Firewing's Story: Dursiya and Tark, The first installment of my trilogy.

[fyreshadowes(A)]

FIREWING'S STORY
Dursiya and Tark

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Foreword

This first installment of Firewing’s Story doesn’t involve Firewing’s story at all. It chronicles the story of her parents, Dursiya and Tark, and a war: a war they were on opposite sides of.

Feel free to comment. Actually, please comment! I'd really like some feedback, whether positive or negative.

[fyreshadowes(A)]

Part One

Grimy water dripped slowly, one drop after another, onto Tark’s head. It was a horribly rainy day, and Tark had been exiled to his lonely doghouse again. And for what? Eating the steak he thought the master’s daughter had set out for him. What was he to think? A nice, juicy, raw steak sitting on a cold plate on the kitchen table within easy reach. Why would it be there if the master hadn’t wanted him to eat it?

If only his doghouse didn’t leak so badly. At least three of the rafters were rotten and soaked through. Rainwater filtered through two inches of muddy wood was gouging a grimy streak through his carefully groomed fur. Tark didn’t care much, but the master’s daughter would be furious. She had spent almost all morning brushing it.

At least his belly was full. That steak had been delicious. Nice red meat, the food he had been craving for days instead of those crumbly pellets he normally ate. It had been months since he’d been allowed to taste one of his kills. No, these days the master wanted all of them. Strangely enough, he wasn’t putting many heads on his wall. Almost always the carcasses disappeared overnight, and the black box where his master put green paper sounded fuller when Tark struck it with his tail.

And for good reason, too. Tark’s master had stopped carrying around the green paper; Tark could no longer smell it in his pocket. More of it was going in the black box, where the thieves that sometimes came couldn’t get it. Tark did his best to scare them all off, but sometimes they had guns or knives. When they didn’t, Tark could jump on them and bite their throats, but when they did, he had to sulk behind the woodpile and watch as they skulked around the farm. He couldn’t do anything against human weapons.

Things were happening. The thieves no longer brought dogs with them, and Tark’s master sounded wary whenever he said Tark’s name, as if he was afraid Tark wouldn’t obey. Much of the other dogs in the village weren’t obeying their masters: they took food when they wanted it, and some even attacked their masters if they didn’t obey. Tark even knew some dogs who had left their masters and were forming a pack in an abandoned ranch west of the village.

Tark had no wish for that kind of life. In fact, if his sister hadn’t been one of the unruly dogs, he probably would have shut his ears to the rumors and ignored it all. He was content with the hunting life and lying by the fire on cold winter nights while his master oiled his gun. But Sahari, his younger sister, belonged to his master’s brother, who lived in the left half of the farmhouse with his wife. Sahari had always been less obedient and more hot-tempered than Tark. Now she was even talking about leaving the masters altogether. Tark knew that if that happened, he would have to go with her. Never again would he let her go off alone. The last time that had happened, she had been with the masters on a hunting expedition while Tark was sick. On that trip she had been kicked by an elk and sustained a leg injury that would leave her with a lifelong limp. Never again.

The hunting expeditions were as frequent as ever, but the cold nights by the warm fireplace weren’t happening as often. Instead, Tark was being exiled more and more often to his lonely doghouse in the backyard by the goat pen. Like tonight, with the rain dripping all around him, even though he had a roof over his head.

Yawning, he stared down at the puddles forming around his paws. His back was sodden. He let his claws grip the wooden floor slightly, just enough to leave tiny pinprick holes. Then his ears perked up. He could hear pawsteps.

“Tark?” called a voice from outside. It was Sahari. He relaxed. He should have been able to recognize the drag of her left hind foot, but the sound of the falling rain had masked it. “I brought you some food.” No wonder her voice was muffled.

His sister’s head appeared in the doorway. She was dragging a hare haunch in the corner of her mouth. “I still don’t think it’s fair your master doesn’t let you taste your own kills. Master Zane let me have a whole hare.” She let the meat drop, but Tark wasn’t hungry.

“I already ate. You want some?”

“Nah. I ate the rest of it. You keep it. You’ll be hungry later.” Sahari’s ears perked up; Tark’s master was calling from the house. “Oops – that’s Master Zane’s brother. I’ve got to go. I’ll come back later!” She started to run with that limping gait that pained Tark’s heart whenever he saw it. If only he had been there.

The rest of the night dragged on seemingly without an end. Sahari didn’t return. Tark wasn’t surprised; his sister meant well, but she was easily distracted. He fell asleep sometime around midnight, and slept deeply until dawn.

The crowing of one of his master’s roosters woke him just as the sun was cresting the horizon. He yawned and stretched, his aching muscles warmed by the sunlight.

Excited barking warned him of Sahari’s approach long before she actually came into view, breathless with excitement. “Guess what, Tark? Guess what?”

“What?” Tark asked good-humoredly.

“We’re going on a hunt? A real hunt, not a rabbit chase – elk!”

Tark grinned in spite of himself. He and Sahari both liked an elk hunt best of all, even after Sahari had been injured. Even though she couldn’t participate in a chase, the masters still let her come along, since she was the best tracker of all the dogs.

The morning air smelled sweet to Tark as he followed Sahari out of his musty doghouse and into the yard. Both the masters were there, talking in their low human grumble, and the other three hunting dogs were running around the yard, yapping in loud, excited voices.

“Master Zane!” Sahari yipped, running up to her master. He and Tark’s master were both wearing thick overpelts. Their pale human skin couldn’t stand up much to cold like Tark and Sahari’s thick, rugged fur. Zane’s face split into one of those bizarre human smiles as Sahari licked his fingers, careful not to let a single one of those sharp teeth nick her master’s skin.

Tark walked more slowly up to his master. Master Jonas was standing there, his breath showing white in the cold air, looking at the other dogs. He turned toward Tark as he approached and roughly scratched the top of his head, acting stern even though Tark could smell that he’d forgiven him. For a moment he wanted to jump up and lick his master like Sahari was still doing, but then the puplike sensation passed.

Zane smiled again and patted Tark’s sister’s head. “Down,” he said firmly but kindly, and as usual Sahari took a minute to obey, leaping up to lick Zane’s face before backing away with a grinning dog-smile on her face. Funny, the limp was barely noticeable when she jumped, but she walked with an odd, dragging gait that Tark still wasn’t used to.

“Does it still hurt?” he had asked her once. That was before the dogs’ rebellion had begun and Sahari had been a little quieter and more attentive.

“A little, sometimes,” Sahari had responded without an ounce of self-pity in her voice. “But never when I’m with Master. It goes away, then.”

Tark knew Sahari loved her master much more than he loved his. It never seemed to bother Master Jonas – maybe because he had three other dogs besides Tark. Zane only had Sahari. Tark knew his master’s younger brother had been devastated when Sahari had been injured, almost as upset as Tark himself. And Sahari, in turn, was always worried for Zane – worried when he went out late at night and came back with the scent of wind and laughter on him, worried when he stayed away for days courting some female that Sahari knew only by scent. If only Sahari knew that she was more important to Zane than any female he had ever courted.

“Tark, you there?” Sahari’s voice still sounded breathless with laughter. “Earth to Tark!”

Tark blinked, dragging himself out of the mess of memories. “Yeah. Is it time to go?”

“Almost,” Sahari said contentedly. “Jonas is just starting up the machine.”

Zane called, and Sahari limped over to the truck and jumped in the back. “Come on, Tark!”

Tark smiled in spite of himself, and jumped in after her.

The ride up to the hunting mountain was rocky and bumpy, and Tark kept glancing over at his sister to make sure her leg wasn’t hurting her. But Sahari was leaning over the edge of the truck bed, grinning as the wind whistled by. Tark let her be, though he was a little frightened she would fall.

When they finally got to the mountain, Master Jonas stopped the truck and both of the masters began to unload the hunting gear. Zane came over and opened the truck bed, letting the dogs jump out. The mountain air smelled cold and exhilarating to Tark, along with a touch of something he couldn’t quite identify. It bothered him a little, but he didn’t let it spoil his good mood – or his sister’s.

Sahari was nosing along the trail while the masters loaded their guns. Tark could tell she’d scented an elk, but wouldn’t tell the masters until she was sure. He joined her, sniffing around the dirt. As usual, it hit Sahari before him. “Master Zane!” she yowled, bounding back to the hunters. Tark decided against reminding her yet again not to yell.

Both masters immediately cocked their guns and followed Sahari. They’d learned to trust her nose. Zane said something in the human language, and Master Jonas laughed. That was odd, but pleasing. Master Jonas rarely laughed.

Sahari led them, nose to the ground, for at least a half mile up the mountain, until the masters were panting and sweating with exhaustion. Tark thought his sister was doing pretty good with her limp. He and the rest of the dogs were still fresh.

Then he caught a whiff of that unidentifiable scent again. He glanced around, wondering if maybe one of the other dogs had scented it too, but all of them were concentrating on following Sahari. Maybe he was imagining scents. He didn’t have Sahari’s nose, after all.

It was stronger now. He shook his head, growling. A few of the dogs looked up, sniffing the air. “Smell that?” the closest one to him, Ram, muttered. “Smells like…like…”

Before he could finish, the thing that came lumbering out of the trees, scooped Ram up, and threw him twenty feet through the air answered the question for him.

“Bear!” Tark shouted. His heart was sick with fear for his master, and his sister even more. “Sahari!”

The masters yelled and Master Jonas fired into the air, but his hands were shaky with surprise and the shot missed the bear. It gave a blood-chilling roar and made for him. “Master!” Tark leapt forward, along with Master Jonas’s three other dogs. He got there first and sank his teeth into the bear’s leg. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his sister jumping bravely up at the bear’s side. “No – Sahari! Get away!”

The bear hardly seemed to feel his teeth. Tark tugged as hard as he could, ripping off a chunk of bear flesh, and this time the huge animal did feel it. Roaring again, it turned around and swiped an enormous paw. Tark dodged just in time as the sharp report of a bullet split the air. It whistled so close to his ear that he jumped in surprise. Was Zane shooting at him?

