Each dog to his own, thought Lucky with an inward sigh. And we all have to adapt now.
Once they were within the shade and dimness of the woods, the hunters walked more carefully, picking their way under bushes and between mossy trunks. The light was gloomy, the rain a soft constant mist that pattered off the remaining leaves. It would be hard to track prey in this, but perhaps the prey would be less likely to scent them, too.
Halting in a small glade, Mickey and Fiery, the two best trackers, raised their muzzles to taste and sniff the damp air. The dogs all cocked their ears keenly. Distantly a bird gave a weak twitter, and Fiery narrowed his eyes.
“I can smell something,” muttered the big dog. “I’m just not sure what it is.”
“It’s all we’ve got,” pointed out Bruno. “We might as well follow it.”
“All right,” agreed Fiery. “But be alert, in case it’s a badger or a coyote . . . or a giantfur.”
Lucky shivered. The memory of the last giantfur they’d met was all too fresh in his mind—the small, angry eyes in a round-eared head, the massive, black-furred body, the raking claws, and the snarling jaws in an earth-brown snout. No dog could stay brave for long before one of those enormous creatures.
“I hope it isn’t one of those,” said Snap drily. “I’m not in the mood for a battle.”
“I don’t know,” Bruno said heartily. “A giantfur would make a pretty fine meal to take back to Alpha.”
“Hmph,” laughed Fiery. “I hope you’re joking.”
“You’d better be, Bruno. If I see a giantfur, I plan to turn tail and run,” said Lucky. “I’m warning you now.”
“I’ll be with you, Lucky,” said Snap as they trotted on through the forest.
“Me too,” agreed Mickey, looking nervous.
“Oh, don’t worry. It’s not likely to be a giantfur,” scoffed Fiery. Then his ears pinned back and he drew a breath. “What in the Sky-Dogs’ name—”
He came to a halt in front of them. Their banter was cut off abruptly.
“It’s not a giantfur,” he snarled, his hackles lifting as his legs stiffened. “It’s dogs!”
A volley of aggressive barks ripped the air, echoing through the trees.
“They’re straight ahead!” howled Lucky. And they’re heading in our direction.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Fiery stood rooted to the spot, immobile, horrified at his mistake at leading them straight into danger. Lucky realized he had to take command from the big dog, if only for a moment.
“Every dog, get in a circle!” barked Lucky. “Tight battle formation!”
Lucky was grateful that the Pack had been drilling and training since their last disastrous battle with the Fierce Dogs, when they’d submitted out of fear; Mickey, Snap, and Bruno fell instantly into a defensive line, keeping close together and showing no signs of panic. Fiery, too, recovered from his remorse and shock. Shaking himself, he took a place at Lucky’s side, his muscles tensed, ready to face whatever was approaching.
They could hear the crackle and rustle of branches and dry leaves, growing louder as the other dogs plunged through the undergrowth toward them. How many? wondered Lucky. Nine? Ten? More? They certainly outnumbered Fiery’s patrol. Lucky stiffened his muscles and bared his teeth. If it was the Fierce Dogs, he and his Packmates would not go down without a fight.
The first enemy burst from the bushes ahead. It was not a Fierce Dog, Lucky saw with a surge of relief—this strange dog was stocky, his long, matted brown hair patched with pale cream. His eyes widened to show the whites and he skidded to a halt in a tumble of leaves. Spinning frantically, he yelped a warning to his Pack.
So they didn’t know we were here, either! Lucky thought, as the rest of them crashed into the clearing behind him. Lucky felt his hopes rise. This new Pack was a rabble! They were wheeling and barking and knocking into one another as they let out a chaotic volley of warning barks. The mangy brown dog slipped and slid in the leaves in his panic, provoking a frightened, “Watch out!” from a thin dog who almost fell over him. These dogs might be a threat, but at least they didn’t pose the kind of danger Blade’s Pack would.
Facing them down, Fiery’s patrol raised their hackles, and snarled as one.
Nice to know there’s a Pack even less disciplined than the Leashed Dogs, thought Lucky wryly. Lowering his hackles, he sniffed cautiously.
The newcomers seemed uncertain, still giving occasional barks as they sniffed and eyed the hunting party. They didn’t appear too hostile, despite all their angry barking as they’d arrived.
