Shep pushed his legs even harder, giving every last drop of energy to his speed. He burst like a Car onto the open plaza surrounding the boat.

Zeus stood on top of the boat, a silhouette against the fiery clouds. Beneath him crowded a mass of wild dogs, yipping and snapping and jumping on one another’s backs.

“Zeus!” Shep screamed, his bark strained.

The horned shadow of Zeus’s head turned. “The King of the Yappers returns!”

The entire pack of wild dogs launched toward Shep, and he sprinted straight into that mass of muzzles. When he could see the whites of the nearest dog’s eyes, he turned and sprang onto a pile of wreckage.

The wild pack had a heartbeat to react, but most had no idea what to make of the gigantic lizard lumbering toward them. Then the beast opened its jaws. The wild dogs understood.

With a chorus of shrieks, the wild pack exploded like bees from a hive. The lizard tore into the fur of the nearest dogs and lifeblood rained down onto the stone. Fear swept over the dogs like a sickness. They scrambled into buildings and down alleys, whimpering and crying like beaten pups, anything to get away from the horrible monster.

Shep looked up from the mayhem of dogs and lizard. Zeus remained on the boat. Shep skirted the edge of the buildings and ducked into the crushed floor. He clambered up the steering counter, then pulled himself through the tangled beams of the ceiling. Just as he emerged onto the windows over the main den, Zeus tackled him.

“Thought you’d gotten rid of me?” Zeus snarled.

Up close, Shep saw that his friend was striped with scars along his muzzle and flank. “Fought your way to the top, did you?” Shep barked.

“Worried your way to the bottom, I hear,” Zeus snapped. He lunged at Shep, catching the edge of his scruff.

Shep dove onto his shoulder, then hit Zeus in the chest with his forepaws, throwing the boxer onto the slick surface of the windows.

Zeus sprang to his paws. “It’s all about decisions, Shep,” he snarled. “I’m not afraid to make the hard choices.”

“Like the decision to betray your friend?” Shep growled.

Zeus howled and jumped at Shep’s head, fangs slashing. Shep feinted high, then rolled, scraping his claws along Zeus’s exposed underbelly. Zeus cried out and fell against the windows, then hopped to his paws.

A strange roar rose up from the street. The wild dogs ran in circles, some bolting for cover, others attacking the lizard with little success. The monster seemed to be calling for something.

The monster cried again, its bizarre voice ringing around the walls enclosing it. Shep saw something disturb the debris floating in the canal near the bottom of the ramp. Two more water lizards slithered out of the deep, trailing ribbons of weed and refuse from their spiked hides. A smile crawled across Shep’s jowls. I command a whole pack of monsters!

Shep swiped at Zeus with his fangs, catching him unawares while he was staring at the advancing lizards. Zeus yelped and stumbled back. Shep ran for the crushed floor, hoping to jump down and better direct his scaly soldiers. As he was about to drop down the rear wall, he felt fangs catch his hind paw.

“Not just yet, friend,” Zeus growled. He pulled back, dragging Shep across the windows. Broken glass cut his skin.

On Zeus’s next tug, Shep slammed his other hind leg into Zeus’s snout, forcing him to drop the paw. Shep swung his head around, flinging his rump away from Zeus, and clawed Zeus’s exposed flank.

Shep stumbled across the windowed floor, pain shuddering up his leg. Zeus fell near the boat’s edge, panting. He licked his side, and the slaver that dripped from his jowls was red with lifeblood.

Horrible snapping sounds rose up from the plaza. The lizards feasted like they hadn’t eaten in suns. The wild pack wailed in terror. It was a gruesome sight. Shep wondered if even his worst enemies deserved such a fate. What have I unleashed?

A howl rose up from a street near sunset. It was Blaze. She bounded into the plaza, tongue lolling, but her stance was fierce. She was ready to tear every wild dog apart. Then more howls, barks, and cries: The whole of the fighting force burst into the space! Hulk, Panzer, Mooch, Paulie — all his strongest fighters tore into the wild pack as if they were toys. And then Shep saw him — little Fuzz, perched on Hulk’s shoulders. The cat must have gone after them. I swear that crazy hairball must have read my mind.

Shep looked over at Zeus, whose horror showed on his muzzle.

“Smell it, Zeus?” Shep barked. “I’m not just King of the Yappers. I’m King of Every Dog.”

Zeus turned his snout slowly, a growl gurgling in his throat. “All hail the mighty king,” he snarled.