Then he saw Zane, the gun leaning crookedly out of his hand as he yelled, the bear pinning him to the ground. Things seemed to slow down as a brown-and-white blur sped past him. “SAHARI!” Moving with dreamlike slowness, Tark leaned forward, caught his sister’s tail in his teeth, and dragged her back. “Don’t – move!”

“Master!” Sahari yelped. “Tark – get – OFF!”

Thanks to the dog-gods, Tark didn’t actually see the terrible thing happen. All he saw was Sahari’s face, agonized with terror, the blood flying in streaks, and the bullet speeding through the air. It sank deep into the chest of the bear, and for a moment Tark’s heart leapt in hope, but Sahari’s shrieks told him it was too late.

“MASTER! MASTER!” Sahari didn’t sound like a dog anymore, she sounded like some shrieking demon from the otherworld. “Master Zane! MASTER!” After a while her shouting dissolved into senseless barking as she ran to Zane’s side, heedless of the dead bear toppling to the ground.

Tark followed his sister, but stopped when he saw Zane and smelled death. Master Jonas’s shot had been for nothing. Blood was pooled around the body and staining Sahari’s fur as she whimpered like a pup, licking Zane’s face as if trying to wake him up. “Master…Master…”

Master Jonas was still standing there, staring in shock at his brother. The gun fell to the ground and lay there, the barrel smoking.

Tark forced his frozen paws to move forward, to stand by his sister, who was still sobbing and licking Zane’s face. “Sahari,” he whispered. She ignored him – or maybe she didn’t hear him. “It’s okay.”

Sahari’s tearstained face turned to him. “No,” she choked, “It’s not. It never will be, now.”

[fyreshadowes(A)]

Part Two

Far away, in a western forest called Earthwood, a pack of wolves was setting out for the Howl. The moon shone bright and full, like a globe, overhead as dark shapes streamed from the camp hollow and made for the Howling Clearing.

The Howling Clearing was named for the gigantic stone that stood in the middle, reflecting the moonlight, with a gentle, tempting slope on one side and a sharp drop-off on the other. The alphas of the four packs stood on it to keep watch over their packs as they mingled freely, chatting and gossiping about the happenings of the last moon.

This Howl, however, there would be less casual gossiping and more serious discussion. Instead of talking excitedly amongst themselves as they usually did, the wolves streaming into the clearing were silent and grim-faced. Things were happening.

“I hear the dogs are massing in the east,” one wolf whispered to her friend. She had a mud-brown pelt and limped along on three paws: one was twisted. “They’ll be here next season at the latest.”

Her friend merely grunted. She was a beautiful she-wolf with a rusty-red pelt and black “tips.” Her luminous blue eyes were shadowed with apprehension. “I still don’t approve of this supposed ‘solution.’ It’s just making it worse, if you ask me.”

“But we’ll all be safer,” her friend coaxed. “C’mon, Dursiya. Would you rather be torn apart by dogs?”

“We don’t even know they’re going to come here,” Dursiya argued, resisting her friend’s tugging and pawing the ground restlessly. “And if they do, we’re perfectly capable of defeating them with four packs. You know I’m right, Luna.”

Luna shrugged. “Well, you may be able to fight a dog, but I certainly can’t. Not with this paw.” She gingerly lifted her twisted paw.

Dursiya leaned over and nuzzled her friend’s shoulder. “You know I’d protect you. Come on,” she said with renewed cheer, “let’s go make some friends.”

The two she-wolves crossed the clearing and began mingling with the wolves from other packs, talking idly. Everyone tried to keep the dogs out of their conversations, remembering that the Howl was supposed to be a cheerful time. However, there were still wolves who, after glancing around nervously, drifted together in groups of two or three and began to talk in hushed tones. Then, after a few minutes, they’d drift apart again with renewed worry on their faces.

Drake, the alpha of SwiftPack, watched this all with growing apprehension. His black tail thrashed angrily as he saw some of the wolves glance his way with disgust on their faces. He knew that his choices were growing unpopular with most of the wolves, but he still believed that they were the right choices. He would do what was best for his pack. After all, wasn’t that every alpha’s duty?

“Alpha Drake,” said a voice from behind him. Tharm, his beta, walked around him and stiffly sat down. Tharm’s dark gray fur was growing grizzled with age, and white was already showing around his muzzle. However, he was still strong, and his wisdom had helped Drake and his pack through many hard decisions. Drake hoped it would solve this one, too.

“Tharm,” he said quietly, without turning around. “They hate me. I can see it.”

Tharm sighed, his neck fur rising momentarily before settling down again. “The job of an Alpha can be hard or easy. Some alphas are born in a time of prosperity, and their job is easy. Some aren’t.”

“It would seem I fall into the latter category.”

“Yes, it would seem so.” Tharm was silent for a few minutes as both wolves stared out over the packs. “Dogs are not stupid, Alpha Drake. Some are, but I suspect these aren’t. Why else would they desert their masters?”

“The other alphas seem to think they are stupid. They think that when the dogs see one enormous pack, instead of four small ones, they will be more frightened and will turn tail and run. They won’t listen when I tell them the truth.”

“They’ll see it eventually, after they lose the war.”

“But I must protect my pack! I can’t let them die because of a stupid decision. An alpha must protect his pack. How can I protect them from their own stupidity?”

“I’m only a beta, Alpha Drake. I can’t tell you how to be an alpha.” Tharm let his tail rest comfortingly on Drake’s shoulder for a moment before stalking off toward the packs.

Alpha Drake remained in his position at the base of the Howling Rock, his eyes half closed as he let his gaze wander over the wolves in the clearing, picking out the ones from his pack. There was Luna, the crippled she-wolf, and her best friend, Dursiya. Dursiya…She would make a good alphess, he thought idly. She has a good mind, and she supports my decisions. Also, she’s single.

Before he could think this thought through to its conclusion, he saw some other wolves from his pack approaching him. Their faces were unreadable, and his heart began to beat faster. Most of SwiftPack was growing rebellious, and he wasn’t sure how much longer their patience would hold out over his unpopular decisions. The dozen wolves approaching him were some of the most restless.

One of them, a huge, ash-gray male, tilted his head to one side with an ugly sneer on his face. The others leered in a way Alpha Drake didn’t like at all. “Alpha Drake,” the gray male said sarcastically. “The wolf who makes stupid decisions, along with his old crackpot beta. We’ll get him next.”

“What are you talking about?” Alpha Drake asked, keeping his voice level. It was hard work, but he didn’t let it show in his expression. He had never been very good at keeping his eyes unreadable, though. The gray wolf’s smile widened as he saw his apprehension.

“We’re talking about a new age, Drake. A new pack.”

“That’s Alpha Drake to you,” Alpha Drake said, letting a tone of anger creep into his voice.

“A new pack,” the gray wolf continued, ignoring him, “that won’t know you.”

Alpha Drake glanced around frantically. Some of the nearby wolves had spotted what was going on, but none moved. They seemed perfectly content to let his own packmates rip him apart. Tharm was on the other side of the clearing. Alpha Drake caught his eye, then Dursiya’s, and both of them started toward him, but were swiftly blocked by more ill-contents.

“Time to die,” the gray wolf hissed into his ear.

As if a switch had been thrown, all dozen wolves leaped and landed in a messy pile on his back. Alpha Drake twisted under them, trying to throw them off, but it was too late. The wind had been knocked out of him, and even if he had been able to dislodge them, he wouldn’t be able to get up. One got its teeth into his throat, and just as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

Dursiya stared in horror at the whole scene. There were three wolves between her and the limp alpha – three wolves with teeth bared and claws outstretched. Her own packmates! “Out of my way, freklens!” she snarled, lashing out with one paw. The closest one jumped aside, but the other two dodged around her and made for Luna.

“Do anything, and your friend dies!” one of them called. Dursiya gazed desperately into her friend’s terrified eyes, and knew that she couldn’t help her alpha. Luna’s twisted paw wouldn’t even let her run away.

“Beta Tharm!” she shouted instead. SwiftPack’s beta was still on the other side of the clearing, struggling against a half dozen rebels.

The wolves who weren’t involved with the rebels were standing as if frozen, staring at the bloody uprising. Dursiya knew most of them wouldn’t be willing to help Tharm. “Cowards,” she muttered.

Across the clearing, she saw Tharm break free from his attackers and flee into the trees. She couldn’t blame him for running; staying at this point would be purely stupid, not brave. Actually, she hoped he would go as far away as possible, and maybe build a following. After all, wasn’t that the way most resistances started?

“You bloody cowards!” she shouted at the ill-contents. Alpha Drake’s limp body lay at the base of the Howling Rock. There would be howling tonight, for sure – battle howls.

The wolves had released Luna, but it was too late for Dursiya to help either her alpha or beta now. She ran across to her friend. “Are you all right?”

Luna sat up, brushing herself off. “I think so. How about you? Did they hurt you?”

Dursiya shook her head. “They just wanted Drake and Tharm. And they got what they wanted.”

Luna gasped. “Drake…Tharm…not – dead?”

“Dead,” Dursiya said regretfully. “Well, not Tharm. He escaped.”

Luna lowered her head in sorrow. “Poor Drake. He was just trying to do the best for us, even if he made the wrong decisions.”

“They were the right decisions,” Dursiya insisted. “Luna, this wasn’t a rebellion. It was a massacre. Alpha Drake and Beta Tharm didn’t have a chance. It was them against fifty other wolves. Maybe more.”

The pack talked in hushed, almost inaudible whispers on the walk back to SwiftPack camp, glancing around all the while as if they were afraid they would be attacked like their alpha and beta. Even as she grieved for Alpha Drake, and lamented the loss of their beta, Dursiya couldn’t help wondering who would replace them.

That question was solved almost immediately upon their return to the camp. The moment the whole pack had set paw in camp, a wolf jumped up onto the Speaking Rock. He had an ash-gray pelt and was named Axehead – Dursiya recognized him as the wolf who had led the attack on Alpha Drake.

“It’s a new time for SwiftPack,” Axehead shouted, silencing the pack immediately. Everyone stared fearfully up at that lone figure on the Speaking Rock. Dursiya lamented her packmates’ cowardice; couldn’t they easily attack and kill him? There were so many of them, and only one of him. But no one moved.

