Darkness Falls (14 page)

When he was certain that the danger had passed, Lucky rose to his paws.

“They've gone,” he said, panting with relief.

“What
were
they?” asked Mickey. “They looked like Alpha, but thinner.”

“Coyotes,” replied Lucky with a shudder. “I don't know much about them.”

“I already know more about them than I want to,” Mickey barked. He gazed out through the dark tangles of vines and branches. “We should keep moving.”

Lucky turned to the pups. “You all did really well, and I'm sorry that we won't be able to go back to sleep just yet. We need to keep moving until the Sun-Dog appears. We'll take it slowly, and we'll look out for one another. The Pack of dogs that we're going to meet has a camp by a large lake, under some rocks. There'll be shelter and food there. What do you say?”

Grunt was the first on his paws, nudging his sister and brother. “Come on, you two!” he yipped as they rose more slowly.

Lucky led the way, with Mickey dropping to the back of the group, watching in case the coyotes reappeared.

Lucky focused on sniffing out a safe route through the trees. When he turned back to check on the pups he was pleased to see how helpful Grunt had become, encouraging his littermates with shunts of his snout and enthusiastic licks.

Lucky was grateful, but he still felt ill at ease. They'd survived their encounter with the coyotes, but Grunt had refused to hide. Lucky remembered how the pup had squirmed beneath him.
He doesn't like taking directions
, Lucky thought.
And he has more energy than he knows what to do with
. Grunt was a survivor—Lucky could see that—but he was also a risk taker.

And taking risks could get a dog killed.

Lucky sank onto his belly on
the rough soil at the bottom of the rocky overhang. It was where the united Pack had settled after their journey through the forest. He'd worked so hard to get the pups here, and now . . .

It was deserted.

He scanned the area, searching for signs of the Pack, and let out a long whine, his tail limp and his ears low. The Pack had disappeared. There was no dog to greet him, no yaps or barks. Even Alpha, with his snarling, wolfish face, would have been something.

Mickey appeared at Lucky's side, sniffing the rocky earth.

“Where have they gone?” asked the black-and-white dog. Lick, Grunt, and Wiggle stood behind him, panting.

Lucky sighed. “I don't know . . . they must have left not long after I did. There's barely any trace of them.”

Lick sprang up to Lucky excitedly. “Is there food here?” she yapped, glancing around.

Lucky didn't answer and Mickey brushed past him, stepping beneath the overhang, trailing his muzzle over the ground, stopping to sniff deeply or lick the occasional clump of dirt or pebbles. Lucky watched him, noticing the scuffle of paw marks in the dirt. He tried to match them to different Pack members. There were large, heavy imprints that he thought could have been Martha's, but the rest were unclear. A smudge of small prints cut through some other marks, then vanished in a muddle of soil: Sunshine? Daisy? It was pointless trying to guess.

Lucky could scarcely bear to lift his head. He had made a point of waking the others before the Sun-Dog reached its highest point, leading them back to the Pack's camp. As Wiggle had whimpered about his sore paws, Lucky had raised the pup's spirits by telling him tales of Packmates to play with, and more food than he could eat. It hadn't exactly been the truth—the Pack had complained about the grainy soil and absence of prey—but he had hoped they would have settled in and found some by now.

“You'll love the Pack,” Lucky had told the pups. “Martha will teach you how to swim and Fiery is a great hunter. You'll learn a lot from him.” It had twisted his gut to talk of the Pack, but what choice did he have? He had to make sure that the pups took to their new home. Without the safety of other dogs, they would be dead in days; he was sure. That was assuming that the Pack even agreed to take the young dogs. Lucky hadn't allowed himself to consider the possibility that they would not. But surely, even if the Pack didn't want Lucky back, they would never refuse these motherless pups.

How could the Pack just have vanished?
Lucky thought with a shiver. The abandoned shelter looked dark and empty beneath the overhang without the flurry of other dogs. Wiggle scampered closer, wide-eyed.