Zeus jumped at Shep’s head, and Shep sank his teeth into Zeus’s neck, throwing him down onto the boat. Shep felt like lightning crackled through his muscles now that he had his pack behind him. Zeus rose again, and Shep slammed him down, slashing Zeus’s hide with his claws. A third time, Zeus struggled to his paws, hobbling a stretch away from Shep.

“Such a mighty king you are.” Zeus’s barks dropped from his jaws like slobber between pants. Lifeblood drizzled from his jowls. “Finish me off, Shep. Finish me once and for all.”

Zeus stood, one forepaw lifted off the glass, the raw, red meat of it exposed. He closed his eyes and shut his jaws. The last light of the sun shone on his nose. “Good-bye, friend,” he moaned.

Shep could down him with a single swipe of his fangs. He was that powerful. And it would be the right thing to do — Zeus had killed so many. No dog would challenge Shep. He was that powerful. He could also let Zeus slink away with his life, and no dog would question him. He was that powerful. He commanded water lizards, he defeated his greatest enemy, he was the Champion of the Great Wolf.

“You’ve done terrible things, Zeus,” Shep barked. “But my killing you won’t make up for that.”

Zeus opened his eyes. His nose dropped, and his sit loosened. A hind leg slid across the slick surface of the boat.

Shep continued, “You have, however, lost the right to live with any other dog. And if I smell you again, I will kill you.”

Shep turned his back on Zeus. He looked down at his pack of fighters, who were organized and precise. They drove back the water lizards, then finished off what remained of the wild dogs. The fighters tore apart the wild pack, which was nothing more than a horde of untrained and vicious fools. What had he been so afraid of? Those wild mongrels had nothing on his pack of well-trained warriors.

This is why the Great Wolf never killed the Black Dog, Shep realized. The Black Dog was never a threat to a true pack.

Shep barked, and his voice echoed around the plaza. His pack gazed up at him with awe. The surviving stragglers from the wild pack scampered off into the shadows, yelping and crying.

“The wild dogs are defeated!” Shep bellowed. His pack howled with him in celebration.

A siren rang out.

Shep couldn’t believe his ears. A siren, a human siren?

A wild dog came racing down the street back into the plaza. “Humans!” he shrieked as he bolted past.

Some of the pack turned to smell what the wild dog had been running from, tails lifted.

“Master?” Bernie yipped.

It took several heartbeats to register in Shep’s mind — humans? But the humans had abandoned their dogs. They left us to be eaten by the storm. How could the humans just come back? And why now, when my pack is finally coming together? The humans couldn’t have planned a worse time to show up.

A point of red light sparkled on the pavement. “The Red Dot!” Waffle barked. “Get the Red Dot!” He ran toward the spark. Just as he reached it, he fell over. Shep thought he saw a metal tooth in Waffle’s neck.

The siren blared again — this time, much closer. Flashing red lights pulsed across the buildings. The lifeblood throbbed through Shep’s body. These humans were not their masters — these were the men in black who’d raided the fight kennel! These men were not coming to help the dogs — they were coming to hurt them.

“Every dog!” Shep howled. “Into the boat!”

Shep pulled what dogs he could reach up onto the hull with him, while others raced for the crushed floor to get inside.

“Shep!” Zeus whimpered. “Please help me, too.” He lurched toward Shep, his hurt paw dragging on the glass.

Shep thrust his shoulder against Zeus’s side. “I’ve got you,” he woofed.

Zeus snapped his fangs around Shep’s scruff and hauled Shep over, dropping him on his back. Shep hit the floor so hard, the wind was knocked out of him.

“Not good enough for your pack, but always available for your pity, is that it?” Zeus stood over Shep, growling, ready to attack. His bark was a hysterical scream.

Suddenly, Zeus fell limp, his head hitting the windows like a coconut from a tree. A metal dart jutted from his throat. The humans!

Shep stayed low, hidden by the raised lip of the boat’s shell, and crawled, belly to glass, until he reached the ceiling of the crushed floor. He heard the barks and cries of his packmates caught on the plaza. There was nothing Shep could do, though, against a man in black.

He dropped down and crawled into the main den. The hand lights of the men flashed through the windows — Shep had mere heartbeats to escape. What dogs had made it into the den cowered in the dark.

“What do we do, Shep?” ChaCha whimpered. Mr. Pickles and several other old timer yappers trembled beside the girldog.

“Follow me,” he yipped.

