Mid-July:
Kyra tugged her mother's fur, whining. "I want to go outside."
"Please, boo," Rose huffed. "Whining's not a good look for a three-moon-old."
Kyra stopped, but she was still upset. Is she going to take forever?
The sun beat mercilessly down on the forest, and a stuffy underground den was no better. Rose was trying to slick back the frizz that the humidity was wreaking on her pelt. Kyra watched, panting as dramatically as she could.
Rose raised her head and stared at the puppy. "You won't give me any peace, will you?"
"No, Mommy." Kyra gave her mother's plumy tail one last tug. "I'm thirsty right now. I'm going to dehydrate and die."
They left the den and set off for the stream that still ran cool and swift, defying the sun. As they ducked into the undergrowth, Kyra looked back and saw Sterling watching.
Though the pack leader was not terribly big, Sterling was very scary to Kyra. Her eyes were so black that her pupils could not be seen; her long, fluffy beard obscured the corners of her mouth so it looked like a stern line. And she was always watching.
I can't wait for my dad to be the leader, Kyra thought as she skipped. He'll be the best of them all.
At the stream, Kyra dipped her muzzle and drank. Rose sat and kept trying to smooth her fur.
Kyra looked up and down the bank, sniffing. The air near water was always laden with scent. She could smell prey and other dogs. Most dog scents were stale with fresher ones overlaying. Kyra splashed a paw into the water, sending droplets flying.
Kyra's friend, a white puppy called Brigitte, and her mother arrived to drink. Kyra took a last few laps before Brigitte could finish and attack. She smacked the water. Drops flew onto Brigitte's coat.
Brigitte, being much smaller, had to give the water a mighty slap to equal Kyra's. She bared tiny teeth, but her eyes glittered with mirth.
Shaking water from her large ears, Kyra dropped into a bow. "Wanna race to those ferns" — she tossed her head at a clump behind Rose — "and back?"
Brigitte regarded Kyra with suspicion, pinning her ears flat against her head. "You know you'll win. That's not fair."
The black-and-tan puppy considered this. "I'll give you a head start," she decided. "I'll count to three. Real slow!"
Brigitte released her tongue in a loll. "Well, in that case—" She darted away at once.
Kyra counted, perhaps a little faster than she promised, before following. But she slowed when she saw that Brigitte didn't stop after reaching the ferns. She looked over her shoulder at their mothers before carrying on. Despite, or perhaps because she saw Rose turn her head in their direction, her fur prickled with apprehension.
Brigitte was walking in the undergrowth, inspecting everything she found. "Do you think we'll find any prey?"
"I guess." The forest is only teeming with it. "I don't think we should be out of a grown-up's sight."
Her friend turned to look at Kyra with surprised blue eyes. "I thought you liked exploring."
"I do." Kyra tucked her plumy tail between her legs. "I don't like getting in trouble, though. I think we should go back before they decide we can't go outside anymore."
"They can't stop us for long," Brigitte pointed out. "We'll be training under masters before the hot moons are out."
Kyra grunted. She was sniffing around now too. Maybe if they found something worthwhile, it would soften the blow of their mothers' wrath. Brigitte was right about prey to be sure. She picked up the scent of squirrel at the foot of the tree she stood under. Surely Rose, a huntsdog, would appreciate a lead like this.
Brigitte noticed her wagging tail and gave a satisfied snort.
They had just begun trotting back when a heady, doglike scent assaulted Kyra's senses. Doggish but not dog? Kyra stopped in her tracks.
It grew stronger.
The pups were rooted to the spot with a mix of potent fear and curiosity. They didn't know where to go. Kyra was stirred to action when the rustling of the vegetation grew louder and faster. Not a dog! Not even one of whatever it is!
Two tawny heads popped out of the undergrowth, sporting huge ears and baleful yellow eyes. Kyra's knees buckled as she realized that hesitating might have cost her and Brigitte their lives. They must be coyotes! Kyra knew coyotes from the territorial tensions that chilled her father's conversations.
Though not as big as she'd thought they would be, the coyotes gaped, as they sometimes do out of aggression. Their wiry bodies slinked forth.
Brigitte released a choked whimper of terror, and feeling her quake, a new rage awakened in Kyra. This feeling was the territoriality that boils the blood of all dogs. I won't go down without a good fight. She bristled and gaped back.
The dog — as in a male canid — looked startled.
Kyra wanted to tell Brigitte to go, that she'd bought her some time, but she didn't get a chance. With a mighty crash of plants and a deafening snarl, Rose came to the rescue. Brigitte dived under her belly, but Kyra stayed put. She wanted to show her mother that she could intimidate with the best of them.
"Adam," Rose said, her growl full of venom.
"Rose." Adam relaxed his hackles. "Is this your daughter?"
"Cut the shit," Rose snapped back. "You're on dog land."
"We weren't stealing anything."
"Just like how I'm a cat."
The young bitch coyote bared her teeth at Rose. "You say that as if dogs don't have a monopoly on the whole park. What do you need it for, anyway? Dogs don't belong in the forest. Why not just run back to the humans when the going gets tough?"
Rose bushed her hackles out so she was twice her normal size.
"Sylvia," Adam warned. He turned back to Rose. "You'll have to excuse my daughter. She's young and impetuous. She has yet to learn to pick her battles. Isn't that right?" he added, fixing Sylvia with a hard stare. Sylvia stepped back, albeit reluctantly.
"She'll learn if she knows what's good for her. In the meantime, you'll get out of here before our soldiers rip you into ribbons."
"I thank you for your mercy." Adam lowered his eyes. He nudged a bitterly disappointed Sylvia along, but before making his retreat, he looked over his shoulder. "Oh, we'll leave. We'll get by — because it's warm. But know this: when it gets cold, my pack won't be able to live off our little patch on the other side of the Skyline. You'll be over here with plenty to eat and territory to spare. If I was Sterling, I'd cut my losses on those hills that no one hunts in. I'm no politician, though, so what do I know?"
His gaze fell on the stiff-legged Kyra, and he hurried away, alarm rippling through his guard hairs.
Rose relaxed. Brigitte came to stand between her forelegs. "We didn't realize how far we'd come," she began.
"Your mother is beside herself with worry," Rose interrupted. "I hope you've learned some sense from this. I think a near-death experience was punishment enough. Am I correct?"
"Oh, yes," said Brigitte in a small voice.
Kyra said nothing, turning the event over in her mind.
Upon their return home, the story got circulated and nerves got frayed. Kyra felt more and more confused as she listened to the dogs.
"Thieves!"
"Scoundrels!"
"Curs!"
And a slew of bad words.
They didn't sound like thieves to me, she reflected. They sounded plain hungry. She didn't know who to believe! She wanted to go on listening to her pack, but now she was consumed with a strange new feeling; she knew not what.
She was in her nest with her mother later that night. Rose massaged her daughter with long strokes of her tongue.
"Mommy, do we really have territory that we don't use?"
Rose hesitated before sighing. "We have a lot of land that we need to protect."
That's not what I asked. "Why do the coyotes want it?"
"It's a grown-up matter, Kyra. You're too young to be thinking of such things," Rose said, firmer this time. "Don't worry about them. What matters is us."
Kyra was hurt. Why couldn't she think about it? Now she had another new feeling she'd never had before. It sat in her tummy and was like a huge, cold rock. For some reason, her own mother was hiding something from her. Maybe the whole pack was hiding something from her.
She thought again of the coyotes, but this time, as they'd described themselves. Her eyes stung. It seemed that sleep would never come, and when it did, frightful images haunted her dreams.
i lost so much of this fricking document and had to rewrite it while it was fresh in the dome