Prince Wolf

by A. Katie Rose

  “I’m tired,” I mumbled more to myself than Darius, curling up into a dark ball.

  Outside, the wind howled. Only a trickle of the icy blast irritated my damp fur. The cutting rain fell, forced sideways by the gale-force winds. Under the cliff, I lay dry, reasonably warm and well-fed. Flipping my tail over my muzzle, I watched the storm rage outside my rock shelter.

  The sun sank behind the mountains and the dark clouds, creating an early night. Through exhaustion and a full belly, my eyes closed of their own accord.

  “Ly’Tana,” I breathed.

  I slept.

  I watched her.

  She lay upon a pallet of skins outside the tiny tent, blinking away tears. Lifting her head, she rested it on her raised arm, gazing at the fire. Tuatha, my son, cuddled close to her, seeking her warmth, her stroking hand offering comfort. The pair had grown emotionally dependent upon one another in the days since my departure.

  At the fire, Rygel and Kel’Ratan sat, talking, while Corwyn stared into the flames. Alun, on watch, gazed out into the desert. I recognized the Great Caravan Route, the dotted fires like stars fallen from heaven. How well I remembered trying to cross that endlessly shifting plain of men and beasts. My memory flicked to Wind Spirit and recoiled sharply.

  Lying back on her back, tears trickling from the corners of her eyes to mingle in her hair, Ly’Tana watched the black, star-strewn sky above her. Her glossy red-gold hair gleamed no longer, but lay snarled and matted over her arm. A fur-covered collar enclosed her throat. I peered closer in the dream, seeking answers to questions I dared not consider.

  Ly’Tana slept outside the tent, Arianne slept in. Ly’Tana disguised as a slave. The twins also wore jeweled collars, their bodies sleeping between the tent and Ly’Tana’s pallet.

  Rygel, Kel’Ratan, and even Corwyn, wore clothing different than when I’d left them. A worm of disquiet wriggled deep in my gut. They disguised Ly’Tana as a slave. Gazing deeper, I recognized the sigil on Rygel’s tunic: a crowned boar. The emblem of Brutal’s cousin, Princess Irridi.

  Their intent grew clearer: traveling through populated territory, they had to appear to be anything but Kel’Hallans. I’d seen for myself the many Khalidian troops patrolling the Route. Disguised as the entourage of a royal lady, whom I presumed was Arianne, they’d pass through the patrols unmolested. For who’d dare accost the High King’s own cousin?

  By the white feather amid Ly’Tana’s snarls, she was Arianne’s Zhou slave. I had to admit the disguise might work quite well. Soldiers or freemen paid scant attention to slaves. My gut still churned. A slave couldn’t look a free man in the face much less defend herself. I didn’t like this situation, not one bit. I saw no wolves about, and no Bar. All she had to protect her was a small band of devoted men.

  Have a care, my love, I tried to say. I have a very bad feeling about this.

  She lifted her head, turning to face slightly north, for a brief moment. Then she smiled, her eyes seeking the darkened hills above her.

  I love –

  A sharp crack of thunder and a blinding flash of lightning woke me. The wind still howled, bringing with it the slashing rain. I curled my body into a tighter ball, tuning out the sound and fury of the storm. Ly’Tana and my dream vanished under the scream of the wind and the grumbling thunder.

  My eyes closed of their own accord.

  The storm, violent and brief, blew itself out before the dawn. Bright, clear sunshine dripping off the wet trees, brambles and mossy rocks dazzled my eyes as I loped on, ever northward. The day warmed most pleasantly as the sun rose higher, creating a beautiful autumn day. My spirits rose in spite of the uneasiness in my heart. Ly’Tana’s slave disguise might get them across the Great Caravan Route, but Ly’Tana herself was incredibly, dangerously vulnerable.

  “She’s a fit mate for you.”

  “Sure,” I replied, my tongue lolling. “If I survive.”

  “You will. I’ll come to visit you when you have whelps.”

  I laughed. “Not only are you optimistic, you are naïve.”

  “How so?”

  “If I live past winter solstice, if I marry her, and if we have offspring, they’ll be children, not puppies.”

  “Like you, they’ll be gai-tan.”