Snap gave a sudden yelp of surprise and joy. “Twitch!”
Startled, Lucky watched her bolt forward to the bushes. Another dog was limping into view—a black-and-tan hunt-dog, clearly lame. It was Twitch!
He survived after he left us, even with that broken leg! Lucky felt a surge of gladness. And he’s found a new Pack!
But then a thrill of horror ran down Lucky’s spine. Twitch’s leg was no longer broken: It was gone altogether. It had been cut off—no, probably chewed off—and all that was left was a stubby lump. Skin had grown back over it, warped and hairless, and there was no open wound. Lucky exchanged a shocked glance with Bruno and Fiery.
Still, Twitch didn’t seem to mind. He lurched forward on three legs, moving fast and easily, and returned Snap’s eager licks.
“What are you doing here, Snap? And the rest of you!” His voice was glad, but urgent. “I thought you’d found a new camp, after that black cloud fell.”
“We did, but—” began Snap.
Twitch shook himself. “No, never mind that. There’s no time. Listen to me—you have to get out of the forest.” The three-legged dog gave a nervous glance over his shoulder. “Right now!”
Lucky opened his jaws to ask why, but a great crunching and snapping of branches made every dog look up.
The dog that emerged last from the bushes was a gigantic creature, as big as Fiery. His short hair was dappled all over with ugly bald patches, red and inflamed-looking, and his square face was bloated and twisted. But it was his eyes that were most disturbing, thought Lucky. They were wide and dilated, and nearly the same vivid yellow as the furs of those sinister patrolling longpaws.
As soon as the huge creature appeared, Twitch and the rest of his Pack flopped to the ground, meek and cringing.
“Terror!” yelped the patchy brown dog.
The massive, ugly dog surveyed them all with a sneering growl.
Fiery, with a last quick glance at his patrolmates, stepped forward and dipped his head in respect for the dog who must be Alpha of this Pack. “Greetings. We’re part of a Pack that is passing through your forest, looking for new territory. We will be moving on soon.”
His baleful yellow eyes glowed, but the huge creature said nothing.
“Will you as Alpha permit us to hunt here for a few journeys of the Sun-Dog?” Fiery went on.
Lucky listened with his ears pricked, impressed. Surely this mean-looking Alpha dog couldn’t object to such a polite request? Fiery was quick-thinking and reasonable as well as huge and strong—no dog could fail to listen to him.
In fact, it suddenly occurred to Lucky that Fiery would be an ideal Alpha. If anything were to happen to the half wolf . . . first Sweet and then Fiery were the obvious candidates to be the next Alpha of their Pack.
Expectantly Lucky and the other members of the patrol turned back to the big yellow-eyed dog. Still he didn’t reply. Instead he began to tremble, his patchy fur rippling, and suddenly he gave a barking laugh. The tremors became great shudders that shook his whole massive body.
Lucky was stunned. Snap cocked an ear at Bruno; Mickey’s jaw hung open in disbelief, and Fiery’s eyes narrowed—just before the big Alpha dog struck out with a paw, slashing hard across Fiery’s muzzle.
With barks of anger, Lucky and the others sprang forward to Fiery’s defense, but the other Pack dogs were on their paws too, even Twitch, snarling viciously at them.
In
the standoff, the big yellow-eyed dog lifted his head, drool slavering from one side of his jaw. “I am Terror,” he growled. “I am the Forepaw of the Fear-Dog, King of all the Spirit-Dogs. Show me respect!”
Stunned into silence, Lucky glanced at Fiery, who was slowly shaking his huge head. “What are you muttering about?” he snarled. “There’s no such thing as a Fear-Dog!”
“Yes, there is!” The strange Terror’s bark was high-pitched with fury. “All must bow to him!” Spatters of drool flew from his mouth and his yellow eyes rolled. “Bow to him!”
Around him, his Pack quivered and pressed themselves low to the ground, every eye fixed in fear on his face.
Terror struck the ground with his claws, sending leaves flying, raking gashes in the earth. “Where have you slunk from? Strange dogs are not welcome here. The King of Dogs does not share his prey!” He swung around, lifted one great paw again, and Lucky tensed to leap out of the way—but this time Terror’s claws slammed down hard on the forepaw of one of his own Packmates.
