The soldiers’ scents weaved through the forest and onto a dusty road. I followed them past pretty farms and grazing herds of sheep. I tracked them all day, never lifting my nose from the trail. The sun set and it got dark, but I kept tracking. After a long night of sniffing blind, the sun rose again, and I saw I was approaching a slow river. I was so thirsty I had to stop and take a drink.
As I lapped up the water, a hint of leather lodged in my nostrils. I popped up to sniff it and noticed a bright white shape off in the middle distance. The dawn sun reflected against it and made me squint.
The scent trail drew me nearer, and the great white shape grew larger and more detailed. Soon I could see it was built like an enormous house—giant, as big as the biggest hill I’d ever seen—and made of white stones.
Didn’t Morgana call that a castle? She said her father had a castle.
Most of it was hidden behind a high wall. But I saw balconies and oval windows carved into the stones. A tall tower grew up from the middle and sprouted statues and flags like a branching tree.
There were men perched on the walls. They held bows and wore helmets. My heart beat faster—they looked like the men who’d taken Merlin from me.
I got close and saw that the wall was set with an enormous iron gate.
Another door, I thought unhappily. I don’t suppose if I scratch they’ll let me in. My eye caught a soldier looking down at me from the top of the wall and I froze. Would he yell the alarm, or shoot me dead on the spot?
The soldier raised his hands high, took a deep breath, and yawned.
“They’re only guarding against men,” I assured myself. “Not dogs.”
I nosed the iron gate, looking for a way to slip inside. The bars crossed each other in a hash and were too tight for a dog my size.
But magic had opened a door for me at Merlin’s house. Maybe it would here too.
Fire! Ice blast! Explosions of shock! I thought with intensity.
Nothing happened.
Magic door-opening spell!
My Asteria hung from my neck, glowing too faintly to notice. And the gate still stood, casting crossed shadows on the grass inside the castle yard, where Merlin’s scent trail lay.
Stupid door.
Sounds perked my ears. I’d been sitting sadly at the gate for some time, but I spun to attention.
Barking. Playful yaps. Rustling of leaves.
Branches burst open at the tree-lined edge of the forest behind me, spilling forth a pack of rowdy, rambunctious dogs.
“Dogs!” I said, leaping forward, racing toward the action.
“Yap! Yap! Woof! Grrrr!” Their noises made my ears happy. Their smells were like treats. I hadn’t been near dogs since I was little and under the deck with my brothers and sisters.
It was an enormous pack, easily twenty of them. They ran and tumbled and played with each other.
“Hello!” I cried to them. “Hello!”
They stopped playing. Ears lifted and snouts turned. They spotted me. “WOOF! WOOF! WOOF!”
They barked, friendly and curious. These weren’t shy, scared dogs. But they were also typical, in that they couldn’t talk. I’d gotten too used to having my Asteria.
“Woof! Woof!” I barked back in a friendly tone. I pressed my ears to my head and lowered my neck to show respect. My tail wagged low and slow.
I still spoke dog very well.
The pack rushed around me in a flurry. Tails wagged and snouts jockeyed for the honor of sniffing my rear end and underbelly.
After the dogs approved me, I turned my nose on them. There’s a lot you can learn from a dog’s backside. Besides their unique scent, you can tell how well they’re eating, their age, and if they’re healthy. But even with all that, not even the most loving human will ever sniff a dog’s butt. They don’t know what they’re missing
I could tell that these dogs were healthy, young, and exercised.
“Are you a wild pack?” I asked a tall Irish hound who was nosing around my neck. “You finding good food in the forest?”
He cocked his head. Right, no human speech.
His chest was jingling, and I noticed a small tin tag hanging from a leather collar. I looked around and noticed that the dogs all had collars. I relied so much on my nose and ears, I sometimes forgot to look.
These were owned dogs, every one of them. There were beagles, shepherds, and terriers. On their coats I smelled hare and deer blood.
“All right, boys and girls, no more dawdling!” cried a voice. Tree branches snapped and twigs crackled under the weight of a trio of horses and riders that strode out of the forest. Three tall men in hats sat on heavy stallions.
One man put his fingers in his mouth and blew a high whistle. The entire pack whipped to attention, filing into line behind the riders. They left me exposed and alone on the grass. The men riding the horses wore the same clothing as those who had attacked our house. One shot me an angry look.
“In line!” he shouted.
Instinctively, I bolted into the group of dogs following the horses.
He thinks I’m one of the pack, I realized. My Asteria glowed so dimly, it looked like a tag on a collar.
“Hunt’s coming back!” a soldier shouted from the wall. He turned toward the castle and raised both hands above his head.
The iron gate groaned. It slowly fell toward us, two thick cables easing its way down.
They were opening the front door! I kept close behind the horses, amazed at my good luck. The scent of blood made me look up, and I noticed the body of a deer laid over a horse’s back. Another rider had a dozen dead rabbits tied to his saddle. This group had been hunting, and now the guards were welcoming them home.
We tromped over the iron gate, and the horses’ metal shoes clattered against the bars. The dogs in the pack were panting tiredly, but I sensed a stir of excitement, as if something wonderful were about to happen.
Deep in the scrum of dogs, I lowered my snout to the grass and sorted through the hundreds of scents. Dogs, horses, men, leather, flour, chickens, sheep, cow’s milk, wood, and iron. It was a labyrinth of smells. My mind raced between them, separating the individual aromas from the hundreds.
A wooden door creaked open to my left and distracted me.
“Breakfast is on, my wild ones!” a burly voice shouted. My ears twitched at the word:
Breakfast.
I turned and saw dogs stream through the doorway of a large wooden structure about twice the size of Merlin’s house. Delicious smells wafted out: bran bread, chicken, and bone marrow.
I caught up with the tail end of the pack and pushed my way inside. The sun in the castle yard had been hot, but this wooden house was dark and cool, with just slivers of light leaking in between the roof boards.
Dogs leapt at a big, bearded man. He pushed them down affectionately. “All right! All right!” he said, knocking the top off a great barrel and hefting it in the air. “Here you go!”
Expertly, he dumped the contents of the barrel into a long trough that ran the length of the wooden house. Dogs scrambled across the straw-laden floor and dunked their heads into what was a river of chunky food.
I was one of them; my instinct to eat forced out every other thought. Food was in my mouth. Bone marrow enriched the grain meal, and its meaty taste filled my cheeks.
Food! Food! Food!
None of the dogs fought. We each had more than enough. When it was finally gone, each overstuffed one of us licked the juice from the wooden trough until all we could taste was the oak. I joined a group at one of the many tin bowls of fresh water and lapped it up until my gut stretched uncomfortably.
Satisfied, I wagged my tail at the pack and turned to the door of the house.
It was closed.
The bearded man was nowhere in sight. Faint light trickled into the doghouse. I hadn’t noticed the big man leave.
I scratched at the door and barked.
Fire! Ice blast! Shock! I thought.
Magical door-opening spell!
I was trapped, with Merlin’s scent trail right outside. My hunger had led me astray.
I turned and saw that the other dogs were all as overstuffed as I was, but they were content, settling down into piles of soft hay and dozing.
Seeing them made me realize how exhausted I was myself. I hadn’t slept in a day and a night. So I dropped into a bed of straw and found myself drifting away.
For as much as I’d eaten, I felt empty inside.