  His comment sobered me for a moment, but I refused to let him annoy me. There were too many ifs between now and any children I may have, and I wanted to enjoy the day and my new strength. Between the bull and the ewe, I felt strong, powerful, once more. I could run to the top of the world and fight the Guardian with one paw tied behind my back.

  I galloped on, leaping the skeletons of long dead trees, ducking under balsam thickets, raking my fur on the long spikes on those ever popular thorny bushes. Jackdaws screamed at me, rabbits bolted in terror, a startled fox halted in her tracks as I blew past her twitching nose.

  “You’re still very bony.”

  “Not for much longer.”

  “You should take time to hunt every day. Game will become scarce in a few months and you will rely on your stores of fat to keep you alive and warm in the mountains.”

  “I suppose you might have a point there, though it distresses me to no end to admit it.”

  “Fire Vixen.”

  “Fire what?”

  “It’s her wolf name.”

  “The wolves call Ly’Tana ‘Fire Vixen’?”

  “It suits her.”

  I pondered that comment. As much as I again hated to admit that Darius was right, he was. With her flaming hair and will of steel, Ly’Tana was in truth a vixen of fire. Fire Vixen.

  By mid-afternoon, the ground grew steeper under my feet, my claws scratching over more mossy rock and loose stones. I panted with the greater effort of hauling my huge body upwards, my forward momentum slowed by half the pace I made previously. I dodged past huge boulders, ducked under steep overhangs, and jumped the ever present white-pale, barkless trunks of trees long dead. The pine, spruce and fir thinned, growing more stunted with fewer branches offering worship to the sun. I heard the scamper of tiny creatures in the piney undergrowth, and saw no few striped rodents and rabbits duck into holes under the great rocks.

  A black bear roared a warning to me from a thicket I rapidly approached. I altered my direction slightly out of respect for his territory, but felt little fear from his jaws or claws. Bigger than he was, I was more than an even match for him in a fight. I suspected he also knew it, for all I saw of him was a brief glimpse of his black muzzle and dark, pig-like eyes as I trotted past his domain.

  The last length of the climb to the top of the hill proved the hardest. I leaped and bucked, using my powerful hindquarters to launch me ever higher, reaching with my front paws to gain a few rods of ground. Slippery stone tested my mettle and the strength of my claws as the ground lost its soil and grew solid rock. Thickets of bramble, scrub oak, and stunted trees grew from the very cracks in the boulders, loose dead pine needles causing me to lose, on occasion, my grip on the boulders.

  My tongue hung loose and dangled as I panted hard, needing all my new-found strength to leap ever on. I kept going, the summit in sight, a break in the trees and brush with bright sunshine and blue sky above them tantalizing, drawing me onward.

  At last I crested the steep hill and paused, panting. To my rear, the hills looked like fuzzy meadows diving and cresting in the distance. Far, far away, the sun glinted off the high lake where the Farouk hunters first thought to track me. Further south, I thought I glimpsed the pale gold of the desert, the territory of the Mesaan tribes. Even further south than the great desert lay the Khalidian Caravan Route where Ly’Tana and the others still traversed. Hopefully, I thought, in secrecy and complete safety.

  My mind could hope such, yet my gut still spoke otherwise.

  “She’s all right.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I have faith.”

  Odd. A god had faith whereas I had none.

  “Faith is my business.”

  I glanced a
bout, inspecting the area with eyes, ears, nose and my strange inner sight for danger. I found none. An eagle screamed, high above me, my quick eyes catching only a glimpse of it before the trees blotted it out. Rodents scurried for cover, rustling the undergrowth. A noise behind me made my ears swivel to catch the sound and identify it. No threat, that, a deer catching my scent leaped toward safety, wanting as much distance between me and it’s vulnerable throat as quickly as possible.

  After resting for a few moments, I continued on, albeit more slowly. My new-found strength deserted me after that day-long gallop and the steep uphill climb. Healing oneself and a week of starvation was certainly not conducive for maintaining strength, bull and ewe be damned. Hunger once more gnawed my belly, black spots danced before my eyes. I’d need plenty more of them to build me back up to full.

  “Take time to hunt.”

