CHAPTER TWO

The grave was such a peaceful place. Shaded by trees, surrounded by the scents of the forest, dappled in sunlight. Storm stood by it, gazing down at the place where the Pack had brought Whisper to return to the Earth-Dog. The ground no longer looked freshly turned; mosses and grass and tiny purple flowers grew on its surface. Whisper was becoming part of the land again, part of the forest, just as the Earth-Dog promised all dogs.

It felt right. Storm bowed her head, then turned to leave.

And jumped, her heart thrashing. Whisper himself stood before her: not part of the earth after all, but himself again, his eyes bright but fearful, his ears pinned back.

“Don’t forget me, Storm, all right?”

Her throat felt dry, but Storm shook her head. She rasped, “Of course I won’t forget you, Whisper! But we need to move on . . . the whole Pack needs to look to the future.”

Sadness filled the gray dog’s eyes, and he shook his head. “Oh, Storm.”

Storm’s belly felt cold, and she shuddered. She couldn’t take her eyes off Whisper’s.

“You can’t move forward yet, Storm. Please.” He gestured with his head. “First you have to look behind you.”

She didn’t want to turn and look, but she had no choice. Fur prickling, she turned, slowly.

Two graves.

Two graves.

Whisper’s grave was just as it had been, settling into the life of the forest, the undergrowth beginning to creep across his resting place.

But beside his, a second grave was freshly dug, the turned earth dark and moist.

“Who?” Storm barked, her voice choked and harsh. “Whose is it, Whisper?”

She heard only silence. When she glanced back, Whisper had vanished. Frantically Storm began to dig, clawing at the earth, kicking it clear with her hind legs. She dug and dug, desperate. The soil was loose, and easy to pull up, and she was soon deep down in the grave, deeper than they’d ever buried Whisper. Still she clawed and kicked, and still there was no body, no dog.

Where is the corpse? How far down must I dig? Storm jerked up her head and howled aloud into the shadowy forest.

“Whose grave is this? Whose?!”

She started awake in her own den, shaking violently. Terrified, she peered at her paws. She was relieved to see there was no mud on her claws—she had not been digging in her sleep.

But it felt as if she had. She could imagine the dirt’s grittiness caught between her paw pads; she could even taste it in her mouth. And as much as she spat and shook herself, she couldn’t get rid of it.

It was early; the Sun-Dog had not yet shown his shining hide through the trees, though the promise of his glow had paled the edge of the sky. Storm shuddered, trying not to whine. I didn’t wake any other dog, thrashing around. Oh, thank the Sky-Dogs. How could I ever have explained this horrible dream?

The taste of dream-mud, and the sensation of dirt in her claws, stayed with her all morning; she could not forget the sight of that fresh grave next to Whisper’s. I never found a body. But Whisper was trying to tell me something, I know it.

Will another dog die? Who will it be?

Me?

She still hadn’t managed to shake off the fear by the time she joined Beetle and Thorn for their early patrol. The two dogs greeted her with friendly enthusiasm, but Storm herself struggled to look cheerful. She was irrationally certain that her fur was filthy with grave dirt.

“What’s wrong, Storm?” Beetle furrowed his brow.

She shook herself for the umpteenth time, though there was nothing to dislodge. It was a dream, for the Sky-Dogs’ sake. “Nothing. Let’s go.”

The two litter-siblings exchanged doubtful glances, but Storm gave them no time to ask more questions. She led them on their familiar route, heading in a wide circle toward the longpaw town. There had been more activity in the deserted settlement lately, and Alpha wanted every dog to keep a close eye on the goings-on.

The three dogs slowed their pace as a shattered line of low buildings came into view. With a nod to Thorn and Beetle, Storm lowered her shoulders and crept through the long grass, her ears quivering with alertness. A sharp scent came to her nostrils: tangy and piney, like a freshly broken branch.

Alpha’s right. The longpaws are back. And they’ve been busy.

There were fences now, their wood white-pale, smelling freshly cut by sharp longpaw weapons. The ground had been flattened out in long, dark strips. Beside the strips of flattened soil, great square holes had been excavated, and more fresh-cut wooden posts had been driven into their edges. Slumbering nearby were the vast yellow loudcages the longpaws used to dig and flatten and smash.

“Don’t wake the loudcages,” whispered Beetle, his tail stiff and quivering.

“I don’t think we will,” murmured Storm. “They’ve obviously been hard at work.”

