The Empty City by Erin Hunter Read Free Book Online Page B

Big Growl. You know how hard I’ve had to work to keep it? You’re not the first dog to come along. And there were foxes.”
    Lucky licked the drool from his chops, his flanks shivering. He was almost unable to bear the closeness of food. The door of the big silver box behind Old Hunter hung off its hinges, and as well as the meat at the big dog’s feet, there was more piled on the shelves. The metal box must have kept the meat cold, because he could see water pooling around the plastic-wrapped steaks, and some of them looked frozen solid—like the injured rabbit he’d found last winter. The meat might be frozen, but it would still be edible, even before it melted. He knew that. And there was so much of it....
    â€œBut there’s plenty here....”
    Old Hunter growled again, more angrily. “There’s plenty of it, but it could be the last meat left to find. I can make it last. I will make it last, Lucky.”
    Lucky felt his whole body tense with the shock—this was so unlike his friend! Old Hunter had always been willing to share before, and for such a fierce-looking dog, he was known for being slow to anger. The Big Growl must have spooked Old Hunter very badly.
    Lucky lay down, lowering his tail but not his head: He kept that proudly raised. “We’ve known each other a long time, Old Hunter. You’ve always shared with me.”
    â€œThings change, Lucky.”
    â€œ We don’t have to. We’re both survivors. We always have been! You and I, we’re tough. You’re tougher than any dog I know.”
    The big dog stared at him, lips still tugged back from his teeth, but his suspicion was wavering. The tip of his tail twitched with indecision. Lucky saw it was flicking close to something else: something that dangled from a broken cold-box, dangerously close to the pooling meltwater of the frozen meat. For the first time in a long time, Lucky sensed the invisible power of the longpaws, prickling in his fur and blood.
    â€œOld Hunter!” He lunged, banging his shoulder into the bigger dog’s side. Old Hunter staggered sideways, away from the snaking thing, just as its severed tip brushed the pool of water and sparked viciously.
    If Lucky hadn’t taken him by surprise, he knew Old Hunter would have fought him; as it was the big dog sprawled on his flank, staring in shock at the swinging, spitting cable.
    â€œI’m sorry, Old Hunter, I—”
    â€œNo,” he growled softly. “No, Lucky. Thank you. I should have known. Been more diligent. I thought the light-power was dead.”
    Cautiously regaining his feet, the old dog sniffed delicately at the water, then used a paw to swipe at the meat, knocking and dragging it safely away.
    â€œCareful,” said Lucky.
    â€œI will be. The light-power snake would have bitten me. I’d be hurt or dead if you hadn’t been here.”
    Now, decided Lucky, was a good time to stay silent.
    â€œKnow what?” Old Hunter said at last. “You’re right, Lucky. The Big Growl’s had everything its own way so far. Why should I let it beat me, too?”
    He took a pace back from his guarded meat.
    Lucky yipped with relief and leaped down from the counter, giving a wide berth to the water and the power snake. He remembered his manners, licking Old Hunter’s face with gratitude and affection, and the big dog reciprocated, making a far happier rumbling noise in his throat. Then, respect properly shown, they both began to wolf down the meat.
    The half-frozen food tasted better than anything Lucky had ever eaten. He ate it quickly, noisily, messily. Only when he’d satisfied the worst of his hunger did he manage to slow down and gnaw at it more sociably with Old Hunter.
    It was good to be eating with a friend.
    â€œSo,” mumbled Old Hunter after a while, through a half-chewed bone. “Where were you when It happened?”
    There was no need to ask what It was.