Promise Of The Wolves (14 page)

“Move!” I yelled again. “Keep moving!”

She glared at me, and looked up at a large horse. I dove for her, pushed her out of the way, and then rolled away as a huge hoof came down toward my head. I heard a wolf scream, a terrible yowl of terror and pain, through a cloud of dust.

Then, as quickly as it began, the horse frenzy was over. Yllin and Werrna chased off the horses, who retreated to the far side of the field. Rissa ran from pup to pup, making sure we were safe. I crouched, dazed, and frantically returned her caress when she bent to lick my head. She repeated the gesture with Ázzuen, who climbed shakily to his feet; with Unnan, who had a cut over his left eye; and with Marra, who stood, staring at the retreating horses. Then, tail drooping and an anxious whine in her voice, Rissa nosed a pale lump that smelled like Reel, but somehow different. Her whine deepened, and Ruuqo and Trevegg walked slowly to join her. They pushed and prodded Reel, but he did not move. His head was covered with blood, his body oddly flattened.

“Get up, Reel,” Borlla said, a little impatiently, nudging his still form.

Rissa gently pushed Borlla aside and sat back on her haunches, releasing a long and mournful howl. Ruuqo, Trevegg, and Minn added their voices to hers. Yllin and Werrna, trotting back from chasing off the horses, stopped, and stood very still, then added their songs of sorrow. I felt my throat open and a deep howl I did not recognize as my own sounded from my throat.

I looked in disbelief at the small, dirt-covered form on the trampled grass. My head hurt and my chest felt heavy. My stomach pulled in on itself, and I thought I would vomit up the little bit of meat I had eaten. Just moments before, I’d been running with Reel to the horses. Now he was just fur and flesh. Yllin and Werrna had reached the rest of the pack and we all stood around Reel, the hot afternoon sun beating down on our backs, making me feel even sicker.

I don’t know how long we stood there, waiting, hoping Reel’s life would come back to him, but he was gone. I hadn’t liked Reel that much, hadn’t thought that much about him at all, really, but he was as much a littermate as I was ever going to have. He was pack. And his fate could easily have been mine. I had dared him to run to the horses. I wanted to lie down on the plain and bury myself in the dirt. Rissa howled again, longer and deeper, and the pack joined her in singing farewell to Reel. All except Borlla, who just stood and stared in disbelief at his body, the fur on his lifeless flesh now rippling gently in a breeze.

With one last look at Reel, Rissa led the pack away from the Tall Grass plain. Borlla would not go.

“You can’t just leave him here! You can’t just leave him for the long-fangs and hyenas!” she cried.

“It is our way, littlewolf,” old Trevegg said, his eyes creased in sympathy. “He has returned to the Balance. He will become part of the earth, as we all will someday. He will feed the grass that will feed the prey that will feed our pack. It is the way.”

“I won’t leave him,” Borlla said stubbornly. None of us had ever spoken back to an adult wolf in this way.

“You must,” Trevegg said. “You are wolf and Swift River and you must follow your pack.” When Borlla didn’t move, Trevegg shoved her away, less roughly than he might have normally, and forced her to follow the pack.

We walked slowly back to the edge of the wood. Borlla and Unnan kept hanging back, staring at Reel’s body, until Trevegg or Werrna would go back to gently push them along.

At last Werrna took Borlla, half grown as she was, in her strong jaws. Borlla struggled at first, but then the fight went out of her, and she hung limp in Werrna’s jaws, her legs dragging on the ground. We were quiet as we plodded toward home, except for Borlla’s quiet whimpering. We had walked just a few wolflengths when Unnan ran to me, knocking me over and standing on my chest, his narrow face contorted in anger.

“You killed him,” he spat. “That horse should’ve killed you instead.” There was hatred in his voice. “You’re the one who should be dead.”

I hardly had the heart to fight back. Unnan was saying nothing I hadn’t said to myself. I rolled Unnan off me, then limped away. I did not want to return his attack. But when he grabbed me by the neck, choking me, I bit him hard enough to make him cry out.

Ruuqo called a halt, and the pack gathered around Unnan and me. Werrna set Borlla down.

“What are you talking about, Unnan?” Ruuqo asked.

“
She
made us go,” Unnan said. “We were just sleeping and she made us go. It’s her fault Reel is dead.”

My heart sank in my chest and I could barely breathe. Ruuqo looked at me, waiting for an answer, but I could find none. Marra spoke up for me.

“It was Kaala’s idea,” she said, “but we all wanted to go.”

