Wolf Hunting

by Jane Lindskold

  "Good," she said to Blind Seer, "the others will find their way better marked than I feared."

  "The young growth has pushed up where the road once ran," the wolf replied. "Indeed, except where the deer have kept a trail clear, what was once a road is more tangled than the way to either side."

  "Never mind mat," Firekeeper said, hoping Blind Seer was not going to suggest they stop and clear away brush. "With Eshinarvash's help, Derian can easily get the horses and mules through."

  They continued on, treasuring the coolness and planning to lie up when the sun rose high. Here and there they found a cairn, and pulled the vines free so that the bare stone would reassure their nose-dead human friends that they had passed this way.

  A stream with some pretensions to being a river slowed them for a time. What had been marked as a ford would no longer serve, the living water having shifted as water will over time - indeed, as it will from season to season.

  They located a place where they could cross without difficulty, and where Firekeeper felt certain that Derian could get the horses across as well. While they were testing this, hoarse cries from overhead announced the passage of Bitter and Lovable heading west.

  The ravens did not stop, and from this the wolves knew that the rest of the expedition must be on schedule. Had there been reason to expect delay, the ravens, great gossips that they were, would certainly have dropped down to gossip.

  Firekeeper marked the ford as Race Forrester had taught her to do, slicing away a hand-sized swatch of bark from the trunks of a conspicuous tree or two, exposing the whiter wood below. No one had taught her to do what she did next, climbing into the tree boughs and cutting away some small branches to create a gap that would be obvious to those who flew above. She didn't blame Race for not teaching her this trick. He'd never had to Maze a trail for a bird.

  At the next ford, the following day, she did the same, and when she joined Blind Seer she found the wolf a: distance away, snuffling the ground at the base of one of the cairns with audible intensity.

  "What have you found?" she asked.

  "Human scent," he replied. "Very faint. It is hard for me to believe that it might belong to those we seek. Were we not told they left Oak over a year ago?"

  "So we were told," Firekeeper agreed, "but who is to say that they have not returned this way again?"

  "True," Blind Seer said, "but I would wonder that any scent, even that of blood, would linger so long."

  "Blood?" Firekeeper asked.

  "So I said," the wolf said, stepping back and shaking, then turning to scrape dirt over the spot with stiff jerks of his paws. It was the action a wolf might take to cover the scent of a rival or invader into his territory, and Firekeeper found it unaccountably unsettling.

  Then there is our answer," Firekeeper said soothingly, leading the way along the bail. "The twins decided to return to the city, perhaps admitted that they had been impulsive or foolish. One was injured. We are a fair distance from the city, especially at the paces humans travel. Instead of continuing their journey to the city, they returned to their camp. When the injured one had healed ..."

  "Or died," Blind Seer muttered.

  "They decided to remain, the momentary impulse to cowardice squelched."

  "I suppose," Blind Seer admitted, "that is a possible explanation."

  "Or," Firekeeper said, falling into the same game of supposition she so frequently found irritating in her human associates, "one twin wished to return and the other did not wish to return. They fought here, and the one who wished to remain won the battle and took the other back."

  "That also makes sense," Blind Seer agreed, "but we will not know until we see with our own eyes. Shall we go on?"

  Firekeeper nodded, picking up her pace. She was glad she had reassured Blind Seer enough that he was willing to continue forward, but she had to admit she shared his disquiet. There was something not right here, something that she had sensed almost as soon as her feet had touched the soil across the second stream, but for all she cast about, she could not discover what it was that troubled her.

  The birds still sang their idiot songs announcing territorial claims or ritual challenge. Insects chirped and cluttered their dry, late summer chants. Here, farther south as they had come, autumn was only beginning to make itself felt, and that mostly in cooler nights.

  Squirrels could be seen in the tree branches above, darting about, filling their hoards, stopping to chatter impotent rage at the two passing below, secure in squirrelish certainty that nothing so large could reach so high.

