The Great Eight

Chapter 31

Riley collapsed to the ground, his breath coming out in long, labored pants. The sickening sensations of fear and rage that had consumed him throughout the battle faded away into sheer exhaustion.

"We did it!" That cry came from Sky. "We drove them away!"

"From the plaza, that is," said Blackjack grimly. "The city is still under attack."

All around the area, dogs were struggling to their paws. Now that the battle had ended, the cacophony of barking, snarling, and shrieking was replaced with an eerie quietness. Riley had expected victorious cheers and howls after the enemies had fled, but he was only hearing weak whimpers and grunts. He hadn't realized until now just how many soldiers were lying motionless on the ground, some with their entrails spilling out. The whole plaza was stained with blood. Its metallic reek was mingled with the odors of fear and death. It took all of Riley's strength not to vomit. He lay on the ground, staring up at the sky instead of the gore surrounding him. But that didn't bring him much comfort—dark clouds had gathered overhead, blocking out the sun.

"Riley! Are you okay!?" Ricochet was crouching over him.

"I'm fine," said Riley. He felt so weak that his voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm just tired, is all."

Then Nimble was there, gently nudging him to his paws. She soothingly licked his pelt while Ricochet allowed Riley to lean on him for support. The rest of Platoon 8 was slowly grouping together. Everyone was injured—Violet was still bleeding, Tucker was limping from a deep bite on his haunch, and Sky had a wound on his back. Maverick and Blackjack were a bit worse off. One of Maverick's eyes was swollen shut, and chunks of his fur were missing. Blood stained his pelt and dripped from his mouth, though it was difficult to tell how much of it was his own. Blackjack had numerous bite marks and scrapes on his body, and his eyes were dark with exhaustion, but he was still standing. Riley nearly collapsed again from the overwhelming relief that none of his friends were injured too seriously.

And then, Thunder came limping over to them. The Flashing Fangs leader was so heavily covered in blood that he was hardly recognizable. His legs trembled, as if he could collapse at any moment, but he still stood tall.

"Riley." His voice was a shaky pant. "You saved my life. Thank you. We won because of you."

Riley's pelt grew hot from the unexpected praise, but he dipped his head and said, "No problem. I couldn't let Móguǐ kill you."

"You all did well," Blackjack told his soldiers. In spite of the somber mood, his voice was warm.

"You were right to recruit him, Blackjack," said Thunder. "You saw the potential in him that I didn't. Forgive me for my blindness, Riley."

Riley was about to reply, when a monstrous roar shook the air. For a moment, he thought that the Pure were returning the plaza, but he quickly realized that the sound was coming from Dingo. His face was a frightening mess of blood and drool. He thrashed his head around, his eyes glowing like coals as Wildfire and Sean struggled to hold him still.

"LET ME GO!" he howled. "LET ME RIP THOSE FUCKING BASTARD'S EYES OUT!"

"Dingo, stop it!" Wildfire begged him. "You're too injured to fight anymore!"

"I DON'T CARE! LET ME KILL THEM!" Dingo screamed.

Suddenly, Baron was there, cuffing Dingo hard over the head. The pit bull stopped struggling and fell to the ground unconscious.

"I'm sorry, Dingo," said Baron. The Rottweiler's voice was ragged and weary. "But I can't lose any more of my soldiers today."

Riley's blood turned to ice. "What happened?" he called out.