Moon's Choice (3 page)

“Very well.” Alpha shook his coat, then lashed his tail as he turned back to the strange Pack. “We agree to this plan. Our hunt-dogs will come to this place next sunup, and yours can meet them here.”

The half wolf gave a complacent dip of his head, twitching an ear as if slightly amused. “Good. It's settled. We meet at sunup.”

As he began to stalk away, his big Packmate Fiery half turned, his dark eyes meeting Moon's. She thought she saw his ears prick forward as his head gave the tiniest of nods.

A thrill ran between her fur and her skin, making her shake
herself in unease. Tearing her gaze away from his, she hurried after her Father-Dog and Mother-Dog.

“I like that Fiery,” Alpha was telling Beta, as Moon trotted up alongside them. “He advised his Alpha without showing him a grain of disrespect. And his plan was a clever one.”

I like him too,
Moon realized, picking up her paws more jauntily.
He does seem clever. And gentle. And kind.

And their Packs were going to hunt together. . . .

Perhaps Fiery and I can be friends. . . .

Groggily, Moon lifted her head. The
air against her hide was cold and very still, and only a faint light filtered into the den—she could tell that it was early, and the Sun-Dog had not yet stretched and risen. But
something
had woken her. . . .

Alarmed, Moon glanced at her sister. Star was curled up close by, her sides trembling, and despite the chilly air, Moon could feel the heat of her body. When she touched Star's flank gently with her nose, the burning intensity of it shocked her. Star's eyes were almost closed, but she gave a tiny hoarse whimper.

“Star!” Moon sprang to all four paws and bent her head urgently to her litter-sister. “Star!”

Again that awful plaintive whine came from her litter-sister's throat, but it seemed Star couldn't even raise her head, much less respond to Moon's frantic licking.

She's caught Fly's sickness,
Moon realized with a plummeting sense
of dread.
But Star seems much worse than he did yesterday. This has come on so quickly!

“Star, I'll get help. Wait here!” She realized as soon as she said it how ridiculous that sounded; Star was clearly incapable of moving a hind leg, and her desperate breathing was shallow and wheezy.

Fear squeezed Moon's lungs as she bounded out through the den entrance and raced to her parent-dogs' den. Her paws skidded, sending up sprays of loose earth and leaves as she plunged into the dimness.

“Mother-Dog!” As she caught her breath, she remembered she wasn't a pup anymore. “Beta! Alpha! It's Star—she is very sick!”

Her Father-Dog turned as her Mother-Dog sprang to her paws. “What, Moon?” he growled. “How sick?”

“Very,” she panted. “Worse than Fly yesterday.”

Beta hurried out past Moon, her eyes sparking with anxiety. As Moon followed, her heart beating hard, she realized her frantic barking had roused many of the other dogs. They were emerging from their dens, their fur bristling, their expressions bewildered and worried. Snap came bounding over, Omega at her heels, and nosed in concern at the den entrance as Beta and Moon squirmed inside.

Moon wished she could calm her heart. The blood pounding in her ears felt almost painful as she waited for her Mother-Dog's verdict. Beta was nuzzling Star, who shivered where she lay curled on the den floor. Alpha stood at Moon's shoulder, and she was glad to feel his reassuring solid warmth at her side.

“It's all right, Moon,” said Beta at last, giving Star's ear a last gentle lick. “She has a sickness, but I've seen it before. It looks terrible and it's frightening, but dogs always recover from it.”

“But she's so hot,” exclaimed Moon, looking from her Mother-Dog to Star and back. “And her breathing is so bad. . . .”

“Yes,” Alpha soothed her, “but Star's young and strong, like Fly. They'll both get better, I promise.”

“Your Father-Dog is right.” Beta padded back to Moon and nuzzled her neck. “This invisible enemy strikes sometimes, but it doesn't stay forever. It hurts dogs, but it won't kill them.”

