I took a breath of air thick with horse sweat, and before any of the horses could tell what I was going to do, I began to run. The horses bolted. First, a young quick one dashed away, so fast her legs seemed to blur. Then two older, slower ones split off. I considered following them but decided to stay with my first choice. The hunt thrill overtook me, and I realized the three of us could make a kill right there and then. All of my anger, all of my hurt, transformed into the desire to bite into the flesh of prey. I wanted that horse. I whuffed an order to Marra, and she ran through the center of the group of horses. It was a dangerous move, because a horse could easily kick her, but Marra was agile as well as quick and easily dodged in and out among the horse hooves. All on her own she managed to split off a smaller group that included the sick horse, and to turn it toward me and Ázzuen. The healthy horses abandoned their weaker companion, leaving her to us. I caught Ázzuen’s eye as he sprinted up to the horse’s right flank, and I prepared to bring her down. Then a furious howl startled us. I stumbled, and Ázzuen fell back a few paces. Taking advantage of our distraction, the horse escaped. Trevegg rushed across the meadow toward us.
He ignored our attempts to greet him. “Why did you hunt?” he demanded. “Why didn’t you wait?”
Ázzuen and Marra were silent.
“We were testing the prey,” I answered.
“It didn’t look like you were testing them. It looked like you were hunting. You’ve made the horses anxious and aware of our intent to hunt them. If you can’t behave yourselves I’ll send you home.”
“You can’t send me home,” I snapped. “You need me here. And the fat mare with scabs on her left leg is ready to be hunted.” I stomped away and flopped down in the sun, placing my face in my paws.
Trevegg stalked toward me, his face tight with fury. I didn’t care. I was tired of being told what to do. An instant later, my chest grew warm and I heard loud footsteps. The humans were coming. I stood. Trevegg, still several wolflengths away, halted, watching as the humans crested the gentle slope that led to the plain.
As soon as the humans caught sight of us, TaLi bounded over. She squatted down and wrapped a strong, skinny arm around me. I felt the warmth of her, smelled her scent of fire and herbs, and felt safe and whole as I did only with her. Being with TaLi was the only thing that eased the ache that came whenever I thought of my mother’s exile. I knew that I could never seek my mother if it meant abandoning TaLi.
“HuLin pretends to lead the hunt, but it’s really KiLi who does so,” she whispered into my ear. I saw Trevegg’s ears twitch to listen.
I licked TaLi’s arm to let her know that I understood. It was the same with wolves. Sometimes when a less dominant wolf is good at something, like tracking or hunting, she will let the leaderwolf take credit for her skill so that the leaderwolf doesn’t feel threatened. At autumn’s end, Marra had told me that the humans didn’t want their females to hunt anymore. The hard winter must have changed their minds.
“He’ll watch to see which horse KiLi chooses, then he’ll tell us which one it is. Once we start hunting we’ll wait for you to help.” TaLi stood, stroked my head, and galloped off back to her pack.
The humans spread out across the plain, and Ázzuen, Marra, Trevegg, and I slipped in among the prey, who had returned to their grass chomping in spite of Trevegg’s concern that they would run off. We pressed ourselves down into the low, scrubby grass, so it would be harder for the horses to see what we were doing. I noticed that some of the humans had the sturdy spears they used to kill animals at short range while others had the lighter sharpsticks that were thrown using another stick that they rested upon their shoulders. This time, I resisted the urge to fall completely into the hunt thrall and did not run among the horses. We wolves had decided to let the humans lead the hunt, and so I stayed where I was, allowing my senses to do as much as they could from where I lay. It didn’t take me long to find the plump, sickly female, only ten or twelve wolflengths from where I waited. I crept over to her on my belly, then stood up. I tried to catch a human’s eye to let them know, as I would with a packmate, that I had found easy prey, but none of them paid any attention to me. They just spoke softly to one another, pointing out different horses and talking some more. Sighing, I sat back to watch them. Ázzuen slunk over to join me.
It seemed that they hunted much as we did. The younger, fleet humans ran after clusters of horses, testing to see which ones were weak and which were strong. I felt a little sorry for the humans. They couldn’t smell sore joints or hear fragile bones, so they had to rely only on the horses’ behavior, which meant that a clever prey could fool them by pretending to be fit when it was really weak.
