A Pack Divided by Erin Hunter Page A

When Twitch took over as our Alpha he reinstated the Howl, but I never joined in, even then.” Furtively she peered into the shadows around the glade, then nudged her head closer to Storm, and whispered nervously, “I don’t want the Fear-Dog to find me. The way he found Terror . . .”
    Storm stared after Breeze as the hunt-dog hurried to her den. What a ridiculous notion. Terror put the fear of . . . well, the fear of the Fear-Dog into that Pack.
    It’s not true. Lucky said there was no such thing as a Fear-Dog. And there isn’t.
    All the same, Storm shivered as she crept to her own nest of soft leaves and grass, and she raked her bedding with her claws to enclose her body more snugly. Even then, she couldn’t get comfortable. The chill was in her bones, not in the night air, and hersnug nest felt as if it was full of stones. She shifted restlessly, twisting and turning.
    Was it the Fear-Dog I saw?
    The thought popped unwelcome into Storm’s skull, making her snap her head up and pant for breath. Lucky had said the Fear-Dog was a figment of Terror’s warped imagination—but Lucky had been wrong before. . . .
    Arrow had seen that Spirit Dog too. Could he and Storm have brought the Fear-Dog down on the Pack?
    Squeezing her eyelids tight shut, she forced herself to think only of drifting into unconsciousness. I will go to sleep, I will . . .
    Except that I can’t. Her legs kicked in frustration. I’ll never sleep again. . . .
    What? What’s going on?
    Storm’s legs were not thrashing against leaves and grass anymore; they were bounding freely over the forest floor. Urgency seized her chest, and she picked up speed.
    There was something she had to do. She had to get there now. She had to do this!
    Even though she couldn’t remember exactly what the vital thing was . . .
    The shadow that raced at her side did not belong to her. She could hear itsfootfalls, and she could make out its darkness from the corner of her eye, but she didn’t want to look. Instead she ran faster than ever.
    â€œYou can’t outrun me,” said a voice. “You never could. I will always be with you.”
    This time, Storm made herself look. She turned her head to glare at the darkness.
    â€œBlade!” She wasn’t out of breath, yet she couldn’t seem to run fast enough to outpace the shadowy Fierce Dog. “You’re dead, Blade. You can’t be here.”
    Blade peeled back her lips in a scornful snarl. “You think it’s that easy to get rid of me? I’m stronger than death, Storm. I know the truth about you; I’ve always known it. That’s why I’ll always be at your side. That’s why I’ll always be with you.”
    Storm licked her jaws, but she couldn’t make them moist. Her tongue was coated in dust and ashes. “Are you the Fear-Dog?”
    Blade barked a hollow laugh. “You know better than that, Storm.”
    Storm couldn’t look away. She could only run, and stare in horror at Blade, and try not to fall.
    â€œThe Fear-Dog is patrolling tonight.” Blade’s whispering voice was dark and deadly. “But I am not the dog who brought him here.”
    Storm skidded, stumbled to a halt, crashed to the ground. Leaves and grass broke her fall, but there were sharp stones beneath them, and she yelped in pain and terror.
    And woke up. She froze in disbelief. She hadn’t fallen at all; she was on her four paws, in a turmoil of leaves and sand where she must have skidded and twisted. Her flanks heaved as she fought to control her desperate breathing.
    Storm eyed the darkness around her. Spun on her haunches, and stared.
    She was no longer in the camp. She was no longer in the glade. She was deep in the forest. And for the second time, she had no memory of how she had gotten there.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    Light and sound finally penetrated Storm’s restless sleep. Blinking painfully, she curled into a tighter