Moon's Choice

Special thanks to Gillian Philip

For Annie & Fergus Nicol

A soft blue-gray mist hung on
the horizon, but the sky above the young dog was clear as it dimmed toward night. Moon watched her namesake Spirit Dog stretch and lope into view. The Moon-Dog was half in shadow, but still she shone bright enough to make a dog mistake the dusk for daylight. A whine of anticipation rose in Moon's throat as she gazed up at her.

Just now the Pack members were going about their last duties of the day: Snap and Mulch were checking the border where a protective thornbush had blown down in the last storm; Whine, the little Omega, was trotting from den to den, renewing the bedding of the more senior dogs. Night had almost fallen, and soon the hunt patrol would return to camp, and the Pack would eat together. Then there might be time to lie contentedly, with a full belly, and talk about the day to her Mother-Dog and Father-Dog.

Moon could hear the two of them behind her in the den,
discussing some serious issue about Pack life in low voices. Moon knew that as Alpha and Beta of the Pack, her parent-dogs' duties came first; it would be the same for her, when her time came to be Pack leader. She had to be patient.

She had to be more patient than Star, anyway, she thought with a roll of her blue eyes. Her litter-sister kept bounding up to her, backing off, thrashing her tail, and snapping playfully. She was desperate to entice Moon into a fight-game, but Moon was having none of it. Fight-games were for pups!

“Star, settle down!” she yipped, swiping a gentle paw at her litter-sister's ear.

Star rolled over, pawing the air, snapping at a moth. “Oh, Moon, have some fun while you still can. You won't have any time to play at
all
once you're Alpha!”

“We're both too old to be playing,” Moon told her firmly.

Star scrabbled back upright, sat down, and scratched at one ear. “You're no fun anymore,” she said, an edge in her voice.

Moon pinned her ears back, surprised. She had never heard Star sound quite so resentful before.
That's not true! It's just that I'm going to have responsibilities one day. I'll need to be
ready
for them. . . .

She found that her litter-sister's accusation stung, more than she'd expected. It wasn't that Star was jealous of Moon's destiny
as the next Pack-Alpha; Star had no interest in the hard work and duties that would come with leadership, and Moon knew she was happy to be a free spirit. But surely Star realized, now that they were both older, that Moon didn't have the same liberty to mess around and play pointless games, didn't she?

I must learn to be serious and dutiful.

Before she could gnaw at her anxiety any longer, a new sound made Moon's ears prick up. Those were pawsteps, coming toward the camp through the undergrowth—yes, the hunt patrol was returning! The hunt-dogs' shapes became recognizable as they drew closer and emerged from the bushes: Rush and Meadow, the wily terriers; Fly, the brown-and-white snub-nosed dog with the sad but watchful eyes; and in the lead, biggest and strongest of all, was Hunter. Moon felt her heart skip a nervous beat as Hunter's eyes caught hers. He lifted his head slightly with pride; between his strong jaws was a plump and good-sized rabbit.

Moon rose to her paws, ignoring Star's snort of amusement. She dipped her head in solemn greeting, and Hunter gave a low whine of reply in his throat.

He's so well-named,
she thought.
He's the strongest dog in the Pack, besides my Father-Dog, and he's the best hunter. I'm glad my parent-dogs chose him for me.

She sometimes wondered what it was going to be like, running the Pack with Hunter as her Beta. It couldn't be anything but exciting, she decided, with a warm rush of gladness. She ignored the prickle of tension in her neck fur; nervousness and uncertainty were silly. She would be lucky to have such a strong and capable mate. Her parent-dogs had chosen carefully, and they were never wrong about such important Pack matters.

She would go on making her Father-Dog and Mother-Dog proud, and she'd go on showing her gratitude to them and her favor to Hunter.
I don't care what Star thinks about it,
Moon decided a little grumpily. It was true that she didn't feel completely comfortable in Hunter's company—he wasn't the easiest dog to talk to, and he had a stern taciturnity that sometimes bordered on sullenness—but in time, they'd learn to get along. Why, she felt guilty for thinking even the mildest criticism of him; it felt like disloyalty to her parent-dogs. She and Hunter would make a perfect match in the end, she knew it.

Behind Moon, the fir branches rustled as her Father-Dog emerged from the den and shook his fur. He waited expectantly as Hunter padded up to him and dropped the fat rabbit at his forepaws.

“Well done, Hunter! Your day was good, then?”

“It was, Alpha,” replied Hunter, lashing his tail from side to side. “Plentiful prey, though some of it was too fast for the rest of the patrol.”

It wasn't the first time she'd heard Hunter criticize other dogs in his hunting patrol, but on this occasion Moon was a little startled. Rush and Meadow were very capable stalkers, after all, and long-legged Fly was a swift and agile runner. But as she glanced toward the brown-and-white dog limping up behind Hunter, she noticed he did look stiff and tired. He placed his paws awkwardly, as if he was trying not to stumble, and his eyes seemed much duller than usual.

“Still, you've all done a fine job,” Moon's Father-Dog was saying. He didn't seem to have noticed the change in Fly's condition; he was too busy admiring Hunter's rabbit. “The Pack will eat well tonight.”

Hunter gave his Alpha a nod of acknowledgment and stepped back, his eyes still shining with pride in his catch, but Moon nudged her litter-sister with her shoulder.

“Fly doesn't look well,” she whispered to Star. “Don't you think?”

Star cocked her head, frowning at Fly. He was sitting on his haunches now, his noble head drooping. His lolling tongue looked
dry and swollen.

“It was a long hunt,” Star muttered uneasily, “so he's probably just tired. And hungry—he'll feel better when we've all eaten.”

Moon wasn't so sure, but she put Fly out of her head for the moment as the Pack began to gather for prey-sharing. Alpha and Beta, as was their right, claimed the first share, taking Hunter's rabbit between them, but there was plenty of other prey for the rest of the dogs. As soon as his leaders had eaten their fill, Hunter paced forward and selected a juicy squirrel for himself. Moon could forgive the arrogant tilt of his head, the aura of satisfaction that surrounded him. After all, he'd done more than any dog to provide this feast. She watched him brightly and approvingly, ignoring any unease she felt at his cockiness.

He's my future mate. It's good that he's strong and confident!

She felt Star's breath at her ear. “Look at him,” her litter-sister muttered. “Thinks his tail touches the Sky-Dogs. Do you really want to be mated with him?”

It irritated Moon that Star could reawaken all her own uncertainties with a well-placed jibe. “It doesn't matter,” she growled quietly. “The Pack needs strong leaders, and that's what Hunter is.”

Star licked her chops and lay down with a sigh, clearly deciding
the best policy was to keep her jaws shut. Moon was glad. She could feel her hackles bristling, yet she knew she shouldn't let Star's words ruffle her fur. Her sister was talking nonsense, obviously.

All the same, she couldn't help stealing a glance at her parent-dogs. Now that they'd eaten, and their daily responsibilities were behind them for another night, they were chuffing quietly together over some unheard joke. Alpha muttered something in Beta's ear, and in playful impatience she batted his nose with a gentle paw.

They had such a connection, thought Moon wistfully. Her Father-Dog and her Mother-Dog were friends as well as mates, companions as well as leaders. They respected each other, worked well together . . .

Against her will, the inner voice and its doubts rose inside her head. Moon clenched her jaws and rubbed her paws over her ears.

If I wasn't destined to be the Pack's Alpha . . . would I choose Hunter at all?