They shuffled through the staircase-hole to the lower floor where the kibble room was. Callie lay in the dark between the shell of the boat and the street below.

“The others have gone,” she yipped. “Oscar’s leading them out.”

“You go, Callie,” Shep woofed. “There are more dogs to sneak out.”

Callie stood, then dragged herself up into the room. “No, Shep.” Her voice was weak. “I have to wait here and hope the humans find me. I need medicine.”

Shep waved his nose for ChaCha and the other dogs to squeeze through the window hole. There were so few of them — How many had been captured?

“Callie, come with us,” Shep woofed. “You don’t know these humans. You don’t know if they’ll help.”

“I know that I’m not going to make it without human medicine,” she said, coughing.

“We’ll figure something out,” Shep barked. “Boji might know something.”

“Boji’s done every thing she can,” Callie woofed, licking Shep’s nose. “I can’t run with the other dogs and you can’t carry me the way Honey lugged Fuzz around.”

A blur of black fur burst into the room. It was Fuzz, and he leapt onto Shep’s neck, screeching. “Hurry, Shep-dog!” he hissed. “Humans in boat!”

“Down the hole, Fuzz,” he barked. “I’ll follow.”

Fuzz nodded his pink nose, then dropped into the dark.

Shep licked Callie’s head. “You’ve made up your mind then, you stubborn yapper?” It was like he was gnawing off a part of himself, to leave Callie behind.

She wagged her tail. “You’d better go.”

“I’ll come find you,” he woofed. “The humans will give you medicine and then I’ll rescue you.”

Callie grinned, then panted gently. “We’ll meet again,” she woofed. “I’ll be that yapper on the other side of the wall, remember?”

“Shep-dog! Move tail!” Fuzz hissed from deep under the boat.

“I’ll come for you,” Shep woofed. “Even if it takes a cycle, I’ll find you!”

Shep thrust his head into the hole in the floor. The window was made for yappers, not big dogs. Shep shoved one shoulder through. He scratched at the pavement and pushed with his hind legs.

He heard the humans’ voices more clearly — they were getting closer to the bottom floor. Callie moaned, hoping to draw them to her.

Shep shifted his chest and drove his other paw and shoulder through the hole. He wriggled his rump and dug with his hind paws. Almost there!

He collapsed into the cramped space beneath the boat. The ceiling crushed his back — he had to lie sideways and scuttle through the hole, dragging himself with his forepaws and pushing with his hind legs. He tried to calm his breathing, but it was dark, dark, dark and the space seemed to be getting smaller. What if I get stuck?

Lifeblood raced through him. His head began to swim. No, he grumbled to himself. After every thing I’ve been through, I will not die in this cramped cave.

He pushed on. He heard the humans behind him. He heard Callie give a happy little yap. Then silence. Shep asked the Silver Moon to watch over her. Then he shoved himself forward.

 

It seemed like he’d traveled a million stretches, but he finally began to smell fresh air, then his paws felt the edges of the cave. Shep pushed himself out into the night.

The cats had dug the tunnel starting from the buildings behind the boat: Shep stood deep inside the rubble that stretched away from the canal. He could barely scent the water.

“Shep?” It was Oscar’s tremulous yap. He crept out from the shadows into a sliver of moonlight. When he saw Shep’s muzzle, his tail began wagging and his ears pricked up. “Thank the Great Wolf, you’re here!” The pup leapt at Shep’s muzzle and licked him again and again.

In between Oscar’s kisses, Shep sniffed the air. “How many others made it out?” he asked.

“Me, Boji, Daisy, Rufus, Ginny, Dover, and Snoop.” Oscar waved his snout and the seven stepped forward — dark shadows in the darkness.

“And Fuzz,” Fuzz meow-barked, hopping down from a ledge.

“There were more,” Boji woofed, “but when they heard that the humans were back, they ran to rejoin their masters.”

“Those weren’t their masters,” Shep growled.

“We know,” woofed Dover. “That’s why we stayed.”

“Blaze?” Shep yipped hopefully.

“She-got-captured-by-a-human-Shep-I’m-sorry,” whimpered Snoop.

Shep winced, then licked his jowls. “It’s not your fault, Snoop,” Shep woofed. “Don’t be sorry.”

Shep jumped onto a broken block of wall. “We have one thing left to do,” he barked. “We have to save our friends.”

“Like Lassie?” yipped Ginny.

“Just like Lassie,” woofed Shep. “It’s what an alpha does.”