Still, within only a few moments the female who must have been KiLi chose a horse, and HuLin gave the order to chase it. It was a spindly one, hungry after surviving the winter. Decent prey, though not the best. As soon as the humans began to run, driving the mare toward where Ázzuen and I sat waiting, I leapt to my feet. Ázzuen, too, jumped up, and we ran to the horse, heading her off so that she could not escape the humans.
Scrawny as she was, the horse moved well. She swerved just as the humans raised their sharpsticks, but she swerved right into Ázzuen and me. When she saw two wolves running toward her, she panicked, rearing up on her back legs. She wasn’t accustomed to humans and wolves working together. I ran faster, preparing to jump, knowing that we would have her, certain that the hunt would be successful.
Then I heard TaLi’s shriek.
I looked up and saw a human’s face, suffused with fury. It was DavRian. He held a sharpstick, a spear, poised to throw, but not at the horse—at me. He thought I was stealing his prey. Just as he tried to let loose the spear, TaLi knocked his arm aside. I was already dodging, diving under the belly of the horse, ducking hooves and rolling in the dirt. When I stood, dizzy and coughing from the dust and from my fear, Ázzuen was beside me. Frantically I looked for Trevegg and Marra. They were standing atop a flat rock, out of the way of the frenzied horses and unpredictable humans. Trevegg saw me watching him and, as the horses calmed, leapt from his rock and loped over to me.
“That is enough of that,” he said when he reached me. “We will have to find another way to gain their trust.”
If they wouldn’t behave like reasonable creatures, there was no other way. I looked back at the humans. TaLi had seized DavRian’s weapon. She threw it down to the ground and stomped on it. Quick as a hawk’s strike, DavRian’s hand flew from his side and struck TaLi, hard enough to make her stagger.
I didn’t think. Before DavRian had pulled back his hand, my legs were moving, and before TaLi had regained her balance I was standing in front of her, snarling. The air before me blurred and my ears filled with wind. I could feel my lips pulling all the way up past my teeth. All the fury and frustration I felt, all the loss and helplessness, came together in a powerful desire to knock DavRian from his feet and bite deep into his flesh. I was only dimly aware of the deep menacing growl throbbing in my throat. I didn’t hear or see the horses, my packmates, or the tribe of humans. I saw only DavRian’s surprised face and his thin, furless neck. And only very dimly, his sharpstick rising above his head.
“Kaala! Stop! Now!”
At first, I didn’t recognize the voice. I had never, never heard Trevegg shout. There was such command in his voice, the command of a leaderwolf, that I immediately stopped growling. I was aware that my fur was standing straight up along my back and my tail was so taut it was hurting my lower back. It took everything I had to force my fur back down and to make myself sit. I stopped snarling and hid my teeth, but I still glared at DavRian. He needed to know it was not acceptable for him to hurt TaLi. HuLin stepped up beside DavRian, his expression both angry and bewildered.
“I told you they were dangerous!” DavRian hissed.
It was then that I realized what I had done. The whole reason we were bringing the humans meat was to gain their trust. The reason we had joined them in the hunt was to convince them we were worthy
companions. I had just destroyed our chance of making that happen. I couldn’t face Trevegg, Ázzuen, or Marra. I couldn’t return to my pack. TaLi gripped my fur, but I pulled away from her. Ignoring Trevegg’s command to return to him and TaLi’s hand groping for me, I ran, wanting to put as much distance as I could between myself and those I had failed.
I had gone no more than five hundred wolflengths when I ran smack into what felt like a huge boulder of fur and muscle. I bounced off of it and landed hard on my side. I lay there for a moment, stunned, then sat up and shook my head to clear it. I blinked dirt out of my eyes, trying to get a sense of what I might have hit. I was in a thick copse of spruce trees and juniper bushes, and at first, all I saw were the trees, bushes, dirt, and rocks. Then the sky above me darkened, and I looked up to see a huge head lowering to meet mine. I choked back a squeak of fear as I found myself nose to nose with the Greatwolf Milsindra.