“Omega.” Alpha twisted his head to give the little snub-nosed dog a commanding bark. “Please bring water for Star. She mustn't get thirsty.”

“All right, Alpha.” Omega almost rolled his eyes; Moon was sure of it. She'd never liked him.

“And bring more for Fly, too,” added Alpha sternly. “Keep watch on these two through the night, Omega. They mustn't run
out of water.”

This time the little dog's sullen grunt was perfectly audible. Moon twitched an ear in annoyance, but Alpha simply stared hard at him until he'd turned and trotted off toward the stream.

Omega's a lazy, bad-tempered little thing,
thought Moon resentfully.
But so long as he does his job and looks after Star, I don't care.
She turned once more toward her litter-sister, unable to repress a low whine of anxiety. Star's lolling tongue looked so dry and pale. And this sickness had struck so quickly. . . . “Alpha, are you sure she—”

“She'll be fine, Moon.” Beta licked her anxious face. “Now, don't you think we should give your litter-sister some breathing room?”

Moon took a breath to argue, then sighed it out and nodded. If her parent-dogs were calm about this, then surely she had no need to panic. It was only that she was so unused to sickness, and now Star and Fly had both fallen ill within a single exchange of Sun-Dog and Moon-Dog.

But Beta was right. Crowding into the den around Star certainly wouldn't help her. Taking a deep breath, Moon turned and scrambled out of the den mouth, making herself look calm and confident for the circle of dogs who were watching.

Their tails tapped the ground, their ears quivered, and some
of them had their hackles raised at the strangeness and anxiety. Moon gave them a soft bark as she looked around.

“It's all right,” she told them, with more certainty than she felt. “Star's sick, but it's not serious.”

Hurrying between Meadow and Rush, she picked up speed and trotted out of the clearing. She didn't wait to answer any of the Pack's urgent questions. Her skin prickled with frustration, but there didn't seem to be anything she could do.
I know nothing about invisible enemies,
she thought.
I can't even help Star! There has to be something I can do for her, but I just don't know what it is. I don't know!

All she could do was pad on, barely seeing her surroundings or listening to the morning birdsong. An early mist lay in hollows, and the horizon, when she emerged from the trees, was hazily beautiful, blurred with silver-gray dawn light. But Moon's heart was too heavy for her to take any pleasure in it.

She wasn't even especially aware of what her nose was telling her—so she stopped with a sharp jolt when the scents became too strong to ignore. This was the new Pack's territory; indeed, she'd already crossed the line between their lands. Hesitantly, she bent to sniff at a scent-marked stump. The message in her nostrils was wolfish, and sharp with warning.

Yes, I've come too far.
She sighed, and glanced over her shoulder.
Better turn back now, then. The last thing her Pack needed now was a quarrel with their new neighbors.

But as Moon twisted to pad back the way she'd come, she heard a bark of greeting. She stiffened automatically, but the voice wasn't hostile.

“Hello!” The big dog Fiery bounded to her side.

“I'm sorry . . .” Moon began, dipping her head. “I didn't mean to—”

“Don't apologize.” His tongue lolled. “I was hoping I'd see you again soon.”

She stared at him, surprised, and he sat back on his haunches, awkwardly scratching at his ear. The huge, powerful dog looked so embarrassed, Moon's heart melted and she let her own tongue loll, grinning.

“All the same, Fiery, I shouldn't have trespassed. I
am
sorry.”

“Don't worry.” Fiery looked cheerful again. “What's your name? You know mine, after all.”

“I'm Moon.” She felt shy all of a sudden, and glanced away, back toward her own camp. When she met his eyes again, Fiery was frowning with concern.

“Is everything all right, Moon? I apologize if I startled you. If I was being too forward, I'll leave you alone. I don't want you to
be mad at me. If you want me to go—”

She shook her head swiftly. “No! I mean . . . no.” She licked her chops. “I'm worried, that's all. My sister, Star. She's sick. Really sick.” She took a shaky breath. “My parent-dogs say it's going to be all right but . . . I'm worried, Fiery. She got sick so suddenly.”

