Chapter 1: The Pack 1 The Pack


1852, Sierra Nevada foothills, California Sage stood alone under the big oak tree. She looked at her pack one more time.

Maybe they would call her back. Maybe they were just making sure she had learned her lesson. Maybe they didn’t really mean she had been thrown out of the pack.

For good.

“I’m sorry,” she woofed again.

Her tail usually curled proudly over her back. Now it drooped. Her scruffy ears fell flat against her head.

Acorn, her best friend, looked at the ground. He had the same short fur as Sage, but a darker golden brown. Racer, a tall terrier, turned away. Cougar, Juniper, and the rest of the dogs watched her across the stretch of grass and manzanita bushes.



Thunder, the pack leader, lifted her lip.

“Get out of here and don’t come back!” the big hound growled. Snarling, she held up her left front paw. Her leg had been hurt that morning. Because of Sage.

“You’re weak,” Thunder barked. “Soft. We have no place for a dog who puts some scraggly two-legged creature ahead of her own pack.”

That morning, they had raided a miner’s camp for food. Sage had found a large wooden box that smelled like meat. She’d unlatched it with her nose and lifted up the lid with her front paws. She’d pulled out a packet of dried venison. A very old, very thin man rushed over to her. He looked so panicked to see his food being taken away, Sage couldn’t do it. She’d dropped the venison.

Thunder had run up to her at just that moment.

“Get that meat!” she’d barked.

Sage had hesitated. That gave the man time to grab his rifle. He fired. The two dogs ran as fast as they could. But the shot grazed Thunder’s leg. She was going to be limping for a long time.

Acorn spoke up. “Sage just thought it wasn’t right to—”

“Quiet!” Thunder snapped. “Or you can leave too.”

Cougar and Juniper growled. Acorn lowered his ears.

Maybe Thunder was right. Maybe Sage shouldn’t have cared that the man was hungry. She started to explain one more time.

“I’ll be tough on other creatures from now on,” she woofed.

She might as well have been talking to a boulder.

“Stay out of our territory,” Thunder warned. “If you ever come near Scrub Hill again, you’ll be sorry.”

Thunder barked twice. The pack trotted away. None of them looked back. Not even Acorn.

Sage picked her way down the grassy hill. When she got to the riverbank, she passed the old tree stump with the twigs sticking out of it. The twigs looked like long ears and a short tail. Jackrabbit Stump. It marked the end of her pack’s territory and all she had ever known.



She walked on. There was nothing else she could do.