They were five. The new one was a female with coarse hair, mostly gray, with a wash of russet. She was the size of the dun bitch. Her face was boxy and she had a small beard. She was young. A Boston couple had got her through a "What's for Free" ad in the Freeman for their children, at their summer home, when she was three months old.
The pup had a glorious summer.
She slept outside, since the woman didn't want to bother with the effort of housebreaking, and could wander about at will but usually didn't go far or stay away long because she was well fed each morning and night, and during the day the children played with her and slipped her treats, and sometimes they sneaked her into the house at night to sleep on their beds.
In the late summer the family drove off one afternoon, as they occasionally did, and the dog wasn't unhappy since they were never gone more than a few hours and they always gave her something especially good to eat when they returned, but they didn't return, and not the next morning either, or the day after, or the day after. The dog remained near the boarded-up house foraging in the nearby woods as best she could, losing weight, sleeping on the porch and whining and scratching at the door. She grew lonely and despondent as the empty days passed, gradually losing the sense of what she was waiting for, and then after two weeks, she turned away from the house into the woods to seek her own way.
The family had known, of course, that she was with them only for the summer. In Boston, their lease prohibited dogs, and anyway, neither the husband nor the wife felt it was fair to an animal to live with the restrictions of an urban environment. But they were dog lovers, and they'd thought it a positive and healthy experience for their children to live with a pet awhile and meet the responsibility of feeding and caring for it, and they had put forth effort to find her a new home at the end of the summer. But people with dogs didn't want another, and everyone else wanted to start with a pup, which was cute and lovable, and not an un housebroken half-grown animal. The family knew that dogs turned into animal shelters had a life expectancy of three or four days and was unanimous in voting against depositing her there. They decided that when their pet realized they weren't coming back, she'd strike off on her own, and since she was a nice dog they were sure someone would take her in. If by some chance she couldn't find a new home, then she'd learn to fend for herself and at least she'd be free and alive.
The family was sensitive; they were not the callous kind of people who would use an animal for their pleasure, then consign it to execution in a shelter.
The dog was clumsy in its youth and not much of a hunter. It grew gaunt and was endlessly hungry and unhappy. Something happened to its eyes. Its vision was unimpaired, but an irritating liquid oozed from them and formed crusts that had to be pawed away several times a day.
It found another dog in the woods, a better hunter, a dog who always knew where there was water, who found good places to sleep. He avoided human beings, radiating a powerful fear and anger whenever he came across human scent. While she'd been alone she'd gotten food from people sometimes, and occasionally some play and affection, but his response quickly obliterated the thin linkage she'd felt with them.
They bred in the early winter, and she bore three pups in the dead of a blizzard and ate the sacs they were born in and licked them clean, and warmed them in the small burrow with her body, and ate what the dog regurgitated to her after a day's hunting, but the snows were deep and there was little food and the whining creatures sucked at nipples that were often empty and they died before their eyes were open. She nearly died too and he became weak hunting for them both, but they got through, and there weren't many days to pass before she went out to hunt with him, and she followed him down from the mountain, sharing his nervousness around the human scent.
They fled a chicken coop, bloody-mouthed, when they heard a noise from the place where the humans lived and a quick crunching of feet in the crusted snow. But not soon enough and her mate was knocked over by thunder before they could reach the trees. He dragged himself to safety, untouched by the second thunderclap, but he could travel neither fast nor far, and he died in the woods, and she stayed next to his cold body for a day before she left it, reluctantly, and turned back up the mountain.
She found the pack in the early summer. The males charged when she stepped nervously into the clearing, but they left her alone once they'd read her scent. One, a smaller spotted animal, batted her playfully. A dun bitch snapped and challenged her. She answered and they went at each other while the males circled in agitation. The dun was older and stronger and had the edge. The gray offered submission, and with the order settled the dun left her alone and the pack accepted her. She felt fullness, she was happy. She learned their ways quickly and fit to them well. She was bolder than the dun bitch, and faster.
The dun flared into jealousy on occasion and forced her into submission or drove her off with savage nips, but usually she could coax one of the others into wandering with her a little, or involve him in grooming, or curl up to sleep with her side pressing against his, and the dun would cool off in a while and everything would be all right again.
After a week of poor hunting and a morning's trek some distance out of their customary range, Orph led them through thinning woods along a current of scent so heavy and rich with meat that saliva rose in their mouths and dripped from their tongues and they grew anxious and taut with purpose, heads high and ears pricked forward. Orph stopped at a fence line. The dark warmth of the meat overwhelmed their nostrils.
Bulky black forms milled in an open field. Orph tasted the air, weighing the human odor woven through the dense meat scent. He paced back and forth along the fence. The pack waited poised and alert, watching him. Orph stopped and stared at the meat animals. He listened, and heard nothing but the rustle of wind over grass. The pack moved up beside him. He swung his vision slowly across the field and saw only the movement of the animals.
He dropped to his belly and wriggled beneath the bottom wire, into the field. The four other dogs followed him under, lunged up to their feet, and broke into run behind him. He swept toward the calves with his head stretched forward, tail flowing back.
A calf jerked up its head and bawled in alarm. It whirled and went running off. The rest of the herd followed in panic.
Two crashed up against another fence and cracked a cedar pole, tore their hides on the barbwire. The herd wheeled behind them and pounded off in another direction.
The dogs closed fast. The spotted stripped past Orph, gained the last calf and began slashing at its hocks. The calf bawled in terror and the herd took up its cry. The spotted dog went up in the air and seized the calf's tail, hung twisting from it, banging against the beast's flanks, taking a blow from a hoof when the creature humped up and kicked.
Orph came abreast of the animal and went high for the throat. His teeth bit and ripped loose. Running, he leapt again and locked into the thick neck.
The big calf faltered and tried to heave him off. Orph was whipped about.
The black hit the calf on the other side. He ripped open its shoulder, attacked again and bit deep into the snout. The calf twisted its powerful neck and tossed its head. The black was flung through the air. He struck the ground, rolled, and sprang at the calf again. The dun bitch was working the hind legs and the gray was darting in to slash at the belly. The black was on again and his writhing weight, with Orph's, stumbled the calf to its knees. The spotted dog hit the flank, the dun joined the gray on the belly.
The calf staggered to its feet. Its eyes rolled and it screamed, threw its head about. The rest of the calves huddled several hundred yards away in a corner of the fencing and struggled to climb upon each other, raising a great din. The calf planted its legs and braced against the dogs, swinging its head, trembling. Its shaggy black hair was matted with blood. It frothed at the mouth and the froth turned pink with blood from its ripped tongue. Orph got into its throat and jerked to bring the beast down. The black was on the snout, dragging the calf forward. The dun bitch ripped the belly open and the calf fell heavily on its side. Orph scrambled out before he could be crushed, then flung himself back on the throat, tearing. Both bitches were into the belly.