  Firekeeper thought it beneath her dignity to take out her bow and teach the rodents just how long her reach could be, but the thought amused her.

  After fording the first stream, they had begun traveling more by daylight, making certain they did not lose the road. It was not that they needed the road themselves, but

  Firekeeper was very conscious of her promise to Derian that she would not simply run off, very conscious of her responsibility to scout for the more cumbersome group that followed.

  It was as they were lying up during the hottest part of the day that Firekeeper became aware that Blind Seer was only dozing, his head thrown slightly back, his slit blue eyes studying the sky.

  "What is it?" she asked.

  "Those ravens," he said. "They should have passed this way on their return. I looked for them yesterday. They are swifter than we are, and can take their meals from almost anything. As I remember the map, we are a day or so's good running from this estate we seek. The ravens should have cleared the distance, seen what was to be seen, and returned to brag of their knowledge."

  "Could they have missed us?" Firekeeper asked, apprehension twisting her gut most unpleasantly.

  "We have kept near the road, dear heart," Blind Seer replied. "Those bright eyes would not miss us."

  "Perhaps they went back to the others, wanting to fill them in on what they found."

  "And not tell us first?" Blind Seer snorted. "When we will reach this 'Setting Sun' before the rest? Besides, ravens are too fond of telling a tale, especially one wherein they feature as the heroes. Lovable would need to tell you, even if only to hint at some pretty she wanted you to get for her. Bitter has too good an opinion of himself not to take the opportunity to share his discoveries with us. I fear something has happened to them."

  "What could have happened?" Firekeeper asked.

  "I saw you thinking about putting an arrow or so to the squirrels," Blind Seer said. "Perhaps one of the ravens has been shot. Humans are jealous of any who would share their crops this time of year - and the twins would be more protective of their own than is usual given that they cannot have any great stores set by."

  "As was the case with the settlers at Bardenville," Firekeeper said. "Still, I cannot believe either Bitter or Lovable would have been so careless. They were with us when the lower of Magic fell, and I know they are aware of the danger offered by arrows."

  "Still, these yarirnairnalom are accustomed to being privileged," Blind Seer said. "I have heard the ravens brag that farmers will let an entire flock forage rather than risk harming one of them. Might they have grown careless?"

  "I suppose," Firekeeper said. "Let us tread carefully. Where there may be arrows for birds, there may also be snares and pits."

  Blind Seer did not comment that he was always careful, Firekeeper noted. Rascal would have done so. Not too long ago, she would have done so.

  Maybe Derian is right, she thought Maybe I have changed. Well, if I have done so, I think it is for the better - a little less puppy brash, a little more awareness that if a trap is laid then to be of any use it must also be well hidden,

  She thought of times past when others had paid the penalty for her actions. Never again, and especially never when Blind Seer is the one who sheds blood for my foolishness.

  They padded on then, sometimes side by side, sometimes in single file, sometimes splitting up, never outside of howling distance.

  They found
nothing, but time and time again, Blind Seer would raise his head and sniff the winds.

  "Something isn't right here."

  TOMETHING ISN'T RIGHT HERE, " Eshinarvash said to Plik and Truth.

  Plik noticed that Derian glanced over, as if he was aware the Wise Horse had spoken, though there had been little enough for a human to detect

  "Is it anything about which I need to warn the humans?" Plik asked.

  "Nothing specific," Eshinarvash replied. This time he raised his head, nostrils flared, seeking a scent that was apparently too faint for him to isolate. He shook his mane, shrugging his skin as if he felt flies.

  There were no flies. The day was pleasant. The breeze was strong enough to keep the insects away without becoming an annoyance in itself. Earlier that day they had forded a stream at a point Firekeeper had marked.

