Read Warriors: Enter the Clans Page 25

As Lucky nosed his way through the mound of scraps, he heard the dull fluttering of wings as the crows descended again. He leaped and snapped his jaws at an indignant bird and it darted into the air, its wings beating strongly.

  Lucky sent a final snarl after the departing crow as he landed back on the ground, his paws skidding in the dirt. Immediately, his wounded paw howled with pain. It was like the fangs of the most vicious dog, biting all the way up his leg. He couldn’t hold back his whimper of distress.

  As Sweet dashed through the cloud of crows, chasing them clear, Lucky sat down and licked the pain away. He eagerly sniffed the air, enjoying the scent coming off the piles of discarded items that had spilled out across the ground. Contentment began to settle over him again, and he was distracted from his pain.

  For a while the happy mood lingered as Lucky and Sweet snuffed out the delicacies the crows had left. Sweet pulled chicken bones from a cardboard bucket, and Lucky found a crust of bread, but the pickings were poor, especially after they’d worked up such an appetite.

  “We’re going to starve in this city.” Sweet whined, licking an empty box that had once held some food. She pinned it down with one paw as she poked her nose inside.

  “I promise we won’t. It’s not all scavenging.” Lucky’s mind was flooded with an image of a place he used to visit. He nudged Sweet’s flank affectionately. “I’ll take you somewhere where we’ll eat like Leashed Dogs.”

  Sweet’s ears pricked up. “Really?”

  “Really. This place will change your mind about cities.”

  Lucky trotted confidently down the road, his mouth already watering at the prospect of food. Sweet was right behind him. It was strange how happy he was with her company, how much he liked being able to help her. Usually by now, he’d be itching for solitude, but … he wasn’t.

  Maybe the Big Growl had changed more than just the city.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Sweet pressed close to Lucky’s side as they walked through the deserted streets.

  He had expected to see other dogs by now, and certainly a few longpaws. But the city was empty, and far too quiet. At least they had found a few stale scent-marks; that was reassuring. He stopped to sniff at an upturned bench that had been marked by a male Fierce Dog.

  “They can’t be far.” Sweet interrupted his thoughts. She bent her muzzle to the scent, ears lifting. “This is a strong message. And there are others! Can’t you smell them?”

  The fur on Lucky’s shoulders bristled: Why was Sweet so determined to find a Pack? Wasn’t his company enough?

  “These dogs must be long gone now,” he said, backing away from the bench. “We won’t catch up any time soon.”

  Sweet raised her nose in the air. “They smell nearby to me.”

  “But this only smells strong because it was their territory. They marked it over and over. I’m telling you, Sweet, they’re far away already. I can pick out their scent in the distance.”

  “Really?” Sweet sounded doubtful again. “But I could catch up with them. I can catch anything.”

  Why don’t I just let her? Lucky wondered. If she’s so desperate to find a Pack, I should just tell her to run away as fast as she likes.

  Instead, he found himself rumbling a warning growl. “No, Sweet, you can’t. Shouldn’t, I mean,” he added quickly as she bristled. “You don’t know the city; you could get lost.”

  Frustrated, Sweet cast her nose around in the air, then barked angrily. “Why did this happen, Lucky? I was fine before. My Pack was fine! We were so happy in the open country, and we didn’t do any harm to the longpaws. If they’d only left us alone, if they hadn’t rounded us up into that awful Trap House—”

  She’d come to a miserable halt, and Lucky sat down beside her, wishing he could think of something to say. But he wasn’t used to being responsible for another dog. Already it gave him an ache in his heart that he would rather live without.

  He opened his jaws to try to reason with her some more, but stopped, gaping as a gang of fierce, furious creatures tumbled, yowling and squealing, into the street right in front of them.

  Lucky felt fear tear through his hackles as his back stiffened. At first, he thought the fighting bundles of fur and teeth were sharpclaws, but then he realized they were different—very different. These animals were round and bushy-tailed—and they didn’t hiss. They weren’t dogs, and they weren’t huge rats. Lucky gave an alarmed yelp, but the creatures didn’t respond—they were too busy squabbling over a carcass that was so ripped and torn, he couldn’t tell what it had once been.

