Shep passed several other dogs, but ducked away from them. He dreaded the scent of his own pack — he felt like a coward. Maybe he needed to be the kind of leader Blaze wanted, the one reflected in Oscar’s eyes. If he’d taken control from the beginning, maybe he could have made the pack into something great, and not simply a bunch of scared dogs waiting for masters who might never return. Maybe he could have kept this Storm Shaker craziness from taking hold like a worm in the lifeblood. Maybe he could have kept Callie from eating that plant.
No, he reminded himself, there is no “controlling” Callie. And what about the pack as a whole? If he couldn’t handle one small — strong-willed and stone-headed, but singular and small — dog, how could he expect to have control over a whole pack? Was being an alpha anything more than an illusion?
Kaz had had control, if rampant fear could be called control. But she hadn’t cared about being in charge. She led the wild dogs, but only because they all feared her. She herself had been fearless to her last breath. Was that what leadership was? Scaring every one with your fearlessness? Ruling because no dog could smell what you might do next?
Shep gave himself a scratch behind the ears. He’d been right to work as a team, and to always share his power with the pack. Maybe he needed to listen to them more to get them to work together. Maybe the ideal leader was like a window, merely allowing the light of the pack to shine through him.
When the sun rose to its highest point, he returned to the den. He passed the kibble room to drop off the squirrel and noticed that the hunters had had better luck than usual. There was a healthy pile of dead rodents and lizards, and even a bag of kibble, by some small miracle. Higgins was busy gleefully calculating rations for the sun.
“It’ll be more than a mouthful for each dog tonight, I’d wager!” he yipped, tail wagging.
Shep felt good, and then even better when he saw that Callie was awake and holding her head up as Boji licked her jowls.
“Thank the Great Wolf,” he whimpered, crouching low to sniff her.
“Thank yourself,” Callie said, her bark reduced to a wheeze. “If you hadn’t been here —”
“But I was,” Shep woofed, “and so was Boji, and now you’re okay, which is all that matters.”
Callie licked his nose. “Boji thinks I need rest.”
“You do need rest,” woofed Boji. “I can tell that you haven’t slept in suns.”
“I’m with Boji,” Shep woofed. “You haven’t been yourself. I miss my friend, the one who couldn’t keep her tail from wagging.”
Callie panted, then was wracked by a fit of coughing. “But the pack — cough — what about the food? Have you counted the new members yet? And there was a fight between a couple of the Yorkies about whether they should be forced to sleep in the same den when the other small dogs each got their own.”
Shep hadn’t heard about the fight with the Yorkies, and wasn’t exactly sure he could pick out a Yorkie from any other yapper, but more importantly he hadn’t known that Callie had been keeping track of all the new members. “Are you barking that you actually know how many dogs are in this pack?”
“Name and breed,” she woofed. “Higgins needs to know so he can divide up the food.”
“No wonder you haven’t been sleeping,” Shep yipped. “I’m beginning to feel like I haven’t been pulling my weight.”
“You’re the muzzle the pack looks to,” Callie woofed. “That’s a tough enough job.”
“At least I’ve slept,” Shep snuffled.
“Well, you do get some perks as the muzzle.” She smiled, then rested her head on her paws. “I feel like all these suns of not sleeping have finally caught up with me.”
“I’ll let you rest,” Shep woofed.
Boji wagged her tail, letting him know he could go and that she would watch Callie. “I’ll get you if she needs you,” she woofed.
Shep decided that he should take over some of what Callie had been doing, starting with sniffing out how many new dogs had been recruited that morning. He caught Honey’s scent near the entrance to one of the dens on the bottom level of the boat. She was curled up in the semidarkness, her den being in the floor, on the bottom-side of the boat.
“Hey, Honey,” Shep barked. “I need to know how many dogs your team rescued this sun.”
“That’s easy,” she snarled. “None.”
Shep scented that Honey was angry, but not interested in a fight. She seemed to be seething in her own fur. “Did you find empty buildings? Dead dogs?” he woofed, wondering what might be troubling the girldog.
“We, and by ‘we’ I mean Fuzz and myself, since our team was gutted to fill the hunting ranks, didn’t go out looking for any dogs. If this pack’s willing to eat cats, then I’m not interested in bringing any more dogs into it to feed off my friends.” Honey lifted herself and turned so that her back faced Shep. “Now leave us alone.”
