The Pack Read Free Page A

long and matted down his back, his legs and arms covered with bites. He would only allow Floris to get close to him then. She had poured some water from the can over a rag and dabbed at his wounds, no more scared of him than she would have been of a bird tipped from its nest. Or, more properly, a child. For, from the start, Floris had been able to see past the animal in Victor to the small, frightened boy he was. Still, in spite of Floris, in those early days and weeks he would squat awake all night, his eyes fearful and glowing like blue coals in the darkness.
    Though Victor never spoke of it, Bradley imagined things were a lot worse beyond the territory Hunger, Fearless and Shelter mapped out for them. Certainly that was what the Old Woman believed; she was never done warning them to keep within the Zones, never to stray into the Forbidden Territories or to dream of the Invisible City, whose distant lights they could make out pooled in the dark sky.
    â€œVictor is OK,” said Bradley. “Victor is OK. Floris is OK. OK with Bradley, Hunger, Fearless and Shelter. One of us, Victor. One of us, Floris. We share.” Bradley opened his arms and passed them in a circle around Victor, Floris and Hunger, who had patiently tucked his head between his forelegs.
    Victor stared back at Bradley through his tears. “One of … one of…” He coughed out the words.
    Just then, Floris began to smile. Shelter, the youngest of the dogs, was on her feet and snapping furiously at a sunlit column of dust stirred up by the commotion. With each snap, her paws left the ground and she took a little jump backwards. Victor, turning to see Floris smile, began to smile too; then Floris gave a light trill of a laugh. Victor stuttered out his own broken laugh and Bradley laughed when Hunger, Fearless and Shelter began baying along with a sound they couldn’t imitate, but whose meaning was clear. For Hunger understood the big emotions well enough. He knew when a story was happening and when it had come to an end and he could communicate these things to the other dogs.
    â€œWell,” Bradley said at last, “come on, there’s more to eat here than sunbeams.”
    He let down the basket again and took out the bread, the carrots and the onion. “The bread now,” he said. “The carrots and the onion we’ll give to the Old Woman. She’ll turn them into soup for us.”
    Bradley broke up the slices of stale bread and shared them with Victor, Floris and the dogs. Victor wanted to take his piece in his mouth straight from Bradley’s fingers, but Bradley held it out of reach. Victor grabbed it and ran with it into a corner to eat on his own. Bradley unscrewed the top of the old gallon can they kept rainwater in and took three good gulps. He poured a little water into three bowls before passing the can to Floris.
    The sky had been full of an icy rain and the can was heavier than usual. Floris tipped it up and, losing control, spilled the water down her chin and her neck. The Old Woman and Bradley never laughed at waste, but Floris gurgled her delight. Her eyes were blue—blue as the piece of worn glass that was her most precious possession. She could lie for hours simply turning it against the light. It was only the size of a large coin but, looking through it, Floris could see another world. It was the world she had come from and to which she would return. In it, she lived in a house made of glass, filled with light. Each evening there would be a fire and, before it, she would sit in her mother’s lap and listen to story upon story.
    Her favorite game with Victor was to imagine the glass had been lost and to search for it. The pair of them would turn over the sacks and old rags they slept on, becoming ever more agitated, till, “Victor! Victor! Here it is!” And Floris would clutch the glass to her chest and trill her delight to Victor and promise never to let her dream of home out