“No one made you go, Unnan,” Ázzuen said. “You could’ve stayed behind. Reel could have, too. We all wanted to see the horses,” he said to the leaderwolves. “And Kaala saved Unnan and me when we couldn’t get out of the way. She knew what to do when we didn’t.” I looked at him gratefully.

“What do you have to say for yourself, pup?” Ruuqo asked.

The trees and bushes seemed to close in on me, making it harder to breathe. The ground was hard against my chest as I dropped onto my belly. I wanted to make excuses, to blame Unnan and Borlla for goading me, to blame the horses for running. But I saw Ázzuen and Marra watching me. They had had the courage to defend me. I couldn’t turn coward.

“It was my fault,” I said, unable to keep a quaver from my voice. “It was my idea to see the horses up close. I didn’t know they would do that—that they could run like that.” I cringed down as low as I could. “I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt.”

“At least you do not hide your fault. I do not keep liars in my pack. Why did you lead the others to the horses?”

I was glad that I had not tried to blame someone else. I stayed as low to the ground as I could, ears as far back against my head as I could force them.

“I wanted to see if I could hunt.” My answer seemed inadequate. “I wanted to be the first one to touch prey.”

“Pride means death for a wolf,” Ruuqo said. “And it was pride and foolishness that led you to approach prey without respecting it, without knowing enough about the hunt.”

My throat tightened as I awaited Ruuqo’s judgment.

I was so tense my eyes hurt, and I could feel the veins pounding behind them. Ruuqo had been waiting for an excuse to get rid of me since I was born. I was sure he would send me away. But he looked around the pack, his eyes coming to rest on Rissa. She approached him, followed by the rest of the adults in the pack. They pressed themselves against him, moving around him, talking quietly.

“It is true,” Rissa said, pressing her head to Ruuqo’s neck, “that Kaala caused the pups to go to the horses, but pups are curious. They will try to hunt before they are ready. They would not be wolf if they did not test prey. It is not Kaala’s fault the horses were agitated today. And she had the courage and the wit to help the others when the horses ran. If not for her, we might have lost three or four pups, rather than one.”

“I have never seen so young a pup do such a thing, protect the others in such a way,” Trevegg said, “and I have seen eight seasons of pups.”

Yllin lowered herself to the ground before she spoke. Yearling wolves did not often participate in such discussions. “I could not have done so when I was a pup,” she said, “and I was bigger than Kaala.”

To my surprise, Werrna rumbled in agreement. She had never taken my side before.

“She caused the death of another pup!” Minn protested, then lowered his ears when Rissa glared at him.

Ruuqo twitched his ears. He took the muzzle of each wolf in his mouth, and then walked away, his brow creased in thought. I realized that I had forgotten to breathe and drew a deep gasp of air into my lungs. The energy of the pack reminded me of when the adults came together to decide what to hunt. A leaderwolf makes decisions, but if no one agrees with him, his authority is weakened. I could almost see Ruuqo’s mind working, testing the pack’s wishes and his own. He looked at me with dislike, and I shivered.

Trevegg walked over to him. “No wolf is a pack unto himself, Ruuqo,” the oldwolf said softly. “The pack wishes her to stay. You know that. If you go so hard against the wishes of so many, against the will of the pack, you may lose them. They may seek another leader.” He looked out of the corner of his eyes at Werrna’s scarred face.

“Do you think I am a fool,” Ruuqo snapped, brushing Trevegg aside, “to anger my pack because of my feelings toward this pup? A strong wolf is a strong wolf, even if she does not hold my favor.”

Ruuqo turned to face the pack, then caught Rissa’s clear, direct gaze. “You are right. If Kaala had not acted as she did, we would have lost more pups. Such spirit is needed in the pack.” Ruuqo spoke to Rissa, but his words were for the pack.

I looked at him in amazement. I couldn’t have been more surprised if he had stood up on two legs and held a sharpened stick like a human. He looked over the pack.

“It is the way of things. We will all learn from this. And we will watch this pup carefully,” he said, giving me a look that made my insides turn to mud. “If she shows more unstable behavior, we will have to reconsider whether or not she stays in the pack.”

Unnan’s whole body shook with fury. “But she went to see the hu—”

Werrna’s large paw came down on him as Rissa swung her head around angrily.

“Silence, pup!” Werrna hissed. “You’ve been given a command by your leaderwolf. Follow it!” Unnan looked at her resentfully, but said nothing more. It was my turn to shake, but this time in relief, not anger.

It all happened so fast I was stunned. Finally, I remembered myself and crawled to Ruuqo to thank him. He must have been able to sense my astonishment, for he snorted as I licked his muzzle in thanks.

