in a long time as the sight of Hunter’s fleeing hindquarters. Undergrowth crashed and branches snapped as the panicked dog dived for cover and vanished.
Moon watched Snap and Mulch trot back, eyes shining with glee. She let her tongue loll with merriment. Between Snap’s teeth was a ragged clump of gray-brown rump fur.
CHAPTER NINE
With everything that had happened lately, and with the hard Pack work shared among just four dogs, Moon thought that the one thing she should be able to do was sleep. Instead she fidgeted and shuffled on her bedding, tossing and turning. She would have to have a word with Omega; he hadn’t chosen the right leaves. He hadn’t arranged the bedding properly. He—
Oh, it’s stupid to blame Omega. I know what’s keeping me awake.
Fiery is leaving tomorrow.
Stretching out her aching muscles, she staggered up onto her paws. Her head pounded with tiredness, but the thoughts and fears raced around inside it like rats, giving her no respite. Admit it, she told herself angrily. You’re not just going to miss him. The truth is, you can’t bear the thought that you might never see him again.
Silvery moonlight filtered in through the den entrance, edging the overhanging branches with a pale glow. Soon the Moon-Dog would be full, realized Moon, and what kind of a Great Howl could they offer her with such a small and vulnerable Pack? They wouldn’t be crying out their joy to the Moon-Dog; they wouldn’t be declaring their strength and togetherness. Their voices would be small and vulnerable, lost in the forest.
The Moon-Dog won’t even hear us, she thought in despair.
It wasn’t just that her heart ached at the thought of Fiery leaving. Without his strong presence nearby, she and her Pack would be prey to all kinds of threats: coyotes, foxes, hostile dogs. How could they even survive?
I should regret driving Hunter away, but I can’t. I’m glad he’s gone. I think that he might have been the biggest threat of all. . . .
All the same, she, Mulch, and Snap were not the biggest and strongest of dogs; and Omega was next to useless in a fight. If they were left undisturbed, perhaps they could struggle on, living from day to day and taking turns to hunt and patrol. But Moon could not imagine a future in which they’d be left alone. The coyotes might want revenge, and those brutes were only one enemy in a forest full of dangers.
Fiery was our protection. With him gone, we’ll have no dog to defend us. What kind of an Alpha am I if I can’t protect my Pack?
Utterly dejected, Moon padded to the den entrance and sat down, tapping her tail as she gazed up at the three-quarters form of the Moon-Dog. Beyond the camp the nighttime life of the forest was busy; there were scuttlings and rustlings, the lonely shriek of an owl, the distant harsh cry of a fox. Moon shivered as the breeze touched her hide, and a ragged sliver of cloud drifted over the Moon-Dog’s face.
Oh, Spirit-Dog of mine. I don’t think I’m cut out to be an Alpha.
Here in the darkness and the stillness of the night, she could be honest with herself. She hated giving orders. She hated trying to boss the other dogs around. Most of all, she shuddered at the thought of being responsible for them, the thought of knowing that they relied on her decisions for their safety and happiness.
It’s too much. Father-Dog, you were wrong about me. I’m no Alpha. Moon gave a huge, miserable sigh. I was happy when I was doing my job, obeying your orders. Not now when I’m giving my own, and worrying myself sick about whether I’ve done the right thing.
She was distraught to think she was letting her parent-dogs down, but she couldn’t help it. I want to be useful to the Pack in my own way. I know you had hopes and dreams for me, Mother-Dog, Father-Dog. But they weren’t my dreams. . . .
She didn’t even know if she was right to stay in this territory. Did the invisible enemy really linger here, she wondered? The half wolf might be smarter than she’d thought; perhaps it was stupid to remain in a place that harbored sickness. She was so afraid to leave, to walk away from the only home she’d known . . . but was she being a bad Alpha by making her Pack stay in this place?
I don’t know—and that’s the trouble. I just don’t know!
