The Pack (9 page)

Fuzz didn't say anything, but as Honey turned, he stared at Shep with his strange, green cat-eyes, boring into Shep's fur like a tick. Shep had a feeling Fuzz knew that he had no interest in any more cats or rats joining the pack. Shep just hoped Fuzz had the decency not to share this insight with Honey.

Honey was a perfect example of how forcing an idea down every dog's throat came back to bite you in the tail. Shep should have let every dog vote on Fuzz joining the pack. Then the decision wouldn't rest entirely on Shep's back.
Note to self
, Shep mused,
if every dog votes for it, no dog can blame the alpha!

With each sun's practice, the defense team improved. On the third sun, Shep divided the group into two teams and had them take turns either defending the den's two entrances or attacking them.

Shep watched the exercises from the shade of an overhang. “That's it, Waffle!” he cried. “Roll, then kick with your hind legs.” Waffle had Ripley in a good scruff hold, and managed to keep her from sneaking up on him over the steering counter.

Snoop stuck his skinny head out of the stairwell hole and nearly got his nose bitten off by Panzer.

“Agh! Shep!” he yelped, dodging Panzer's fangs. “Higgins-sent-me-to-get-you-there's-trouble-with-the-kibble-and —”

“Shut your snout!” Shep howled. He scrambled over to Snoop. “Never woof that there's a kibble problem,” he snuffled. “Do you want to cause a frenzy?”

Snoop cowered. “Sorry-Shep-I-just-woofed-what-Higgins-said-to-bark.”

Shep sighed. Snoop wasn't exactly the sharpest tooth in the jaw, though he always meant well. “Just tell me what the problem is,” Shep woofed.

Snoop explained that Higgins had noticed a few missing kibbles from the pile. When he investigated further, he found that the window in the floor had cracked under the weight of the food. Some bites had fallen under the boat and attracted rats.

“He-thought-maybe-the-defense-team-could-get-the-rats?” Snoop yipped. “The-hunters-are-all-out-hunting.”

“I couldn't have planned a better first test for the team,” Shep barked.

Shep called the defense dogs together. Virgil and Ripley were left to guard the crushed floor, while the rest all shuffled down the stairwell to the kibble room.

Higgins was practically frothing with worry when the team arrived. “What took you so long?” he snapped. “The nasty squeakers have been trying to creep out of their hole, but I've whapped them back, the scoundrels!”

Higgins and Snoop had rolled the food away from the window. The hole in the window was much too small for the majority of the team to get more than a paw or snout through. Even Daisy would have trouble jamming her fat neck through the hole.

“We're all too big,” Shep grumbled. “I think we have to wait for the hunting teams to return. Maybe Callie and some of her small hunters could fit down there.”

“Shep-dog no wait,” hissed Fuzz, who padded into the room. “Fuzz have idea.”

Shep sneered at the cat.
Where'd
he
come from?
“Why aren't you out with Honey?” he asked.

“Ate bad bug last night,” Fuzz meowed. “Fuzz stomach like Shep-dog's brain — full of knots.” He hissed a high-pitched cackle.

“Your idea?” Shep growled.

Fuzz shot Shep a snarky look, like Shep should have laughed at Fuzz's insult. Then he hiss-barked his plan. “Dog-with-fur-for-nose have things all wrong,” he meow-barked. “Fuzz go down hole, then scare rats up to big snarl-and-drool dogs, yes? Then dog eat rat.”

Daisy sniffed the edge of the hole. “Could —
snort
— work,” she yapped. “Not like any dog has a better idea.”

Before any other dog could so much as grunt a response, Fuzz was through the broken window and down into the dark. There was some hissing, some squeaking, a loud meow, and then the first rat burst out from the window hole and scurried for the pile of food.

The stupid squeaker never knew what bit him, Jazz was on him so fast. With a snap of her jaw, the rat fell still. Jazz dropped it onto the kibble pile.

“One down, countless more kibbles to go!” she barked with excitement.

There was more meowing and hissing and squeaking, and soon the rats were popping out of the window hole like kibbles from a bag. The defense team tore into them, shredding each rat into bites for the food pile. Shep chased one intrepid rodent into the hall and massacred it against the wall, leaving a splatter of lifeblood.