Shep scented for where Fuzz was. He smelled like he was under Honey.
“Where’s Fuzz?” Shep woofed.
“Why do you care?” Honey snapped.
Shep stepped back, wary of how angry Honey — sweet, gentle, caring Honey — was. An angry dog was an unpredictable dog. “I care about Fuzz, Honey,” he yipped. “I care about you, too.”
“Really?” she growled. “I don’t believe you. I believe that you want to be nice to every one, but when the fur’s on the line, you don’t care.”
Now she’s being unfair, Shep thought. “I smell you’re still angry that the pack ate a cat, and I’m sorry about that whole thing. But these dogs are hungry and the pack needs whatever food it can get.” Shep was making a pronouncement on something; he felt strong and sure, now that he had his teeth in the idea. “This pack eats cats, but I’ll stand by Fuzz. No dog will touch a hair on his back, if I can help it.”
Fuzz leapt up from a hole in the floor — the window, Shep realized.
“Get out!” the cat hissed. His back was raised in an arch and his ears were flat against his head. His fangs were bared and his long, fluffy tail twitched like a snake ready to strike. “Shep-dog hurt Honey-friend with every bark!” The cat stepped forward, spitting with rage. “Fuzz not allow Shep-dog to hurt Honey-friend! Fuzz and Honey no need help from no-honor dog like Shep! Get out!”
Shep backed away from the cat, who was shivering with fury. Unsure what to woof, Shep left the two in the dark. If Honey wanted to punish him for his decision, that was her choice. She could be angry with him, but he felt good, finally having put that issue under paw. He could stand on that point at least — this pack eats cats. Done. No more worrying about that.
As Shep was hunting that afternoon, he met some of the other dogs from the pack, but he only recognized them because they nodded their snouts or wagged their tails at him. To Shep, they were all just dogs, strange dogs he’d never smelled before. He didn’t like that the pack was so big that he didn’t know each dog individually. Next sun, he thought, I’m going to make a point to sniff out every dog in the den. He wanted to know each one. What kind of leader could he be if he didn’t know each dog, their particular strengths?
He rounded a corner into an alley and discovered Blaze dragging a struggling rat from beneath a slab of stone.
“Get out here, you filthy mound of fur!” she growled through her teeth.
Shep loped to her side. “Need another fang?”
Blaze ripped the rat out, and with a quick flick of her jaw, the rodent fell still. “No,” she woofed, dropping it on the stone.
“I thought you hunted in a team,” Shep barked, sniffing the rat. Lifeblood was a friendly scent to him now: the smell of a successful hunt. No more nightmares for me, he thought, happily.
“I did,” Blaze snuffled. “But after our little fight, the other dogs think I’m cursed. Apparently, when you cross the Champion, you lose the privilege of having the others so much as sniff your tail.”
“I’m sorry we had that fight,” Shep woofed. “I know you believe you’re right, but can?
??t you smell that sometimes another dog might be on a good scent? Even if it’s not the same scent you’re tracking?”
“No,” Blaze said, her bark soft, not defensive. “Not on something as important as this.”
They padded down the alley in silence, panting in the hot, humid afternoon air. The rat dangled from Blaze’s jowls. The alley ended at a street. Blaze turned toward the boat, but Shep trotted in the other direction.
“You lost?” Blaze barked over her tail.
“I’m going to sniff around a little more,” Shep woofed. “I hate to return home with empty jowls.”
Blaze cocked her head, but then waved her tail and broke into a run down the street toward the boat. Shep trotted lazily in the dying light. The sky above him warmed to orange-blue, and the thin strips of cloud burned bright pink. It had felt good to hunt, good to be alone with the Outside, but it felt even better to be back with Callie and Blaze. And he would bark with Honey in the morning. Maybe she’d be less angry after sleeping on things for a night.
After that I’ll woof with Oscar, he decided. Maybe if I spend some time chewing a stick with the pup, he’ll stop drooling all this Storm Shaker slobber.
He was going to be the best teammate ever to walk on four paws. He rounded a corner to return to the boat, ready to get started on this whole leadership track again, and saw a snorty beast rooting in a bag of trash.
