The Pack (15 page)

Shep loped back into the den and nearly bumped snouts with Blaze. She was the last dog Shep wanted to smell at that heartbeat. He lowered his tail.

“Where've you been?” Blaze woofed, either ignoring or not noticing Shep's reaction.

“We were wrong,” Shep woofed. “We shouldn't have blamed Fuzz.”

Blaze gave a quick sigh, flicking her ears. “Wrong or no, it's done,” she barked. “What is it with you, Shep? Every time you make a decision, you end up backing away from it. Do you want to lead this pack or not?” She looked him hard in the muzzle.

“No, Blaze,” Shep woofed. “I don't want to lead
this
pack. This pack is going wild. We need to try to bring some order back to things, reorganize the teams —”

Blaze cut his bark short. “Enough,” she snapped. “You really think this is the time to paw around with your posture? The pack is like a herd of beasts on the edge of stampede — you show the slightest waver in your stance, and they'll crush you. Why do I have to keep explaining this?”

Shep straightened his stance, raising his head and tail. “You're wrong, Blaze,” he barked. “Strength doesn't come from attacking the weakest members, or from scaring dogs into thinking you come from the Great Wolf. Strength comes from doing what you know from your claws to your nose is the right thing. And it was wrong to blame Fuzz for something we know he didn't do.”

“A real leader does whatever he has to do to keep every dog alive,” Blaze snarled. “If you're not willing to put your fur on the line for these dogs, then I will.” She bounded away from him into the main part of the den.

Shep wondered if he should follow her, stop her from doing whatever she was about to do, but he didn't want to fight with her anymore. It seemed all he and his friends did was fight. He snuck through the back staircase-hole down to the bottom floor and found Callie lying in the dark. Her breathing was even, but Shep could smell that she was awake.

“I came back to apologize,” Shep woofed.

“You don't owe
me
an apology,” Callie barked.

“Then what can I do?” Shep crouched down and crept closer to Callie's back.

Callie raised her head, then shifted around so that she lay facing Shep. “For starters, you can find Honey and Fuzz and make sure they're okay.”

“I will,” Shep woofed, relief flooding through him at the kindness in Callie's barks.

“And then you have to get rid of Blaze.”

Shep pulled his muzzle back as if slapped. “What? Why?” he yipped.

“She's tearing this pack apart,” Callie woofed. “If you fight her and drive her away, the dogs will smell that you're still in charge. With the help of Oscar's club, we can bring the pack together again.”

Shep stood and sat back, away from Callie. Nothing in her barks felt right. “No, Oscar's club is as bad as Blaze's ideas about being the alpha.”

“But you can use Oscar's group,” Callie woofed, stepping closer to him. “The pup loves you, and only wants to please you. If you give him a kibble of positive attention, I think we can sway his stories however we need to. In fact, I've been coming up with a new legend we can tell in the morning —”

“Absolutely not!” Shep barked. “Callie, that club is nothing but lies. I don't want dogs to follow me because they think I'm something I'm not. I want them to follow me because they believe I'll do what's right.”

“I keep telling you, it's not about you anymore! We have to do what's right for the pack!”

“I won't do that, Callie,” Shep snuffled. “Not even for you.” He padded out of the room.

Callie's barks followed him down the hall. “They won't follow just any dog, Shep! They need to believe you're more than they are! They're just pets, scared pets!”

Shep escaped as fast as his paws could carry him from the room. Then he had an idea. He had to stop the pack from tumbling out of control. He felt like he was fighting the storm all over again — huge things swirled around him, threatening to tear every thing he cared about away from him. But this time, he could do something. He could tear the storm apart before it had the chance to do the same to him.

Shep sniffed out Oscar, who was woofing quietly with Odie and another dog Shep didn't know.

“Oscar,” he barked.

The pup looked over his tail at Shep. “One heartbeat, Champion,” he yipped. “We have to finish planning tomorrow's story of your greatness.”

Shep grabbed Oscar by the scruff and lifted him off the floor. “Now, pup,” Shep growled through his teeth.

Oscar snarled and squirmed in Shep's jaws. “Put me down! I'm not a weakling anymore! I'll have my followers get you for this!”

“You think your followers would attack the mighty Champion of the Great Wolf?”

Shep dragged the pup out of the boat and plopped him down on a patch of grass beneath a tree. The palm had been stripped bare by the winds. Now, its fronds were brown whips that clattered like twigs in the breeze.