The little, short-haired brown dog yelped with pain and cowered, and the rest of Terror’s Pack trembled with a frenzy of fear. Lucky’s fur prickled. What Alpha would do that to one of his own dogs, for no reason? Fiery shook his head and stared, then gave a bark of fury.
“You’re crazy. And you and your made-up Spirit-Dog can go to the real Earth-Dog! I told you—we are travelers. My Pack and I will hunt in this forest, as is our right by the laws of the Forest-Dog. And if you know what’s good for you, you and your pathetic Pack will stay out of our way.”
“You!” Terror barked into the face of the short-haired dog he had just hurt. “Attack the intruder!”
At such a feeble threat, Fiery exchanged an amused glance with Lucky, who shook his head. Ridiculous, he thought. That little dog’s no match for Fiery!
But the dog obeyed her Alpha, her eyes wide with fear. She flung herself at Fiery’s head, clawing and barking frantically.
Shocked, Fiery batted her away, knocking her into a pile of leaves, but she leaped up instantly and flew at him again, teeth snapping. Lucky stiffened, but he couldn’t interfere. Fiery would be livid at any suggestion of help—the little dog’s behavior was absurd!
Fiery whacked her aside, this time pouncing forward to slap a great paw onto her belly and hold her down. Yet again, she wriggled free and flew at him.
As he tried to dodge, Fiery shot Terror a look of disbelief. The huge, mad-eyed dog was making a growling, huffing sound, as if he was amused. Lucky shuddered, and he could see the disturbed expressions on Mickey and Bruno’s faces too.
“Now!” barked Terror. “In the name of the Fear-Dog! Attack!”
Lucky and his friends backed hurriedly into their disciplined line, but it was no defense against Terror’s Pack. We’re seriously outnumbered, thought Lucky.
At the rear of his Pack, Terror was biting and scratching at his dogs’ haunches, driving them on into battle. Lucky growled and bit at the first dog to lunge at him, who was snarling and clawing insanely. To his right he saw Snap forced to fight against Twitch, who was striking out even as she barked at him.
“Twitch! Stop this! We were Packmates!”
In return Twitch gave her a hard blow on the side with one paw. He did not look as mad as the others, but there was a light of desperation in his eyes, and he didn’t hold back from obeying Terror’s howled orders and snapping teeth. And Lucky could see why, even as he fought off his own opponent. Terror’s “leadership” tactics might be crazy, but they were effective.
It’s working for him, thought Lucky, but how can he fight this way? It’s against a dog’s honor!
Fiery had managed to pin down the crazed little dog with two paws, though she still struggled, jaws snapping, growling and yapping crazily, and now he had a thin and mangy black dog hanging on to one of his ears. The black dog’s eyes were rolling in their sockets, so wide and dark that Lucky thought they might pop right out of his head.
“Retreat!” Fiery barked. “All hunting dogs, back! It’s no use!”
With a last hard swipe to dislodge the snapping brown dog from his throat fur, Fiery spun around and bounded into the forest, Lucky and the others at his heels. It was the only thing to do, Lucky knew. Fiery was right. There was no fighting those dogs, driven to deadly combat by fear of their leader.
His breath rasping in his throat, Lucky ran with the others until his legs and his rib cage ached—but they were easily outpacing that ragtag Pack. Surely they’d give up as soon as they’d driven the hunters out of the forest?
As they burst from the trees into the meadow, Lucky risked a glance back over his shoulder. For a moment there was no sign of movement—then, to his horror, Terror’s Pack burst from the trees, snarling and wheeling, tripping over their own feet, but still chasing them.
“Are they insane?” he barked breathlessly at Fiery.
Fiery’s eyes were shocked. “I think they are—at least their Alpha is.”
Lucky could tell from their clumsy, pounding paw steps that the pursuing Pack was exhausted, yet still they came, breaking through the undergrowth, plowing on with sheer determination.
“Back to the Food House!” barked Fiery, and raced onto the first stretch of black hardstone in the longpaw settlement.
Lucky doubted that a mere longpaw building would be enough to stop this maddened Pack, and he could hear their rasping breaths and slapping paws behind them, echoing off walls and houses.
