The Empty City by Erin Hunter Read Free Book Online

was open to the still air. He started when he saw longpaws staring from the base, but then he remembered that these were fake longpaws, with no smell, no warmth, no movement. Cautiously he paced between them, sniffing at their brand-new furs; even those didn’t smell of longpaw. Some of them had been stripped of their fur and knocked sideways, but they weren’t hurt. They stared at him, empty-eyed.
    Lucky slunk warily between the stiff and lifeless longpaws, but their eyes didn’t blink and their skin smelled of nothing. This place was what they called their mall . Longpaws—real ones—had gone in and out of this building all the time, he remembered. Sometimes they’d carried food, but they’d never stopped to give him any. And when he’d tried to saunter in and find the Food Houses for himself, he’d been chased out by other longpaws, who all wore the same blue fur. He remembered all too well having to dodge their kicks.
    But there were no angry longpaws to stop him now!
    Lucky sniffed. Once this place had been a confusion of scents: cold air that blew like a constant wind through the rooms; strong unpleasant odors that the longpaws sprayed on themselves; strange sharp smells smeared on the floors by longpaws with long wooden poles that ended in a ball of rags. And there had been the new-made scent of untouched things set out for longpaws to gaze at. Those smells had mostly faded, and the clingy warm air of Outside had forced its way in. That, and the death-smell that haunted the whole city. Lucky shuddered. He had never smelled so much death in one place before; even the Earth-Dog would be offended by so strong a sense of ended lives.
    He shook himself free of the horror. There was more than all that. There was food !
    It smelled stale and maybe a little spoiled, but Lucky didn’t care. Keeping a nervous eye open for the longpaws in blue, he made his way farther into the building. There were more broken clear-stones here, littering the smooth, shiny floor, and he was careful to avoid them, but he couldn’t help staring at the deserted longpaw houses within the huge mall. Some seemed untouched; others had been stripped bare. In some places, piles of longpaw stuff lay abandoned. Lucky could smell both longpaw and dog, but the strong stench of fear and desperation overlaid both. His neck prickled.
    Ah! he thought, pausing to sniff at a ransacked heap of bags made out of some kind of old preserved skin. They were polished, and not fresh, but the smell was strong and familiar. Longpaws carried their things in bags and pouches like these. Perhaps this was a place where they kept their precious things—like burying bones! They left them here, piled together, and came back for them later. Was that it? Longpaws had been here since the Big Growl, he was almost certain, taking the things away; he could see scuff marks on the floor from their covered feet. Apart from the skin-pouches, and some of the furs, nothing else looked familiar. The smell of food was growing stronger, so Lucky headed toward it, taking little notice of the racks of sparkling longpaw collars and studs, the scraps of longpaw fur hanging on plastic hooks, the stacks of paper and boxes. He even caught sight of a row of small imitation dogs, as unmoving and lifeless as the strange-smelling longpaws at the front of the building.
    The rich scent of food was coming from above. Hesitantly he put his good paw on a ragged metal hill that led upward. It seemed to bear his weight, so he took a step or two farther; then he was suddenly too hungry and eager to be cautious. Taking a deep breath, he bounded up as fast as he could. There were grooves on the metal hill that felt odd beneath his paw pads, especially the wounded one, but he made it without mishap to the top.
    And drew to a stop.
    That wasn’t only food … there was a dog-scent that seemed familiar, too: a musk of well-known sweat and skin and breath.
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