Read Online The Pack by Tom Pow - Free Book Online Page B

better get him out of that lot soon,” said the weasel, “before he runs out of breath. Tomorrow’s an important day for him. You want him fit.” He switched the light off and shut the door behind him. Skreech sat cross-legged in the corner in the candlelight, his head against the wall.
    It was easy enough to feel for the knots, but it was hard in candlelight to see how they worked. And, with Hunger’s struggles, they had tightened till the cords seemed to have fused.
    Bradley worked with his nails and his teeth. A few knots came free, but with others Bradley had to chew his way through the cord itself. All this long time, Hunger lay still. His eyes followed Bradley.
    â€œTrust me,” said Bradley and gave Hunger’s head two good strokes, pulling his hand back from Hunger’s forehead to the nape of his neck. Trust. If he had known the meaning of the word when they met, Hunger might have been differently named. But hunger was the place they had both started from.
    Bradley heard Victor keening in his cage as he worked Hunger’s knots. It was the softest, most mournful sound. Victor was as alone now as when Bradley had first found him, a stray from the Forbidden Territories, covered in bite marks, with “Victor” the only word on his lips.
    One last cord frayed and broke and Hunger was scrambling to his feet. Bradley pulled the remains of the net from him and Hunger shook himself, then circled himself, dabbing wounds with his tongue. He sat and licked his back legs and stretched the large thigh muscle where the cord had cut most deeply.
    Bradley stroked the length of him and whispered softly into his ear. “It’s all right, boy. It’s all right.”
    Let me be, said Hunger. He squatted and he raised his head back and he began to sing, at first quite softly, then with a gathering power, till his singing came in great rolling howls.
    With a scurry, Victor was on his haunches, his eyes piercing the gloom between the two cages. Then, his head thrust back, he answered and added to Hunger’s call.
    Something at the heart of their calls spoke to the child guard—the wildness of a spirit that would not surrender—so Skreech was half-hearted when he rattled his stick round the cages. But Hunger and Victor carried on in unison, till the weasel came in and threw a bucket of freezing water over each of them.
    â€œShut up, will you? Save your breath for tomorrow. You’ll need it.”
    Victor and Hunger shook themselves. Half the weasel’s water had missed.
    â€œVictor, we’ll get Floris,” Bradley said.
    Victor gave the smallest howl of assent.
    Hunger lay down and rolled his body against Bradley’s. Soon Bradley felt the heat of Hunger’s blood coming through his fur and he imagined the earthy damp-dog smell of him was the smell of a deep, dark forest.
    Whatever tomorrow may bring, he thought, let it come.

8
    A NEW CHAMPION
    Shooting pains in his back woke Bradley. He twisted and lifted up his jersey to see the bruising. It was the sharp stair edges that had done the damage.
    Skreech was slumped in his corner, his hands loose around his stick. A bruise marked the side of his face, most deeply where his jaw was swollen. Bradley scratched Hunger’s ear and laid his head softly on the ground.
    â€œPsst,” Bradley called. “Psst.”
    Skreech lifted his head from the wall. “Mmm.”
    â€œLooks sore, your face.”
    Skreech looked at Bradley as if the question were crazy. “What you want, Dog Boy?”
    â€œJust saying…”
    â€œGo to sleep, Dog Boy. Your dog’s got the idea. He’s going to need it.”
    â€œWhy? What’s going to happen?”
    â€œBig dog fight. Red Dog’s got a champion—real killer. Your dog’s going in with it.”
    â€œAnd if Hunger wins?”
    â€œHunger, that his name?”
    â€œIf he wins?”
    â€œYeah, sure.”
    â€œBut if he