A Pack Divided by Erin Hunter

down at Ripper. “Not us Fierce Dogs. Our nature is made for us, by the longpaw Masters.”
    â€œThat can’t be true,” began Bella.
    â€œI didn’t see much of it,” Arrow admitted with a sigh. “I was born not long before the Big Growl, when the Masters fled and left us. But I do have some memories. I saw Fierce Dogs being marched around the Dog-Garden, over and over again, drilled to be obedient. I didn’t understand what the Masters were sayingto them, of course, but they were always angry. They never spoke except in an angry bark. They’d strike any dog, too, if they put a paw wrong—even pups.”
    Storm tilted her head, filled with sympathy. It surprised her that there wasn’t a trace of anger in Arrow’s soft voice. His puphood sounded awful, yet the way Arrow talked, it sounded as if he missed it.
    Would I have been as vicious as the other Fierce Dogs , wondered Storm, if I’d been raised in the Dog-Garden by the Masters? Would they have given me the nature they wanted me to have?
    She couldn’t imagine what it had been like to be raised and drilled by the Masters, and she didn’t want to. Blade had been as cruel and stern as any longpaw could ever be; had they made her that way, turned her into a dog version of themselves?
    Thank the Spirit Dogs I was raised by Lucky and Martha. She shivered. Even if some of the Pack Dogs don’t trust me, at least I had a choice. At least I was free to become my own dog.
    But Arrow had been brought up in the Dog-Garden. Arrow had known the Masters, even if it had only been for a short time, and his nature had been shaped by them. He was a true Fierce Dog. . . .
    Unease fluttered in Storm’s gut. In the silence, she heardBruno’s low sullen growl. “We can’t trust a Fierce Dog.”
    No other dog had heard that, she realized, and she wasn’t about to cause a fight by challenging Bruno—not right here and now.
    But was the burly Fight Dog right, anyway?
    Could the Pack really, truly trust Arrow?

CHAPTER TEN
    Storm hadn’t felt so contentedly drowsy in a long time. For once, she thought, she might get a good night’s rest; her belly felt full and her head heavy with sleep. All around the camp, dogs chatted quietly or half dozed in the evening light.
    Just as Storm was about to nestle into her warm, leafy sleeping quarters, Sunshine spoke, her fluffy white tail waving. “Tell us another story about the Wind-Dogs, Alpha? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about them.”
    Bella gave a short amused bark: “Do you still need a pup-tale to go to sleep, Omega? Don’t be silly.”
    A few other dogs scoffed as well, their jaws gaping into lazy grins. Lucky raised his head, but before he could speak, Alpha got to her feet and walked slowly and deliberately to the center of the clearing. Her bark of summons rang through the clear evening air,making Storm raise her head and prick an ear.
    â€œMy Pack! Gather around. I have something important to say about the Spirit Dogs who guide us.”
    Storm padded into the center of the clearing with the rest of the Pack as they formed their circle. Every dog but the small regular evening patrol was present, and it struck Storm how large their Pack was growing. The dogs pressed flank to flank, alert for their Alpha to begin speaking. Lucky stood at his mate’s side, gazing at her supportively, his expression a mixture of respect and adoration.
    Alpha turned her slim head to meet the eyes of each dog, then nodded with satisfaction.
    â€œI know there are dogs in this Pack who don’t believe in the Wind-Dogs,” she declared, “and I respect that. It’s not easy to accept new Spirit Dogs when you have never heard their tales before. Accepting their influence is even harder.” She looked kindly on the Pack. “But I have this to say: I want you all to respect my beliefs in turn. The Wind-Dogs are real to