Darkness Falls by Erin Hunter

winced when he remembered how he had watched, hidden, as the powerful black-and-brown dogs had strutted past on thickly muscled legs, their short, pointed ears pricked up and their lips curled into snarls. He remembered their sharp scents that radiated power and aggression.
    He couldn’t sense them now, though.
    â€œWe can at least see what’s going on,” said Lucky. “If it’s dangerous, or we smell other dogs, I promise we’ll get out of there right away. But we can’t ignore pups in trouble. And who knows—they could be helpful.”
    â€œHelpful?” said Mickey doubtfully.
    â€œIn these strange times, every surviving dog has a role.”
    Mickey still looked unsure but he gave a quick, reluctant nod.
    Creeping slowly over the soft forest floor, Lucky and Mickey approached the Fierce Dogs’ territory, pausing regularly to sniff the air. The Sun-Dog was high overhead but his light was dim beneath the shade of the trees.
    As they neared the fence, tension rippled along Lucky’s back. Mickey was right—it was strange that there were no fresh scents from adult dogs. The tang of their sleek coats seemed old and faded, but it was still enough to make Lucky’s heart thump in his chest and fear crackle beneath his fur.
    The two dogs reached the high fence that enclosed the Dog-Garden. Lucky shuddered—such a sinister place, full of horrible memories.
    They started circling it warily, seeking the gap where Daisy had dug a hole. Lucky let out a whimper when he found it—the hole was bigger now, much bigger. Stuck to the wire was a clump of glossy black fur.
    â€œFierce Dogs have been through here,” Mickey whined.
    Lucky knew they had. He had seen one near the fence when he’d heard those awful howls of pain. It was inevitable, really. The pointed-eared dogs must have grown used to coming and going as they pleased. Again Lucky caught the faded scent of the huge dogs, and a hint of something else—blood? He had to steady his hind legs, which were starting to tremble as he readied himself to walk back into the Dog-Garden.
    He dipped and crawled beneath the wire, Mickey right behind him.
    The Dog-Garden had changed since Lucky had last seen it. The neat, clipped lawn had vanished, replaced by high grass and creeping ivy. The shoots of trees had caught hold in a couple of places and thistles grew in spiky clumps. In time it would look like the rest of the forest, except for the low houses with their metal bowls. Lucky approached one. There were no hard nuggets of dry-looking meat in it. Perhaps the food had run out and that was why the Fierce Dogs had left.
    â€œThe longpaws haven’t come back here,” Lucky deduced. He had heard about Fierce Dogs before he had encountered them. The longpaws used them because they were ferocious, good at protecting their houses from intruders. Without longpaws to keep them caged and fed, the Fierce Dogs would have no one to control them, no one to tell them what to do. They would answer only to themselves. He tried to push this thought away, resisting the urge to turn on his paws and dash beneath the wire. The young dogs’ whimpers were louder now. They seemed to be coming from the big house.
    Lucky and Mickey skulked low in the long grass, treading toward the building, which was raised farther off the ground than the surrounding doghouses. Lucky climbed the wooden stairs to the front door while Mickey held back.
    Lucky smelled the pups before he laid eyes on them. Their scent was like the one given off by Nose and Squirm—soft, sweet, and milky. The porch led all the way around the big house. Lucky crept along it, hugging the side of the building. He froze. Three Fierce Dog pups were wriggling in a chaotic bundle on a piece of soft-hide that reminded Lucky of the beds that the Leashed Dogs had been used to before the Big Growl. The pups were peering over the edge of the porch, blinking out at the