  “What the hell lives up here?”

  “Take your pick.”

  Fortunately, the hill I crested was a large one, with a broad plateau I traversed with little difficulty. It appeared I crested the peak of the first and shortest set of ranges I would be crossing in the months to come.

  I scented deer, elk, bear, feral pigs, rabbits, sheep, rodents, and the shaggy wild cattle that thrived in these higher climes. Games trails abounded amid the thick, high-stemmed grass, streams of sweet water trickled from the ever-present high boulders and thickets of scrub oak and pine. Squirrels raced each other up the trees while hawks, falcons and eagles shared the upper airspace with sparrows, jaybirds, jackdaws and bluebirds darting among the tree thickets.

  I rested for a short time, the black spots finally retreating, though I still felt weak. Starvation isn’t a foe easily beaten, I thought.

  “It’s not. You were very close to death.”

  I trotted slowly, saving some energy for hunting. With the abundant scents and trails, I hoped to catch something soon. An odor of feral pigs tickled my nostrils, fresher than the others. Saliva squirted into my mouth as I imagined one of those fat hogs in my belly.

  The high plateau over which I traversed remained huge, many leagues across before melding with yet another range. Far and high above them, the next set of mountains stood awaiting my attack. The sun crested their peaks, preparing to set behind them. Red, yellow, orange clouds streaked across the deepening blue sky. Nightfall, perhaps an hour or two away, I guessed.

  “That’s another range of mountains you have to cross.”

  I sighed. “I suppose there’s yet one behind that, and another behind that.”

  “I always knew you were smart.”

  I sighed.

  The huge plateau wasn’t flat, but rose at a shallow incline both north and west, the direction I travelled. Smaller hillocks and groves stunted trees created minor obstacles I jogged over and past. I gave some thought to moving more stealthily, just in case unwary prey stumbled into view.

  I’d no sooner slunk into the long shadows of fir trees and boulders when the sound of hooves rattling over stones caught my attention.They’re on the other side of the small hill, I guessed, dropping into a crouch.

  No sooner had I readied myself when a small herd of wild cattle thundered over the crest and galloped down the far side. Tails flung over their backs, eyes wide and white, they charged toward me as though an entire pack of wolves nipped their heels.

  Cool beans, I thought briefly. My supper coming to me.

  One big cow galloped just outside the herd, closest to my hiding place. I had an instant, no more, to judge and act. The cow was on me, at a full run, horns rising and falling with the sharp movements of her shoulders.

  Rising from the shadows in a sharp leap, I jumped hard, but at a shallow angle. I gave her no time to dodge. My fangs gripped the side of her neck, just behind her jowl. Hanging on, biting deep, I curled my body into a ball. Her own momentum, combined with my swinging weight jerked her off her feet. Laws of physics did the rest, and flipped her, tail over horns. She crashed onto her back in a noisome roil of dust and fir needles, snapping her spine instantly.

  Letting go the moment she went airborne, I landed half on my back and side, my tail caught under me, wrenched painfully. Ignoring its complaint, I rolled to my feet, effectively avoiding being trampled by the trailing members of the herd.

  The cow, struggling to get up, bawled, her eyes ringed white. She thrashed and called to her mates, her hindquarters refusing to cooperate and get her back on her feet. Unwolfish sympathy seized hold of me. Like the ewe, I pitied her panic, her inability to flee her enemy, her knowledge that in the next moments she’d die.

  I ended her suffering with a quick bite to her neck, snapping it. She sagged to the ground, dead, her blood in my mouth. My hunger roared, urging me to open her throat and drink down more. I quelled that notion, licking her blood for my jaws and looked about.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Something started that stampede,” I said, loping up the hill the herd recently charged down. “I want to know what.”

  “Cattle spook at mice. It’s probably nothing.”

  “Then I’ll eat soon. But meanwhile –“

  “Meanwhile?”

  “Inquiring minds need to know.”

  “Oh, brother.”

  Ignoring Darius, as usual, I crested the hill and paused, searching with sight, sound and scent. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. I found no predators; nothing that hunted on two feet or four, no signs that another herd member had been slain, setting off the stampede.