  Next to him, Sweet stood alertly, her eyes on the other animals. She took a moment to nuzzle his neck. “Don’t worry about them; they won’t hurt us.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Lucky. He’d caught sight of the face of one of them, a sinister black mask that seemed full of vicious little teeth.

  “They’re raccoons,” Sweet replied. “We’ll be fine if we give them a wide berth. Try not to show too much interest and they won’t feel threatened. I bet they’re as hungry as we are.”

  Lucky followed Sweet’s lead to the far sidewalk. She shot the raccoons a fierce bristling glare as she went. Lucky copied her, feeling prickles of anxiety in the roots of his fur.

  We’re not the only ones looking to fill our bellies, he realized. With everything torn from the ground and lying in ruins, easy pickings were a thing of the past. This was about survival now. He picked up his pace, keen to put as much space as he could between themselves and the raccoons.

  A few streets beyond, Lucky tasted familiar air and gave a happy bark. It was the alley he’d been looking for! He ran forward a few paces, then sat down and scratched at his ear with a hindpaw, enjoying the moment, anticipating Sweet’s delight. The delicious smell of food was getting stronger. Here, at least, he could guarantee a meal.

  “Come on!” he yipped. “I promise, you won’t regret this.”

  She padded up behind him and cocked her head quizzically. “What is this place?”

  He nodded at the panes of clear stone. There were long tubes there. Normally, they breathed chicken-scented steam into the air—but not today. Still, this was definitely the right place. Excited, he turned a couple of circles, tail wagging quickly.

  “It’s a Food House. A place where longpaws give food to other longpaws!”

  “But we’re not longpaws,” she pointed out. “Who’s going to give food to us?”

  “Just you watch.” Lucky jumped forward mischievously, dodging around tumbled trash cans and a small heap of rubble. He tried not to think about how ruined everything was, or that they hadn’t seen a single longpaw walking the streets. “We’ll do what Old Hunter does. He’s the expert!”

  Sweet brightened. “Old Hunter? Is he a Packmate of yours?”

  “I told you, I don’t have a Pack. Old Hunter is just a friend. Even Lone Dogs can find huntingmates, you know! Watch this. Copy what I do....”

  It was such an easy method of getting food, and it took no time to learn—Lucky was pleased to be able to teach Sweet something. He sat back on his haunches, tilted his head, and let his tongue loll out.

  Sweet slowly slinked around him, studying the posture. Her head cocked. “I don’t understand,” she whined.

  “Just trust me,” Lucky growled.

  Sweet whined again, then turned to sit down beside Lucky as she did her best to copy him.

  “That’s it!” Lucky barked. “Now, lift one ear a little higher. Like this, see? And a friendly mouth—look hungry but hopeful! You got it!”

  Lucky wagged his tail as he gave Sweet an affectionate nudge with his muzzle. Then he turned his attention back to the Food House door, and waited. A longpaw would spot them soon. Slow moments passed and Lucky’s tail began to wag more and more slowly until it came to rest in the dust. The door stayed resolutely shut, so Lucky padded over to scratch at it. Still no reply. He gave a small respectful whine.

  “How long do we stay like this? It’s a bit—undignified,” said Swee
t. She licked her chops, then let her tongue hang out again.

  “I don’t understand....” Lucky’s tail drooped in embarrassment. Where was his friendly longpaw? Surely he hadn’t run from the Big Growl. Lucky scratched at the door again, but still there was no reply.

  Sweet’s nose was back in the air. “I don’t think it’s working.”

  “The longpaws must be busy, that’s all,” Lucky grumbled. “This is an important place for them. They wouldn’t have just left.” He tried not to notice how high and anxious his voice had become. He trotted around to the back of some bins and spoil-boxes and scratched his way through to a side door. Up on his hind legs, he put his paws against the wood, and felt it sag and creak.

  “Look! The Food House is broken.” He tugged at a sagging hinge with his teeth. “That’s why the longpaws are busy. Come on!”

  The Food House smells must have been enticing enough to make Sweet forget her doubts, because she helped him nose and pull and tug at the broken door until it cracked open. Lucky wriggled through ahead of her, his tail thrashing in anticipation of scrumptious food.