“You said it was safe,” he yipped, his short tail hanging between his legs. “It doesn't
look
very safe to me.”

“I know; I'm sorry,” Lucky replied. “When we left the whole Pack was here. We should be able to pick up their scents; we can follow them.”

But in his head, he added:
Do these pups have the strength to keep going? And could there be danger nearby? Is that why the Pack seems to have left in such a hurry?

Lucky swallowed a whimper and rose abruptly to his paws, shaking off the sense of dread that coursed through his tired limbs. He approached Wiggle, licking the top of the pup's head.

“The camp has been moved,” he told him, “but we'll find it—won't we, Mickey?”

The Farm Dog barked in agreement. “I think I've picked up their scent-trail. They seemed to have walked along the edge of the lake. They left together, as a whole Pack. That's good news, isn't it? The Leashed Dogs and the Wild Pack must have set aside their differences after all.”

Wiggle dipped his head in resignation and went to join Lick and Grunt, who had found a flat stone by the lake and were stretching out in the sun.

Lucky watched the puppy walk away. He didn't answer the Farm Dog's question, thinking of the confrontation between Bella and Sweet the morning that he'd been expelled.

“Come on, Lucky. If we hurry, we can catch them by no-sun.” Mickey butted Lucky's head cheerfully, then paused. “What's wrong?”

Lucky's head drooped. “They may not want me to follow them.”

“What do you mean?”

“I left the Pack, Mickey.”

The black-and-white dog gazed at him without understanding. “So we were wrong. We'll say sorry; we'll explain.” He cocked his head. “We've been over this. Why do you look so worried?” He glanced at the pups. “You can't abandon us, Lucky. Not now.”

Lucky met his friend's eye though his tail hung low. “You
chose
to leave. It was different for me. I was driven out by Alpha.” He lowered his voice so the waiting pups couldn't hear. “He said I was a traitor and that the Pack would be better off without me.”

Mickey frowned. “What nonsense. Of course it isn't! You're the bravest, cleverest dog I know.” He licked Lucky's muzzle. “Alpha's just intimidated by you, scared of any challenge to his leadership. He's not half the dog you are! Some dogs would have left the pups in the Dog-Garden, but you didn't. Being with you gives me courage. You'll just have to reason with Alpha. You'll manage it, too—you could charm the rabbits out of their burrows!”

“I'll try my best,” Lucky murmured, touched but not convinced.

A few dog-lengths away, the bored pups had started play-fighting. Grunt pounced on Wiggle and they rolled in the dirt, growling. Lick snapped her chops around the stems of some wild flowers, chewing, then spitting them out, her face scrunched up.

“Urgh! They're horrible!”

Wiggle scrambled free of Grunt. “When will we have real food?” he whined, smacking his lips. “I'm hungry!”

“Me too,” Grunt echoed.

“We'll find some food soon,” said Lucky vaguely.

“How about them?” yapped Grunt, bounding toward the lake. He stood at the bank, barking at the waterbirds. Out on the water, the birds turned wary heads toward the pup but soon resumed their indifferent
clack
s.

Lucky eyed the birds, but he knew it would be impossible to catch them. “We'll get another vole, or maybe even a rabbit. We just need to be patient and see what the Forest-Dog offers us.” Not that he'd seen any rabbits all day—but there had to be
something
here. He started sniffing his way around the edge of the camp. Mickey was right: The other dogs had followed the bank of the lake, away from the forest and the Fierce Dogs' lair with its ominous smells of death and emptiness. Lucky cast a last look in that direction. Far beyond the forest lay the city that had once been his home. With a jolt he remembered the giant loudbirds and wondered if they'd flown this way—perhaps that was why the Pack had left?

“Who's the Forest-Dog?” asked Lick. She skipped along the edge of the overhang, chasing ants.