Thorn’s eyes were narrowed, and her hackles were raised. Both the litter-siblings looked nervous and hostile; they hated longpaws, and no wonder—their Father-Dog, Fiery, had been captured and killed by particularly vicious ones. Again Storm recalled that terrible evening when Lucky and Alpha’s pups had splashed recklessly into the Endless Lake and almost drowned. Thorn was one of the dogs who had gone to save the pups, but just when it had mattered most, she couldn’t bring herself to set a paw on the beach—because there had been longpaws there. Her fear had defeated her, brave as she was.

“Are you two all right?” Storm growled, glancing at both dogs with concern.

“We’re fine.” Thorn’s voice sounded choked, but there was a determined light in her eyes. “Let’s keep going.”

“Stay close together, then,” Storm said. “We’ll be safe if we protect each other.”

Even more cautiously than before, they slunk through the grass toward the town. Storm could sense the fear and anger emanating from Thorn and Beetle; their fur was rank with it, but they pressed on bravely. Tall, shadowy figures moved in the half-destroyed buildings, and the three dogs could hear the barks of longpaws communicating with one another.

“I can’t stand the thought of longpaws so close to our camp,” whispered Thorn. “After what they did to our Father-Dog.”

Beetle shuddered. “Longpaws are bad, Storm.”

“These might be different longpaws,” suggested Storm uncertainly. “The better kind, like the one on the beach that Mickey rescued from the giant wave. These ones don’t have the shiny black face masks that hide their eyes, or the yellow fur.”

I’m trying to convince Beetle and Thorn, but I’m not even convincing myself. They’re probably right. And this can’t be good for the Pack. Even that nice longpaw on the beach tried to make Mickey go with him in the loudbird. . . .

Worse, the deep pits and the ravaged earth of the settlement reminded her of the grave from her dream. Storm’s fur prickled and her hackles quivered. It’s all wrong. Something terrible is coming: The dream told me so, and all this longpaw activity only makes it more certain.

But I can’t put my paw on what it will be. . . .

“To me, Pack, and listen for a moment.”

Alpha was sitting up, watching the Pack patiently as the lowest-ranking dogs finished eating their share of the prey pile. The Moon-Dog, only her half-turned haunches visible, was still low on the horizon; but higher in the sky, there were dark clouds, and occasional drops of rain fell on the gathered Pack. Normally they would all hurry to their dens now, but Alpha looked serious and intent, and her dark eyes glowed with determination. Every dog sat up and paid attention. Sunshine, the Omega, swallowed her last bite of mouse, licked her paws clean, and pricked her feathery ears.

Alpha nodded in satisfaction. “Now. We need to discuss the longpaws Storm, Beetle, and Thorn saw on their patrol today. There are many more of the longpaws than before, and they and their giant loudcages are making great changes to the land. Will they come closer to the camp? And if they do—how will we respond?”

In the thoughtful silence that followed her statement, two dogs jumped to their paws, growling. Beetle and Thorn, Storm realized with surprise.

“We attack them, of course!” Thorn’s bark resounded strongly through the glade.

“We drive them away,” agreed her litter-brother, his eyes hard. “Before they can do even more damage to our Pack!”

“It’s our territory,” added Thorn. “Not theirs! They abandoned it.”

Storm stared at the two litter-siblings, uneasy. She knew there was more to this than the desire to protect their territory. The change in Thorn since this afternoon was striking, and unsettling; clearly she’d regained some of her courage, but what Thorn and Beetle wanted was no less than revenge for Fiery—and that, Storm knew, could never end well. Not against longpaws with loudcages and deadly loudsticks.

“So what do you say, Alpha?” barked Beetle. “Will we defend our territory?”

Alpha stood up on her flat rock and looked sternly at the two of them.

“No,” she said, quietly but clearly. “We will not fight longpaws. That has never worked for any dog. You two may be too young to have learned this, but I know it well—and so does Beta, who was in the Trap House with me.” She glanced at her mate, Lucky.

Beetle looked surprised and angry at Alpha’s calm refusal, but Thorn pricked one ear forward, as if suddenly less sure. “What’s a Trap House?”

Storm shifted her attention from Thorn to Alpha. She wanted to know that, too.