“Or rather, the Great Pack,” Axehead continued. “We will truly be great.”

Dursiya couldn’t hold back any longer. Glaring up at Axehead, she shouted, “You’re a murderer!” Turning to her pack, she called out, “Are you going to let a murderer take control of this pack? Are you going to let a murderer decide all of our futures? Are you going to let him,” she spat in absolute disgust, “stand there and condemn us all?”

The pack stared at her, terror in their eyes. Not even Luna stood by Dursiya’s side. Dursiya had no idea that behind her stood at least a dozen strong males, their teeth bared threateningly, in absolute silence.

“That will be enough,” Axehead said calmly. As Dursiya glared at him, he flicked his tail. Almost immediately she felt claws catching at her fur from behind, just enough to prick warningly into her skin, but not enough to wound her. Furious, Dursiya sat down.

Axehead cast her one more disdainful glance, as if he couldn’t believe there could be such scum in SwiftPack. Then he addressed the pack once more. “I will not become alpha of SwiftPack, as many of you believe. Nor will I be alpha of the Great Pack. SwiftPack’s name has become a curse to the other packs lately, under the fool Drake’s reign. They will not allow me to rule. But someday, a SwiftPack wolf will rule. A SwiftPack wolf will assume the highest rank in Earthwood.”

There was silence for a minute. Then a she-wolf called out, “I thought you said the packs were merging. There won’t be a SwiftPack anymore, or will there?” Dursiya recognized her as Lynn, a rather flighty she-wolf who found it hard to concentrate on anything for longer than an hour.

“There won’t,” Axehead replied. “But even the greatest of changes cannot change blood. All of you will remain SwiftPack wolves in heritage, though by name you will be of the Great Pack. And I expect you will prove to the other wolves that SwiftPack was and is strong, regardless of that fool Drake we called our alpha.”

Once again, Dursiya couldn’t stop herself. “Don’t – call – him – that,” she growled. She hadn’t known Alpha Drake personally, but she had been loyal to him. As every pack wolf should be. “And it’s Alpha Drake.”

One of the rebels cuffed her from behind, but Axehead ignored her. “Drake was a fool. So was Tharm. But now both of them are dead, and will no longer disgrace the name of SwiftPack.”

Tharm’s not dead, you liar, Dursiya thought, since one of the rebels had his tail over her mouth. You liar, you murderer, you freklen. You’re a disgrace to the name of SwiftPack. You’re a disgrace to all Earthwood!

“Tomorrow we will join the Great Pack,” Axehead said. “For now, rest. Those of you with energy, hunt for those who don’t. Feed the elders and nursing mothers. That tradition still has some value.”

You bloody liar, Dursiya thought furiously. Pretending you care. Be honest with us, you wouldn’t care if the whole pack died, as long as you get your bloody way. Our Alpha’s blood is on your claws, and you’re standing there pretending to be kind!

The pack began to disperse. Dursiya wanted to curse every one of them for not lifting a claw to help either Alpha Drake or Beta Tharm. None of them had even dared to challenge Axehead. Were they really so afraid of a dozen rebel wolves? No, her mind answered, they weren’t afraid of the rebels. They were afraid of being shunned.

The rebel withdrew his tail from her mouth, grinning crookedly. “Time to get some sleep, beauty,” he growled, and turned away, walking to the Speaking Rock with the other rebels.

Dursiya decided to hunt. The night’s events had drained her energy, but she could still provide for her pack, as cowardly and shameful as it had grown. She fell into step beside Luna as she made for the den; Luna’s twisted paw prevented her from ever hunting, energetic or no.

“Hey. You want me to bring you back something?”

Luna shook her head wordlessly. Dursiya could see that pearly tears were dripping from her friend’s gray eyes.

“Hey. Hey,” Dursiya said gruffly, laying her head on her friend’s shoulder. She had never been very good at comforting other wolves. “It’s gonna be okay. You’ll see.”

Luna pulled away. “No,” she said bitterly, “don’t you see? It’s never going to be okay. It never will be, now.”

[Ray(SR)]

Part Three

Tark could smell Master Jonas’s grief. The tears were running thick down the tanned skin of his master’s face as he drove the truck home. Instead of an elk in the back of the truck with Tark and the other dogs, there was a long bundle wrapped in a green felt blanket. Sahari was sitting next to it, unusually quiet. Too quiet.

The other dogs were setting up a long chorus of baying howls. Most of them were staying as far away from the green bundle as possible, flattening themselves into corners. They were afraid of death. Tark wasn’t, but he stayed silent.

As soon as the truck pulled into the driveway at home, Tark jumped over the truck bed wall and landed on the hard ground outside. Tail between his legs, he ran straight for his doghouse. Master Jonas had his other dogs to comfort him. Tark wasn’t close to him, the way Sahari had been with Zane.

He watched his sister follow Master Jonas as he carried Zane inside. After that, he closed his eyes to the world.

He didn’t open them again until many hours later, when he could smell that all of the dogs and the two masters were both inside. Well, one master now. Poor Zane…

There was a bang like a door closing, and a yelp, and a dog tottered out into the yard. The setting sun illuminated her shape clearly: Sahari. She limped over to Tark’s doghouse and lay down in front of it. Tark sprang to his paws.

“What happened?” he demanded.

Sahari looked up with eyes red with grief. “Jonas didn’t want me hanging about Master Zane’s body. I can’t really blame him.”

Tark’s tone softened as he sat down again and leaned forward to lick Sahari’s shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. It is.” He was trying to convince himself as much as Sahari.

Sahari pulled away, eyes blazing. “No, it’s not! Stop pretending everything’s all right! My master just died, all right? IT’S NOT OKAY!”

Tark didn’t know what to say. How could he argue? He knew that everything had changed. Sahari was probably right. It wasn’t okay.

“There’s nothing to keep me here any longer,” Sahari said in a hollow voice. “Master Zane was all I had, apart from you. I’m sorry, Tark. I’m going to join the rebels.”

Tark’s heart sank. “No, Sahari,” he cried, “No…”

“I’ve got to, Tark,” Sahari whispered, and melted away into the darkness.

Struggling to his paws, Tark dashed after her. “Wait! Wait! But – you can’t go! What about me?”

“Master Jonas will take care of you,” Sahari said without turning around. “He hasn’t died…yet.”

“That’s not the point, and you know it,” Tark retorted. “I’m coming with you.”

Sahari turned around this time, and Tark could see real fear in her eyes. “No, Tark, you can’t. What if you’re killed?”

“What if you’re killed?” Tark replied relentlessly. “Never again, Sahari. Never again. I’m coming with you.”

“But – “

“What’re you going to do? Stop me? We’re leaving tomorrow, right?”

“I’m leaving. Not you.”

“Get over it, Sahari. I’m coming with you.”

“Fine!” Sahari deliberately flicked her tail across his nose. It stung. “We leave tomorrow. At dawn. And if you sleep in, I’m going without you, you hear?”

“I’ll be there.” Tark’s blood tingled with fear, anticipation, and excitement. It wasn’t really a strange mixture, but it was invigorating. Almost like cold mountain air.

He slept badly that night. The scene at the mountain kept replaying in his head. The bear…Sahari’s shrill screaming…Zane’s blood. Everywhere.

He woke with relief at the rooster’s crow. Shaking off the remnants of the dream, he peered through the door of his doghouse into the yard. Sahari was sitting in front of the door.

Tark walked over to sit by her. He could smell freshly turned earth. “Are you ready?”

Sahari didn’t answer for a few moments. Then she murmured, “Jonas buried Master Zane in the orchard last night. He didn’t even let me come.”

Once again, Tark didn’t know what to say. He settled for comfortingly rubbing his sister’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Sahari came without protest, and the two dogs trotted down the driveway. Sahari walked through the gate without even glancing over her shoulder, but Tark hesitated and looked back. Here was where he had spent his whole life as a hunting dog, with his master. Now that was all about to change.

Sighing, he turned around and caught up with Sahari.

Even with Sahari’s crippled leg, they made good time. By noon they had reached the main town, which they would have to pass through in order to reach the rebel pack. Tark flinched back at the sight of the tall, strange-smelling buildings and hundreds of roaring machines. Humans were everywhere, walking the streets and riding by in their machines. None of them smelled anything like Zane or Master Jonas.

Fortunately, none of them seemed to mind Tark and Sahari slinking along alleyways and deserted streets on the edges of the downtown. Tark did his best to stay out of sight, but Sahari just padded on, her eyes focused straight ahead. She ignored the strange scents and sights. Tark wished he could be more like her, but his nervous conscience wouldn’t let him. He didn’t like the human city.

It was much too long before they were out of the city. They trotted across plains and hills, through woods and across streams, always heading west. Always Tark was a step behind Sahari, which was unusual. Usually it was Sahari who lagged behind, sniffing this and that, chasing everything that moved. Now her paws and eyes seemed focused only on one thing; the forest looming up in the west, and the rebel pack.

...

Twilight was falling by the time they reached the forest. Tark hesitated on the edge of the trees. He didn’t want to venture in there; it looked dark and frightening. Sahari padded past him without stopping. “Come on, Tark,” she said dully over her shoulder.

Tark followed reluctantly. He wondered if Sahari’s leg was hurting her; if it was, she didn’t show it. With every tree they passed, he could smell a stronger dog scent. They were nearing the rebel camp.

Tark’s stomach rumbled. He hadn’t eaten all day. Neither had Sahari. Casting a glance at his sister, he lifted his head and scented the air. The dog scent masked almost everything else, but he could smell a hare trail leading off to the left.

Sahari kept plodding ahead. As reluctant as Tark was to leave her, he knew that he could catch up with her later. Right now he had to find food for both of them.

He followed the hare trail for about ten paces, keeping his nose low to the ground. The scent grew stronger with every step he took. Finally he spotted the hare itself, nibbling at a mushroom. His tired muscles screamed with protest as he pulled himself forward, inch by inch. He was made for chasing, not stalking.

