The Empty City (19 page)

At his forepaws, she dropped the prey. It was a good bit larger—and furrier—than a beetle.

“A mole? That's terrific!” Lucky licked her nose admiringly, and sniffed delicately at the tiny prey's big flat paws. They could tunnel so fast, these silky black creatures, burrowing swiftly out of reach when a dog had barely started to dig. Why, he'd only ever caught two of them himself, in his entire hunting life!

Daisy was swelling with pride, her tail thrashing furiously as Bella, Bruno, Alfie, and Martha gathered around to admire her catch.

“Daisy, that's wonderful!” said Bella. “
I've
never caught a mole!”

Lucky exchanged an affectionate glance with his litter-sister. She knew how important it was to encourage a dog like Daisy, barely more than a pup and so excited to learn. Bella had a great deal of good sense and instinct, thought Lucky warmly. She would be a good leader once he had moved on.

They were getting more organized as a group, and that made Lucky even more hopeful that they would thrive in the wild. In the last few days, he had stepped back a pace to let Mickey gain some leadership experience. With the herding dog in charge and Lucky supervising, all the Leashed Dogs' hunting skills had begun to improve. Working together, herding prey toward two or three of the Pack, they'd caught a few more rabbits and even a squirrel. It was enough to keep the hunger pangs at bay, together with bugs and grubs and the remains of a deer carcass—an old deer, Lucky supposed, that must have died of weakness and exhaustion rather than a longpaw loudstick. Even Sunshine had developed a taste for raw wild meat. They'd be able to look after themselves soon.

But niggling at the back of Lucky's mind was always the horrible echo of his bad dreams. If something bad was coming, the Leashed Dogs had to be as ready as he was.

Lucky put a paw on the mole and let Daisy divide it with her teeth.
Earlier on in our journey
, he thought with pride,
she could never have done that!

There was barely a nibble for each of the dogs, but Daisy solemnly nudged the biggest piece to Lucky with her nose.

“I don't know where we'd be without you, Lucky. I can hunt now!”

“You certainly can,” agreed Bella solemnly. “It'll be a rabbit next, you'll see.”

“Yes!” yipped Daisy, and turned, about to race off in search of one. But the party was interrupted by a sudden volley of high-pitched barking.

Their heads turned toward the sound, hackles raised and ears pricked forward. Lucky recognized the voice even before Martha barked, “That's Sunshine!”

Sure enough, the little dog raced through the trees and came to a skidding halt beside them. She was panting with exertion and panic, but she managed to gasp, “Mickey! Mickey's trapped!”

“Calm down, Sunshine!” yelped Bella. “‘What do you mean, trapped?”

“His collar—oh, please come, Bella. He's choking!”

Lucky sprang toward the trees, the other dogs at his heels, and let Sunshine lead them through a shallow glade and into a thick undergrowth of thorns and tangled branches.

“Here! He's here!” Sunshine pawed at the scrub.

Mickey's nose was sticking out through leaves, and now Lucky could see his eyes in the shadows, filled with fear, wide enough to show the whites. His tongue hung from his jaws as he tried to rasp air into his lungs.

“Don't move, Mickey!” Lucky barked urgently. He tried to rake aside the thick branches, stinging his paw pads on thorns. The others gathered behind him, not crowding around and panicking as they usually did but with eerie worried calm. They were giving Mickey and Lucky some space, but they couldn't help barking some rather useless advice, too.

“Pull him, Lucky!”

“Bite the branches off!”

Sunshine scraped the ground nervously with her front paws. “Oh, Lucky, please help him. He was only teaching me to hunt. I'm so hopeless and he's been so good....”

“I'm trying, Sunshine. Hush. Bella!”

She was at his side in an instant. “What do you need me to do, Lucky?”

He was thinking fast. Mickey didn't have long if they couldn't stop that collar from choking him. He was trapped tightly by the thicket of thorns, and he couldn't seem to move forward at all, but if …

“Here, Bella, your head is narrower than mine. Can you get a hold of his collar?”