  He slowed, glancing from side to side. This room was a strange place that he hadn’t seen before, lined with huge metal boxes. There were snaking, shiny lengths of what looked like long worms. Lucky knew that these usually hummed with the longpaws’ invisible energy. But nothing hummed now. Above him, water dripped from the collapsed roof, and broad cracks ran along the walls.

  There was a blurred reflection of himself and Sweet in the big steel boxes. A shudder passed over him to see how distorted their faces were. The food smell was strong now, but old, and Lucky felt prickles of uncertainty.

  “I don’t like this,” said Sweet in a low voice.

  Lucky whined his agreement. “This isn’t the way it normally is. But it should be fine. It’s probably just a little bit of damage from the Big Growl.” Tentatively Lucky pushed on through the rubble and mess. Sweet watched him, her muzzle wrinkling with uncertainty. “Don’t look like that,” he told her. “Come on!”

  She lifted her slender paws high as she moved around broken, splintered shards of white stone that covered the floor.

  There was another door, but it was easy to push open—almost too easy, because it swung wildly back and forth, practically bumping Sweet’s roving nose and making her jump. As it grew still again, Lucky sniffed the air.

  The chaos was even worse in here, beyond the room of metal boxes; longpaw stuff was flung in heaps, sitting-boxes broken and listing together, thick dust falling from the broken walls to cover everything. Shivers rippled through Lucky’s fur.

  Abruptly he stopped, drawing his lips back from his teeth. What’s that smell? I know it, but … He couldn’t repress a frightened growl. Something moved in the corner.

  Lucky took a few hesitant paces, crouching low to the ground. The scent felt strong inside his nose. He bounded forward and pawed at the fallen roof beams. There was someone here!

  White dust stirred and swirled; Lucky heard a groan, and a breathless rasping of longpaw words. He recognized only one. “Lucky …”

  The voice was weak, but it was familiar. Whimpering, Lucky sank his teeth into one of the huge broken beams and leaned his weight back on his paws, heaving. His whole body trembled with the effort, and he could feel his teeth being pulled from his jaws. It was no good! He released his bite and fell back, panting with the effort. The longpaw lay still and unmoving beneath the beam, a trickle of dried blood tracking down his face.

  Lucky drew closer, ignoring his instincts, which were telling him to run away as fast as he could. Behind him, he could hear Sweet pacing with anxiety. Lucky lowered his head over the longpaw’s body. One arm was free of the rubble, twisted at an unnatural angle. The longpaw’s face was pale as snow, his lips a horribly unnatural blue, but they curved in a smile as his eyes met Lucky’s.

  He’s alive! Lucky licked at his nose and cheeks, gently clearing some of the coating of dust. If Lucky could just clean the longpaw up, he’d look much healthier—just like his old self. But as Lucky stepped back, he saw that the skin beneath the dust was gray. The longpaw’s ragged breath was the faintest of whispers, barely stirring the fur on Lucky’s muzzle.

  The longpaw’s eyes flickered open, and with a groan of pain he lifted his trembling free hand to pat Lucky’s head. Lucky nuzzled and licked him again, but the hand fell away, and the eyes closed once more.

  “Wake up, longpaw,” Lucky whined softly, his tongue lashing the cold, pale face. “Wake up....”

  Lucky waited. But the lips were still and cold.

  The whisper of breath was gone.

  CHAPTER THREE

  A yelp of despair shattered the silence. Turning hurriedly away from the dead longpaw, Lucky stared at Sweet. Every hair on her sleek coat seemed to bristle with fear. Stiff-legged, she backed away, tail tight between her legs.

  “I don’t want your city!” she whined. “There’s death and danger everywhere. I can’t stand it!”

  She let loose a howl of disgust and sprinted, making the door swing wildly once again as she shot through it. Lucky scrambled after her, knowing he had no hope of catching a swift-dog.

  But Sweet’s speed did her no favors in the close quarters of the steel room. She was hemmed in, dashing desperately from reflection to distorted reflection, crashing wildly into the metal boxes, and skidding on the slick floor. When she slammed into a wall in her terror, Lucky lunged forward and pinned her to the ground.