It wasn’t one of Blaze’s beasts — though it had horny, cloven paws, it was the size of Shep’s crate, not a Car. It had a long, flat-nosed muzzle and largish ears on a fat head, with barely any neck separating it from the creature’s thick shoulders. Bristles of hair trembled on its back, and a crooked tail hung from its muscled haunches.
The beast snorted and raised its snout from the refuse, revealing bulky tusks that protruded from its thick jowls. Shep could run, leave this king among kibbles alone, or he could take the challenge that the Great Wolf had set before him.
Shep crouched and waited to smell how the beast would attack. He figured it would charge to take advantage of its tusks. He had to disable them as weapons. Bite the ear.
The beast squealed, then rushed at Shep, aiming to ram him in the chest. Shep held still, waited for the beast to get within range, then swung his body to the side and snapped onto the beast’s ear. His fangs sunk into the leathery flesh and held.
The beast fought to free itself of Shep’s bite, squealing like an old Car. It dragged Shep along the pavement and drove him into a wall. Shep managed to avoid getting smashed by hopping onto the beast’s back for a heartbeat until it pulled away. The animal sank to the ground, then burst back to its paws and ran — anything to shake Shep’s hold. But Shep’s jaws were locked; he growled and tugged on the ear and knew it was only a matter of tiring the thing out.
After several more dives and dodges, the beast began to wheeze. The next time the creature sank to its belly, Shep jerked the ear, then released the flesh and pounded the beast in the chest with his paws. The thing was knocked off balance and crashed onto its side.
Shep had only a snoutful of heartbeats before it wriggled back onto its hoofs. He snapped his teeth around one thin ankle and broke the bone to make sure the beast couldn’t regain its attack stance. Then he went for the neck. When he felt the monster’s lifeblood pulse against his tongue, he knew he’d defeated it.
Shep stepped back from the body of his opponent, victorious and splattered with lifeblood. This beast had to be more than twice Shep’s weight, and he’d defeated it. No dog had ever brought in such a kill. He was the master hunter! Let Oscar tell a story about this!
There was no way Shep was going to be able to drag the beast all the way back to the boat. Maybe he could get Blaze to help him? No, even with two dogs, it’d be too heavy. But he had to show her. She’d never believe him otherwise!
Shep scampered down the street back toward the den, jaws split in a grin and tongue lolling from his jaws. If he hurried, there would be just enough light left for a return trip.
Shep burst into the boat, panting heavily from running so hard back to the den. “Blaze!” he howled. “You won’t believe what I did!”
Blaze stuck her muzzle out from the raised hall. She cocked her head, scenting how frazzled Shep was. “You smell like you just escaped a water lizard.”
“Some flat-snouted beast,” Shep managed between pants. “I killed it,” he woofed. “It was huge, and all muscle, so you know it was powerful. But I beat it! You should have seen the battle.”
Blaze’s ears and tail perked up at the news. “Is it nearby? Can we bring it here?”
Shep licked his front paw. “No way,” he woofed. “I told you, this thing was huge and solid as a rock.”
Her tail dropped. “Well, that stinks.”
Shep wagged his tail. “It’s not far,” he woofed. “I can show it to you before dark if we go now.”
Blaze panted, her jowls curling into a smirk. “You think I’m upset because I can’t see your trophy beast?” she grunted. “Sorry to slobber on your kibble, hero, but I was interested in your catch because I thought it might help with the minor crisis we have on our paws.” Blaze then explained that all the kibble Shep had seen that afternoon — the pack’s biggest catch ever — had disappeared.
“What happened?” he snuffled, shocked.
“Cats,” Blaze snarled. “Cats have been stealing food out of the kibble room through a hole in the floor. They clawed the glass out of the broken window, so the food just poured down. They dug a tunnel under the boat to carry their stolen meal away. The felines got a bit greedy this time, and took almost the entire haul. By the time we got the smaller members of the defense team, the cats had escaped. Daisy and Waffle shoved pillows and cloth into the hole to plug it up. I was just about to go find you. We need a plan before the pack gets a whiff of what happened.”