Bella nudged and forced her way into the bushes, getting scratches on her muzzle and ears, but she managed to take Mickey's collar carefully between her teeth.

“Hold still! That's it—now, Mickey, you have to go backward.”

Mickey looked up at Lucky with frightened eyes. “Backward?” he gasped. “
Deeper
into the thorns?”

“Yes. Wriggle backward. Trust me!”

Mickey needed no second telling. Lucky just wished he could be as sure as Mickey that he knew what he was doing....

Planting his forepaws as well as he could on the ground, the dog wriggled and shoved desperately backward, flinching as the thorns dug harder into his hide. But the branches were giving, gradually. Despite Mickey's awkward struggles, Bella managed to keep a tight hold of his collar, her paws scrabbling for purchase on the sandy soil.

“That's it! Well done,” cried Lucky. “Just a little more, Mickey. Turn your head—Bella,
pull
!”

Mickey shot backward into the bush, yelping as the prickles caught his haunches. But the collar was off, dangling loose in Bella's jaws, and it took him no time to scramble free of the thornbush. The others clustered around him, yipping their relief and delight.

Sunshine bounced on her hindpaws, licking Mickey's jaws. “Mickey, you're all right! Oh, thank you, Lucky. I
knew
you'd be able to do it.”

“Mickey and Bella did most of it,” Lucky pointed out. “Mickey, are you hurt?”

Mickey stood squarely and gave himself a violent shake, sending twigs and leaves flying. “Just a few scratches. I'm sorry, Lucky, that was stupid of me.”

“It could happen to any of us,” Lucky consoled him. “Those of us wearing a collar, anyway,” he added dryly.

“My collar!” Mickey started. Glancing left to right, he caught sight of the brown leather strap, still gripped in Bella's mouth. Mickey licked her nose gratefully. “There it is. And it isn't even broken!”

Lucky couldn't believe his eyes as Bruno padded up and took the other side of the collar in his jaws, so he and Bella were holding it between them, stretching it out to its full extent. Mickey shoved his nose into it and tried to wriggle back in.

“What are you
doing
?”

Bruno gave him a surprised look. “Helping, of course.”

“Helping him do what?” Lucky sat down on his haunches, flummoxed. “Put it back
on
?”

“Of course.” Mickey gave him a nervous glance, while Bella looked a little apologetic. “It's my collar. Why wouldn't I wear it?”

“Because of what just happened!” barked Lucky in exasperation. “If we hadn't been here, you'd have been strangled!”

“But you
were
here,” pointed out Mickey reasonably.

Lucky raised his head and barked angrily at the sky. “You should get rid of those collars altogether! They can trap you, choke you. And if you ever got into a fight with some other dog—well, you wouldn't have a chance!”

“That's not true!” snapped Bruno. Proudly he squared his shoulders and jutted his head forward. “Not have a chance? I've got the blood of fighting dogs in me! My collar doesn't change that!”

“Bruno's right,” yelped Sunshine, and the others barked in agreement.

Lucky's temper flared, lifting his hackles on his back and curling the skin of his muzzle. These dogs were making him crazy—one minute, they showed all the instincts necessary to live and thrive in this broken world; the next they were behaving like puppies, pining for their longpaws' restraints.

“I'll prove it to you!” Lucky growled, charging at Bruno. The brown dog was so startled he flinched back, and in that moment Lucky seized his thick leather collar between his jaws. Bruno fought to keep his balance, but it was no use; he was dragged over by Lucky, who twisted his neck, flinging the other dog around. Bruno was heavy and thickset, but it was easy for Lucky to use the collar to gain leverage and throw him sideways.

The rest of the dogs were barking in protest and fear now, and Bruno was yelping, trying to fight back but unable to get leverage with his paws. Lucky shook him like a huge trapped squirrel.