Sure enough, the hare heard him and took one look before dashing. Tark gave an excited bark and began to chase it. The rabbit only made it a few paces before Tark gave a running leap and landed with both paws on it. Growling with pleasure, he leaned down and bit its spine. It went limp immediately.

One hare wouldn’t feed both of them, though. He could eat this now and catch one for Sahari afterwards. Guilt panged him at the thought that he might not be able to catch anything else, but his hunger won out. He lowered his head and began tearing ravenously into the hare’s flesh.

Over the sounds of his feeding, he heard a twig crack behind him. It was probably a squirrel, or something like that. He lifted his head, muzzle stained with hare blood, and glanced around. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a squirrel dashing up a tree trunk. Yep.

Then, without warning, something tackled him from the side and he found himself face-down in a pile of leaves.

“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” a voice growled in his ear.

Tark twisted around until he was facing his attacker. It was a large male husky, with pale blue eyes narrowed in suspicion and two paws on Tark’s chest, holding him down. “I’m Tark,” he choked out with difficulty. Then, with growing worry, he demanded, “Where’s my sister?”

“Your sister?” the husky asked idly. “How would I know?”

“We’ve come to join the rebels!”

Immediately the husky took his paws off Tark’s chest. Tark took deep gulps of air and spent several moments getting his wind back. “Terribly sorry,” the husky said, not sounding sorry at all. “I’m Zeke, beta of this pack.”

“Zeke?” Tark sat up. “Have you met a dog called Sahari?”

“Nope.”

“She’s my sister. I left her to hunt. She was heading toward your camp.”

Zeke narrowed his pale blue eyes. “Dogs come by wanting to join all the time. What does she look like?”

Tark nearly growled in frustration. “Like me, of course. Brown and white, brown eyes.”

“I’ll tell the patrols to keep an eye out,” Zeke said indifferently. He turned to go. Tark struggled to his paws.

“Wait! We came to join!”

“So follow me,” Zeke called over his shoulder. Tark gritted his teeth, but obeyed.

It was twenty minutes of stumbling over dry leaves and roots after Zeke’s graceful prowl before they reached the rebel dogs’ camp. It was situated in a clearing surrounded by thick, thorny brambles. Tark didn’t see any cover that might be used for shelter except the bushes, which were too thorny to sleep under. Then again, all of the dogs were strong, or they wouldn’t have joined the rebel pack. Maybe they just slept under the stars.

His gaze drifted over the rebel pack. There were about four dozen dogs in the clearing sleeping, eating, or talking, and who knew how many were out hunting and patrolling. Large for an ordinary pack, but too small for what they were planning to do.

His heart leapt as he spotted his sister sitting off to one side, looking as if she wasn’t sure who to talk to. “Sahari!”

Sahari looked up. “Tark?” She bounded over to meet him, only limping a little. “Where have you been?”

“I was hunting,” he said ruefully. “But I got caught.”

For a moment Sahari’s eyes regained a little of their old sparkle. “You know, Tark, it’s supposed to be the other way around. You’re supposed to be the one doing the catching.”

“I know. Zeke caught me. He’s the beta of the rebels. He says we can join if we like.”

“Good.” The sparkle in Sahari’s eyes faded and her voice became more serious. “When are the rebels leaving?”

“Probably not for a while. They don’t have enough dogs yet.”

Zeke interrupted him; Tark hadn’t even noticed he was standing behind him. “Actually, we move out tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Tark gaped in surprise. “But…the pack’s so small…”

“Two hundred dogs are leaving the town tomorrow to join us,” Zeke said smoothly, “and we’ll pick up more along the way. Believe me; we’re perfectly capable of caring for ourselves, no matter how many we are.”

With that, the husky turned and walked into the crowd of dogs.

Tark stared after him for a moment, and then turned back to Sahari. “Well,” he said, sounding braver than he felt, “I guess we’re leaving tomorrow.”

[shadow21196(BF)]

i my god i am now obsessed with this write more!! also is this the story you were writing about in the other role playing site.

[Jacqueline(LB)]

Part Four

It was the day after the terrible assassination of Alpha Drake and exile of Beta Tharm. It was a beautiful day. Dursiya cursed the sun for shining so brightly in a time of such darkness. She knew she wasn’t the only one who thought things were going badly, but no one else was brave enough to admit it.

She also knew that she had made it worse for herself the night before, when she’d spoken out in Alpha Drake’s defense. Yesterday, she hadn’t cared, because her blood was still hot with anger. Today, though, her fury had cooled somewhat and she regretted acting so foolishly. Now the rebels would lump her in with Alpha Drake and Beta Tharm. Wolfgods know, maybe they would even try to kill her the way they had the alpha.

Oddly enough, none of the rebels or their leader, Axehead, had confronted her since the night before. Waiting was worse than actually dealing with it. Dursiya had always been an impatient she-wolf and today was no better. Did they think she didn’t know she was a target now? Did they think she was that stupid?

She’d slept badly that night. Very badly. Not only had the scene of Alpha Drake’s death replayed over and over again in her dreams, she had kept seeing his face – and seeing it change into hers.

That wasn’t very pleasant.

She heard pawsteps behind her and whipped around instinctively. A wolf with a pelt so light gray that it looked almost white was standing behind her, a disgruntled look on his face. “Axehead wants to see you,” he muttered, and walked away, looking glad to turn his back on her.

Dursiya’s blood ran cold – but only for a second. Here it was finally, the thing she’d been expecting all night. At least she hadn’t been killed in her sleep; that was one way she never wanted to die. She wanted to die standing upright, facing her attacker.

Axehead was waiting at the base of the Speaking Rock. His pose looked as relaxed as if he had been made alpha. His gray tail was folded neatly over his paws; he rose at Dursiya’s approach. “Ah, there you are.”

“Here I am,” Dursiya agreed stiffly.

“Good.” Axehead lifted his paw and licked it slowly, insolently, like a cat grooming its pelt. No one spoke until he was done. “Your friend Luna tells me you’re a very good hunter.”

It was only then that Dursiya noticed the dark brown figure standing just behind Axehead. Dursiya locked gazes with her friend, unable to keep the anger from her eyes. Luna looked extremely guilty and opened her mouth as if to say something, but thought better of it.

“So I am,” Dursiya said, trying to sound indifferent. Let Axehead do the talking, she told herself. Sooner or later he’ll say something you can turn against him.

Axehead blinked at her, as if he was trying to figure out her plan. “Very well,” he said, motioning to the four rebels standing behind him. “You, escort Miss Luna back to her den. The rest of you, come with me and Dursiya. Let’s see what we can catch.”

Dursiya followed her friend with her eyes as the rebel Axehead had singled out roughly pushed her in the direction of her den. Luna gazed desperately back at her, eyes flicking from Dursiya to Axehead. Dursiya understood. Luna wanted to talk to her, but not near Axehead.

Dursiya turned to Axehead. “Can I have a little time with Luna before we leave? I want to talk to her about...something.” It was a terrible explanation, and she expected Axehead to say no, but he nodded with a knowing glint in his steely gray eyes.

Dursiya bounded over to her friend. “You can go,” she said brusquely to the rebel. “I’ll escort her.” The rebel glanced over at Axehead for confirmation, and let the two she-wolves walk away.

“What’s going on, Luna?” Dursiya demanded as soon as they were out of earshot. “Why did you talk to Axehead?”

“He forced me!” Luna squeaked. “Him and some of his dirty rebels came and got me from my nest. They told me that if I didn’t tell Axehead anything, they’d kill Forrest.”

Forrest was Luna’s mate. “Forrest can take care of himself,” Dursiya replied angrily. “What else did you tell them?”

“Nothing important. Just that you’re good at hunting, and you like snowshoe hare. I didn’t tell them about you being friends with Beta Tharm or anything – “

“Shush!” Dursiya hissed immediately, glancing around at the pack. “We don’t know who could turn traitor. Don’t tell them anything else, you hear me? Do you swear? Do you swear?”

“I swear,” Luna said timidly.

“Good. Now, I’ve got to go hunting with that murderer. If I don’t come back….”

“Don’t say that. You will come back. Tell you what,” Luna said excitedly, “I’ll tell Forrest and Ram to follow you. If Axehead tries anything, they’ll help.”

Dursiya nodded. “Okay.” Forrest and his brother, Ram, were capable fighters and could probably help her fend off Axehead and the rebels if they attacked her. They could at least hold them off long enough to escape. “Now I’ve got to go. Tell Forrest and Ram not to stick too close, or Axehead will see them.”

“I’ll do that,” Luna said, with a serious tone in her voice. “I’ll see you later.”

Feeling a little bit better now that she wouldn’t be alone with Axehead and three rebels, Dursiya walked back over to the gray wolf. “Let’s go,” she said, sounding more confident than she felt.

Axehead smiled. “Yes, let’s.” Motioning to the three rebels he’d ordered to come with them, he tilted his snout and gave a long hunting howl. Dursiya gritted her teeth; it made her blood run cold.

From then on, there was no more talking. Axehead let the hunting party for a long time; at least an hour, until they were far away from the camp. Eventually they broke the tree line, leaving Earthwood behind.

“Where are we going?” Dursiya finally asked.

Axehead cast a sideways glance in her direction. “Luna tells me you like snowshoe hare.” His voice was easy to hear; wolves ran silently.

Dursiya wanted to point out that five wolves were too many for a hare chase, but decided against it. She didn’t want Axehead to know that she suspected a surprise attack. It was bad enough already that she hadn’t been able to refuse to come; she didn’t want to play into his paws any longer.

Almost immediately she spotted the bobbing white tail of one of the animals up ahead. Spotting the group of running wolves, it stood for a moment, frozen with terror, and then dashed away. Dursiya’s bloodlust got the better of her. Giving an excited bark, she leaped forward and gave chase.

The hare led her around the base of a hill, through a copse of straggly bushes, and finally over a little stream. It hesitated at the edge of the water, giving Dursiya time to lunge, land on its back, and bite its throat.

Looking around, she saw that Axehead and the other rebels were no longer in sight. Should she make a break for it?

