The Empty City (16 page)

A chorus of barking approval greeted this statement, and Lucky felt his stomach shrink inside him. “I'm—I'm not a teacher! I don't know how …”

“All you have to do is show us!” barked Mickey excitedly. “We'll copy you!”

“Yes!” squeaked Sunshine. “Go on, catch something!”

Dumbfounded, Lucky licked his chops. He was hungry, too, and though he wasn't a skilled hunter, he probably knew more than they did. He had all Old Hunter's teaching to fall back on. At the very least, he could make something up; it wasn't as if the Leashed Dogs would spot his mistakes....

He took a deep breath. “Well, it's not that easy, Sunshine, but let's see …” Lucky glanced around, deciding to start with the likeliest hunters. That would be Mickey, and Bella, and … “Where's Bruno?”

They heard the splash. It wasn't the light, happy splash of a dog playing in water. It was a great disastrous explosion of water.

“Bruno!”

They all raced to the water's edge. Daisy was yapping like crazy.

“I told him it was deep there! I told him he was too big and heavy!”

Lucky took a few steps into the rushing current, feeling it dragging at his paws. Out in midstream and already washed quite a way down, Bruno surfaced, his head struggling to stay above the water, his paws and body thrashing wildly against the strength of the flow. His eyes rolled over toward them, silently pleading; then he sank and lurched up once again, gasping for air.

“Bruno!” barked Lucky. As he waded toward the deeper water, the current almost pulled his paws from under him. He froze, bracing himself on the slippery pebbles, and watched Bruno's struggles in desperation. They might both drown, and then what would happen to the Pack?

Oh, River-Dog, please help me! Don't take Bruno like this!

Just as he was about to fling himself into the deep center of the stream, he saw a huge black shadow pound past him, scattering pebbles and plunging into the water, sending up a great fan of glittering droplets as her body submerged.

Martha!

They were all barking now, urging her back to shore, but Martha had surfaced midcurrent and was swimming toward Bruno. The speed of the water was carrying her quickly, but she showed no sign of panic, her body cutting strongly through the foaming waves till she was alongside him. Lucky watched in awe.

Bruno didn't seem to notice, too focused on keeping his head above the surface and snatching gasps of air as the water tumbled him helplessly. But Martha snatched the scruff of his neck and dragged him through the water.

His eyes opened wide in surprise, but Lucky could tell that he was exhausted and panic-stricken. He gave only a brief startled wriggle, then went limp in her broad jaws. Even against the current, Martha swam powerfully to the bank downstream and tugged Bruno after her onto dry land.

The others raced down the stony riverbank, leaping logs and bushes to reach the two sodden dogs. Bruno lay panting and sneezing and coughing, head on the stones, his forepaws sprawled in front of him. Martha, though, barely showed a sign of strain. She was standing up, all concern for Bruno, shaking the water off her coat and licking the brown dog dry.

She's a real fighter
, Lucky thought, impressed.

“Martha?” Bella had skidded to a halt. “Are you all right?”

“Of course I am,” rumbled Martha. “Do you think Bruno's okay? Is he hurt?”

“He'll be fine.” Lucky snuffled and licked at Bruno's muzzle, then stared again at the huge black dog with awe. “You swim. You swim
so well
.”

“Yes, that was amazing!” Daisy said. The other dogs were staring at Martha, slack-jawed.

Martha wagged her tail and let her tongue loll as she looked at her paws. Lucky looked at them, too, and felt his eyes widen. Between her claws, spread on the uneven pebbles of the beach, he could see …

Is that, is that …? It's webbed skin!
He'd only ever seen skin like that on the waterbirds that lived on the water in the longpaw parks. He glanced back up at her face, but she didn't seem to see anything wrong as she stared awkwardly at her own paws, embarrassed by the praise.

Bruno was struggling to stand now, licking Martha's chest and lowering his muzzle in gratitude.

Well, River-Dog
, Lucky thought, sending his thoughts out toward the bubbling water.
You may not have come to my aid yourself, but you must know Martha well....

It was the best sign he could have had. Martha had knowledge of the River-Dog that he couldn't have guessed at, and she clearly had her respect, too. She could survive out there. Maybe the others, too, had their own hidden links with the Dogs of Nature, connections just waiting to be reawakened.

For the first time since leaving the city, Lucky felt happy. He wouldn't be bound to these dogs forever, because there would come a time when they wouldn't need him. This funny, temporary Pack of his was going to make it—however much the world had changed. There'd come a day when they didn't need him anymore, and then he'd be free again. Truly free.

The whimpering. Why didn't it stop? Why did it have to go on, and on …? Lucky couldn't bear it
.

Yes, he was a coward! Yes, he should beg the Sky-Dogs to forgive him. But what could he do? Surely they couldn't expect him to sacrifice himself. River-Dog couldn't expect him to die, when … when Bruno—

No! This wasn't right....

This wasn't Bruno! Those whimpering dogs weren't drowning. They weren't in the water at all! They were trapped in the rubble, caught and crushed when the Trap House fell. There was nothing he could do. He and Sweet were helpless. If they went back for the others, they would die, too....

—Come on, Lucky!

Sweet! He ran blindly after her, his legs working hard, his heart pumping. He was desperate to block out the whimpering, the dying howls....

But there was something else. Another set of paws. Something behind him, pursuing him, running him down. It was angry, vengeful, merciless, and it was almost upon him
.