He didn't tell her not to be silly, and he didn't look impatient as she falteringly explained Star's symptoms. He watched her with concern in his dark eyes, nodding now and again to encourage her to go on.

“It's the heat in her body that frightens me,” Moon finished. She realized her voice was trembling.

Fiery got to his paws, his tail thumping strongly. “Listen, Moon. You must try not to worry. I know something that can help with the fever, at least. Follow me?”

She hesitated only for a moment, then nodded. She trusted this dog, she realized, without even having to think about it; it was like an extra instinct that she'd only just discovered. As Fiery put his nose to the grass and set off on some unseen trail, she followed him without question.

He reached the edge of a copse of birch, and halted, nodding. “Here, Moon.” Opening his jaws, he tore up a fleshy-leaved plant, roots and all, and laid it down at her forepaws. “My Mother-Dog
taught me about this. It'll help bring the heat down in Star's body. Get her to chew it.” He turned to tear up more of the plant with his teeth. “And make sure she has plenty of water. That's important.”

Moon stared down at the plants, and then at Fiery. She opened her jaws to thank him, then realized she didn't know what to say. Not long ago she'd been filled with despair; now he'd kindled a new hope in her heart, and the day looked different altogether. She could help Star! Strangely, a part of her wanted to butt her head against his neck and nuzzle him in gratitude. But that was ridiculous. She barely knew the dog! To stop herself from licking his nose, she bent and picked up the plants in her jaws.

“Thank you,” she mumbled through them, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “It means—”

“Go on.” Fiery nodded. “You'd better get that to your sister.”

Without another word—she couldn't think of the right one anyway—she spun on her haunches and raced back to her Pack, and to Star.

Whatever happened to that feeling?

It had only been a few journeys of the Sun-Dog since she'd bounded away from Fiery with a new and excited optimism. Now, exhausted, Moon scraped at the earth, digging out clods of it. Every muscle in her body hurt, but it was nothing compared to the pain in her rib cage. It couldn't be her heart, she thought. Her heart had curled up like a sick pup, and died inside her.

I remember the feeling I had then. It was hope, but it's not there anymore. It's gone.

Her paws were clogged and sticky with earth, but the hole seemed deep enough now. She took an exhausted step back, and made herself look at the limp corpse beside her.

Oh, Mother-Dog, you were so wrong.

Mulch and Snap too stopped digging, and watched her. Moon swallowed. Then as gently as she could, she closed her jaws around
the body's scruff, and dragged it to the edge of the hole. A tug, and one last jerk of her shoulder muscles, and the body tumbled into the mouth of the Earth-Dog. Moon closed her eyes.

It's only been two journeys of the Sun-Dog since she and Alpha helped me bury poor Star.

Oh Earth-Dog, please take care of her.

Take care of my Mother-Dog.

Moon opened her eyes, but she couldn't bear to look at Beta's lifeless body any longer. Soon there would be nothing but a scar of disturbed earth to show she had ever existed. A scar of earth to go with the others, Moon thought, staring around the glade. Star's grave, close to her Mother-Dog's, and Fly's.

Will there be more?
she thought, as grief tightened her throat.
My Father-Dog is sick. Omega is sick. Every other dog is sick with fear. I know there will be more. I can't bear it, but there will be.

Moon clenched her jaw muscles. She had to bear it. She was Alpha in all but name, until her Father-Dog recovered from this terrible sickness.

And he would recover. He
had
to.

Besides, she berated herself, she was lucky in one way: The strong and reassuring presence of Fiery made a huge difference. Without him, Moon might have curled up in a ball herself, and
given up hope. Calm and steady, he organized hunts so that healthy dogs wouldn't go hungry, and he searched out more of the fever plant, bringing jawfuls of it back to Moon's Pack until they had a store of it beneath a cool outcrop of stone.