“I’ll explain, and then you might be less inclined to tangle with longpaws.” Alpha lay down again, her paws in front of her. “Longpaws are not content to let free dogs be free, even when we don’t bother them. They capture free dogs and hold them prisoner in steel cages. These places are cold, and cramped, with barely room for a dog to stand—there’s no chance to roll, or run, or jump.” She sighed, a sad, faraway look on her narrow face. “And sometimes they take dogs out of those cages, yes—but those dogs disappear, and they are never seen again.”

Storm felt a great shudder run through her hide. Beetle still looked angry, but Thorn’s rage seemed tinged with fear once more.

“All right,” said Thorn after a moment, bowing her head. “We accept your decision, Alpha.”

“Of course you do,” Alpha answered gently. “I’m sorry, Thorn and Beetle, but this is the only way.”

“Looks like we don’t have a choice,” grumbled Beetle, but he lay down and ducked his ears submissively.

“There’s a chance the longpaws might leave us alone.” Mickey the Farm Dog stepped forward, the voice of reason as always. “If we don’t trouble them, they might not trouble us.”

“That’s not what happened to Fiery!” snapped Moon, rising to her paws. Then her body sagged, and she sighed. “Longpaws will always hunt us down—just like they hunted down my mate. I’m not angry now, like Thorn and Beetle are. I’m just sad. And I don’t want what happened to Fiery to happen to any other dog.” She twitched her tail and looked keenly at Alpha. “Will we have to move camp again?”

“I’m not sure.” Alpha looked down at the rock beneath her paws. “If the longpaws want this territory, though, we may have no choice.”

Storm gasped. Would it really come to that? She’d been so preoccupied with the threat of the traitor within the Pack, she hadn’t thought that such danger could come from outside.

Several of the dogs gave angry, protesting growls.

“This is our home!” yelped Snap.

“We’ve fought so hard, and worked so hard,” added Daisy miserably. “This is our home now.”

“And it’s perfect,” whined Sunshine. “The glade, the pool, the cliffs where we can watch for trouble . . .”

“Where would we go?” asked Breeze. “The other dogs who have left the Pack have surely claimed all the best territory nearby. We’d have to travel very far before we could settle again.” She glanced at the four small pups, her face full of worry.

“I don’t know.” Moon sighed, scraping the earth with a claw. “I’d travel any distance to keep my pups safe—and I’m sure Alpha and Lucky think the same. The pups would manage, if we all helped them.”

“My brothers and I traveled with Lucky and Mickey, when we left the Dog-Garden,” Storm said quietly, half-afraid to remind the Pack of her Fierce Dog home but determined to reassure Breeze. “We were about the same age then. They have a whole Pack, and their Mother-Dog and Father-Dog. They’ll be all right.”

“I agree,” put in Mickey gently, giving Breeze a lick. “Longpaws may not all be bad, but the pups will be safer if we stay away from them.”

Third Dog Twitch nodded. “It’s a big decision to make, Alpha. Perhaps we shouldn’t be too rash, but we should all think hard about our future.”

Lucky, who had been quiet till now, gave a growl. Gently he licked Tumble’s small head. “It’s the pups who are the future of our Pack, and I don’t ever want to see them in longpaw cages.”

Alpha gave a sharp, quiet bark. “Very well. The discussion is over for now. There’s much for every dog to think about. Talk about it among yourselves. We will come together again soon and decide what to do. I know it’s a hard bone to chew, my Pack.”

In ones and twos, the dogs drifted away toward their dens. Only a little rain had fallen, but cold drops still spattered on their fur as the clouds blustered above them, and Storm found herself tired, and eager for her dry, peaceful den. She set off in its direction, nodding to Chase and Daisy, who were on patrol duty for the night. But just as she was about to enter the welcoming warmth of her den, two shapes caught her eye at the edge of the forest.

Storm hesitated. It was Beetle and Thorn, and they were deep in a quiet, intense conversation. It must have been tough for them tonight, she thought, being told hard truths about the longpaws. It had to be difficult for the two young dogs to choke down Alpha’s ruling: to accept that they could never have revenge for their Father-Dog.

But the litter-siblings were as close as two dogs could be, and Storm knew they were resilient. She would not interfere; everything would be fine. Thorn might be terribly afraid of longpaws, but Beetle was the best dog to reassure his sister, despite his own fears. The two of them had always helped each other since their Father-Dog’s death.

They’re hurting, and angry, and afraid, Storm realized, but they’ve got each other. And I’d probably say the wrong thing anyway. I’m not very good at comforting.

She turned away, shaking off her unease, and padded into her den to sleep.