Darkness Falls (7 page)

Another route to the city was across the river. Lucky watched as the water darted through rocks, spinning in pelts of white froth. He thought of Martha and her affinity with the River-Dog. His chest tightened and his tail drooped—he wished that she were here with him. He missed her, and the others in the Pack. He whimpered at the thought of them, the sound seeming to bounce through the forest, from tree to tree.

How could they betray me, after all we've been through?

Pushing away his loneliness, Lucky rose and approached the river, sinking a single paw into the current. Its force immediately pulled him off-balance. He wrenched his paw away and stepped back. There was no way he could safely get across here. He would have to find a way around it.

Lucky remembered that the Leashed Dogs had managed to cross upstream. He started following the path of the river, searching for the point where the current was more peaceful and the water shallow. He felt better now that he had quenched his thirst, but hunger still clawed at his belly.

A fly buzzed around his whiskers and he resisted the urge to snap his jaws in its direction. Things weren't
that
bad. He lowered his muzzle and ran his nose through a pile of leaves that had fallen to the forest floor. He picked up a couple between his teeth and chewed on them. Their sharp taste stung the back of his throat and would do nothing for his hunger in the long run, but at least they took his mind off it.

The screech of a crow made Lucky jump, his head darting toward the sky as he remembered the no-sun crow that had haunted him at the Wild Dog camp. Shimmering feathers vanished above the branches, but Lucky's gaze was drawn to something else in the sky. The poison cloud was drifting nearer, glistening like a puddle of black blood. He caught a whiff of its acrid stench. It was like something he had smelled in the city. It came back to him now—it was a loudcage scent, like the odor that rose from an injured loudcage as it bled onto the ground when they had their fierce fights. Fights just like the ones that made black clouds rise into the air. The smell turned his stomach. There was nothing
natural
about it. But it couldn't be a loudcage fight—it was far too huge for that.

The cloud seemed to be drawing closer. Lucky's hackles rose and a growl escaped his throat, but he tore his gaze away and continued through the forest. The sooner he was out in the open, the sooner he could get away from the strange cloud. He lowered his muzzle and sniffed the earth, keen to dislodge the acrid smell. Inhaling the fragrance of damp leaves, moss, and grass, he began to relax.

Then he caught the scent of something unexpected—another dog!

Lucky froze, breathing deeply. The odor was familiar.

Twitch!

Lucky followed the scent-trail, his ears pricked and his tail straight behind him. After a little while, Lucky peered through a screen of lumbering vines and overgrown grass, and spotted Twitch in the distance. The injured dog was limping with deliberate, dragging steps between the trees. He disappeared behind a thick trunk, emerging on the other side to continue his slow progress.

Lucky felt a shudder of pity in his belly. The poor dog had left the Pack before Lucky. He should have covered twice as much ground by now, but surely needed long rests in order to build up his strength to keep going. Maybe there were times when the pain in his leg became so great, he just had to stop. At this pace, he would be stuck in the forest at least another day.

Where is he heading?

Peering between two shrubs, Lucky watched the floppy-eared dog. He thought of barking to announce himself. But what if Twitch was angry at having been found? He'd left in the night, while the Pack was sleeping—surely he wanted to be alone?

Doubt gnawed at Lucky. He knew that dogs in pain could be highly dangerous. But Twitch was frail; he needed help. Warily Lucky started trailing the chase-dog, careful not to get too close. He watched as Twitch limped over fallen leaves before coming to a dead stop.

Lucky paused.
He must have picked up my scent
. He waited but Twitch stayed still, and it was impossible to read his mood at this distance.

Maybe it's better if I approach him side-on. From behind, it might feel like a challenge
.

Lucky trod a wide arc between the trees, along Twitch's left. The injured dog moved a few paces to the right, taking a defensive stance. A low, unfriendly growl rumbled in his chest.

He obviously wants to be left alone
. Didn't Twitch understand that the wild world was no place for a dog with a damaged leg? That he had almost no hope of surviving without some dog to watch his tail?

Lucky took another step forward, but Twitch shook his head and turned away, vanishing into the forest as quickly as his injured leg would take him. Lucky thought about following, but what could he do? He couldn't force Twitch to come with him. If this was his decision, Lucky had to respect it, even if it meant Twitch's death.

Lucky's tail drooped despondently as he turned away, resuming his path through the forest. Twitch's scent was soon lost beyond the smells of foliage and small creatures.

A wind rose through the trees, making branches shudder and leaves rustle. The Sun-Dog had moved across the sky and left a deeper shade of blue in his wake. White clouds hung long and the air felt damp. Coursing between them, the black cloud was like a dark lake hanging in the sky. Lucky's tail wound around his flank as he gave a whimper.

Forest-Dog, I know you're here, watching me as you watch over everything in the forest. Please keep me safe as the Sun-Dog moves toward his rest
.

As he peered into the darkening sky, Lucky felt a drop of water tap his nose, and another blur in his eye before he blinked it away. He hurried beneath the trees, seeking shelter under a large tree with a broad trunk and a web of bulging roots that looked like snakes burrowing into the soil. Huddling among them, Lucky made himself as comfortable as he could.

The rain started coming more quickly, sheets of water escaping between the branches and tapping down from leaves. Lucky licked his sodden paws.
How has life come to this?
he thought miserably. He gave a long, lonely whine and lowered his head to ground.

A large raindrop hit Lucky's forehead above his eyes. Unlike the others, this one seemed to stay where it had fallen. Lucky felt a warm, tingling sensation creeping through all the way to his skin. He barked, shaking his fur to chase away the strange feeling of heat. He pawed at his head and looked up in time to see a dark flake fall on a raised root. It settled there, heavy and damp, the air above it twisting with steam. It was like black snow, the same color as the dark cloud.