Lucky blinked at her in surprise. “Sometime I'm going to have to sit you pups down and tell you all about the Spirit Dogs.”

“Does the Forest-Dog make food for us?” asked Wiggle in his small, high voice.

“He doesn't
make
food, but he watches over the trees and animals. He protects us, you see. He keeps dogs safe, and if he is pleased he offers us delicious morsels like vole and rabbit. So it's important to remember the Forest-Dog, and to be grateful to him. If you're hungry, you might say: ‘Please deliver me some food, wise Forest-Dog.' And once you've caught and eaten a vole, you would say ‘Thank you, Forest-Dog.'”

Wiggle exchanged a puzzled look with Grunt, who was padding toward them. Lick paused, her dark brow wrinkled in thought. “But if the Forest-Dog watches over the trees and animals, doesn't that mean he watches over voles and rabbits too?”

“Where does the Forest-Dog sleep?” asked Wiggle, shaking his floppy ears. “Does he have a camp? It must be really, really big. He must be a giant to see so much.”

“We're not even
in
the forest,” Grunt pointed out. “Most of the trees have gone. Doesn't it take more than one or two trees to make a forest?”

The memory of a stormy night came back to Lucky. He, too, had asked his Mother-Dog questions about the Spirit Dogs, desperate to understand the great and mysterious world around him, and she had answered, telling him all about the Sky-Dogs and Lightning.

“That's true,” Wiggle put in. “Forests have
lots
of trees.” The smallest pup panted happily, as though he had made an incredible discovery.

Lucky's tail started wagging—the pups had a point. He glanced at the lone tree with a mottled silver bark that stood some distance away around the rocky overhang. He'd forgotten what it was like to look at the world with such curiosity and innocence. Now memories flooded back to him, of a time when he was called Yap, play-fighting with his litter-sister Squeak. She used to ambush him, sneaking up from behind and chewing playfully on his ear.

With a surge of happiness, Lucky spun around and nipped Wiggle gently on his tufty neck. Grunt yapped cheerfully and started running along the bank, back toward the overhang.

“You won't catch me!” he cried. The pup's short legs thundered against the sandy ground and for a moment he had a clear lead before Lucky gained on him. With a friendly growl, he pounced on Grunt and the pup yipped and snarled as Lucky licked his face. He felt Wiggle nip at his legs as he came up behind. All of them ended up rolling and play-fighting.

Lucky panted happily. It was wonderful to see the pups so mischievous and full of energy.

He was hardly aware of Lick until he heard Mickey's voice, warning her: “You'll never reach it!”

Lucky looked up to see Lick quite far away, around the other side of the overhang, running at full pelt. A flash of gray fur shot in front of her.

“I've almost got it!” yapped Lick excitedly.

Lucky saw it was a squirrel she was chasing, and that the little animal was making for the silvery tree. She hurtled after it, her paws a blur as she kicked up soil.

She's going too fast; she'll slam into the trunk!

“Stop her!” barked Lucky in alarm, starting after Lick. His heart leaped to his throat and his paws pounded beneath him.

Mickey was closer to the tree and he made a dash for it, but the squirrel got there first. It burrowed into a hole at the base of the tree, disappearing from sight. Lick bounded after it, diving toward the hole just as Mickey reached the tree. At first it looked as though Lick would squeeze inside the hollow after the squirrel, her head and forepaws disappearing through the gap, but she stopped abruptly.

Half of Lick's body was inside the tree. Her back legs hung out of the gap, kicking desperately, her body twisting and jerking.

“She's trapped!” Mickey whined.

Lucky skidded to a halt by the tree and brought his head close to the base of the trunk. “Lick? Lick, can you hear me? Try not to struggle; we'll have you out in no time.”

The pup bucked at the sound of his voice, her tail spinning. Lucky felt sick at the fear scent rising from her small body.

“It's okay; we're here,” he assured her. He turned to Mickey. “Keep her still!”