Devon Hughes - Unnaturals: The Battle Begins

A TERRIBLE, HIGH-PITCHED YELP SLICED THROUGH THE dream, and Castor scrambled onto four legs, disoriented.

It was the hottest part of the daywhich, in Lions Head, meant hotand most of the dogs in Castors pack were still stretched in lazy heaps, trying to grab a bit of shade and some sleep.

Not Alpha, though. Alpha was wide-awake, facing the far side of the pack, where the scrawniest dog slept, away from the others. Castors brother, Runt, was lying on his back in full sun with the soft part of his stomach exposed. The pavement beneath him had to be scalding.

You bit me, Alpha said in disbelief. He stepped forward, casting a menacing shadow over the sleeping dog. Runts front paws, drawn up to his chest, gave the slightest twitch, but he didnt wake.

Bit. Castor licked his chops. Hadnt he just been biting into something? He could almost taste the meat, and a faint metallic tang of blood was on his tongue and in the air. He followed the scent, his nose twitching with the awful realization that it wasnt a deers leg hed sunk his teeth into; it was Alphas.

And Runt was already taking the heat for it. Again. You. Bit. Me. Now Alphas growl was a guttural threat.

Runts eyes opened, red-rimmed and still cloudy with sleep. Runt didnt seem to grasp the vulnerability of his situation. Instead of jumping to attention, he yawned and stretched his skinny legs in the air.

Alpha was practically foaming at the mouth, and if Castor hadnt lunged forward when he did, the bigger dog wouldve torn Runt in two.

It was me, Castor said quickly, shoving his body between them. He whined a little and wagged his tail to show he meant peace.

Alpha wasnt buying it, though. The boxers stubby ears lay back against his broad, white head. Stay out of it, he snarled at Castor, his lips curling to expose pink gums and sharp canines.

Castor bared his own teeth, but then thought better of it. He was no cowardhed often held his own in street brawls with other packs of dogs. But with Alpha, power was always an act, and Castor was smart enough to know when to play along. Of course Alpha knew it was Castor who hunted in his sleepthe whole pack knewbut that wasnt the point. Alpha tormented Runt because Runt was the omega, and thats how things worked.

Didnt mean to interrupt, Castor apologized, though he didnt budge. What were you saying, Alpha? Finally alert, Runt cowered behind his brother, peering through Castors legs as he waited for his leader to deliver punishment.

Alpha puffed out his muscled chest and jutted his underbite forward. This pathetic excuse for a canine was about to tell me what happens when you offend Alpha.

Scavenge, Runt panted from the ground, his chest quivering. No pack.

Castors ears pricked up. Despite the risks, he loved solo scavenging missionsfor once he could really rely on his instincts, run fast without hanging back for the group, feel the air rustling his fur and the muscles in his legs working to a sweaty lather. He could help his brother out and get a taste of freedom; he just had to convince Alpha to punish him, too.

Humiliating as it was, Castor made himself bow his head and curl his tail under his legs. Then he made a big show of crawling toward Alpha, keeping his belly low to the ground. I could go with Runt, he suggested in his meekest bark, casting his eyes down. And before Alpha could growl a refusal, Castor quickly added, We might even be able to hunt....

As if you two morons would know prey from your own legs, Alpha scoffed. Or mine, he added pointedly. But Castor heard the drips splatter on the pavement, and he didnt have to look up to know Alpha was salivating.

The pack had been living on garbage for weeks. It had once been easy to find vermin hiding in the trash mountains on the outskirts of the city, but now that they were crawling with Crusher Slusher machines, grinding down decades worth of the humans discarded toys, the dogs had to make due with rotten scraps along the edges. The pack was getting restless.

Alpha might not think much of Runt, but despite the omega dogs cowardice and slight build, he was still from the same litter as Castor. They had the same shaggy fur, same black muzzles of their German shepherd mother, with a dash of boldness shed insisted came from their Mexican wolf side. And together, even Alpha had to admit, the brothers could hunt.

Go, the pack leader finally said with a dismissive toss of his head.

Castor licked Alphas chin to show respect, but he turned too quickly, betraying his giddiness. He felt a sharp pain as Alpha snapped at his hind leg. And dont come back without some fresh meat, you hear me?

THE BROTHERS RAN TOGETHER, MATCHING STEP FOR STEP, breath for breath. The farther they went into the city, the taller and more packed together the black glass towers grew. The domed walkways that ran between them crisscrossed until they blocked out every last bit of sun. It was never dark, thoughevery side of every building flashed dozens of lifelike images each minute: political nonsense and Lions Head news. Pictures selling things that glittered and things that glowed and things that promised to change your life. Humans like you never saw them in real lifewith faces three stories tall instead of tiny dots, sitting outside, grinning up at the sun with exposed pink and brown flesh, looking like they werent afraid of all the things crawling up their upturned noses through the air.

Over the years, Castor had taught himself to read by staring at those changing pictures. It was a useless hobby and one he never wouldve admitted to in front of Alpha, but Runt got a kick out of hearing about the strange human world, and he was constantly bugging Castor for updates.

Or he usually was. Apart from the sound of their panting, Runt was suspiciously quiet. Runt was never quiet.

Castor noticed that Runts tail was tucked between his legs. You scared? he asked his brother.

I just dont like being separated from the pack this far in.

If we run into Chauncy Chow, Ive got your back like always, Castor promised, scanning the narrow alleyways between the factories for their territory rivals.

I dont care about Chauncy or his wee weenies, Runt scoffed. Theyre just fancy rodents.

Castor barked a laugh. It was true. Humans had bred miniature breeds when space was tight, but now that virtual pets were in fashion, the pampered minis were being dumped on the streets, too. The so-called rival pack was a whiny group of dachshunds led by an entitled puffball.

Then what? Castor asked. Is it the Crusher Slushers? Theyd seen a street scrubber suck up one of Chauncys weenies just last week. The mini dog disappeared into the big iron shell, and there was a grind of gears, and then a slurp, and the only thing the Crusher left behind was a slushy liquid that oozed into the gutter. He knew Runt was still pretty shaken up about it.

No, Runt said. I know we can outrun them. But arent you worried about the humans? His eyes darted around as if one might pop out at any moment. The Gray Whiskers always say theyre the biggest threat of all.

Those old-timers havent been in the streets since way back before the sun sickness, Castor said dismissively. When Runt didnt respond, Castor stopped running and turned to his brother. Runt, have you ever seen a human in your entire life? he asked seriously.

Theres a bunch of them right up there. Runt tilted his chin toward the clouds, where boxes suspended on strings zigzagged between the buildings. There were men inside each one, no doubt, but from here they were little more than shadows.