Lucky watched as more flakes tumbled onto the mulch of the forest floor. Beneath the flakes, the grass seemed to wilt and bow. Lucky rose to his paws, his heart thumping in his chest.

Black snow, falling from the sky! What's going on?

He became aware of a powerful burning stench, like an invisible fire racing up his nose and making his eyes fill with water. It seemed to be coming from every tree in the forest. The heavy rain must have masked it at first, but now Lucky knew what it was.

The scent of the dark cloud was descending on him like a deadly enemy.

It wasn't water that fell from the mysterious cloud, but curious black flakes that drooled a rancid steam. Lucky scampered to avoid them as they fluttered to the ground, throwing himself beneath branches. He yelped as he shook himself, wishing he were out in the open.

The black flakes did not drop evenly, the way rain did. They fell in hot clumps, spinning and tangling with branches, smoldering against the forest floor.

Lucky yelped in horror.
The black cloud is falling to earth!

Swarms of ash slowly tumbled to the ground. It looked like the kind of dark, dirty clouds that longpaws made when cooking food outside on open fires. The food had smelled delicious, but there had been something
wrong
about the fires—the smoke's odor was sharp and unnatural.

Had fire caused
this
black cloud?

Lucky gaped at the tumbling black flakes. Such a fire would have to have been unimaginably huge. Where
was
it? Where was the black cloud coming from?

He remembered Mickey's conviction that the cloud was the shape of a longpaw, pointing the way for dogs to travel. Alpha had been just as sure that it had taken the form of an angry Sky-Dog. Now Lucky was certain that they were both wrong.

The black cloud had to be linked to the Big Growl. It had to be connected to the crumbling earth, the shattering skies, the poisonous water and bad smells. If it was a sign of anything, it was that nothing had improved: The world since the Growl was just as dangerous as ever.

Then the realization dawned on him.
The longpaws have not returned. The city will be just as we left it. Deserted
.

He thought of Mickey, wide-eyed and hopeful, still carrying his longpaw's glove in his jaws. Had he reached the city yet? What would he do when he got there? Would Mickey try to enter his longpaw's den, as Alfie had? He could get killed among the poisonous fumes and collapsing walls. Even if he stayed safe, how would he survive? There would be no food to eat and no clean water to drink. And what of the animals and longpaws who'd died there, with no one to bury them? Lucky shuddered.

Poor Mickey, carrying that glove, keeping it safe. So loyal to his longpaw. He'd been a good friend to the Leashed Dogs too, and had always stood by Lucky. He was not responsible for Lucky's exile. He didn't even know about it. . . .

I can't leave him to face all that alone
.

Lucky bounded out from beneath the trees, swerving this way and that to avoid the black flakes. He ran as fast as he could, his paws splattering against the wet forest floor. Brown streaks of mud caked his flanks, and his fur was soon soaked through with rain, but he barked excitedly. He had a mission now, a reason to leave the forest, to reach the city. He had
somewhere
to go.

He had to find Mickey as soon as he could.

Lucky swallowed down the last of
the rabbit and yawned luxuriously. His full belly sighed with gratitude and he offered his thanks.
Forest-Dog, you always watch over me. The rabbit was delicious
.

He hadn't expected to catch anything until he was out in open fields, but he'd found a small clearing between the trees and there it had been, gazing up at the sky. Perhaps he had the dark cloud to thank for that.

Lucky licked his lips, reminding himself that he couldn't depend on trapping a rabbit again. And he had to admit that it was harder to hunt alone, particularly where tree trunks and branches concealed the path. Small animals had so many places to hide.

At least it had stopped raining. The black cloud had dispersed into smaller clumps of floating ash that loomed overhead in dark clots. Lucky couldn't wait to get out of the forest.

He pressed on between the trees, pushing uphill as the light started fading and the Sun-Dog padded across the sky. Eventually the land flattened out. Lucky knew he should be pleased at this—flatter terrain surely meant that he was drawing nearer to the city, where he would find Mickey.

Yet a prickle of unease touched the fur of his neck. He felt like he knew this place, but he could not remember exactly how or why. The acrid remnants of the ash smothered his senses and memories. He tried to ignore the shiver that ran along his back. He would just have to hurry, to keep on moving, even after the Sun-Dog had gone to sleep. He journeyed toward the river, springing over a fallen trunk.

Ahead of him was a huge mound of black ash, the sharp smell instantly catching his nose. With a yelp, Lucky turned to get away from it. His paws skidded on fallen leaves, and he smacked against a long, low branch that swung into the towering ash. Dislodged, it started sliding to the ground in clumps, creating an avalanche of foul smells and black snow.

Lucky turned and scrambled in the opposite direction. He would have to find another path across the river.

He climbed a hill, his fur rising again. His tail stiffened and his ears pricked up instinctively. He felt as though he could
almost
smell something. Something familiar. Something dangerous . . .

He cursed the black flakes for masking all other scents beneath their powerful stench. Creeping farther up the slope, Lucky's location struck him. In a rush of smells, of sight and memories, he recognized the hill and the valley below. Fear shuddered along his spine. He was very close to the Fierce Dogs' lair, he realized—much closer than he would have liked. He remembered the brutal army of dogs with their thick, muscular bodies, their pointed ears, and their shiny black coats. He had hidden from them in their eerie Dog-Garden, watching them patrol their territory, and though he had outwitted the Fierce Dogs and escaped, he never wanted to face those dogs again. A tremor of panic ran through his belly and Lucky froze.

In the distance he heard barking, deep and foreboding. He lowered his muzzle and sniffed, trying to blank out the foul ash. Then he caught it: the tang of blood.