Jagger woke up to the sweet chirping of several Beekadoodles and the gentle
rustle of the wind as it passed through the thick foliage of leaves. The forest
all around him was dripping with water, and the ground was so wet that in some
places it had turned to mud. Jagger wasn't surprised to see that he was soaked
as well; it had been quite a storm, after all.
He had been awake long into the night yesterday; the pain of his wound wouldn't
allow him to sleep. He didn't know when and why and how he had fallen asleep,
all he knew was that when he woke up in the morning he was not in his nice and
cozy den, which eliminated the thought that this was all a bad dream.
His wound had closed the night before, but the paw was still sore and occasionally
throbbed. Jagger was absolutely sure that he couldn't get to his cave with the
injury even if he knew where he was right now, and he didn't. He must have run
straight out of his territory's Northwestern boundary, and was now somewhere
in the land of the Whitestone Pack…
But no matter. He had to get back to Cheppie; the pup just wouldn't survive
in the wilderness without him…
Jagger slowly stood up and gingerly took a few steps. His paw tensed as a wave
of pain overtook it. Well, this certainly eliminated the thought of running.
He took another step, then another, and went on like that until he was well
away from the tree. He needed some food, and preferably shelter, but Cheppie
came first--he had to find the pup…
Thinking these thoughts, Jagger stalked off through the forest.
As soon as Cheppie woke up, he felt as if he was squeezed into some tiny little
crack. It took him some time to realise that he was, and then it took some more
time to realise why. As soon as he remembered he wriggled out of the crack and
onto firm ground.
The trees around him were soaked through to the core; the leaves let out a
steady drip-drip that annoyed Cheppie to no end. He had to place his paws carefully
to avoid stepping into what seemed to be endless puddles of mud.
Where was Jagger? It was the first thing that came to mind. Jagger had not
returned, and it was the morning of another day… something must have happened
to him.
Cheppie suddenly felt awfully afraid, knowing that his one and only protector
was gone. How would he survive, alone, in the very heart of this alien wilderness?
But Cheppie was not one to give up easily, and even as the fear washed over
him, he began planning how to get out of this mess.
First and foremost he would have to find Jagger. It should have been easy to
pick up the scent, for Cheppie's sense of smell was superior to that of most
Gelerts, but the rain had washed all traces of Jagger away. The grass was so
matted from the wind that he couldn't even track the Lupe, not that he had ever
been good at tracking anyway.
So finding Jagger by himself was out of the question. Instead, he would need
help--and lots of it. And the only creatures who could help him were--the
Whitestone Lupe Pack.
Cheppie felt cold fear wash over him again as he thought of the pack. Jagger
had been nice to him, that much he could admit, but how would a totally different
pack of Lupes react to him? Would they not just think that he was some kind
of spy or something, sent from a Gelert pack? And even if they did believe him,
who was to say that they would offer any help? After all, Cheppie remembered
that Jagger told him that the Pack disapproved of an errant Lupe and would probably
not help one.
But he had to try. Jagger was somewhere out there, perhaps hurt--for why
else would the Lupe not go back to Cheppie? And so Jagger needed his help.
After reasoning that out for himself, Cheppie looked up determinedly at the
cliff wall before him. He would have to scale it reach the Pack's territory;
going around could take ages… So the pup began his ascent.
At first it was rather easy, because the rock of the cliff jutted out at angles,
but the higher he got the more difficult it became. Finally, using the last
of his strength, he heaved himself up over the edge and sat down to regain his
breath.
As soon as he had done that he took stock of his surroundings. What he saw
took his breath away. Before him stretched a seemingly endless chain of mountains,
ones that made the cliff look tiny. The peaks of these mountains were snow capped,
and it looked to Cheppie as if these caps of snow were coronets that signified
the grandeur that these hills of stone and ice represented. He had never felt
so small in his entire life.
When he finally tore himself away from the magnificent sight, he realised that
he was not alone.
He was surrounded by a group of about ten Lupes, each a different shade of
yellow, green, red, or blue. The one who seemed to be the leader was a majestic
in a coat of fire, made even more amazing by the fact that the flames were blue,
not red.
"Well, well," he leered. "What have we got here?"
To be continued... | 