  Descending the hill, I nosed about, loping here and there, ranging perhaps a mile from my kill. Finding nothing to concern me, I thought that perhaps Darius was right: the cattle had spooked at a sudden noise and bolted. Time I got back to my kill before something else gets it.

  I turned around –

  A spruce bough snapped behind me.

  Spinning, hackles raised and fangs bared, I faced this new threat. Sudden astonishment brought both my lips and my hackles down.

  A griffin emerged from a balsam and spruce thicket about twenty rods away. Fierce eagle head lowered, its raptor beak parted in long ragged gasps. Twigs, dead needles and dirt decorated its mane of matted fur and feathers. Its left wing lay comfortably furled over its back, while its right hung down, its tip dragging the topsoil. Front talons walked slowly, but firm, while its left lion leg also dragged, useless, behind it. Limping on three legs, it shambled slowly across the clearing, black-tufted ears sagging to each side of its head.

  “Glory,” I muttered, unable to breathe.

  Those ears had little trouble hearing, however.

  Its eagle head whipped up, raptor’s eyes finally taking in the sight of me, huge, black and threatening. It screeched, its tufted ears now flattened to its skull. It faced me, long lion tail lashing from side to side, its courage undaunted. No doubt, wounded and almost helpless, thought I’d attack immediately. Leaning back on its healthy hind leg, it raised an eagle talon, and screeched again. It certainly knew how well weak, injured, sick creatures fared. With no fear, it waited for me, ready to defend itself to the last.

  “Let her be. She’ll die soon, and you don’t need to eat her.”

  “You know me well enough by now,” I said, taking a small step toward the badly injured griffin. A female, I observed.

  “Don’t be an idiot.”

  “Kiss my you-know-what.”

  Hoping to avert her fears with friendly gestures, I lowered my body and wagged my tail. I grinned, wolf fashion, my ears up and pointed toward her.

  “Hey, girl,” I said, “No worries. My name’s Raine? What’s yours?”

  “That’s so lame it should be killed.”

  “I’ve no experience in picking up girls.”

  “Then you’ll die without passing on those ever so polite genes.”

  Hoping she understood wolf body language, as she obviously didn’t understand my vocals, I tried to offer her a non-threatening, friendly pose. I dropped to my belly and rolled over, exposing my vulnerabl
e belly.

  Confused, she hissed, but didn’t drop her defensive stance.

  “Damn,” I said, sitting up, still wagging my tail. “She doesn’t speak wolf, but I know she understands human.”

  Changing into my human form, I spread my open hands, showing no weapon. The high altitude chill sought to wreak havoc on my exposed skin, but I ignored it. She needed help, and if I had to get a little cold to convince her I was the one to deliver it, I could stand a little chill.

  At my transformation, she blinked, her fierce green eyes suddenly not quite so fierce. Her raised talon dropped to the stony soil and grass, and her ears rose, perking forward.

  “Listen,” I said, urgently. “I know you can understand me. I’m not here to hurt you, I want to help.”

  She chirped, obviously still perplexed. First a wolf looked as though it was prepared to attack and slay, now a human stood in its place and spoke words of help. Her head cocked to one side, her eyes still on me. Just in case I played her false and still wanted to dine on her bones.

  “I’ll explain it to you, but now isn’t the time,” I said. “I’m both a man and a wolf. Neither the man nor the wolf wants to harm you. Come. Because of you, I’ve a meal tonight. I’d be most pleased if you’d share it with me.”

  She clicked her beak a few times. While I didn’t understand her speech, I suspected she asked the big question: why.

  Why would I offer her food and help? In the great struggles of life and death, of kill or be killed, why would a man-wolf want to help her? Men were her enemy, wolves a very big question mark.

  “I’ve a friend,” I said quietly. “A griffin, one of your own kind. He guards my beloved. For his sake, I’d help you and perhaps heal you of your injuries. If you’ll permit me.”

  Perhaps my words convinced her. Or maybe ‘twas nothing but simple desperation that caused her to relent. Suddenly, she agreed to accept my offered aid. Rising to her feet, she bobbed her beak in acknowledgment. Staggering along, she limped toward me, her raptor eyes alive to new hope.