“They’re afraid of Terror,” he barked breathlessly to the others. “They’ll go wherever he wants them to go—and he’s making them follow us! We’re leading them back to our camp!”
Fiery slowed again, casting an anxious glance behind him. “We have no choice.”
“Those dogs will fight to the death,” panted Lucky as he ran. “They’re out of their minds with fear of their Alpha! Our Pack might be able to defeat Terror, but we’ll have to kill every one of his followers. Maybe even Twitch!”
“That’s Terror’s fault,” barked Fiery. “If we have to, we’ll kill them all.”
“Do we really want to do that? Even to mad dogs? And we’ll lose some of our own; you know that.”
“So what are you suggesting, Lucky? Keep running forever? They’re not stopping!”
Bounding faster, Bruno barged to the front and interrupted Lucky and Fiery with a sharp yelp. “I’ve got an idea. Follow me!”
Swerving around a corner, the burly Fight Dog led them down a narrow alley and along a broken garden fence. Halfway along he crouched on his belly and squirmed underneath.
“There’s a sharpclaw I used to chase,” he panted as Lucky wriggled under the fence after him, followed by Fiery, Mickey, and Snap. They got to their paws and stared at an abandoned longpaw house, set in the middle of the garden. “I chased that animal around and around my old longpaw house. I think the fat, old brute used to enjoy the game, really. That’s where I learned this trick.” And Bruno set off running around the abandoned longpaw house, scattering tiny chips of stone.
With a last perplexed glance at one another, the four hunters followed. Bruno led them around the house and around again several times, until Lucky thought the old Fight Dog had gone as crazy as Terror. Then he skittered to a panting halt on the gravel, next to a pile of logs and a wooden structure propped against the house wall.
“I can hear them coming!” There was panic in Snap’s yelp.
“That’s all right. We’ve done enough.” Tongue lolling with tiredness, Bruno wriggled his haunches, eyeing the roof of the wooden structure. He sprang up onto the wobbling pile of logs, then made another leap for the top of the structure. Though he didn’t quite make it, he kicked with his hind legs until he was safely on the rickety roof. “Come on!”
The others followed, too desperate to ask what Bruno was up to. As Lucky landed on the thin sheet of wood, panting with relief, Bruno was already turning again, gazing up at the roof of the actual longpaw house. It sloped, but not steeply, and there was a b
rick tower sticking up at one end.
“Oh no,” groaned Fiery. “No higher, Bruno!”
“Up!” barked Bruno, ignoring him, and jumped.
They had no choice but to follow. First Snap, and then Mickey and Lucky made the leap; Fiery was next, but he couldn’t drag his massive body onto the roof. He began to slide backward, whining in panic.
“Fiery!” yelped Mickey, lunging forward, nearly losing his own grip to seize Fiery’s scruff in his jaws.
Lucky slithered down the sloping roof and crouched to add his strength to Mickey’s. Between them they dragged the wildly scrabbling Fiery up over the edge. As soon as his hindpaws had a grip, they all stumbled to the shelter of the little stone tower.
They panted, wide-eyed, but Bruno said, “Now we wait. Keep still!”
Lucky had no intention of moving a muscle, since the least misstep was likely to send him sliding down the roof and plummeting to the earth below. He hardly dared look over, but he saw Terror hounding his Pack into the garden, biting their haunches to drive them under the broken fence.
“Get the intruders!” he yelped. “Kill them, in the name of the Fear-Dog!”
Noses snuffling at the ground, the strange Pack loped to the longpaw house and began to race around the walls, shoving and snapping at one another as they squabbled over the scents.
“This way!”
“No, they’ve gone back—that way!”
“Don’t get in my way—yow!”
They ran around twice in a circle before half the Pack doubled back in confusion and began to retrace their pawsteps. That led to collisions and more fighting and nipping.
“They’ve gone!” yipped the little short-haired dog. “Vanished!”
“Don’t be stupid,” howled Terror. “Find them!”
A wiry-haired black dog went down on his belly and crawled trembling to Terror. “It’s true, Terror; they’ve disappeared.”
“Perhaps the Sky-Dogs took them away,” whimpered another.
“The Sky-Dogs would not dare!” howled Terror in a rage. “The Fear-Dog rules the Sky-Dogs! Find that Pack!”