  "The stream is on the map," Harjeedian had said, as if this mention on a map drawn a hundred years or more ago made the waterway more real. "Some time tomorrow, if we progress with good speed, we will come upon another stream. Then, if I read the maps correctly, we will be within the outer territory associated with the Setting Sun estates. From what I can tell, it was wild land even men, but had Divine Retribution not swept the Old Country rulers away, we might today find a prosperous little town there."

  They had yet to reach that second stream, and Plik sniffed, hoping for the scent of water and finding instead a faint trace of the "scent" that he had come to associate with magic. Could this be what was causing Eshinarvash's uneasiness?

  Plik reminded himself that the Wise Horse was comparatively young. Eshinarvash probably had little training communicating his sensory impressions to other than the members of his herd.

  "Tell me what has you unsettled," Plik said. Then he had another thought. "Wait. Truth, have you sensed anything peculiar? Unsettling? "

  Truth replied with a candor Plik suspected she would not have used if the Royal Wolves had been present.

  "I have been unsettled since I came to myself outside the silver block. Even the winds in the trees seem unsettling. I am learning to see without what had been more essential to me than my eyes - and I fear that this has blinded those eyes that remain to me."

  The jaguar looked as apologetic as a jaguar could - which was not very much. "I will see what I can sense, but first, Eshinarvash, tell us what you know."

  Eshinarvash nudged one of the spare riding horses that had decided it simply must sample some of the thick grass that had sprung up where the road had once been. His ears flicked back in reprimand, and the horse immediately decided it wasn't hungry after all.

  "I have been looking for yarimaimalom," Eshinarvash said at last "I did not expect to find horses, not here, but surely there would be some Wise Beasts."

  Plik scratched where the brim of his hat irritated his scalp. He supposed he could do without the hat here. There were not likely to be many humans - if any at all - but he did like how the brim shaded his eyes.

  "Are there yarimaimalom everywhere?" Plik asked. "I had thought the majority dwelt on Misheemnekuru,"

  "We have journeyed much farther south," Eshinarvash reminded him. "Even if many from this area emigrated, more than a century has passed since the time of Divine Retribution. Plenty of time for the area's population to replenish."

  He nipped at one of the mules and went on, "What troubles me is that initially I did see the occasional yarimaimalom. The presence of the stranger wolves and jaguar sent most prudently afield, but there were those whose curiosity brought them near, even if not to converse. There was a bear..."

  "I scented the bear," Truth said. "And a family of otters skimmed away when I went fishing last night. I am sure that a hawk who paced us a while yesterday when the old road was more open to the sky was not Cousin-kin. You're right, Eshinarvash. These woods have been full of life, but today I have seen no sign of yarimaimalom."

  Plik scratched again and decided that the hat had to go for now. It was shady enough under the trees.

  "Harjeedian," he said in Liglimosh, "how far away does your map say that second ford is?" Harjeedian reached for the casing tubes and unrolled the appropriate map. Like Plik, he had become much easier in the saddle, and the cumbersome task gave him no trouble. "Based upon the number of cairns we have passed," Harjeedian said, "we are closer to the second stream now than we are to the first ford. We may even reach the stream banks this evening, although I think we would be wise to wait to cross when we have good daylight."

  "I agree," Derian said. "This string is just about the best behaved I've ever dealt with, but where the footing is bad even the best behaved horse or mule can twist a leg. I'd rather have good light, and leisure to lead the animals across one by one since the stream bottom is likely to provide chancy footing." Plik nodded. "That seems wise to me. Thank you." Derian fidgeted, then said, "Forgive me if I intrude, but I have had the sense you three have been discussing something for a while now. Is it anything we should know about? If it's some private matter, I apologize in advance for being nosy, but I'm getting worried. We haven't seen either of the ravens yet, and I would have thought at least one of them would have come back by now."

  Plik frowned. He hadn't considered that the ravens were overdue, but then he hadn't really grasped the distances involved just from looking at the map. Since he had joined the expedition, they had crossed the equivalent of Misheemnekuru from island tip to island tip again and again. True, passage over these distances had been helped by good roads and strong riding animals. Even so, for one accustomed to traveling afoot on rather short legs, the journey had been enough to destroy his perspective regarding distance.