Shep chased around his brain for what to do. With each heartbeat, the news of the lost food was spreading. Shep heard the howling start up: “No food!” “Cats, measly cats broke our defenses?!” “Some dog was asleep at the watch!” “Does this mean no dinner? Again?”
Blaze’s sharp cry ripped through the other voices. “It wasn’t our defense team!” she barked. “It was that traitor, Fuzz! He helped the cats infiltrate our den!”
Shep cocked his head at the girldog, dumbfounded. “Where’d you hear that?” he snuffled.
“Just follow my tail,” Blaze replied in a low bark. “We can turn this to our advantage.”
Some of the dogs nearby began to woof. “I have seen a cat slinking through the den.” “Wasn’t that cat with the dog who rescued me?” “He speaks dog, very strange.”
“He’s betrayed the pack!” howled Blaze. “We must throw the traitor out!”
Shep nipped Blaze on the scruff. “What are you barking? You know Fuzz had nothing to do with the theft.”
“This will make the pack feel powerful, like they’re in control,” Blaze woofed. “If we can blame the cat, then we remain strong. Do you want to tell the pack that this boat has weak points? That we’re vulnerable? We’re on the verge of a riot here. How long until all the hungry, terrified, angry dogs in this cramped den start tearing into each other?”
Blaze turned her muzzle back to the crowd. “Sniff out the cat! Root out the traitor!”
“I can’t let you do this,” Shep yipped, his voice weak. He felt the floor slipping from beneath his paws. His heart raced; his lifeblood pounded so hard, he felt dizzy.
“It’s done,” Blaze snapped. She swung her snout and Shep saw the dogs pressing down the hall toward Honey’s den, heard the howls of “Bring out the cat!”
Blaze looked him square in the snout. “Now’s your chance,” she barked. “You can take control of this stampede, or you can let it run right over you. But without you, this is the end of the pack.”
Shep felt she was right. He had to do something. What was better — to let the pack tear itself apart just to save a cat, one lowly cat, or to stand strong and bring a
ll the dogs together behind a cause? So the plan would result in the expulsion of a blameless cat, and most likely Honey would follow Fuzz, but they hated Shep and all the other dogs in the pack, anyway. Maybe this was a blessing. Honey and Fuzz would probably be happier on their own. Yeah. This was the right thing. In every way.
Shep stood tall and barked. “Bring the traitor to me!” he howled.
Fuzz, hissing and spitting and screaming a high-pitched screech that seemed not of this world, was carried in Mooch’s jaws down the hall. He looked so small, ridiculously small, against Mooch’s huge chest. Honey’s cries rose up from the rear of the crowd.
“NO!” she wailed. “He’s innocent! He’s been with me! Stop! Fuzz!”
Shep’s heart raced even faster. He felt the room spinning around him. Dogs were leaping on others’ backs and barking and howling. It reminded Shep of the wild pack in the kibble den. The dogs were frenzied; the scent of rage and hunger and lifebloodlust swirled in the tight space.
Mooch spat the trembling Fuzz onto the floor in front of Shep. Fuzz lay flat on the metal and looked up at Shep with a hate that burned him like ice.
“Shep-dog know Fuzz not do this,” Fuzz hissed. “Fuzz know you know.”
Shep ignored the cat. Every muzzle in the room was on his scent. “I have seen this cat use the tunnels under the boat,” Shep barked, stringing the woofs together from nothing. “He must have let the other cats in.”
The pack seethed around him. The dogs’ eyes were shot through with red lines, their tongues lolled, and their jowls dripped with slaver. Some of the dogs began to tussle with one another. Shep felt like he was losing control. One dog snapped at Fuzz’s tail. Fuzz swiped at the dog with his paw. Honey shrieked from far away.
“Silence!” howled Oscar. The pup shoved his way to Shep’s side and glared down at the trembling Fuzz. “This is yet another trial put to the Storm Shaker as a test of his valor by the Great Wolf. We, his packmates, have faced drought and hunger with him, have braved heat and vile beasts. Now, we face the betrayal of one of our own packmates. This cat has violated the sacred trust of the Great Wolf’s Champion. The Storm Shaker took him in, offered him shelter, and he has turned against us all. The cat is the agent of the Black Dog! Let us throw him out to join his true master!”