As they ravaged the rats, a feeling welled up inside Shep. Not the blind fury of the fight cage, but a satisfaction, like the whole world was his for the sniffing. And it was different from the glow he felt after giving a speech and having all the dogs stare up at him. That glow also weighed him down like a golden collar — he shouldered so much responsibility when he led the pack. The rush he felt hunting down the squeakers was pure energy — light and fiery. Was this what Frizzle had felt all those suns ago? Shep felt like the whole world was full of good things, and that they were all for him. Attacking this measly rat, surrounded by strong dogs who listened to his barks — he
was
the Great Wolf.

 

The pack was glad for the extra rat-kibble that night, and Shep actually looked forward to the nightly meeting of the team leaders.
Maybe tonight we won't have to listen to Higgins whine about food rations
.

Shep crossed the main den and overheard Ginny woofing to some other small dogs about Lassie. He heard his name mentioned, and the Great Wolf, and decided to eavesdrop on the group — he had a few heartbeats until the meeting started. He lay down behind an overturned couch so he could listen undetected.

Ginny's squeaky bark pierced the darkness. “As Oscar has told us, when dogs most need guidance, the Silver Moon sends us a leader. First there was the Great Wolf, who saved dogs from turning wild, then came Lassie, who helped dogs and humans live together, and now, in our time of need, she has sent us Shep, the Storm Shaker.”

And then she launched into a story that sounded all too familiar to Shep.

 

There came a time when the sky chased the humans from their dens. Their fear of the angry sky drove them to leave quickly, and in their hurry, they were unable to bring more than they could carry on their bodies: They had to leave all their dogs behind.

Dogs had not lived on their own in many cycles. The Great Wolf saw their distress, and the fierce sky that threatened them, and knew something needed to be done. He curled himself tighter around the Silver Moon, and shook free some moonstuff. Then he searched for a dog who might be worthy of such a gift.

The Great Wolf saw the Storm Shaker on the street and watched. The Storm Shaker did not fear the winds and rain — he walked boldly through them. He cared for his fellow dogs — he traveled with a small companion. The Great Wolf decided to test the Storm Shaker's muster. He fashioned the moonstuff into a vicious bird of prey and sent it to attack the companion. The Storm Shaker descended upon the bird in a fury of teeth and claws. The bird was easily vanquished and the companion saved. The Great Wolf knew then that he had found a worthy dog. He licked the hide of the Storm Shaker, and with that lick, gave him the magic moonstuff.

The Storm Shaker felt its power swell within him. Soon, no door or boundary could keep him from his task of saving trapped dogs. The sky raged, tearing buildings to pieces; the Storm Shaker raged, tearing doors from their hinges to free his packmates.

The fierce winds blew through the darkest caves under the city, and so strong did they blow that they reached the lair of the Black Dog. The winds carried the scent of the Great Wolf's moonstuff on the Storm Shaker's hide.

So the Great Wolf has chosen a champion,
the Black Dog thought.
I must smell this new hero.
He slunk from the blackest shadows and crept after the scent.

The Storm Shaker's scent led him to a building. The Black Dog wanted to scare the Storm Shaker, so he turned into a shrieking wind and attacked the building, tearing apart its walls. But the Storm Shaker was not afraid. He looked the fierce wind in the muzzle and snarled back at its whirling fangs.

The Black Dog was impressed by the Storm Shaker. He ruminated upon a new means to destroy the Great Wolf's Champion. He scratched his black hide and stiff hairs fell onto the street. The Black Dog blew upon the hairs and they each grew into a snarling, snapping wild dog.

“Are you hungry, my children?” the Black Dog asked. And the newly grown dogs, grotesque and growling, howled their assent.

“Then you must find the Storm Shaker,” the Black Dog replied. “The Storm Shaker has stolen your kibble.”

The wild pack tore after the Storm Shaker's scent. They found him in a cavernous den and attacked him with all their strength and ferocity. The Storm Shaker and his packmates fought bravely against the wild dogs. The Black Dog looked on, surprised by the Storm Shaker's defense, and knew something more needed to be done. He licked the fur of one of his wild dogs, and that dog swelled to twice the size of a normal dog.

The monstrous girldog's fangs glistened. “What is your bidding, master?” she snarled.

“You must defeat the Storm Shaker,” the Black Dog answered.

“It is done,” she growled.

The girldog, a full head taller than the rest of the wild pack, loped through their ranks, and the wild dogs stepped aside, letting her pass. The Storm Shaker stood tall, his ears forward and brave muzzle high.