She decided not to. Their absence made her uneasy. What if they sprang on her the moment she started running? No, best to act like she suspected nothing. It was an effort to force herself to stop looking around and pick up the rabbit. With it in her mouth, the prey scent masked any smell of the wolves that might be creeping up on her right now.

Uneasy, she put it down again. “Axehead?”

Silence. She backed cautiously into the shadow of one of the hills. She felt better with cover against her back and open space in front of her. Axehead and the rebels couldn’t sneak up on her now.

Dry grass crackled. She spun around, ready to defend herself. However, she recognized the wolf stepping toward her as Ram, Forrest’s brother. He didn’t look much like Forrest, a solid black wolf with green eyes – he actually looked more like Dursiya herself, with auburn fur and black tips. The tips were actually dark brown if you looked closely.

“Where are they?” she asked him. “Where’s Forrest?”

“Forrest went to scout around,” Ram said in a hushed tone. Glancing around, he moved closer and said, “I don’t know where Axehead and the rebels are. Me and Forrest followed you when you started running.”

“I was chasing a hare,” Dursiya said.

“We thought you were trying to escape. We thought we’d better follow you in case they decided to chase you.” Ram shook his head. “After we saw the hare, Forrest told me to guard you. I’m not sure where he went.”

“This makes me nervous,” Dursiya hissed back. “They could be – “

She broke off, giving a yowl of alarm, as Ram crumpled to the ground with Axehead on top of him. Swiftly biting his throat, Axehead stood up and glanced around, stumbling backward in shock when his eyes fell on Dursiya. “You – you – “ He glanced frantically from her to Ram’s motionless form.

Dursiya felt sick with shock. “That’s Ram,” she managed to croak from a throat as dry as sand. “He – you killed him.”

Axehead bit his lip with bloodstained fangs. “I…”

“You murderer!” Dursiya shouted. The other three rebels appeared around the hill, defensively circling their leader. Where was Forrest? Dursiya looked for blood on their teeth and claws and saw none. Maybe they hadn’t caught him.

Please tell me they haven’t caught him, she begged silently. If they did, it’s all my fault…

“Dursiya, I…”

“Don’t try to explain!” Dursiya yelled recklessly. “You killed him because you thought he was me, right? That was the whole point of this hunt! Well, I’m done with this,” she said in a softer tone, backing away. “You’ve lost the element of surprise. I’m leaving. I’m not going to be part of this ‘Great Pack’ of murderers.”

She turned around and started running, expecting any moment for paws to land on her shoulders and teeth to rip her throat out. None came. She didn’t dare look over her shoulder, running faster, as fast as she could. It wasn’t until she was back among the safety of the trees and every breath was a claw in her throat that she stopped, gasping and panting in exhaustion.

She couldn’t go back. That was a given. They would kill her on sight, now that they couldn’t do it in secret; they were probably telling the pack right now that she was a traitor and they’d exiled her.

Where could she go? All her life she’d lived in Earthwood, in SwiftPack. Well, there would be no SwiftPack anymore, starting this evening, but the Great Pack would still rule Earthwood. There was only one place she could go…the place where exiles went…

The ruins.

But that could wait until later. She was sure that Axehead and the rebels wouldn’t try to find her right away. And tonight, they would be busy forming the Great Pack; they wouldn’t notice or even care about her slipping away.

For now, she had to rest.

Too late she regretted leaving the hare behind. Now she would have to make another kill before going to sleep. Luckily she encountered a fox not far from the hollow she was planning to sleep in and killed it quickly. After eating as much as she could, she stumbled back to the hollow to sleep.

About three hours later she woke up and started walking. By now Axehead and the rebels would be back in the camp – they surely wouldn’t be looking for her in the plains. Once she got to the ruins, she could start a new life. Alone, perhaps, but at least she would live.

She glanced back in the direction of SwiftPack camp. She had lived her whole life there. Once she had even hoped to find a mate and have pups of her own. There was no chance of that anymore. What mate could she hope to find in the ruins, among exiles?

A twig cracking behind her caused her to spin around. She expected to see Axehead, coming to try and kill her again, but instead only Luna stepped out from behind a bush, looking terrified.

“Dursiya! Thank the wolfgods, you’re alive!”

“I’ve got to go, Luna,” Dursiya broke in before her friend could say anything else. “They tried to kill me once, they’ll try again, believe me. I’m going to the ruins. Don’t tell anyone you saw me leave, all right?”

“But Dursiya,” Luna said, her gray eyes full of concern, “they’re saying such terrible things about you back at the camp! Axehead told everyone you killed Ram. He’s got all the warriors out looking for you. Forrest doesn’t know what to believe, but I knew that you wouldn’t have done it.”

“Of course I didn’t,” Dursiya said, her anger growing. “Why would I kill Ram?”

“I don’t know, but the first place Axehead said to search was the ruins. He’ll find you there, Dursiya, make no mistake.”

“Then I’ll have to run farther,” Dursiya said quietly. “I’ll – I’ll go west. I’ll hide in the hills.”

“No, Dursiya,” Luna said earnestly. “There’s only one place Axehead won’t find you – the camp! He definitely won’t expect you to come back. He thinks you’re smarter than that.”

“I am smarter than that,” Dursiya growled.

“I know! Then let’s outsmart him! I’ll help you disguise yourself – dye your fur, paint your face, anything. He won’t know it’s you, and his warriors will never find you.”

“What if it doesn’t work? Then I’m done for.”

“What if it does? Forrest and I will protect you – I promise you, Dursiya. We’ve been friends since we were pups. I won’t let you run away to be killed. Come on, you can roll in some mud until you’re as brown as me. I’ll use berry juice to paint your fur.”

Dursiya shook her head, but she was smiling. “You’re crazy, Luna – crazy as a hedgehog in full moon.”

“Crazy as a stag in the rut season,” Luna said, laughing. “Come on. I promise we’ll protect you.”

Dursiya’s smile faded. “If this works, Luna…if this works…I’ll never be able to repay you.”

“I’m not asking you to repay me! Dursiya, we’re friends – that may not mean anything to wolves like Axehead, but it means something to me. And if you’re my friend, it’ll mean something to you, too.”

Dursiya stared at her friend, joy and hope bursting like bubbles in her chest. Luna would never in a million years be able to know how grateful she was at this moment. “Yes,” she whispered, “yes, we’re friends.”

[fyreshadowes(A)]

Part Five

By the time all of the hunters were back, the camp was starting to look small. Really small. It was dark and crowded when Tark finally managed to sleep, with Sahari pressed close in on his left side and a dog he didn’t know on the other.

Right before Tark closed his eyes, he saw a lone figure standing on the rock in the middle of the clearing. It looked like Zeke. The husky looked magnificent in the moonlight as he surveyed the sleeping pack. His face was a dark silhouette, but Tark could make out the husky’s glittering blue eyes.

When he woke up, the camp was a good deal emptier. The dog who had been sleeping on his right side had gone, and so had Sahari. Alarmed, Tark shouted, “Sahari!” No one answered, although a few dogs grumbled about his shouting.

Where could she have gone? Maybe she’d just left with the hunters. Yes, she probably had. After all, she hadn’t eaten at all the day before and she was probably hungry.

Tark’s stomach was growling too, but he silenced it by looking at all the dogs around him. Most of the ones left in camp were injured or crippled in some way that prevented them from hunting, and they didn’t look as if they were eating much. His thoughts flew to Sahari’s leg. She probably wouldn’t be able to hunt much.

He looked around, trying to spot Zeke among the few dozen dogs remaining, but the husky was nowhere to be seen. He was probably hunting too. After all, he’d looked pretty fit and healthy yesterday.

Maybe Tark should hunt as well. The thought vanished from his mind as he spotted Sahari emerging from the forest with another dog. He was about to run to her, but his paws stopped moving when he realized the other dog was Zeke.

Sahari was laughing in a way he didn’t like at all. And Zeke was smiling too, a smile that looked oddly out of place on his serious, chiseled features. Why was he smiling like that? And why was his sister laughing like that?

Tark growled to himself, but forced himself to stay put until Sahari and Zeke finally separated and Sahari walked over to him. She wasn’t even limping at all; the only time Tark had seen her happy like this was with her master, Zane.

“What’s going on?” he growled as soon as she was within earshot. “No sister of mine should be laughing like that with Zeke.”

“Oh, Tark,” she said teasingly, her eyes sparkling like they had the night before. “Stop acting like an older brother for once. Zeke is really nice…when you’re not around.”

Tark forced himself not to smile. “He attacked me, in case you don’t remember! He attacked me, pinned me down, and threatened to kill me unless I told him my name.” That last part wasn’t really true, but Tark really hadn’t liked the way Sahari had been laughing.

“Maybe he didn’t think you were very cute.” Sahari giggled. “Come on, Tark, I’ve got to grow up sometime. Honestly, I could do a lot worse.”

“But you – “ Tark broke off as a long howl sounded. Zeke had climbed to the top of the rock and was summoning the pack around it. He was surprised when the hunters emerged from the forest without any prey. Hadn’t they been hunting after all?

“Come on, Tark.” Sahari ran over to the base of the rock. Her limp was back, but it wasn’t that noticeable – especially since she was looking up at Zeke the whole time.

Tark followed her, a little confused. Hadn’t Zeke said he was the beta? Why did he seem to be making all the decisions? Where was the alpha pair?

He caught up with Sahari at the base of the rock. Soon he couldn’t move with all of the dogs packed in around him. It was an effort to position himself so that he could see Zeke.

“We leave now,” Zeke barked loudly. “The rest of the dogs will arrive at our camp in the hills tonight. Everyone can hunt along the way. We leave now!”

Tark sneaked a glance over at his sister. She was gazing up at Zeke as if he was one of the dog-gods. He did look magnificent, with the early morning sun tinting his fur golden, but Tark wasn’t about to admit it.

Zeke sprang down from the rock. The dogs shifted aside with difficulty to make a narrow path for him. Again Tark wondered where the alpha pair were as Zeke walked confidently between the two masses of dogs and stopped at the edge of the camp. “We leave now!” he shouted again, and started running through the trees.