Moon rose to her paws again and padded out into the glade. She paced to one end of it, where Omega lay snoring in his small den, then turned and paced the other way. Back and forth she padded, her mind a turmoil of indecision.
Do I let down my Father-Dog and Mother-Dog?
Or do I risk letting down all that’s left of my Pack?
Gray misty light was beginning to outline the trees as the Moon-Dog loped toward the horizon. Moon heaved a sigh, halting in the middle of the clearing. She twitched one ear, hearing Omega mumble and squeak in his sleep.
My Father-Dog is dead, she thought. My Mother-Dog is dead. But my Packmates are alive. They’re alive, and they need me. But they need me to make the right choice.
I know what I have to do.
On a knoll just beyond the sunup side of the glade, she could make out Mulch’s outline; he’d been on guard through the night, and she saw him stretch and yawn. Moon barked softly to him, and he turned.
“Mulch,” she said as he approached with his ears quizzically pricked. “Come with me.”
She roused the grumbling Omega, and together they padded to Snap’s den. Snap was awake and alert immediately, cocking her head.
“What’s up, Moon?”
“I need to talk to all of you.” Moon sat down. She glanced at the ground, scratched a mark in it with her claw, then looked up again. Her three Packmates watched her eyes, curious.
“Tell us, Moon.” Mulch tilted an ear. “You can ask us anything and we’ll follow you. You’re our Alpha.”
“Yes, I am,” she murmured. “And your loyalty means everything to me. But this is something I won’t do without your consent. Alpha or not, I won’t force you into something you don’t want. But I have a proposal to put to you all. . . .”
The grass was damp under their pawpads as the four dogs made their way over the ridge that marked the boundary of their land. Moon paused, her claws touching the line she knew was the border. On the horizon, the Sun-Dog was rousing himself to lope into the sky; his brilliant golden eye blinked over a faraway hill, lighting up the gray dawn landscape with green and gold and pink.
Moon took a breath, gaz
ing out at the shallow expanse of the valley. The clearness of the sky seemed like a good omen; it was a good day to take such a momentous step.
At least, she hoped so. Setting her jaw, Moon took a step over the boundary.
Behind her, Snap, Mulch, and Omega followed, sharing nervous glances. Moon didn’t look back at them, though; she had caught the first scent marker on the still air.
“This way,” she said, putting all the confidence she could muster into her voice. She trotted determinedly up the slope to the edge of a cleft in the ridge.
There, poised on the highest point and watching the land beyond, was the red Beta. Moon swallowed.
Oh, it had to be her, didn’t it? she thought dryly. Shaking herself, she trotted toward the Beta, giving a low friendly bark.
The Beta spun in shock, her face agitated. “You!”
“Beta.” Halting, Moon dipped her head respectfully.
“What do you want?” The red dog sounded flustered—as well she might, thought Moon with inward amusement. She’d been so busy watching the outer territory, she hadn’t seen Moon and her Pack approach from her flank.
“We’re not here to make trouble,” Moon assured her quickly. “I’d like to speak with your Alpha, if I may?” “Why?” asked the Beta sharply. “We’re leaving soon. When the Sun-Dog rises above those trees, we’ll be gone.”
“I know.” Moon made her voice humble. She disliked this dog, but for her Pack’s sake, it was important to show deference. “I only want to talk to your Alpha. I—well, my Pack and I . . . we have a proposal for him. I’d be grateful if you would escort us.”
The Beta looked annoyed, but she could hardly refuse such a polite request. She sat on her haunches, gave her ear a vehement scratch to express her feelings, and then nodded sharply.
“Very well. I’ll take you to Alpha. But don’t waste his time! We have a busy day ahead of us.”
Quietly amused at the Beta’s irritation, Moon followed her down into the valley. The red dog’s tail was raised self-importantly as she led them through a cleft between two rocks. The passage opened into a shallow bowl-shaped glade, where dogs rose to their paws to stare at the newcomers.