Oscar shook his fur and sat, anger seething off him in waves. “You have my undivided attention,” he snarled. “What's so important?”

“You're disbanding the club tonight,” Shep barked, not loudly, but with a tone that suggested the issue was not open for discussion.

“Disbanding?” Oscar yipped. “Why?”

“I never wanted to be smelled the way you've gotten these dogs to smell me,” Shep woofed.

“You like my stories when they help you, like with Blaze and saving the cat,” Oscar growled. “You like my group when it gives you power, but if I don't do exactly as you say, you want to end it?” The pup set his little jaw and squinted his deep brown eyes.

“That's not why I want you to disband it,” Shep woofed.

“Are you afraid I'll start running the pack?” Oscar snapped, standing. “You're just jealous! I can't believe it! Well, you're right to have your tail between your legs. Where would you be right now without my club? I'll tell you: You'd be alone in this den with no one but Callie to sniff your tail.”

Shep's jaws hung open like a trap. Had the pup just actually asserted dominance? Shep shook his muzzle. No. Not Oscar. But he did bare his fangs. Or did he? No. He couldn't have. He wouldn't have.

Shep shook himself and lowered his head, taking a more friendly stance. “Why are you so angry, Oscar?” he woofed softly. “Let's woof about things and maybe you'll start to smell what I'm smelling.”

“Oh, yeah?” snarled Oscar. “What do you smell?”

“I smell a pup who's let a little submission from some older dogs turn his nose onto the wrong scent,” Shep said in his most gentle bark.

The pup reset his jaw. “I knew it,” he growled. “You
are
jealous. Well, you can take your commands and bark them right up this palm tree. I gave you a chance to be a part of the club and you kicked dirt in my snout, so forget it. I'm not disbanding my club, not ever!”

Shep glared down at the pup, who growled back at him, fangs bared. Who was this dog? Where was the sweet pup who would have given his claws to curl next to Shep's snout?
What did I do to him?

There was a chance of barking with the old Oscar, but the pup was now sick with hate. Shep was sure he deserved some portion of that anger, but it wasn't just about him anymore — he had to save the pack from itself. Shep sighed. “You leave me no choice.”

He bayed as loudly as he could, a piercing cry that echoed off all the buildings surrounding the plaza. The dogs inside the den pressed their paws against the glass. They began trickling out onto the dark street, and soon they surrounded Shep and the pup. Some dogs chattered their teeth nervously; others whimpered, asking why Oscar was there, why Shep had howled them out.

“I called you together to clear up a few things,” Shep barked. “I want you to know that the stories that Oscar and his friends have been telling you are lies.”

“Are not!” screeched the pup.

Shep lifted his great paw and placed it on Oscar's head, then smushed him gently into the grass. The pup wriggled and whined to get free, but Shep held him.

Shep continued, “I am not the Great Wolf, nor his Champion. I'm not special in any way. I'm just a dog who wants to help other dogs, any animal in need. I'm a pretty great hunter, and a well-trained fighter. And I'm willing to fight for you, but not alone. I work with Higgins and Callie and Virgil and Blaze because they help me to help you. If any dog doesn't like that fact, they're free to leave the pack.”

He stood proud, staring into the eyes of the nearest dogs. Some seemed calmed by his words; some tails began to wag. Blaze stood near the edge of the crowd. Her head was cocked and she waved her tail.

Shep lifted his paw off Oscar. The pup fell away from Shep, gasping and hacking. He glared up at Shep with a hatred that sent shivers through Shep's fur.

“How could you?” Oscar growled. The pup looked at the faces of the nearest dogs, and they looked down at him with something Shep could only describe as pity. Oscar turned his muzzle back to Shep. “You'll regret this,” he snapped. “Without me, this pack will fall apart. And you know it.” The pup scampered away into the night.

The dogs began crawling back into the boat. Blaze came to Shep's side.

“So you do want to lead,” she woofed. “Then I won't stand in your way.”

“I'm not leading the way you want me to lead,” Shep said.

“It may not be exactly how I thought of leadership,” Blaze woofed. “But it works for this mess of pets.”

Shep started to lope away from her.

“Where are you going?” Blaze barked. “We have to get these dogs some food.”

“Have some dogs drag back that beast I killed,” Shep replied over his tail. “I have to find Honey and Fuzz.”

“Are you squirrel-brained?” Blaze cried. “You don't even know where they went. The pack needs you!”