With a great cacophony of barks and yips of excitement, the pack followed. Tark soon found himself at the rear, following a little reluctantly. Sahari had vanished into the mass up ahead, disregarding her limp entirely. No doubt she was running beside Zeke right now. Tark cursed whatever bundle of hormones had caused her to become interested in males.

She’s younger than you, a snide, unwelcome voice said in his mind. And still you haven’t taken interest in finding a mate.

Tark tried to ignore it, but it was true. He hadn’t even tried to find a mate. Up till now he’d been too busy taking care of Sahari – or had he? Maybe he was just fooling himself. It had been years since she’d really needed taking care of. Maybe he was holding back because…why?

They ran on for what seemed like hours. If they’d been running just a little faster Tark would soon have had to stop, but it was a comfortable pace and he found himself not that tired. In fact, he was no longer in the rear; other dogs were falling behind him. Tark noticed that most of them were the ones who hadn’t left that morning: the old, injured, and crippled ones. How would they be able to keep up with the pack?

That was soon answered for him. He noticed as they kept running that, every hour or so, a half dozen or so of the stragglers would peel off and head back toward the city. By the time they reached the hills, about fifty dogs had left. The ones remaining were strong, young, and tireless.

By the time dusk was falling, the pack was threading around hills and over streams. Tark’s legs were soon wet up to his knees. Growling, he shook off most of the water and picked up speed, passing twenty dogs in as many minutes. Finally he saw Sahari up ahead. Just as he’d thought, she was running next to Zeke. Zeke was no longer at the head of the procession – he’d adjusted his pace to match Sahari’s. Tark growled at the thought.

“Hey Zeke,” he panted as he fell into step on Sahari’s other side. “Where’s this camp you were talking about?”

Without glancing over, Zeke replied, “Just ahead. Around that big hill up there.”

Tark stared at the horizon until he saw the hill Zeke meant. It looked more like a small mountain. “We have to run that far?”

“If you can’t manage it, go home,” Zeke said indifferently. Sahari giggled.

Tark wanted to tell him to shut up. Instead he restrained himself and said levelly, “I can manage it. I’m just worried about Sahari.”

Sahari’s grin vanished. “Tark, I’m keeping up just as well as you are. In fact, until a minute ago, I was pretty far ahead of you. And I liked it that way!”

This made Tark feel a little foolish. He sensed that he was looking like the bad guy in this argument. “Fine, then. Excuse me for living.” He let Sahari and Zeke pull ahead of him. They did look rather nice together. A hunting hound and a husky.

Sure enough, when they finally did round the huge hill, Zeke gave a long howl and the pack stopped. Tark followed the rest of the dogs into a large hollow that looked big enough for a thousand dogs. He barely had time to think this before the tussle for sleeping spots started.

The biggest and strongest dogs got the best sleeping places, dry and free of rocks and prickly plants. Tark tried to avoid fighting as much as possible, but he couldn’t avoid batting a few dogs out of his way as he struggled over to where Sahari was already settling down to sleep. On her own she wouldn’t have stood much of a chance, but Zeke was growling at any dog that came close to them.

Tark gritted his teeth as he approached, but forced himself to act civil. “Thanks for taking care of my sister. Do I get the same protection?”

Zeke grunted in response and moved over to make room for Tark. It was one of the best sleeping places in the hollow; soft and cushioned with sand, protected on three sides by enormous boulders. However, Tark couldn’t help thinking of all of the dogs who were less fortunate. At least there was plenty of room, quantity-wise rather than quality-wise.

On his right, Sahari murmured, “G’night Zeke. G’night Tark.”

On Sahari’s right, Zeke replied, “G’night, Sahari.” Then, after a pause, he added, “Good night, Tark.”

Tark was a little disgruntled that Sahari had said Zeke’s name before his, but he responded calmly enough. “’Night, Sahari. ‘Night, Zeke.”

Almost the moment he was finished, Sahari started snoring loudly. Well, it had been a long day. Tark curled up on his side, facing away from Sahari and Zeke. He was used to the snoring – he’d had to live with it for the past few years. Zeke’s presence was something he found hard to ignore.

He should have been expecting this. Sahari had to grow up sometime, and he would have to learn to share her. And she was right; she could have done a lot worse than Zeke. He seemed honest enough.

That was the last thought he managed before falling into a deep sleep. It had been a long day…for both of them.

…

He woke early enough. The sun was just breaking the horizon and most of the pack were still asleep. However, Sahari and Zeke were gone. He gritted his teeth. Out for another dawn stroll?

Almost immediately they both appeared and squeezed between the enormous boulders. Zeke was carrying two hares by the ears. Sahari was empty-jawed, but she looked happy.

“What, back already?” Tark asked.

“We got food, hare-brain,” Sahari teased. Zeke threw down the hares, pushing one towards Sahari and taking one for himself. Tark gritted his teeth. None for him?

Zeke saw his look and grimaced. “Look, I caught these, Tark. If you’re hungry, go hunt.”

Tark gave a low growl and was about to leave when Sahari bit his tail. “C’mon, Tark. Zeke was just kidding. Weren’t you?” Zeke nodded, but his cold gaze was fixed on Tark.

“Have some,” Zeke said, a little gruffly.

Sahari tore off a hare leg and pushed it toward Tark. Tark bent his head down to eat, holding his tail high. He wasn’t about to show submission to Zeke, even if he was the beta.

The moment he was done he stalked off through the boulders without casting a glance back at his sister or Zeke. As he passed through the pack, he looked around. The pack seemed to have doubled overnight, even with the hunters gone. Ah, right. The two hundred dogs Zeke had promised had probably arrived while he was asleep.

Something glinted in the corner of Tark’s eye. He spun around. A German Shepherd was gnawing on the legbone of a beaver, with something glittering in one ear. It was a metal ring, threaded through the side – Tark’s father had worn one just like that. Zane had punched it through his left ear.

Sadness flooded him at the same time as memories returned. He and Sahari’s mother had died giving birth to Sahari, but they’d both grown up knowing their father. He had been Zane’s favorite dog before Sahari, being an excellent hunter and a faithful dog. He hadn’t looked at all like Tark, Sahari, or their mother – in fact, he was half wolf, and looked more like a wolf than a dog. Dark gray fur and yellow eyes…Tharm.

Tark couldn’t believe he had struggled to remember his own father’s name. Had it really been that long? Yes, it had. Two years since his father had been killed by wolves. Two years since his and Sahari’s lives had changed dramatically – well, Sahari’s more than his. That was the year Zane’s mate had died in a car accident and his favorite dog had died. That was the year Sahari had become Zane’s favorite and only dog.

Tark shook his head and walked past the dog with the metal earring.

His stomach was still growling at him, despite the bit of hare. After all, he hadn’t eaten all yesterday or the day before. Even though dogs were descended from wolves who led a “feast or famine” diet, Tark had grown up eating every day. He wasn’t used to going without for so long.

His gaze drifted to a dog with a crippled leg like Sahari. This one didn’t look quite as healthy as his sister; ribs stuck out from under a paper-thin pelt, and her tail hung low. Tark resisted the urge to help her, do something for her. He couldn’t afford to help every unlucky dog he saw.

And his first loyalty would be to his sister. Always, always to his sister. No matter how many dogs she went through trying to find a mate, he would always be loyal to her.

Always.

---

Part Six

Dursiya waited with bated breath all day for someone to recognize her, but no one did.

She made a point of not turning her face in Axehead’s direction, or toward any of the wolves she had known particularly well. Luckily the Great Pack had been formed in her absence, so it was easy to pretend to the wolves of one pack she was from another, and so on. Luna started telling everyone Dursiya was her sister (they had the same color fur) and Dursiya stuck to the same story.

It was amusing, really, how easy it was to go under a different name and live a different life. She told everyone her name was Mary, Em for short, and everyone started calling her Em. It took Luna a few tries – after all, she’d been calling her Dursiya since they were pups – but eventually she managed.

It was also hard getting Forrest to trust her. The black wolf was still stunned and grief-stricken by his brother’s death, and he’d instinctively trusted Axehead when he told them the fake murderer. However, he believed her when she walked up to him with a rose in her mouth, dipped her head to put it next to him, gazed into his eyes, and said in a low voice, “I did not kill Ram.”

Luna’s persistent nagging also did the trick. Eventually Forrest realized that a wolf like Axehead was much more capable of murder than Dursiya. And his brother did look uncommonly like Dursiya. If you didn’t look too closely and their faces were turned away, it was easy to confuse them.

So now, as Dursiya yawned and shook the dew off her fur, the wolves passing by on their way to hunt all greeted her as Em.

“Hey, Em!” “G’morning, Em.” “Looks like a good day for hunting, Em.” “Hey Em, you seen Luna?”

That last greeting was from Forrest, who winked at her on the name “Em.” Dursiya winked back and yawned again before replying, “Last I saw her she was with you, Forrest.”

Forrest looked a little worried now that Dursiya came to think of it. Of course, it was hard to tell with his uniform black features, but his yellow eyes were narrowed and his brow was creased. “I woke up and she was gone. You don’t think…” He leaned in close and lowered his voice to a whisper. “You don’t think Axehead got her, do you?”

Dursiya shook her head. Ever since Ram’s death, Forrest and Luna had been acting like Axehead was some scary serial killer that mothers frightened their pups with. “Of course not. She’s probably just eating. Why don’t you check over by the kill pile?”

When the Great Pack had been formed, they’d chosen an enormous clearing in the middle of the forest for their camp. The kill pile was off to one side; it was a hastily dug pit where hunters deposited their leftover prey. Forrest nodded. “Okay, I will. See you later, Dur…Em.”

He trotted off. Dursiya yawned and lay back down, her head on her paws. Her spine and neck were stiff. When she’d been called Dursiya, she had always slept stretched out with her paws out in front of her and her head tilted to one side. It was a strange way of sleeping; Luna had often commented on it. Eventually it had become known as Dursiya’s trademark sleeping pose. Now that Dursiya had a new identity, she had forced herself to sleep curled up like the rest of the Great Pack. Her body wasn’t used to the new position, and she hadn’t gotten much sleep last night.