I tried to stand, but my legs wouldn’t let me. The last time I’d seen Milsindra, she’d made no secret of her desire to kill me. She looked at me now the way I might look at a rabbit trapped in the thick branches of a dream-sage bush, or at a deer with a broken leg—something I knew I could catch without trouble, something so vulnerable that I could savor the moment before the kill without worrying that my prey might escape me. I saw the satisfaction in her face, as if she knew that I wouldn’t run from her. She was right. I was already dazed by my failure with the humans and by the news of my mother waiting for me outside the valley. And, to make things worse, the desolation I had been trying to push away by hunting the horses returned. This time, I couldn’t make it go away. That had never happened before. I’d always been able to ignore it, to pretend it wasn’t there. This time, it stayed, and I could no more run from Milsindra than I could fly to the top of the nearest pine tree. I sat there, waiting for whatever she might do.
“Kaala, of Swift River,” she rumbled, “I am so glad to have found you.”
My senses sharpened at her courteous tone, and my head cleared. She was trying to sound friendly, but there was a nasty, condescending edge to her voice that made my backfur bristle.
There was a small bird in the Wide Valley that we called the grub-finder, because it could locate the succulent white beetle larvae that lived in the bark of only a few trees in the valley. The ravens loved these grubs and would do almost anything to get them, and would often try to wheedle the grub-finders into showing them where the tasty larvae hid. The grub-finders were both simple-minded and easily upset, and one harshly spoken word would send them skittering away to hide deep inside the hollow of a tree, sometimes hiding so long that they starved to death. So the ravens spoke gently to the stupid birds. But they couldn’t keep the contempt from their voices, for ravens have no respect for the slow-witted. I’d heard Tlitoo talking to one once and couldn’t believe the grub-finder wasn’t insulted at Tlitoo’s condescending tone, but the stupid bird only heard the feigned kindness and showed Tlitoo where a cluster of grubs hid. Milsindra’s voice sounded just like a raven speaking to a grub-finder.
I managed to get my paws under me and stood, trying to keep my spine from sagging. I knew I should greet Milsindra, should say something, but anger at myself for growling at DavRian and fear of Milsindra thickened in my throat, and when I tried to speak, nothing came out but a whuff of air.
Milsindra smiled a narrow smile, just the tips of her sharp teeth showing. “I was following the trail of a grouse, and caught your scent,” she said. “How are things with your humans? I heard you gave a walking bird to the human leader and that he was pleased.”
At the mention of scent I realized that Milsindra did not smell like Greatwolf. She smelled like pine and dirt and forest. I remembered what Trevegg had said about Greatwolves being able to hide their scent. Some wolves said it was the power of the Ancients that allowed them to do so. I’d never believed it. Yet there Milsindra was, smelling nothing like wolf. She watched me, awaiting an answer.
I thought about lying, telling her that everything with the humans was fine, but she could almost certainly smell my distress. I remembered the paw print we had seen by the human homesite, the rustling bushes. Had she been following us? Did she have spies in the valley? How much could she have seen and heard if she was creeping around smelling of the woods, and what would she do to me if she knew I was lying? Thoughts darted through my mind like mice running for cover in tall grass. I couldn’t possibly follow them all.
Milsindra watched, waiting for a lie. Through the aroma of forest that disguised her wolfscent, I caught a whiff of something. An eagerness. The smell of a wolf before the hunt. I took a step back.
“You weren’t so quiet the last time I saw you,” she said, licking a paw. “Are you not brought up well enough to answer a krianan wolf when she addresses you?”
That made me whuff in surprise. I’d never before heard a Greatwolf refer to herself as a krianan—it was the term the humans used for their spiritual leaders and for the wolves that met with them.
“I must speak to Rissa about the way she raises her pups,” Milsindra said.
I at last managed to find my voice.
“It’s only been a quarter moon since we started bringing meat to the humans,” I said, pleased that I was able to speak calmly and respectfully. “We have more than two moons left to complete our task.” And only two moons to get outside the valley if I’m going to find my mother, I thought. The thought of my mother waiting for me while I was stuck in the valley stole my words away once again, and I blinked stupidly at Milsindra. She waited. For me to lie, for me to admit failure. I didn’t know what to say. Then I remembered how Marra could answer a question without really answering it, saying just enough to be respectful without actually giving up any information.