“What are you so surprised about, pup?” he asked.

I could think of nothing to say but the truth, and I could not refuse to answer. “I thought you wanted me gone!” I blurted.

“And you think me so stupid and selfish as to place my own wishes before those of my pack?”

I could find no answer to that and just stared at him.

“I am watching you, pup. You are a threat to my pack and I have not forgotten that. Do not make more mistakes,” Ruuqo said, so softly only I could hear. He turned to the rest of the pack. “We will not stay at Wood’s Edge today. We return to Fallen Tree.”

He trotted purposefully along the path, back toward our gathering place. Borlla walked on her own feet this time, stopping every few steps to look back toward the spot where Reel had died. I could not bear to do so. I kept my head low and, trying not to think about my role in Reel’s death and my tenuous position in the pack, I followed my family toward home.

P
ups die. It’s as natural as hunting prey or running in the moonlight. Our pack was unusual in that so many of us had survived for so long. Still, I couldn’t help but feel guilty about Reel’s death. If I hadn’t been trying to prove myself, if I had not dared the others to go to see the horses, he might not have died. I could not get the sight of his small, still form out of my mind. And then there was what was happening to Borlla.

She had taken Reel’s death the hardest of any of us. She had grown silent and solemn, and had eaten little in the half-moon since the stampede. It had been a time full of rain. The gathering place was slick with mud, and all of us were short-tempered. Werrna bit me two different times when I walked where she wanted to be, and even Yllin growled when we pups came near. But no one snapped at Borlla, or bit her.

She seemed unable to believe that Reel was gone; whenever the adults were not watching her carefully she returned to the Tall Grass fields to look for him. I thought Ruuqo and Rissa might be angry with her for leaving so often without permission, but they were not. Each time she left, they sent a wolf to retrieve her, and Trevegg, Werrna, or Minn would return with her. Sometimes they had to drag her back, which couldn’t have been easy, nearly grown as she was.

“He is not there anymore, littlewolf,” Trevegg said gently, after he had dragged her back a third time. It was true. Ázzuen and I had followed Borlla back the first day she returned to the Tall Grass field. Reel’s body was gone. Though his scent remained strong, mingled with it was the scent of hyena. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out what had happened. The scroungers had carried him off somewhere, no doubt fearing our return. The thought that one of us could so easily become a meal haunted me. Borlla refused to believe it.

I thought she would hate me, would look at me in resentment as Unnan did, but when I looked in her eyes I saw only bewilderment and sorrow. I would have preferred anger. I watched her as she sat in the rain, waiting patiently for her chance to slip away again, and guilt weighed me down more than my rain-soaked fur. When I tried to eat some of the old deer meat that Werrna had dug up from one of our hiding places, I could not choke it down. I watched Borlla, hoping to see some change in her. The rain was warm but I shivered and placed my head in my paws.

“It is time for you to stop moping, pup,” Trevegg said sternly, slogging over to me. “The strong survive and the weak do not. We are all sorry for Reel’s death, but prey does not jump into our jaws just because we are sad. You don’t see Rissa sitting around feeling sorry for herself. She knows that the hunt must continue. The day we stop chasing prey is the day we are no longer wolf.”

“I know that,” I said, blinking against the rain, which seemed to be coming up from the ground and into my eyes. “I know he might not have lived anyway. But I still feel bad.”

“I am glad to hear that,” the oldwolf said, chewing caked mud off his shoulder. “You would not be a good member of the pack if you did not. But now you must stop brooding. Would Reel have lived through the winter if you had not gone to the horses? Maybe. Would Unnan and Ázzuen have died if you had not thought and acted quickly? Almost certainly.”

Trevegg’s voice softened a little. “Some pups do not live through winter’s end. That’s the way it must be if wolves are to remain strong. Did you know the Vole Eater pack can only keep one or two of their pups alive each year, since they are too small to catch large prey? And the Stone Peak wolves won’t even let their smaller pups near food. They let them starve without even giving them a chance to prove themselves. Rissa is known throughout the valley for keeping most of her pups alive. If the Ancients take one of our pups, we must be grateful that so many do stay with us.”

“Where are they all? Rissa’s other pups from last year, and from before that?” Ázzuen asked, trotting over to us. He had been watching me for days, but had seemed afraid to come near. I remembered that I had growled at him when he had first tried to comfort me.

“Most leave the valley,” Trevegg answered. “There is not room here for many packs, and the rules of the valley are not for everyone.” He shook the rain from his fur.

