The Empty City by Erin Hunter

Author:Erin Hunter [Hunter, Erin]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

As their surroundings grew less citylike, and the longpaw houses were scattered farther and farther apart, Lucky’s spirits lifted. He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed the freedom and space of the wild—on the rare occasions when he ventured there.

He’d gone past the city limits only a few times: for the chase of a rabbit hunt, or when the longpaws from the Trap House were on the streets and he needed to make himself scarce for a few days. Now, he felt excitement growing in his belly and tickling his spine. He could try proper hunting again—rabbits, squirrels, even gophers!

This wasn’t wild country just yet, but it was getting that way. A scrubby field lay before them, rough-grassed and fenced with broken wire. Not the wilderness, but not a longpaw park, either. Running through the gorse and weeds was a small, sluggish river, perhaps two dog-lengths wide, its surface calm and smooth and slow. Lucky’s ears pricked up and he panted with pleasure as the other dogs came to his side.

“Water!” he said, and bounded toward it.

He was still many dog-lengths away from it when he scrabbled to a halt, hair bristling all over his body, the river-smell stinging his nostrils. A growl rumbled in his throat.

Bella slowed, too, and stopped beside him, one paw still raised. She sniffed the air, suspicious, as the others joined them.

“There’s something wrong,” she whined.

“Something very wrong,” Lucky confirmed, backing slowly away from the glistening stream.

“What could possibly be wrong?” With a howl of joy, Alfie darted past them all, nearly knocking Sunshine over in his haste. “Come on!”

“Alfie, no!” Lucky sprang after the squat little dog. Alfie was dashing at his top speed, but Lucky was faster.

Good thing Alfie has short legs, he thought as he bounded almost on top of the smaller dog and seized him by the scruff of the neck.

Alfie struggled and wriggled in shock, paws flailing at the river. “Let me go! Let me go!”

Grimly Lucky turned and trotted back to the frightened group of dogs. They had come a little closer to the water, alarmed for Alfie’s sake, but they were all sniffing the air now, shivering, their hackles high. He dumped Alfie unceremoniously at their paws, and the little dog scrabbled to his feet, shaking himself rid of the indignity.

“Don’t you smell it, Alfie?” Martha shook her head at him. “That water isn’t good.”

“When is water ever bad?” he said indignantly. “My longpaws’ water was always perfectly good!”

“Your longpaws’ water was made safe and delivered in pipes,” growled Lucky. “Come here. But don’t touch the river.”

He nudged Alfie to the river’s edge, followed by the rest, who held back nervously from the odd sharp scent of the water. “You see? Look at it!”

Beside him he felt Alfie shiver. “That can’t be right.”

The river looked even more sluggish and stagnant up close, and its water wasn’t clear, but a dense, impenetrable gray-green. Worst of all, it had grown a skin with pools of odd colors, like the stripes that lit the sky after a heavy rainfall.

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