The Empty City by Erin Hunter Page A

half-forgotten images brought with them a horrible feeling: that dreadful, cold sadness, like a stone in his belly. He got up on all fours, stretched away the dull pain. Dipping his head, he licked Old Hunter’s ear.
    â€œThank you, friend.”
    â€œYou’re welcome, young one. Good luck to you.”
    Lucky hesitated. Good luck … Didn’t they both need more than that just now?
    â€œOld Hunter … I’ve been thinking. It might seem crazy, but why don’t we team up for a while?” At the mute astonishment in his friend’s eyes, he rushed on hurriedly. “Just for a little while, I mean. Until we get used to—to all these changes.”
    Old Hunter still said nothing, only watched him a little sadly.
    Not sure whether to take his silence as encouragement or not, Lucky rushed on. “I know we’re both Lone Dogs at heart. I know that, and we belong on our own, in ordinary times. But everything’s so strange and dangerous. The Big Growl has changed so much. Maybe it would be good to watch each other’s backs for a little. We’d be a good team, you and I....”
    His voice trailed into silence. Old Hunter, too, stood up.
    â€œI’m sorry, Lucky,” he said gruffly. “It wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t feel … right. It’s like I said: We can’t let the Big Growl win. We can’t let it change us .”
    â€œBut—the light-power snake. Remember how it nearly stung you? If we’re together, we can—”
    His friend’s eyes grew harder. “You probably saved my life, that’s true. But we have to keep on surviving alone, like we always have. Understand? It’s every dog for himself.”
    Lucky bowed his head in reluctant agreement, and gave Old Hunter a fond flick of his tongue. “I understand. But thank you again.”
    â€œThank you . Here.”
    As he turned back, Old Hunter picked up a sizable chunk of meat in his jaws and dropped it at Lucky’s feet. Lucky pawed it, surprised.
    â€œGo on, take it. I won’t miss it.”
    Lucky gave him a grateful whine as he seized the meat in his jaws. He threw Old Hunter a last look as he leaped up onto the counter, then bounded back through the broken mall.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    It wasn’t long before he slowed to a gentle jog, then halted altogether. He shifted the meat in his mouth slightly. A full belly had made him sleepy, and here, close to where he’d entered the mall, he was standing in front of a very tempting bed.
    This huge inner House held far bigger longpaw things than the others, including a low, broad, squishy longpaw seat made of that same aged skin as the treasure-pouches. Lucky gazed at it with longing, and took a few paces toward it. He was so tired. He could rest, then eat when he woke, then move on again....
    A pungent earthy musk assaulted his nostrils, overwhelming the enticing smell of his prospective bed.
    Oh no …
    There were animals around; he’d known that. Animal scavengers and longpaws, too. But he hadn’t taken much notice when he’d cared only about finding food, when he’d had nothing they could take from him.
    Now he did.
    Lucky tightened his grip on the chunk of flesh, growling softly. There was a high stack of wooden shelves behind the seat, and he sensed something hidden there. A sharp black nose twitched, followed by mean predatory eyes and huge pricked ears. Lucky’s growl became louder, more threatening, as the gray fox eyed him.
    Then, around the shelving, three more of them padded, thin and vicious-looking. They exchanged glances.
    Their Alpha’s yellow eyes glinted, and they stalked forward with arrogant snarls.
    â€œMeat, dog. Give us now !”
    Still gripping the hunk, snarling deep in his throat, Lucky sized up his enemy. Each fox was maybe half his size, but there were four of them and their eyes were sharp. A desperate fox was a dangerous creature—especially one