“Oh, Lucky, please!” cried Daisy above the scared racket of the others. “Please don't hurt him!”

Lucky released Bruno and let him flop to the ground, panting for breath. He put a paw on the brown dog's chest; that was too much for Bruno, who rolled over with a growl and staggered to his feet, then shook himself from head to tail. Lucky returned his glare, and it wasn't long before Bruno dropped his eyes.

“You see?” said Lucky. “Do you see now?” He kept his voice low and averted his eyes to prove the fight was over. He felt guilt prickling under his fur. He'd worked out all his temper on poor, gutsy Bruno.
I shouldn't have done that....

But they
had
to learn, and he was the only teacher they had. “You see how vulnerable a collar makes you? I bet Bruno could beat me in a fair fight,” he said, with a glance at the strong dog, “but with his collar on, I could do what I liked. Trust me. You should take them off.”

The Pack exchanged shocked glances, and one or two of them stared at their paws. It was little Daisy who finally summoned up the nerve to answer him.

“Lucky,” she whined softly, “I know how you feel about this. We all do. But—but my collar? I can't take it off. I
won't
. I'll do anything else you ask me, but please don't ask me that. It shows I'm bound to a longpaw, that I'm owned and loved and that I have a longpaw to look after. It's so important. To
all
of us.”

Lucky stared at her, bewildered at such a long, firm speech from this pup.

“But, Daisy,” he said, “you don't have a longpaw now. They're gone.”

She whimpered and averted her eyes.

“I don't care if I don't have longpaws just now,” Mickey said. His dark eyes met Lucky's, respectful but determined. “I'll find them again. If I have to learn to fight better, that's what I'll do—but I
will
put my collar back on. I won't give up on my longpaws.”

Lucky realized he was wasting his breath. He turned and padded away over the beaten earth and back toward their camp. He couldn't bear to watch as Sunshine and Martha joined in the efforts to replace Mickey's collar.

He heard the sound of paws behind him, and glanced over his shoulder. There was Bella, her eyes beseeching.

“Lucky, you have to try to understand. Collars are important to us. They're part of who we are.”

They're part of who you've been made to be
, he wanted to say. But there was no arguing with his litter-sister at the moment, so he kept quiet, shaking himself and padding on.

A distant yelping and whining startled him.
Alfie!
Lucky picked up speed and turned toward the sound of his barks, but realized with relief that they weren't the cries of danger and distress—Alfie just couldn't find the Pack.

“Everyone? Bella! Lucky, Bruno! Where
are
yooooou?”

Bella was behind him as he trotted back into the camp, and he could hear the rest following behind in a racket of broken twigs and scattering stones. Hunting-craft was all but forgotten for today, then.

When Alfie caught sight of them emerging from the trees, the short, squat little dog bounded across to them with delight, yapping his welcome, oblivious to the recent frictions.
Every dog has something to bring to the Pack
, Lucky thought. They were lucky to have a dog like Alfie to lighten tense moments.

“You're here! I thought you'd forgotten me!”

“As if we could,” barked Bella in amusement as he jumped to lick her nose. “Did you have any luck with hunting?”

“No.” Alfie's ears drooped, but only for a moment; then he was dancing on his paws once more. “But I found something else!”

“What?” asked Martha, pricking her ears.

“Tell!” yelped Daisy, clearly relieved to have a distraction from the quarrel.

Alfie sat back and scratched at his ear. Lucky could see he was delighted to have a story to tell and determined to make the most of it. “I walked a long way. All on my own. I like to be alone sometimes,” he added with a glance at Lucky as if seeking approval. “I investigated the little valley, there—and those hills. I even went beyond them!”

Lucky was startled. The valley that sloped gently away from the grassland, up beyond the trees, was quite broad, and the hills beyond it were rocky and steep. He'd investigated the area a little himself, on one of the nights he had prowled the territory checking for enemies, but he certainly hadn't gone beyond the hills. The squat dog must have explored a long way.