“It must have come too late for Star and for your Mother-Dog,” Fiery had told Moon with sadness. “And this sickness seems to be a very bad one. But at least the leaves can help the other dogs.”

It did seem to bring down the heat in the sick dogs' bodies, but Moon doubted that it could heal them now. Fiery's Pack obviously agreed, because they and their Alpha stayed well away from Moon's Pack. Fiery told her the half wolf wasn't very pleased that he was visiting the sick dogs.

“But I won't let you cope with this alone,” the huge dog had told her. “I've told my Alpha I can't do that.”

Moon was more grateful to him than she could say; but there seemed to be nothing even Fiery could do to save her Pack.

Returning to the present, she looked once more at her Mother-Dog's grave, then shook her head and turned to her companions.

“I can't, Snap,” she whined. “I can't bury her.”

“It's all right, Moon.” Snap gave Mulch a glance, and he nodded.

“We'll cover her with earth,” the black dog agreed. “Make sure she's completely with the Earth-Dog. You go on back to the Pack.”

Her paws felt as heavy as river-stones as she padded back to the camp. As she passed the small den where Omega lay, his eyes dull and haggard, Moon pushed her nose in. She couldn't help thinking it felt like a grave already—the air smelled so
stale
.

“Do you need anything, Omega?” she asked him gently. “Do you have enough water?”

He could barely nod his ugly little head, but she could see that the strip of bark beside him still glimmered with fresh water. There was nothing she could do for now.
Who'd have thought we'd end up caring for our own Omega?
she thought.
And who'd have thought I'd ever feel sorry for that mean little dog?

She padded on to her Father-Dog's den. He looked a little more alert than Omega, she thought—but she suspected he was putting on something of a brave show.

“Moon,” he growled hoarsely, propping himself up with difficulty on his forelegs. His ribs jutted out beneath his dull coat, and Moon felt a lump of fear in her throat.

“Father-Dog . . .” she said. “Alpha, is there anything you need?”

“Just one thing at the moment, Moon.” His eyes held hers, and they were very serious. “I need you to lead the Pack.”

Moon gave an involuntary yelp of shock. “No, Alpha! I'm making sure you get healthy again. I haven't got time to . . . You can't make decisions like that just now. You're not well, and—”

“Exactly, Moon. I'm not well. Don't be scared.” His mouth quirked with fond amusement. “I've always known you'll make a wonderful Pack leader. You're levelheaded, you have plenty of dog-sense. That's exactly what the Pack needs right now: a dog who won't panic or make rash choices. Please, Moon. Do this for me.”

Moon had to pause, breathing rapidly, her heart thumping with anxiety. At last she growled softly, “Yes, Alpha. All right. I'll do my best.”

“I know you will, Moon.”

She touched her nose to his, and was horrified to feel how hot and dry it was. But there was no time to worry at this moment. Alpha was already turning his head, painfully slowly, to bark as well as he could.

“My Pack, to me! All dogs who are not sick, come to my den.”

His head flopped back as Moon heard the sound of dogs approaching: the rustle of grass, the pad of paws on hard earth, the rapid panting of fearful Packmates. With a huge effort, Alpha stumbled to his paws, and with Moon supporting his flank,
lurched unsteadily to the den entrance.

The Pack's eyes, Moon noticed, were bright with fear and uncertainty as they gazed desperately at their Alpha.
My Father-Dog is right,
she realized.
They need to be led, now more than ever.

“Packmates, hear me.” Alpha's voice was weak, but in the silence it rang out clearly enough. “For now, I am not able to lead you as I should. My daughter Moon will take my place while we fight this invisible enemy. I ask you all to follow and obey her as you would me. And to give her your wisest counsel, too.”

For long moments there was a tense silence. Then, one by one, dogs began to yip their support.

“Whatever you ask, Alpha,” growled Pebble.