  The raccoon-man glanced over at Eshinarvash and Truth. Seeing that neither seemed adverse to their speculations being shared with the two humans, Plik gave a quick summary - leaving out Truth's confession that she might not be being as much use as she might He sensed the jaguar was grateful, but resolved that if her restraint seemed likely to put them all in danger, he would show no such consideration for her pride.

  "No yarimaimalom," Harjeedian said when Plik concluded, "and only since this last day's passage. The open space of road Truth mentioned came earlier today. Ask Eshinarvash if he began to sense this wrongness before or after the sun was at its height?"

  "After" Eshinarvash replied. "My kind are always alert to those who begin to come abroad when the sun westers. I think I was half listening for a local wolf pack or some great cat or even a fox who might tell us what to expect from the local Cousin-kind predators."

  "Very strange," Derian agreed. 'Tell me. Can any of you tell whether this region is the typical range of the yarimaimalom? I'd like to know if they have fled for some reason - perhaps our own approach - or whether they have been absent for some time."

  "Some time," Eshinarvash said, and Truth gave tail-lashing agreement

  "As much as a year," Truth said. "My kind marks its territory with claw marks to trees as well as scent. I have seen no recent marks, but thought nothing of it until Eshinarvash raised the matter."

  Plik thought that if she had been human, the jaguar would have shrugged.

  "After all," Truth went on, "my kind are solitary, and I am here, so I did not think to look for another"

  Plik translated, adding his own question: "So do we continue on, or do we try and find some of the locals and ask a few questions?"

  "Continue," Derian said firmly. "Firekeeper and Blind Seer won't know if we stop. Certainly, the ravens will return soon, and we will be able to relay messages. Until then, I don't see why we should delay."

  "Certainly" he says, Plik thought. Why does that sound so much like "hopefully" to my ears?

  BLIND SEER REMAINED so RESTLESS that the wolves cut short their midday rest and set off again, pacing themselves along the remnants of the road. They were seeing more signs now of the humans who had once inhabited this area: remnants of buildings fallen into ruin, tangled meadows that had once been cultivated fields, places where the road they now followe
d had been crossed by others. At each of these road junctures, a cairn stood.

  "I suppose that years ago these rock heaps were marked in a fashion that meant something to those who lived here," Firekeeper said, as Blind Seer sniffed around the base.

  "I suppose," the wolf agreed. "What I find strange is how few of the local beasts have marked these cairns. They would seem natural markers, being located as they are along what is still used as a trail. The Wise Beasts might even find humor in marking their territory where the humans have already done so."

  "But you find no such signs," Firekeeper said, "and last night we heard no pack sing, though this would be good territory for a pack - especially if, as Harjeedian's maps told, there is an open plain not far ahead. This is more than a little strange. Shall we go back?"

  "We go on," Blind Seer replied, setting action to word. The others follow, and trust us to scout We have little enough to report but conjecture and concern. Moreover, if something has happened to the ravens..."

  They trust we will follow," Firekeeper said, finding her feet had increased their pace of their own volition. "Suddenly, it is all I can do not to run."

  BLIND SEER SCENTED THE OPEN AIR that heralded the promised plain shortly before a faint hoarse cry led them to the ravens.

  The wolves heard the call in the same breath, a harsh, rasping sound that came then faded, came again, faded and came again. It was as if the one making that sound had been calling for a long, long time, and would continue calling until breath and body parted company for all time.

  "Over there," Firekeeper said, turning in the direction of the sound. "That thicket."

  For a good time now they had noticed an increase in dense briars, both along the path and clustering between the trees. Such tangles were not uncommon in these southern woods, but the increase - and especially of this one type of plant - had been worthy of comment

  "Walk carefully, dear heart," Blind Seer cautioned. "Those plants know too well how to bite."