She couldn’t risk someone, anyone besides Luna and Forrest, finding out who she was. She was a convict now, a refugee under Luna and Forrest’s protection. If even one wolf discovered her real identity, or even recognized her sleeping position, Axehead could find out within hours.

Even though Axehead had spoken the truth when he had said he wasn’t going to be alpha, he still held a lot of influence in the pack. His spiderweb of power spread far among the wolves. About fifty wolves had fought for the position of alpha yesterday; it had been a bloody day. At the end, a single wolf had achieved the rank. His name was Sitka; he was strong and a good fighter, and from what Dursiya knew he was pretty smart, but he was too honorable to last long. He would probably go the same way as Alpha Drake.

Alpha Drake’s name had been spoken frequently in the pack these last few days: often in hushed tones, as if the speakers were afraid to be found out. Usually it was spoken in a mocking tone, or scorned and called a fool – only a few wolves seemed to hold any respect for him anymore. Every time Dursiya heard the name “Drake” she gritted her teeth and resisted the impulse to say what she wanted to say – “It’s Alpha Drake, you jerks!”

If she said that, she would be found out quickly. Very quickly.

For now the wolves of the Great Pack were busy figuring out who was from what pack and so on. It would be a while before anyone asked any real questions about where Dursiya was from. Hopefully she could rely on Luna and Forrest’s protection if that happened. She knew her friend would be loyal to her no matter what – Luna’s actions in the forest had shown that. Forrest would follow Luna whatever she did.

Dursiya had even made a few friends under the name “Em.” These were the wolves who had greeted her this morning: there was Rose, a frail white she-wolf with spiraling red patterns tracing the small of her back. She had been a friend of Beta Tharm, and though she was too physically weak to oppose Axehead and the others like him, she spoke of both Tharm and Alpha Drake with respect.

Then there was Warren, a fiery young wolf with gray fur and gold eyes. He had been a member of BrightPack, one of SwiftPack’s allies, and treated Dursiya and her packmates well enough. He hadn’t known Tharm or Alpha Drake well enough to have an opinion about either of them, but he hated Axehead and all of the ones like him.

Last there was Corral, a beautiful she-wolf with silky golden-brown fur and green eyes. She was soft-spoken and too timid to speak of Tharm, Alpha Drake, Axehead, or any of the wolves who had played a part in the uprising of the Great Pack, whether good or bad.

With all these wolves, Luna, and Forrest on her side, Dursiya felt pretty safe for the moment. However, she had to always keep on guard, no matter how safe she felt. None of her friends would betray her, but there were some wolves who would if they found her out.

Of course, all of her new friends knew her as Em, not Dursiya. They had no idea of her real identity; Dursiya couldn’t trust them with that yet. She didn’t even know if they believed she had killed Ram or not.

There came Corral now, stepping quietly through the dew with her tail down. She was in danger of becoming the pack’s omega; all of the timid wolves were being pushed down in the hierarchy. Dursiya wanted to protect her as long as possible, but with her own fragile position it was difficult.

“Hello, Em,” she said quietly, coming to sit by her.

Dursiya bumped shoulders in a friendly greeting. “Hey, Cor.”

Corral’s ears twitched. “Please, call me Corral.” Corral didn’t think much of the nicknames Dursiya called her, but it was a friendly argument and both of them knew it.

“Okay, Cory.” Dursiya let the smile remain on her face for a few moments; it felt good to be happy. Then she let it slide as she leaned in closer. “Have you heard anything about Axehead?”

Corral stiffened. “Only of his cruelty, Em. As always. I’m frightened of him, Em, and you know it.”

“I know it,” Dursiya said quietly. Here was the chance she’d been waiting for, to find out if she could really trust Corral or not. “Did you hear about that hunt he had with that she-wolf….Dursiya?” She fumbled for the name on purpose, to throw off the scent.

Corral’s green eyes widened in fear. “Yes, Em, I did. Oh, it was terrible. Axehead says that she killed that wolf Ram, but I don’t know what to believe. She never seemed like much of a murderer to me. A little too high-strung, perhaps, but not a murderer.”

Dursiya smiled inwardly. “Yes, I thought so too. In fact, I think Axehead may have done it.” Had she gone a little too far with that?

To her surprise, Corral nodded fervently. “Yes. I’ve been too afraid to admit it, but since you think the same…did I tell you he ordered my uncle killed?”

Dursiya shook her head.

“Well, my uncle was friends with Alpha Drake. Very, very good friends. In fact, no one except Beta Tharm probably knew him as well as my uncle did. Axehead ordered my uncle killed the hour after Alpha Drake’s death. It wasn’t as well-known as Alpha Drake’s assassination, but it was the same thing. The rebel wolves jumped him and tore him apart.” Corral sighed. “I wasn’t very close to him, but it still bothered me. Axehead seems to be responsible for a lot of murders, even if his own claws are clean.”

Dursiya considered this new development. “So why don’t you openly oppose him? Why don’t you tell wolves what really happened?”

Corral flicked her ear shamefacedly. “You know why, Em. I’m afraid. I’m a coward, that’s all I am, a bloody coward.” She sounded angry at herself.

Dursiya nudged her friend’s shoulder comfortingly. “No, you’re not. If you were a coward, you wouldn’t have told me. Anyway, everyone’s scared of Axehead.”

“You’re not,” Corral pointed out.

“Well, I’m reckless,” Dursiya said, chuckling. “It goes back a long way, believe me. Oh, here comes Rose.”

The white she-wolf was stepping through the dew-filled grass towards them. Her legs were wet up to the knees with dew. Dursiya frowned; her friend was even paler than usual. Her red markings stood out more than ever.

“What’s wrong, Rose?” Corral called.

Rose sat down next to them. Her paws were trembling as she spoke in a low, hoarse voice, “Warren’s been caught. I’m afraid he’ll be killed.”

“Warren? Oh, no,” Dursiya exclaimed. “What did he do this time?”

“One of Axehead’s wolves called him a bad name and he attacked him. Ended up hanging by his hindpaws from a tree branch.” Rose smiled. “I can’t help smiling, though there’s nothing funny about it.”

Dursiya grinned as she mulled this over. “Was the wolf seriously hurt?”

Rose shook her head. “Just a few bruises from trying to get down. Do you think they’ll let Warren off?”

“I’m not sure. Axehead’s pretty unpredictable.” Dursiya paced up and down, letting a slow grin cross her face. “Care for a rescue attempt?”

Rose brightened at the idea; then her face fell. “I’m afraid I’d be no help.”

“You can distract the guards,” Dursiya said excitedly. “If you need help, Corral can jump in there with you.” She turned to Corral. “You are coming, right?”

Corral backed away. “Oh no, Em, it sounds terrifying. I’d probably freeze up with fear.”

“Come on. We need you.” Dursiya gazed at her friend, her eyes pleading. “Please? I promise I won’t call you Cor anymore.”

Corral smiled. “Deal.”

“I’ll find Luna and Forrest. Rose, Cor – I mean, Corral, start eyeballing the area. See how many guards there are and how Warren is doing.” Without waiting for an answer, Dursiya dashed off in the direction of the kill pile.

Luna and Forrest were sharing a pronghorn deer from out on the plains. Dursiya’s mouth watered as she drew closer, but she forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand. “Luna, Forrest. Warren’s been captured, and we’re planning a rescue attempt. Care to join us?”

Luna looked up in alarm, but Forrest looked thoughtful. “A rescue attempt, you say? How many guards?”

“We’re not sure. Corral and Rose are coming.”

Luna stood up. “I’m in. But with this leg, I might not be much help.”

“You’ll be fine,” Dursiya assured her. “Forrest? You coming?”

“I’ll come,” Forrest said heavily. “Even if it sounds like a suicide mission to me.”

“Good,” Dursiya said excitedly. “We’ll – “ She gave a gasp as someone’s paw landed on her shoulder. Whipping around, she cringed back as she recognized Axehead. “Axe – I mean to say – what – what do you want?”

Had that sounded a little hostile? Too late to take it back now.

Axehead’s steely gray eyes were narrowed as he traced the features of her face with his gaze. Dursiya had a horrible feeling that he recognized her. “Come with me,” he said brusquely.

Dursiya tried fruitlessly to calm her shaking limbs as she followed Axehead away from the kill pile and into the shade of a tall oak tree. She was angry at herself for showing so much fear. “What do you want?” she repeated.

Axehead surveyed her. “What do you know about a she-wolf called…Dursiya?”

“Dursiya?” Dursiya croaked. “I – I don’t know anything abou – I’m not from her pack – “

“Don’t try to fool me,” Axehead interrupted. “I know who you are.”

(OOC: Ugh, I’m sorry this is so poorly done. I have writer’s block.)

[Jacqueline(LB)]

ARGH, I skipped Part Five! I'll put it up right now.

[fyreshadowes(A)]

Part Seven

“I’m tired,” Sahari complained.

“I know. Me too.”

“It’s hot.”

“I know.”

“I’m hungry.”

“I know.”

“I’m tired.”

“You already said that.”

“So what? I’ll say it again. I’m tired. Tired, tired, tired. Tired.”

Tark groaned. Sahari’s positive attitude from the day before had waned dramatically. She wasn’t even bothering to keep up with Zeke anymore; she and Tark were at the rear of the procession, swelled by almost three hundred dogs.

It was hot. Tark was hungry. And everyone was tired.

He wondered how Zeke was doing, with his thick pelt designed for almost Arctic temperatures. So far he’d only seen the husky once, when the pack had stopped to drink from a stream no wider than Tark’s paw. The hot, flat plain they were hiking across seemed to last forever.

What’s more, Sahari’s limp had come back. She claimed it always came out like this in hot temperatures, but Tark had trouble believing her. She’d already fallen back to the rear end of the pack. Tark kept pace with her, but the pack wasn’t slowing down for one dog.

Now, as he looked over at his sister, he felt a pang of worry rising in his stomach. She looked so hot, her short brown-and-white fur slicked close with sweat. Her breath came in short gasps. It had been hours since either of them had had anything to drink.

Tark saw a dog collapse ahead of them in the procession. When they passed him, he stopped. Sahari peeled off and came back, glad of the rest. Tark lowered his head and nudged the gasping dog. It was a husky, with thick fur like Zeke.

