The rally began with the dying light of the day, our howling defiance of the dark. In the distance I could hear Sarah's pack, just north of Pawprint Ridge, and Marlo's lot sounding out from the swamplands to the east. As I rose my voice once again I listened to the silence from the south and the west. The desert had always been left unclaimed by the packs, but Arthur's band to the west had suffered greatly after one of the pups attacked a creeper close to their bedding grounds. The poor thing should've listened to his mother, but it couldn't be helped now.

We raised all that was rage and riot while the sun sunk to the ground. Sure enough, just as every night, it wasn't long before the clatter of bones echoed between the trees. Our alpha barked, a big dog named Lowe. In an instant the howling was over, and the hunt had begun.

There were twelve of us to begin with, a fine war pack and all seasoned hunters to boot. We hunted, we ran, we mauled the bones of the archers as of one mind. Another easy night, another trivial full moon... or so we had thought it'd be.

Our trip took us to the river at the base of Pawprint ridge, the marker between our land and Sarah's. We had just taken down a pair of skeletons next to a tall spruce when Lowe raised his nose in the air. It took a moment, but before long the wind carried the sent of wet fur through the pack.

"Do you smell it, Jason?"

I took a moment, I had to be sure.

"Trespassers, Sarah's clan, no doubt. I also smell-"

"-fear." he finished, mulling over the scent.

"Sheep are common here, they must have chased prey onto our side."

"No scent of it. The dogs were the ones on the run..."

he thought it over.

"Regardless, they know where the boundary lies. Everyone! Follow that trail."


We tracked Sarah's scent for nearly an hour. We crossed a few skeletons, broke them all with ease of course, but Lowe took no part in the hunting. He stayed on the trail, signalling only to kill our prey and return. Eventually the scent grew stronger, until a shift in the wind brought Lowe to a dead stop.

"We're surrounded."

The scent changed a little. The usual smell of flesh and fur became moldy, rotted out. I could easily distinguish every member of the pack hiding behind the trees...

... and they were all undead.

"HAWOOOOO!!!!"

Barking from every direction as they charged in, seven of them in all. Two of them went for Lowe, but I and my old friend Terra intercepted the smaller of the two. No since wearing ourselves out on the big one, Lowe always wanted the tougher fight. We made short work of our prey and turned around, ready for another target, but alas we had already won... well, sort of at least.

Sarah's lot had always been viscous fighters, toughened by the cold of their home. It showed in the scratches and scars they left on our pack, the missing fur, the blood on our coats. We had survived, but it was time we headed back to our home. Lowe signaled to follow, and we all fell into line. I took up position two spots behind him, but he beckoned me forward. Grail, the usual second in line and therefore next in command, was clearly put off by the change in order.

"You did well, Mark. Your pelt's hardly ruffled."

"The rest did most of the work, Terra took most of the beating I earned."

"Regardless, you fought wisely to escape unscathed. Perhaps you and Grail should battle it out for second sometime?"

I glanced back nervously, she looked about ready to kill.

"I... respectfully decline, sir. She's a fierce warrior, she deserves her spot."

"Are you saying your good health is a result of cowardice?"

"Wh- no sir! Not at all. I'll fight as you command."

"Good, I expect you to prove yourself when Grail has healed herself up. Back in line, were you usually go."

"Yes sir."

I dropped back to third. Grail came up beside Lowe, a slight limp in her back left leg.

"Isn't it strange?" she said.

"Undead dogs? Hardly. I've wondered why I hadn't seen them for years."

"But the pack is vulnerable now. We can't just go hunting at night the same way we have been, we need to be better prepared."

"Right now my worry is the new claim on Pawprint. We have one day before Marlo finds out about Sarah's absence and we had best have it claimed by then. When we bed down, you'll have first watch to clear your mind and settle down. Inform Terra he's next when you're done."

"Very well."

.....


I awoke at midday to the smell of singed fur and rotten flesh. I sniffed to clear out my nose, but the scent hung in the air.

"Mark..."

I turned around, it was Lowe. He was sitting erect, but he was clearly having a hard time. All the others were nestled beneath the shade of the trees, still asleep.

"Inform Marlo you intend to join his pack. The rest of us..."

He hung his head in shame.

"... we're gone."

"Lowe?"

"LISTEN!"

His voice was a rasping growl. His breath caught up to me, and it was then I realized what happened. Looking closer, I noticed more bald patches on my comrades than we had left with the night before. The scent of zombies, the specks of green skin.

"But... we all lived... only the dead have ever been infec-"

"-and only humans carry the disease, don't they?"

... Well, there wasn't much to say to that.

"I said go. Disobey me again and I'll tear your head off, it'd be better than becoming what we are."

I stepped back a ways, shocked but willing to go.

"... and the others?"

He looked at them for a moment.

"They won't be a threat by tonight. I'll ensure of it."

I took one last look at my commander, Alpha of these woods for six years running...


... and fled.