“I do not want to fight my fellow dog,” the Storm Shaker barked, his voice clear and sonorous.

“Then I will kill you with a single bite,” the girldog snarled.

“I do not
want
to fight,” the Storm Shaker replied, “but I will always defend my pack, even if it means my very life.”

The girldog lunged at the Storm Shaker with her sharp fangs. The Storm Shaker spread his strong jaws and bit into her shaggy neck. With a jerk of his head, he took the life from the girldog. She withered like a popped Ball, then fell to the floor; she was again merely a hair.

The Black Dog bellowed with anger. He saw that these phantom dogs were no match for the Storm Shaker. He needed a real dog, and what better dog than the Storm Shaker's best friend?

The Black Dog licked the hide of the friend, a proud dog named Zeus. The Black Dog coursed through Zeus's veins like poison, and he became like the Black Dog — ruthless and wild.

“I challenge you!” Zeus cried. “I challenge the Storm Shaker!”

The Storm Shaker bowed his great head. A heavy sadness came over him. He did not want to fight his friend. But then he saw the frightened eyes of his packmates and knew that he had to defend them, no matter the cost.

The Storm Shaker answered the Black Dog Zeus's challenge, and they fought a battle that shook the very earth their paws stood upon. Then the Storm Shaker reared, and crashed down on the Black Dog like a boulder, and Zeus fell still against the floor. The Black Dog's spirit slithered out of Zeus, a vile shadow across the stone, and into the night, finally defeated.

The Storm Shaker stood over his friend, and wept. His packmates joined him and their tears flowed. Their sadness was so great, the tears became as a flood and washed over the city like a wave.

The Great Wolf, moved by the dogs' mourning, took up Zeus's spirit to join him as a companion of the Silver Moon. The Storm Shaker thanked the Great Wolf and pledged to always protect any animal who needed help. In return, the Great Wolf dried the flood of tears so that the dogs might live again in the city.

 

“All praise the Silver Moon,” moaned the other dogs. “All praise Shep.”

Shep was numb with shock. Oscar had made him into the Great Wolf's Champion? What madness had taken hold of the pup?

The dogs rose and trotted off to their various beds. Shep emerged from the shadows just as Ginny was about to hop into her own nest of pillows.

“Shep!” she cried, flustered. “I hardly ever smell you at this end of the den.”

“What was that I just heard you saying to those dogs?” His bark trembled.

“Do you like it?” she woofed, tail waving and eyes sparkling with excitement. “It's a story that Oscar and I have piled together. We thought that the dogs might like a story to help them in these dark times. ‘Storm Shaker.' Isn't that deliciously dramatic? It was my contribution!”

“But it's crazy,” Shep woofed. “I'm made of moonstuff from the Silver Moon?”

“It's not crazy,” Ginny said, standing tall, defensive. “Why is it crazy to want to believe your leader is powerful, and powerful in a way that no other dog could be? It gives the old dogs and the pups a mea sure of comfort to think of you as an all-powerful defender of the pack.”

Shep thought about this. He'd been comforted by the old timer's tales of the Great Wolf back in the fight kennel. Why deny the members of his own pack a similar comfort?

“You're right,” he woofed, dropping his stance. “Just remember to tell them that it's only a story.”

“Of course,” Ginny yipped, standing again and waving her tail. “Every dog knows it's just a story.”

 

On trembling paws, Shep sniffed out Callie in the room at the top of the table-ramp where the team leaders — Virgil, Higgins, and Honey (who was always accompanied by Fuzz) — met every night. Callie was the only one there. She sat staring up at the large window in the ceiling.

“I'm just finishing up telling Frizzle about my sun,” Callie barked, dropping her muzzle to look at Shep. “I always think of him, romping around with the Great Wolf, sparkling in the sky, the way we imagined him.” She looked out the window again. “Before the storm, there were always so many lights in the city, you could never see the lights in the sky. But now, it looks like the city is in the sky, and we're caught in the darkness.”

Shep slapped his paw on the light switch and soft yellow lights began to glow. “Now it's light,” he yipped, grinning, trying to hide how shaken he was by Ginny's woofs.

Callie panted lightly. “That's not what I mean, silly fur,” she barked. “Turn the lights off. I want to see the moonstuff glitter.”