“So now you must decide, pup. Do you stay with us, or do you follow Reel? None of us can make that decision for you.” He licked the top of my head and went to speak to Borlla. She turned her face away, then stood shakily and walked off into the woods. Trevegg’s shoulders drooped a little, then he shook himself and trudged over to speak to Unnan.

Suddenly I heard a splash and a growl from behind me. Yllin had pushed Minn into a muddy puddle. The two youngwolves began to fight, rolling in the mud and biting harder than necessary. Rissa broke up the fight and separated them.

“I hate summer storms,” she said, glaring after the two youngwolves. “I look forward to the winter snows, when the running is better and so are everyone’s tempers. Pups,” she said, “you are now old enough to explore on your own. Stay within a half hour’s run of Fallen Tree and come the moment we call you.”

I was surprised. They had been watching us all carefully since the stampede, keeping us within sight.

“Aren’t they just a bit young, Rissa?” Trevegg said, laughing at her. “Usually you wait another half-moon before sending pups out on their own.” He butted her affectionately.

“I want some peace in this gathering place so we can have a decent hunt!” Rissa said. She narrowed her eyes at Werrna, who was deep in conversation with Ruuqo. “Go on, pups. You may stay here and nap or you may explore.”

“We weren’t the ones making trouble,” Marra said, squelching over to me and Ázzuen, then sitting down to lick mud off a front paw. “But I don’t mind exploring. Maybe we can find some small prey.”

Ázzuen’s ears pricked up. The last hunt had been unsuccessful and we were all a little hungry. The adults had brought us some food from their hiding places, but not a lot.

“Let’s go, then!” Ázzuen said.

I laughed, and, feeling better than I had since Reel’s death, followed Ázzuen and Marra into the woods.

Ázzuen was the one who found the mouse homesite. It was just a rocky, grassy patch exactly half an hour’s run from Fallen Tree. The rain had flooded the mouse homes, forcing them into the open. After less than an hour, we got good at catching them, but just as quickly they figured out that it wasn’t safe near that homesite anymore. The mice ran into a hole we hadn’t seen before, and we lost their scent. Pleased with ourselves, but still a little hungry since mice are not that filling, we settled down to sleep. That’s when the young spiritwolf found me again.

I had not forgotten her. I had thought about her often since she spoke to me at the human gathering place. But I didn’t know how to find out more about her. I was afraid to ask even Trevegg or Rissa, lest they think I was crazy and not fit to be pack. Wolves don’t appear out of thin air. When I wasn’t thinking about Reel, I looked for her behind trees and in the shadows, but it was in my dreams that she came to me again.

Ázzuen and Marra slept soundly, tired from mouse hunting, but my sleep was restless. Each time my mind would try to take me to dreams of running with the pack or hunting with Ázzuen and Marra, the young wolf’s face would appear before me. Then she would turn as if to run and wait for me to follow. But sleep kept me in one place, and I just tossed and scrabbled on the wet ground. Finally, she gave a bark, loud enough to startle me from my dreams.

I awoke, leaping to my feet, and waking Ázzuen and Marra from their own dreams. I saw a flash of tail disappearing into the forest, and caught just a whiff of the juniper-acrid scent I remembered so well. I shook off my sleep and a layer of rain, and followed the scent into the forest. Marra grunted and settled back into her nap, but Ázzuen followed me.

“Where are we going?” He was sleepy and a little cranky.

I ignored him and kept running. He could follow me or not as he chose. The scent grew stronger as we ran deep into the woods. It took us to a dense part of the forest, a place we were not supposed to go without the adults. Not only had Rissa told us to stay a half hour’s run from Fallen Tree, we also had to stay at least a half hour’s walk from the edges of our territory in case a rival pack was roaming. Before long, Ázzuen and I reached a scent marker that Ruuqo and Rissa had left specifically to warn us pups not to go too far. I stopped, knowing we shouldn’t go any farther. When a strong wind carrying the juniper-acrid scent whipped around me, pelting me with painfully sharp rain, I crossed the scent marker. After I did so, the rain let up a bit. Ázzuen, too, stopped for a moment, and then followed, shaking his head a little. We had only walked a few more steps when we came upon a path the humans used to cross through the thick woods and where the young spiritwolf’s scent mingled with the human-and-fire scent.

I stopped again, confused, and looked around. I knew from the sounds of rushing water and the wet leaf and mud smell that we were near the river. But it was a different part of the river, far downstream from the crossing we’d swum and even farther from the Tree Crossing. We were, I realized a little guiltily, much too close to the human homesite. If one crept through the woods a bit farther and jumped straight over the river, it would be a quick run to their gathering place. I didn’t need Ázzuen’s frightened whine to remind me we were in danger of breaking the most important of rules.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said.