  She squirmed beneath him, panicking, but Lucky kept his forepaws firmly on her sweating flank, his eyes fixed on hers. “Calm down! You’re going to hurt yourself.”

  “I can’t stay....”

  As Sweet’s barks fell away to anxious pants, Lucky let his weight gently flop down on her. “It’s nothing to be scared of, Sweet. He’s only dead.” He repeated what he was sure she already knew, hoping to calm her. “It’s a natural smell: the longpaw’s life force. Just like when we die—our selves leave our bodies, become part of the world.”

  Lucky had been taught ever since he was a pup that that was the way of life and death. When a dog met his end and his body went to the Earth-Dog, his self floated up to meet all the scents of the air, to mingle with them and become part of the whole world. That’s what was happening to the longpaw now, Lucky was certain.

  Sweet’s flanks stopped heaving as her panting breaths subsided. Lucky could still see the whites of her wide, fearful eyes. He cautiously released her and she climbed to her feet. “I know that,” she growled. “But I don’t want to be anywhere near escaping longpaw spirits. I want to find as many dogs as we can. We need to track down other survivors, and get us all out of here right now!”

  “But there’s nothing we need to get away from—nothing will hurt us now, Sweet. The Food House fell on the longpaw in the Big Growl, that’s all....” Lucky needed Sweet to trust him. If he could reassure her, perhaps all of this would make sense to Lucky too.

  “Where are the other longpaws?” Sweet barked, tossing her head. “They’ve either run away or they’re dead, Lucky! I’m leaving this city, and I’m going to find a Pack. So should you!”

  Lucky opened his mouth to speak, but the words dried up in his throat. He could only stare at her sadly. Sweet half-turned to leave, then froze with one paw raised and all her muscles tensed, eager to flee. She gazed at Lucky for a long moment, licking her lips uncertainly. “Aren’t you coming with me?”

  Lucky hesitated. The idea of a Pack didn’t appeal to him one bit, but—for some reason—he didn’t want Sweet to leave. He liked having her around. For the first time, he felt himself tremble at the prospect of being alone. And she was waiting for him, ears pricked, eyes hopeful....

  He shook himself. He’d spent his whole life on these streets. That’s what he was—a Lone Dog.

  “I can’t.”

  “But you can’t stay here!” Sweet howled.

  “I told you: I’m not a Pack dog. I never will be.”

  She gav
e a sharp bark of exasperation. “Dogs aren’t meant to be alone!”

  Lucky gave her a regretful look. “I am.”

  Sweet sighed, and padded back to him. Fondly she licked his face. Lucky nuzzled her in response, fighting down a mournful whine that wanted to erupt from his belly.

  “I’ll miss you,” she said quietly. Then she turned to wriggle through the door.

  Lucky padded forward. “You don’t have to …” But with a flash of her tail, she was gone. Lucky found himself staring at an empty space.

  For a while, Lucky didn’t feel like moving. He settled down on his belly, chin resting on his forepaws as he listened to the click of Sweet’s claws on the ground, fading into the ruined emptiness of the streets. Even when he could hear her no longer, her scent still clung to the air. He wished it would vanish—and take this terrible pang of loneliness with it.

  Lucky shut his eyes and tried to focus his mind on other things.

  But that just left the hunger.

  It was like a set of sharp teeth, gnawing and chewing at his stomach. Lucky was almost relieved to feel the pain—at least it took his mind off Sweet. That’s why I don’t let myself get close to other dogs, he thought.

  Back in the room with the dead longpaw, Lucky sniffed and scratched in every corner, licking at crumbs and grease. Some of the broken things on the floor held smears of food, so he lapped at them, trying not to cut his tongue; then he leaped onto one of the untoppled tables to find small scraps to nibble on. There was so little, and the tantalizing taste of it only made his stomach growl louder, the teeth bite harder. He didn’t go near the longpaw, forced himself not to look.

  I’m on my own now. That’s the way it should be.

  The steel room would have food, he was sure—that was what must be in the metal boxes lined up around the walls. But when he scratched at them, they refused to open. Whimpering in hunger, he tugged and bit at the metal doors. They stuck firm. He flung his body against them. Nothing. It was no use: He was going to have to wander farther, see what else he could find.