“I have to make things right,” Shep woofed. “I can't leave them alone in this wild place.”

“You can't leave your pack!” Blaze yelped. “Shep!”

Her barks reverberated behind him, but Shep kept running. He sniffed each passing tree, piece of rubble, and wall for some scent of Honey and the cat. Once they were back in the pack, every thing would be fixed. He was finally on the right scent and things were coming together.

The sky was a dull, metallic gray and a light drizzle had begun to fall. Shep had roamed in circles all night and all the next sun, desperate to find a trace of Honey's scent, but he'd had no luck. He'd catch a whiff of her on a scrap of tree bark, but the trail would lead nowhere, or would fade into nothing. The closest he'd gotten was here, on a dock floating in the canal — an old scent, but one suggesting Honey had been foolish enough to cross the canal alone. Why would she do such a thing? Wild dogs? Shep lifted his snout at the thought.
No, Great Wolf, please
. Had they found her?

Shep sniffed the water — no scent but the slime of chemicals on the surface. A tree was jammed into the wall of the canal not far from where he stood. Shep padded over to the edge of the dock, then hopped onto the tree. It gave under Shep's weight and he wavered on his paws, but regained his balance. The surface of the water was pocked by the drizzle and the only sound was the soft plash of rain.

He crept along the tree trunk, out into the canal. The rain-dimpled surface made it hard to watch for any water lizards below, but hopefully it also hid him and any ripples he sent across the water from them. The end of the tree trunk was a full stretch from the opposite canal wall, and the dock was another stretch away from the tree along the stone slab.

It felt good to be faced with a problem of strength — something Shep was good at. He tensed his leg muscles and bounced lightly, gauging the spring of the tree. With an explosion from his hind legs, he burst into the air. He stretched his forelegs and neck, reaching for the dock. His front claws scratched the metal surface, but his hind legs fell short and crashed into the fetid water.

Shep struggled to pull himself up onto the slippery dock, then he felt it — something large and rough rubbed along his submerged rear paw. He clawed at the metal.
Come on!
He gnashed his teeth as he strained to haul his rump out of the canal. Finally, he hooked a back claw onto the edge of the dock and thrust his hindquarters onto the platform. Just as he did, a knobby green-gray snout rose from the dark depths of the water, eyes glinting atop it like fat droplets. Shep backed away from the water. The great beast opened its jagged-toothed maw and hissed sour breath, then closed its mouth and sank into the black.

Shep panted, mesmerized by the appearance of the strange monster. What had it been trying to say? A chill shivered along Shep's fur. Was that the thing that had eaten Cheese? Had it taken Honey, too?

Shep sniffed around the edge of the dock. A flight of stairs ran from it up to the street. No, Honey had survived the crossing. Shep smelled both her scent and Fuzz's on the stone.
At least she made it this far.
But Shep smelled other dogs' smells, some from around the same heartbeat as when Honey had passed. She'd been running — but from whom?

The trail was easy to follow on this side of the canal. Honey had been careless, knocking into boxes and bins as she ran. The sun was fully in the sky when Shep found the alley where Honey lay on a flattened pile of thick, brown box-paper. Lifeblood dyed the paper surrounding her body a deep red-brown. Shep raced to her side and sniffed her muzzle. Her breath was weak, barely ruffling his whiskers, but she was alive.
Thank the Great Wolf!

“Honey,” Shep whimpered. “I'm here to save you. I can bring you back to the den. Boji can help you.”

Honey's eyelids fluttered. “Fuzz,” she groaned.

“No, it's Shep,” he woofed. He glanced around the alley — he neither smelled nor saw a trace of the cat. “Can you walk?”

Honey lifted her head a paw's length off the ground. “You found me,” she moaned. “He said you'd come for me, but I didn't believe him.”

Shep cocked his head. “Who said I'd come for you?”

“He said his name was Zeus.”

It was like the street tilted. Everything slid in Shep's mind, falling into some black crevice. Out of the blackness rose Zeus's muzzle as it was pulled away from him by the wave, the face of his best friend, the dog who tried to kill him.

He survived.

Honey coughed and lifeblood-stained spittle spattered the box-paper.

“Zeus did this to you?” Shep yipped, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

Honey gave a feeble wave of her tail.

Emotions roiled inside Shep like a storm — joy at his friend's survival; horror at the thought of his return, of having to fight him again; rage at what he'd done to Honey. The feelings threatened to tear Shep to shreds.