“Hey. You all right?”

The dog shook his head wordlessly. Tark sighed and nudged his head under the husky’s limp body. It was a struggle, but eventually he managed to lift the husky onto his back. It was lucky the dog was so thin; huskies were notoriously large, and Tark was exhausted.

Now they trudged along even more slowly. Tark had to stagger under the weight of the dog. It was only fifteen minutes before he had to stop again and let the dog get off. It stumbled along on thin legs weakened by the heat.

“Let it rain!” Sahari muttered from beside him. “Let it rain! Oh, please, let it rain!” This time she let her voice carry. One or two dogs looked around, but the rest just kept trudging forward. It was an enormous effort to concentrate on anything besides walking.

Tark wondered if his sister was getting delirious. He couldn’t blame her; he was on the urge of screaming for water, too. And he had four good legs.

By now there was a gap about forty tail-lengths between the main procession and the little group of exhausted dogs Tark and Sahari were in. Most of these dogs were elderly, crippled, or thick-furred like the husky who had collapsed. Tark was the freshest one of the lot.

“Tark,” Sahari murmured from his left. “We’ve got to slow down. Tell Zeke to slow down.”

Tark nodded and started to walk faster, pulling ahead of the lagging group. Zeke might consider slowing down a bit; it would give everyone a rest. And he must be suffering too, with his thick cold-climate fur.

It took about an hour for him to pass three hundred dogs and get to the front. He spotted Zeke and kept moving until he was right beside the husky. “Zeke. You’ve got to slow down. Sahari can’t keep up, and there’s a bunch of dogs worse off.”

The husky’s pale blue eyes were staring straight ahead. Tark wondered if he’d even heard him. “Zeke?”

Finally the husky muttered, “We’ve got to keep going until we find water. They won’t survive otherwise.”

“They won’t survive at this pace!” Tark was determined. Shaking off his exhaustion, he swung around, blocking Zeke. Zeke dodged around him and kept going. “Come on. It’ll help everyone. Sahari won’t make it otherwise.”

Zeke closed his eyes for a moment. “I’m responsible for all these dogs, not just Sahari.”

Tark blinked. “Zeke, why are you in charge? Where’s the alpha pair?”

Zeke ignored him.

“Zeke! Where are they? You can tell me! This many dogs have got to have an alpha pair!”

Zeke sighed. “Look, Tark, I’m exhausted. I’ll slow the pack down, all right? I’ll even stop for an hour. I’ll tell you later. All right?”

Tark wanted to know right now, but he’d gotten what he came for. He nodded. “All right. Later.”

Zeke turned around and shouted, “Stop! Stop for an hour!”

A great commotion went up as the dogs in front told the dogs behind them what was going on, and so on, and the ones who heard first flopped down on the ground and the ones who didn’t tripped over them. Tark dodged around it all and went back to Sahari. “We’re resting for an hour. Here, you find Zeke, I’ll go hunt for us. All right?” He didn’t like leaving her again, but she would be safe with Zeke.

Sahari nodded. “Do you think you’ll be able to find any water?” She really did look exhausted, and thirsty. She stared pleadingly at him.

Tark licked her shoulder. “I don’t know. I’ll try my best.”

He ended up catching two hares and a moorhen, which he shared with Sahari and Zeke. Both of them seemed to be in similar condition: Sahari because of her leg, Zeke because of his fur. Tark was fresher than either of them. He didn’t manage to find any water, though, and by the time they set off Sahari and Zeke both looked worse than when they had stopped.

Once they started walking again, he was surprised when Zeke fell into step on Sahari’s other side. The husky was panting and his eyes were half closed. Who was leading the pack? He didn’t put the question to Zeke; he didn’t look able to answer.

He was just wondering if maybe he should try to lead when Sahari collapsed.

Very suddenly, he stopped noticing the heat.

“Sahari! SAHARI!” He threw himself onto the ground next to her, licking her face frantically. “Sahari? Sahari?”

Her eyes were closed and her breathing was ragged. She didn’t respond to Tark’s licking. “Sahari! Wake up, please! The pack won’t wait!”

There was another soft thump behind him. He looked around; Zeke was on the ground. “No, NO! Not you too!”

As much as he cajoled and begged, both dogs seemed to have simply reached their breaking point.

“Please – please get up.” The gap between them and the pack was growing; fifty tail-lengths, seventy, a hundred. “Please…please….”

You’re no help standing around like this, that nagging voice said inside his head. Get water, or they’ll both die.

Get water? Get water? Where?

Plants. Plants have water.

He looked around wildly. The only plants he could see on this barren wasteland were grass and spiky shrubs, neither of which would yield much moisture. No plants. What do I do?

Dig. There’s water under the ground.

He remembered that. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d tried to dig out of the backyard as a pup and found the hole filled up with water. Yes. He could dig.

The sun beat down relentlessly as he turned his attention to the ground under his paws, scratching at the dry earth and kicking it behind him. Before long he had made a sizeable hole, but still no water in sight. This plain had been dry for weeks. He could dig all day and not reach water. All the while, the pack was trudging farther and farther away.

Nobody cared about him or Sahari, but wouldn’t they stop for their beta? Apparently not. There were so many of them; they could easily find another beta. Probably very few of them even knew he had collapsed.

Water. He gazed around, desperate, despairing. Where, in this desolate wasteland, could he find water?

And with his own weakened state, he couldn’t hope to drag either of them the rest of the way across the plain. They wouldn’t wake up until they had water. Leaning close down next to Sahari’s ear, he whispered, “I’m going to find water. I’ll be back, don’t worry.”

He looked around for some cover. He couldn’t leave them out here in the open. However, there was no shade at all; he’d soon discovered that minutes into the trek. Glancing toward one of the scraggy bushes, he had an idea. Uprooting a dozen or so of them, he dragged them over to where Sahari and Zeke lay on the sun-baked ground and formed a sort of shelter around them by weaving together the roots and branches.

He stepped back to admire his paw-work. It was fairly rough and wouldn’t stand up to rain, but there wasn’t likely to be much of that in this godforsaken plain.

Now, to find water.

He took a deep breath first of all, preparing himself for the thought of what lay ahead. He might have to walk for hours before he could find water. It would be at least two hours before it started to get dark and cool down. He glanced at Sahari and Zeke. He would do it for them. No, for Sahari.

At least the hottest time of day was over with. It would only get cooler now. His paws were already used to the dry, bristly grass; it still stung, but he wasn’t noticing it as much. And if he rested for a few minutes every hour or so, he would be all right.

“Don’t worry about yourself,” he muttered. “Worry about them.” They could be dead by the time I get back, he continued silently. No, don’t think that.

He took another deep breath, and started off.

It was hours of walking and walking, stopping and panting short, exhausted breaths, walking more, sitting down for as long as he dared, getting up and walking more. All the while the sun rotated slowly down to the western horizon, reminding Tark painfully of the dogs he had left behind.

It was at least three hours before he finally heard the sound of rushing water.

“Yes!” he shouted, running to the little brook lined with ferns. “Yes!” He drank deeply, feeling a little guilty, and then noticed pawprints in the soft mud around the brook. There were hundreds of them; the pack must have drunk from this brook. He could imagine the milling bodies, the crazed fighting – he supposed he was lucky to miss the rush.

Now, however, he had another problem. How was he going to take water back to Sahari and Zeke?

His heart raced, counting down the seconds, as he tried to think of a solution. He remembered, back in the camp, how the dogs had brought soaked balls of moss back to the dogs who hadn’t gone hunting. A dog could squeeze the water out on a rock and drink from the puddle. He looked around. Where could he find moss?

He found some on a boulder by the side of the brook. Gathering two enormous mouthfuls, he rolled them into balls with his forepaws and soaked them both in the brook for a few minutes. Then, satisfied, he picked them out again and held them both in his mouth, trying not to drink any.

The sun had dipped below the horizon when he had begun soaking them, and it was fully dark by now. It would have been near impossible for a human to find the way back, but Tark had the gift of a dog’s nose. Lowering his head as near the ground as he dared with his balls of moss, he followed his scent.

He lost it over a patch of sun-baked dirt two hours later. Remembering how long it had taken to find the brook, he guessed he was an hour away from Sahari and Zeke. As he was sniffing around the ground, trying to pick up the scent again, he heard a rattle.

He froze. He’d heard this only once before, and it didn’t bode well for dog or human. A rattlesnake.

The deadly snake was curled up inches away from his nose; he might have bumped into it in the dark. Its tail was rattling threateningly as its forked tongue hissed at him, its pointed head drawing back to strike. Tark didn’t know whether to stay still or run.

He was too scared to move. That probably saved him. The snake remained motionless for a few moments except for the tip of its beaded tail, and then it slithered away, leaving him still standing dry-mouthed with fear in the middle of the dirt patch.

It was a few moments before he dared to move again. He checked first to make sure the rattlesnake had really gone, and after that he made slow progress because he glanced at the ground before every step to make sure it was clear. Thus it took an extra hour before he arrived at the makeshift bush shelter.

His moss balls still had plenty of moisture in them; enough to wake up Sahari and Zeke at least and give them enough energy to come to the brook themselves. Heart pounding, he approached the shelter, daring not to think of the very real possibility that they were dead.

When he was five paces away, he couldn’t take it anymore. He raced to the shelter, clawed aside the bushes, and stepped back in disbelief.

They were gone.

[Kinoku(SS)]

OMG i have been waiting for a new one but no new one came so i been crying in ma room so you need to add another one or ill make chibi Kinoku's rule the world but i might just do that anyways. So stuff and and and pickles and you need to finish or else ill find you and stalk your car.O_o >O<

(Kinoku walks in computer room and chops her creater in the back of her neck. Creaters bangs head on keyboard) jfbshkddgdgdgvhmtyrhbnmghkgkhjkgyrtjgn,gyit

Kinoku: Oh uh sorry 'bout that. Creater has been having 10 mini chocolate bars for the past 4 days, seems the sugars caught up. Well, uh, have a nice day.

(Kinoku walks out room)