A Pack Divided by Erin Hunter

with a starlike glow.
    A Sky-Dog! Yet even as she thought that, Storm knew it was no Sky-Dog. This was a Spirit Dog she had never seen before, one she had never even heard of. His terrible eyes remained locked on hers for a moment longer; then he was turning, and his long loping stride carried him away across the blackness of the sky. The Moon-Dog’s light glowed fiercely on the Pack once more.
    The other dogs were still singing their cries, but Storm’s body felt empty of breath. She couldn’t give voice to a whimper, much less a howl. Glancing to one side and the other, she realized none of the others had even paused in their song. The eyes of her Packmates were closed in ecstasy, or they were riveted on the light of the Moon-Dog. Storm realized the truth like a bite to her belly.
    No other dog saw what I saw!
    In desperation she scanned the upturned faces of her Packmates. Did no dog see the fierce Spirit Dog? Did I imagine him?
    No! She realized that, with absolute certainty, when her eyes locked with Arrow’s.
    The other Fierce Dog was not howling, either. He was watching Storm, his dark eyes knowing, as if they shared a secret. A great and terrible family secret . . .
    The shock of connection made Storm jerk her head away, and she stared up at the sky in near panic. I am not like Arrow! I am not the same as him!
    She was one of this Pack! She’d been raised by Lucky and Martha, not by Blade; she’d learned to be a true, kind, and loyal friend, not a bloodthirsty warrior-dog. I’m not like Arrow! I was never one of Blade’s Pack!
    No matter how hard she tried, though, she could not raise her voice again to join with the Pack’s howling. And she realized, with a shock, that it was because of fear. I don’t want to see that Spirit Dog again. If I raise my head and howl, he might return.
    I don’t want him to come back. . . .
    Feeling shrunken back to pup-size, she sat quietly, tail between her legs, deliberately avoiding Arrow’s gaze. He was still lookingat her, she knew it, but she would not meet those conspiratorial eyes again.
    As the Great Howl faded, Storm sat silently, staring straight ahead. Only when most of her Packmates had risen and shaken themselves and headed for their sleeping dens with contented barks and growls of good night did she finally get to her paws.
    I’m not going to talk to Arrow about this. I don’t care what he thinks.
    Breeze, though, was glancing up at the Moon-Dog as she paced toward her den, and Storm licked her chops, filled with curiosity. Why didn’t Breeze join the Howl? She was so loyal to the Spirit Dogs earlier, when she argued with Bella; she believes in the Spirits and trusts them. Even if she was angry, why wouldn’t Breeze howl?
    Determinedly, Storm caught up to pad at her flank. “Breeze, why didn’t you join in the Howl?” she blurted out. “You and your friends? Don’t you want to feel part of the Pack?”
    Breeze shot her a thoughtful look as she licked her jaws. “I can’t speak for the others,” she said at last. “Maybe they were just too angry to howl tonight.”
    â€œBut that’s just what the Great Howl does,” pointed out Storm. “It soothes anger, brings us all together! And the Spirit Dogs—”
    â€œI know that’s the idea, that it unites the Pack,” admitted Breeze, hesitating to sniff the night air, “and I trust in the SpiritDogs. But for me, it wasn’t the anger. Maybe for Ruff and Rake and Chase, but not me. I’ve never howled with the Pack.”
    â€œWhat?” Storm pricked her ears, shocked.
    â€œIt’s true. When we were Terror’s Pack, we never howled. We didn’t want to attract the attention of the Fear-Dog.”
    â€œThat’s ridiculous,” exploded Storm.
    â€œIs it?” Breeze hunched her shoulders against a shudder. “Think what you like, but Terror knew about these things.