“He left me alive to give you a message,” Honey moaned, wincing at the expulsion of her own breath. “He said that he wanted revenge.” Her head fell back onto the paper. “I don't know why hurting me would give him revenge.”

Shep lay down beside Honey and licked her muzzle. “Hurting you was his way of hurting me,” he woofed quietly. “I'm so sorry, Honey. I should never have let the pack throw Fuzz out.”

Honey's breathing was a mere trickle of air through her nostrils. Her eyes struggled to remain open, then she gave up and let them close. “Find Fuzz,” she wheezed. “Protect him.”

“I will,” Shep whimpered. “I swear I will.”

Her breath slowed. Each exhalation sounded like the cat's name; Shep wasn't sure whether it was an incantation or a reminder. Shep licked her jowls and whimpered sorry over and over to her. He lay beside her until she was at rest. Then he pulled a piece of box-paper over her and wished her a quick journey to the Great Wolf.

“What Shep-dog do to Honey-friend?” Fuzz screeched from the roof above. The cat sprang down onto a pile of rubble, approaching Shep with ears back, tail up and twitching, and hackles raised.

“I came to bring you both back,” Shep woofed, lying down to show Fuzz he meant no harm. “But her injuries were too bad.”

“Where Honey-friend?” The cat loped past Shep to the box pile, where Honey's tail peeked from beneath a shadow. Fuzz squirmed under the paper and let loose a terrible cry. “Honey-friend!”

Shep buried his snout in his paws, not wanting to disturb the poor feline. Fuzz sounded about as miserable as any animal could get.

After several heartbeats, Fuzz crawled out from under the box-paper. “Fuzz spend many cycle trying to care for Honey-friend.” He sat near Shep, then folded his body down into a compact knot. “Fuzz care for Honey-friend since she is baby-dog. But Fuzz fail. Big dog attack, and Fuzz hide like insect. Fuzz not worth the fur in a hairball.” The cat's eyes were closed. He held himself still, as if even the slightest twitch of his whiskers would break him apart.

“You couldn't have fought off this dog, Fuzz, not even with four clawed paws and all the desire in your heart.” Shep crept closer to the cat and dared a quick lick of friendship. “If this is any dog's fault, it's mine.”

The cat remained still as stone.

“Honey was thinking of you in her last breath,” Shep woofed. “She made me promise to protect you.”

“Shep-dog's protection.” Hate dripped from his words. “That what got Fuzz and Honey-friend shut out in first place,” Fuzz hissed.

“I was a bad dog,” Shep woofed. “I let you and Honey down. But I'm trying to do the right thing.” He crept closer to Fuzz, so that his nose was next to the cat's face. “Please, Fuzz. I swear that I will protect you with all the power in my jaws.”

The cat opened his eyes, their color an eerie yellow-green in the gray light. “Fuzz go,” he spat. “But only because Honey-friend wish it.”

Shep rolled slightly and wagged his tail, offering Fuzz his usual shoulder-perch, but the cat unwrapped himself, then stretched, arching his back in the most unnatural fashion.

“Fuzz prefer walk.”

 

As they neared the boat, the smell of spilled lifeblood baking in the sun washed over Shep like the wave. Shep broke into a run and Fuzz scrambled to keep up beside him. The first body was on the street before the plaza — a small dog, not one Shep knew, but a pet. He could tell by the collar still around the dog's neck.

So this is what Zeus meant by revenge
.

The boat lay on its side as always, but bits of the den inside were strewn about the street in front of it. Stuffing and feathers torn from pillows formed white clouds on the pavement. The bodies of dead dogs — mostly pets — had been dragged into piles near the unused small boats, some of which had been shoved out of place or smashed to pieces. The survivors huddled in groups Outside the den, whimpering softly. Upon smelling Shep, they growled.

Inside was worse. The den reeked of lifeblood. Hurt dogs moaned from every corner. Shep raced to Callie's sick den —
Please let her be all right!
He didn't know who he was asking, since the Great Wolf had apparently abandoned him and his friends to the ferocious anger of the Black Dog.

He found Callie in her room, alive, barking with Blaze and some of the defense team. They scented him before he could so much as woof hello.

“Glad you came back,” Callie snapped.

Shep dug for words. “What happened?”

Blaze growled, then barked, “Appears your old pal Zeus is alive and a little angry with you. He thinks attacking some helpless pets is going to settle things.” She didn't even look at him.