“Moon is our Alpha until you recover,” added Mulch.

“We follow Moon,” barked Snap. “She represents you.”

Moon watched them all, relieved and pleased at their support. She stepped forward, fighting down her nervousness.

“Packmates, I want us all to howl together,” she told them. “We'll howl for those we have lost.”
My Mother-Dog,
she thought sadly,
and Star. I should howl for them. But that's not the most important thing. . . .
“And we will ask the Spirit Dogs to guide us, and heal our Packmates. We'll offer them a Great Howl, to ask for strength and health for our Pack.”

The dogs formed a circle, and Moon helped her Father-Dog to limp out of his den. She sat close to him, supporting his weak body as the dogs tilted their heads and began to sing out their howls. As the sound rose around her, filling the air, she felt strength and courage seeping back into her.

We've survived many things,
she thought, as hope stirred again in her heart.
Surely our Pack can survive this too—if we stay together.
She redoubled her own howls, crying out to her own spirit, the Moon-Dog, even though she was not visible in the morning sky.
She'll hear me, I know she will. She always has.

As the Howl faded, and dogs shook themselves and turned slowly away to go about their business, her Father-Dog turned to her, and gave Moon a weak lick.

“I knew I was right,” he murmured. “Your first act as leader was to bring the Pack together. Well done, Moon.”

Her fears began to dissolve in a warm glow of pride. “Thank you, Alpha. I'll do everything I can to lead this Pack back to strength.”

But I can't do it alone,
she realized,
and I shouldn't! That's what Pack is, after all.

With the glow of the Great Howl still in her bones, she trotted toward the hunters' den. For the first time, she understood the
wisdom of her parent-dogs in choosing Hunter as her intended mate.
I need him now
.
Hunter loves to lead. He can handle the organization of hunting and patrolling while I tend to the sick dogs.

Now, at last, we'll learn to be a team!

Hunter was sitting with Rush and Meadow, just outside the hunters' den, and as he glanced toward her, Moon realized again, with a flush of pride and admiration, how strong he was. She wagged her tail as she approached, and opened her jaws to make her suggestion.

Before she could speak, Hunter had gotten to his paws. His expression, as he stared at her, was less than welcoming, and for a moment Moon faltered.

“Moon,” he said. “You should be the first to know. Rush, Meadow, and I are leaving the Pack.”

Her carefully prepared words caught in her throat. Moon could only gape at him. “What?”

“It's the smart choice,” Hunter's voice was cool and unapologetic. “Don't you see? It would be stupid to stick around here and get sick ourselves. We're going to make a new Pack, a strong one, with healthy Packmates. We want you with us, Moon. We'll be Alpha and Beta, you and I: just as we were meant to be. We'll lead a strong and vigorous Pack without sickness.”

Moon wanted to speak, to bark her fury at him, but her throat was too tight with disbelieving shock. Disgust rippled through her muscles, and made her stomach turn over.

At last she managed to choke it out: “You want to abandon the Pack when it needs you most?”

He hunched his powerful shoulders. “It's not a Pack anymore. It's too weak to survive.”

Her world was whirling, her brain dizzy with confusion. This didn't make sense!

“You'll even turn your back on my Father-Dog, who promoted you, who was so kind to you?” Moon's bark was hoarse with fury. “I won't leave with you, Hunter. I'll stay where I belong. I will never,
never
abandon my Pack!”

Hunter stared at her for a moment, and she hoped against hope that her words had struck home. Surely he couldn't deny the law of the Pack and the will of the Spirit Dogs? Surely he'd realize he was wrong, see his mistake, change his mind!

But Hunter only turned with a dismissive flick of his tail.

“Then you're a stupid dog,” he said coldly. “You'll sicken and die with the others, Moon. Rush, Meadow, and I will live and be strong. Good-bye, Moon, and good luck. Luck's all you've got left to help you now.”

And with that last contemptuous growl, he turned and walked away.