“It isn’t easy,” I said, averting my gaze. “There are challenges, but we still have time to figure it out.”
“Challenges?” Milsindra scoffed, dropping her polite demeanor. “You can barely keep from killing one another. One hunt. One hunt and you almost bit one of them and they almost skewered you like firemeat.” She laughed, then seemed to remember that she was trying to be nice to me. “It is not your fault, Kaala. You cannot help what you are.” She lowered her head to meet my eyes. “Do you know why I permitted that decrepit oldwolf to convince the council to grant you the challenge of living with the humans?”
“Because you had to,” I blurted. “You don’t have enough support on the council to stop it. Zorindru made you.”
Milsindra laughed.
“Zorindru can make me do nothing. I allowed it because I know that you are too much a wolf to allow the humans to bully you, to treat you like a curl-tail. Not like your mother and Ruuqo’s brother.” My ears rose at the mention of my mother. Milsindra’s arrogant gaze stopped me from interrupting her. “Hiiln and Neesa were the humans’ strecks.” I winced at the insult. A streck was the lowliest form of prey. “They rolled over and offered their bellies to the humans, and they lost what made them wolf. They put us all at risk of becoming no more than curl-tails to the humans. But I knew you would not do so.” Her ears flattened in amusement. “I am always right.”
“What do you mean about my mother?” I finally managed to say. I knew that Hiiln, Ruuqo’s brother, had been exiled from the valley for consorting with the humans long before I was born, but no one had told me my mother had done so, too. My heart quickened. Milsindra had to know where my mother was, what she wanted from me. “What does my mother have to do with the humans?”
Milsindra ignored my question. “I allowed the test to go forth because I knew you would fail. And the sooner you fail, the sooner I prove that I am right and that you are an affront to the Ancients, that Frandra and Jandru should never have saved your life. The sooner you and your humans are dead, the safer we all will be.”
A fanatical gleam came into her eyes, and I stepped back. She followed me. I realized that fleeing would be a bad idea. Like any wolf, she would chase the prey that ran. I gripped the
earth with my paws, forcing myself to stay where I was. Milsindra regarded me.
“You have courage, youngwolf. You have spirit. You are a wolf that others follow. But you are not the savior of wolfkind. Only a Greatwolf can be that. Any wolf who truly follows the Ancients knows that Indru chose the Greatwolves to lead wolfkind because we are closest to the Ancients in the Balance. We are the ones chosen to control the humans. We are the ones with the strength to do what must be done.”
Hearing the fervor in her voice shocked me. I found that I was panting hard, trying to get enough air into my lungs. I had thought Milsindra only wanted power, but it was more than that. Ruuqo and Rissa followed the Ancients, as we all did, but I’d never heard any wolf speak as Milsindra spoke, as if the Ancients were her leaderwolves, as if they told her what to do as one wolf would tell another. I wondered if it could be true, if the Ancients themselves thought I was unlucky. Milsindra certainly believed it.
I heard Ázzuen howl that he was coming. The knowledge steadied me. “Zorindru doesn’t think it’s the will of the Ancients that I should fail.” My voice was quiet, but Milsindra heard me.
“And that is why I must take the council from him.” The amusement left her face. “The Ancients entrusted us with the task of controlling the humans, and when Zorindru allowed you to consort with them he put us all in jeopardy. Those on the council who support him are as dangerous as he is, and the Ancients will punish them. Those who do not know whom to follow are weak and will be easily swayed when you fail.”
“And if I don’t fail?” I said, still not meeting Milsindra’s eyes.
“You will,” she said, carelessly chewing at the fur of her shoulder. “And if you don’t, I will find a way to make your success a failure. Even if you do get to your humans”—she laughed—“which you won’t, not after you growled at them. Even if you do manage it, I will find another way to make the council doubt you. It’s not difficult, you know. All I have to do is tell my followers it was luck that you succeeded, and that we need more proof. That we need to see humans living with you, too. Or that we need to see that when you live with humans your own hunts improve. That we need a wolf to lead a human pack. It doesn’t matter what. Fear is a powerful force. All I need to do is make enough of the council and enough packs in the valley afraid of you and what you represent and I will win.”
Secrets of the Wolves Page 10
