Dew Branchton's Arc

Chapter 1 of 3

Dew Branchton stood on a tree stump and barked his big plan to no one. Three strays watched from the shadows and did not come closer. He told them about the hidden valley, the one where dogs never grew old and treats fell like rain. The strays only blinked. Dew wore his blue sweater vest to look like a leader. He had grey fur, black patches on his eye and side, and floppy ears that drooped when he was nervous. His ears were drooping now. "Follow me and you'll never be hungry again," Dew said. The biggest stray, a bony hound, snorted. "We don't know you," she said. "Why would we walk anywhere behind a dog we just met?" The others turned and trotted off into the brush. Dew's heart sank. He was one small dog with a huge dream and no pack at all. His pet moth landed on his nose. She had blue and pink wings and a tiny flower tucked behind her head. "They need proof," she whispered. "Not a speech." Dew lifted his head. She was right. Strays followed dogs who could find food, not dogs who only talked about it. Dew sniffed the ground and caught something sweet. He followed the smell to a huge tree covered in purple blossoms. Beneath it lay fallen fruit, soft and ripe, more than one dog could ever eat. But a fat green beetle sat on the biggest piece. The beetle wore a little hat and refused to move. "This is my fruit," it said, tipping its hat. "I found it first." Dew's stomach growled, but he thought of the hungry strays instead. "Share it," Dew said, "and I'll bring more creatures to sing your praises." The beetle liked that idea. It stepped aside and let Dew roll the fruit into a pile. The moth flew in loops above, guiding the way. Dew called out again, louder this time. The three strays crept back, drawn by the smell. The bony hound stopped at the fruit pile and stared. "You found all this?" she asked. Dew nodded. "There's more where we're going. A whole valley of it." This time the hound did not snort. She lowered her head and ate. The other two followed. When the fruit was gone, the hound looked at Dew with new eyes. "Lead," she said. "We'll walk behind you." The two smaller strays pressed close to Dew's side. The beetle tipped its hat and wished them luck. Dew finally had a pack, three dogs who chose to follow him. But as the strays settled in, the hound spoke again. "Where is this valley, exactly?" Dew opened his mouth and found he had no answer. He knew the valley existed. He did not know the way. His new pack waited, hungry and trusting, and Dew had promised a road he could not yet find.