Then I heard the cry coming from the river. It was not the sound of one of our kind in trouble, but it was definitely a creature in need. Somehow I knew it was not prey, and I felt drawn to the sounds of distress, and took a few more steps in the direction of the river. I should have turned tail and left. I didn’t need any trouble with Ruuqo watching me so carefully, and with Reel’s death on everyone’s mind. Apparently Ázzuen had the same thought.

“Kaala, we should leave,” he said urgently. “Whatever it is, it’s not our concern.”

I knew he was right. I began to back away, down the human trail and away from the river and the frightened cries coming from it. Then, suddenly, a forceful gust of juniper-acrid wind pushed me forward, through the trees and back toward the river. With a surprised yip, Ázzuen followed.

The woods ended at a steep, treacherous drop to the river. “No wonder we don’t cross here,” I muttered to myself. Then I saw it. In the rushing water, clinging to a rock, was a human child. I recognized it for what it was, for we had seen ones like it playing and shouting at the human gathering place. The child was struggling in the fast-moving water, for the days of rain had swelled and quickened the river. It was just barely keeping its head above water, crying out whenever it could.

It sounded so much like a wolf in distress, so much like the death cries of my brother and sisters, that I had to help it. After I had gotten in so much trouble for trying to go to the humans, I had promised myself I would pretend they did not exist. Every time I thought of them, the mark on my chest ached, and I was determined not to get in any more trouble with Ruuqo. But I couldn’t ignore that desperate, helpless cry. I watched the child for a moment as it struggled for life, then I began to pick my way down the steep slope.

Ázzuen nipped at my flank, trying to keep me from going, but I ignored him. I ran down the bank, sliding down the last few wolflengths and landing hard beside the water, hurting my hip. Caked with mud, I splashed ungracefully into the water. The river was deep enough that I had to start swimming right away, and I swam hard to the child. Its dark eyes met mine as it lost its hold on its rock and began to slip underwater. I swam closer. It grabbed frantically at my fur and wrapped its thin forelegs around my neck, pulling me under the water. Water ran up into my nose and into my throat. I struggled back up to the surface. As soon as I caught a breath, the child’s forelegs pulled at me. I was sure that I would be dragged all the way under by its weight, and was afraid that I would not be able to fight my way to shore. But the child clung to me so desperately that I could not have freed myself if I wanted to. It suddenly seemed to understand what I was trying to do and began to kick its legs, helping me stay afloat. Its long, dark pelt fell into my eyes and nose, and I grabbed the soft fur in my mouth to help me pull the child in the right direction. Its fur tasted different than the fur of a wolf. It didn’t have a warm-body taste, but was more like the fur a wolf leaves behind on a tree or bush. Summoning all of my strength, I swam. I reached the far edge of the river and dragged the child onto a narrow, flat stretch of bank. Shaking myself hard, I got the child to release its grip, and it slid to the ground. It began to squall again, as soon as it caught its breath. But as I stood over it, it stopped. I heard a splash from across the river as Ázzuen jumped in and swam across to join me. It surprised me that he so easily swam the river since he’d had so much trouble just a half-moon before, but I kept my gaze on the human.

It was a girl child, half grown, one of those we had seen romping like pups in the human homesite. She stared at me fearfully for a moment. There are many creatures that will kill and eat a human child if they can, and there was no way for the girl to know a wolf would not. I lowered my ears a bit, so as to appear less threatening and, after a moment, the fear fled the girl child’s eyes. Then she reached out her forelegs. Arms, Yllin had told us they were called.

“Kaala!” Ázzuen’s voice was urgent. “Let’s go!” He sniffed the air anxiously. “With all the noise she’s made, someone will come soon.”

Yes, I thought, some bear or rock lion will come and take her. Or some scrounger too lazy to hunt real prey. I didn’t want her to be prey. But I could not stay and risk exile. After watching the child a bit longer, watching her large, dark eyes and soft, dark skin, I touched my nose to her cheek and started toward the river. She tried to stand but collapsed back into the mud and began weeping again. The human’s fur was not thick enough to warm her well and the water had been cold, even in the summer rain. The bank on this side of the river was almost as steep and slippery as the bank on our side. The rain showed no sign of letting up and the girl was shivering. She would die if I left her there. Even if she didn’t become prey, she would freeze and the scroungers would have her anyway. Her eyes had looked at me with such trust. I felt something stirring within me. The crescent on my chest grew warm, but this time the feeling was not uncomfortable at all.