“But Zeus attacked Honey,” Shep woofed, trying to piece together the events of the last sun. “I found her.” He flicked his snout at Fuzz, who was huddled in the corner. “Zeus killed Honey to get back at me.”

Blaze lowered her muzzle and glared at Shep over her shoulder. “I guess killing Honey wasn't enough to get the point across.”

“I didn't know,” Shep woofed. “How could I? If I'd known —”

“What?” Blaze snarled. “If you'd known your friend and his pack of wild dogs were coming to massacre us, you'd have listened to me and helped plan our defenses instead of running out for nearly two suns to find one stupid girldog and her cat?”

Shep felt the world sliding again, every thing crumbling beneath his paws. He'd done the right thing. He'd had to save Honey — how was he to know she'd already be as good as dead when he found her? He'd done the right thing! Why was he being punished?

“Virgil's dead,” Blaze continued, her bark flat and cold as a blade. “I led the defense team after he fell.”

“I didn't know,” Shep whimpered. He crouched low to the floor for security. “I didn't know.”

“We're ending the war this sun,” Blaze snapped. “I'm leading the remaining defense team on an assault of the wild dogs' lair.”

“No,” Shep woofed. “Don't go — Wait, how do we know where their lair is?”

Daisy stepped out of the shadows dragging Oscar by the scruff. “Ask the pup,” she growled.

Oscar looked like a wilted leaf: Every part of him sagged. When Daisy dropped him onto the floor, he just lay there like a puddle.

“Oh, no, Oscar,” Shep yelped. “What did you do?”

“I was angry,” the pup yipped. “You said those things and made me look like a weasel in front of every dog. I sniffed out the wild pack. Zeus took me in.” The pup lifted his muzzle, his eyes wide and watery. “I didn't know, Shep! You have to believe me! I didn't know what he was going to do!”

“What did you think he would do?” Blaze growled. “Drop by to share some kibble?”

The pup cringed, becoming an even smaller and more pathetic pile of fur. “I didn't know,” he whimpered.

“You didn't think,” snapped Callie. “Neither of you. And now we've lost some of our best fight dogs. Bernie's injured a paw, and Hulk's got a nasty gash on his face.”

“They'll be fine,” Blaze barked. “I've already discussed an attack strategy with them.”

“Attack strategy?” woofed Shep, trying to keep up. “Why are we attacking them? Shouldn't we regroup here? Rebuild our defenses?”

“I hate to tell you,” Blaze barked, standing, “but we had a vote while you were out and I've been chosen to lead the pack. Seems the dogs have lost their faith in Shep the Great Woof.”

“Wolf,” Shep corrected.

“Whatever,” Blaze snapped.

“Don't do it,” Shep grunted. “I know you don't care what I think, but I know Zeus. He'll expect a counterattack.”

“He won't expect this counterattack,” Blaze said, pride oozing from her barks. “I've modified my herding commands. We're going to flank them, drive them into an alley, and end this war.”

“Zeus is the best fight dog I've ever battled with,” Shep woofed, quietly. “He'd take you all out, even if your plan worked.”

“Don't be so sure,” Blaze growled.

“I am sure,” Shep replied. “Don't go, Blaze.”

“So I should listen to the dog who abandoned his friends the very heartbeat they needed him?” Blaze shoved her chest out and growled right in Shep's muzzle. “I guess I listen about as well as you.”

She shoved past him and out into the hall. She let off a screaming howl that rattled the walls of the den, then bounded out to begin her war.

Shep closed his eyes. He'd failed them all, every dog in his pack. Why
should
Blaze listen to him? What wisdom, in all these suns, had he really shown?

“We should get all the dogs back into the boat,” Callie woofed. “In case you're right.” She stood and her little legs trembled under her. She stepped tentatively, as if afraid the floor might suck her under. Shep lowered his muzzle and rested it against her shoulder, holding her up.

“It was terrible,” Callie whimpered in his ear. “Zeus's howl rang through the den like thunder. He's as angry as the storm, Shep, and he seems set on tearing your world apart.”

“Did he come after you?” Shep whimpered.

“I hid under the boat, where the cats had invaded.” Callie looked at Daisy, who lowered her muzzle. “Higgins hid as many of us small dogs as he could, piled the food on top of us to hide our scent.” Her barks caught in her throat. “The stupid furface even tried to fight him.”