This couldn't be right!

Lucky risked a glance behind him, even as he fled, lungs aching for air, muscles screaming for rest
.

There was nothing behind him. Nothing but darkness in the city streets, shadows and broken light and destruction
.

Then, out of the corner of his eye … glinting eyes and teeth. So many savage dogs, hunting him down. Howling, baying, they were almost on him, almost at his tail, jaws snapping, reaching out their jaws to seize him and tear him—

The Storm of Dogs—

Terror sent Lucky leaping to his feet so suddenly that he stumbled and almost fell. His chest and lungs heaved, and he panted, his throat parched. In his head he could still hear that ferocious baying, the sound of hate. It felt so real—but nothing like this had ever happened to him!

It wasn't a memory. But what
was
it? It didn't feel like a normal dream—it was too real.

As the fear drained from his body, his trembling slowed and he watched the Leashed Dogs sleep. They'd settled down in a low hollow by the river—a sheltered spot, well hidden by the dip of the ground, but with no nearby rocks or gullies for enemies to lurk unseen. The dogs were far enough from the water to be safe, but close enough for the whispering rush of its voice to soothe them. Now the dawn was turning the river's surface pearly, and as Lucky watched, a fish jumped, then splashed beneath the rippling waves. Pale light glowed between the tree trunks, picking out the horizon in gray and pink and orange.

Gradually Lucky's breath calmed, and he licked his chops self-consciously. He felt ashamed of leaping to his feet, of being scared by the pictures in his mind. The other dogs all slept so peacefully, none of them haunted by ghost-hounds and demon-dogs.
It's just me. I'm the only one stupid enough to be fooled by my dreams
. Shame flooded him. Perhaps missing a meal last night had been foolish, but they'd all been too exhausted to hunt or eat. They'd all collapsed in a heap, but maybe Lucky's empty stomach had given him bad dreams.

Perhaps those memory-objects were helping the other dogs after all—those longpaw belongings. Perhaps they protected their dreams. Or perhaps it wasn't so surprising they didn't have nightmares since they were so far detached from their own dog-spirits.

It was true that Lucky himself wasn't exactly an expert on the natural world after his life spent scavenging for food in the city, but he was far closer to his dog-spirit than they were. And he felt it wakening more and more out here in the wild, thrilling in his belly and bones, keeping him alert and safe.

Lucky shivered. All his optimism, all his positive thoughts about Martha and River-Dog had dissolved with the dream.
How could I possibly expect them to cope alone?

It was a bleak thought, but he felt a new determination. He couldn't save the Trap House dogs when the Big Growl had first hit. But he
could
help these dogs. He could teach them to look after themselves. Perhaps that was what the Spirit Dogs were trying to tell him when they sent these dreams.... If he helped Bella and her friends, maybe the bad dreams would stop.

It's worth a try
, he thought.
Anything to stop the visions
. But even as he considered this, he knew it was too simple. There was more to those dreams.

There was a message.

He had to look after the Pack. No one else would. He had to look after them because something bad was coming; Lucky knew it in his marrow. He gave an involuntary shudder that wiped away any doubt about the startling dreams. They weren't just dreams; he'd been right to trust in them. They were warnings of something terrible, and not just for him: for all dogs.
The Storm of Dogs …

Lucky could hear his Mother-Dog's voice, from long ago: “
When the world turns upside down and the rivers run with poison
…”

He shivered again, looking over at the Leashed Pack. They were barely able to survive in the wild … if the Storm of Dogs was really coming, they'd never make it. He needed to help them learn to survive, and quickly!

Lucky let the others sleep on; why shouldn't they enjoy a few moments of peace? But soon the Sun-Dog had risen, glowing through the branches of the scrubby trees, and he couldn't wait any longer. Nudging at the dogs with his nose, whining gently, he goaded them all to their feet.

“Wake up! If you want to learn how to be good hunters, you need to get used to early starts.”

Sunshine protested, covering her eyes with her paws as she tried to snuggle back under Martha's belly, but the big black dog stood up and licked the little white one till she was awake and grumbling. Daisy woke with a start and almost immediately began to spin, panting with excitement. Bruno stretched his limbs tentatively, as if testing for injuries, but his soaking seemed to have done him no harm. Mickey and Alfie shook off sleep as Bella affectionately nudged Lucky's muzzle.

“I'm hungry,” complained Sunshine, blinking dismally.

“If anyone wants breakfast,” Lucky pointed out dryly, “we're going to have to catch it.”

To his surprise, they accepted that without a murmur, and set off purposefully, after leaving their longpaw things carefully hidden beneath rocks or behind clumps of grass. The trees became sparser as the dogs trotted up the shallow slope away from the river, and as they crested a ridge, the woods gave way to a broad, rolling grassland dotted with scrub and small rocks, and pocked with promising burrows.

The sight was encouraging—as was the swift movement of creatures disappearing belowground—and Lucky felt a flicker of pleasure pass over him. Today had a purpose: the tricky business of teaching these dogs, soft from longpaws spoiling them, how to hunt. The task would be sure to chase away the last clinging horrors of his dream.

“Now,” he told them in a low voice as they sniffed hopefully at the breeze. “Try to be quiet and still—no sharp movements. That means you, too, Sunshine! Stay out of the eye line of those burrows if you can—we need the gophers to think they're safe so they'll come back out of their holes.”