Promise Of The Wolves (4 page)

Three nights after the Greatwolves intervened to save my life, Ruuqo howled to assemble the pack, to tell them to prepare to journey the next morning.

“
Ruuqo!
” Rissa raised her head angrily from where she rested by the den. “None of the pups are old enough for the journey.”

“What journey?” Reel asked Borlla.

“The journey to our summer home,” answered Yllin, the young female who had spoken up for us after the fight. She stood beside us by the large oak that shaded the den site.

“It’s our best gathering place, where you can be safe while we hunt and bring back food for you. The den site is too small and too warm to stay in all summer.”

“Is it far?” I asked.

“For a pup, it’s far. Most packs have summer gathering places near their den sites, but our old den site was flooded last winter so we must travel farther.” She frowned. “Last year Ruuqo waited until we were eight weeks old to move us. I can’t imagine what he’s thinking.”

Rissa narrowed her eyes, watching Ruuqo as he paced the clearing.

“You want to get back at the Greatwolves,” she accused. “You want the pup to die.” None of us had to ask which pup she meant. She rose and walked to him, placing her nose to his cheek. “The decision has been made for you, Lifemate. You cannot defy Jandru and Frandra.”

“No,” he said, “I cannot. But I cannot anger the Ancients, either. You know the wolves of the Wide Valley must keep their blood pure, or risk the consequences. If we allow her to live, the Ancients could send drought, or a freeze that kills all the prey, or a plague. It’s happened before. The legends tell us so.” He shook his head in frustration. “And where will Frandra and Jandru be if the other Greatwolves see her and do not like what she is? Or other packs in the valley? Greatwolves do not live with the same consequences we do, and yet they can force us to take action that could be our ruin. I won’t let my pack suffer.”

Werrna, the scarred female who was Ruuqo and Rissa’s secondwolf, spoke up. “The Stone Peak wolves killed the Wet Woods pack—while a pair of Greatwolves watched—because they allowed a mixed-blood litter to live. And it’s not as if we can hide it,” she said, looking at me. “She bears the mark of the unlucky. She could bring death to our pack.”

Rissa ignored Werrna. “Then we will carry the smaller pups, if they cannot make it across the plain.”

“No pup is carried. Any pup that cannot make the journey is not fit to be a Swift River wolf,” Ruuqo replied. “If the Wolf of the Moon means
her
to live, so be it. But I will allow only strong wolves in my pack.”

“I will not let you endanger my pups for your pride!” Rissa snapped.

“It is not my pride, Rissa, it is our survival. And we journey when the sun rises.” Ruuqo almost never used his leader voice with Rissa, almost never bullied her. But when he did he made it clear that he considered himself top wolf. Rissa was several pounds lighter than he, and weak from giving milk to us pups. If she challenged him, she would lose.

His voice softened. “We have known since we were young that we must honor the covenant, Rissa. And we have both made sacrifices to it before.” I had not heard sadness in his voice before, and wondered what caused it.

Rissa stared at him for a long time and then stalked away. His ears and tail drooping, Ruuqo watched her go.

Early the next morning, the pack set out. Rissa refused to take part in the leave-taking ceremony and stood aloof as the rest of the pack gathered around Ruuqo, each touching him and crying out for a good journey. I watched, fascinated, as the adult wolves wove around Ruuqo, touching their noses to his face and neck. He in turn placed his head on shoulders and necks, and licked outstretched faces.

“Won’t you join us, Rissa?” he asked. “A good ceremony means a good journey.”

“Good planning means a good journey,” she snapped. “I will not celebrate this leave-taking.”

Ruuqo said no more to her, but lifted his voice in a great howl. One by one the other wolves joined him, singing to the sky. And the journey began.

We walked away from the den site and the old oak, and scrambled up the rise that protected the den. Our clearing was at the very edge of a small stand of trees that sheltered us, and beyond the trees stretched a vast plain. It sloped gently uphill, and I could not see the end of it.

I remember little of the first part of that journey. At four weeks old, I was only two weeks younger than Rissa’s pups, but it made a difference. My legs were that much shorter, my lungs that much weaker, my eyes just a little less able to focus. The wound in my leg had not yet healed and it hurt to put all my weight on it. I could see that Ázzuen’s front paw was still hurting him, too. We were all terrified of being left behind, and did not even try to sort out the new sounds and smells. But Ázzuen, Marra, and I were the smallest and it was harder for us than for the other pups. Soon we fell behind the others. After we walked for what seemed like hours, we saw the wolves ahead of us stop in the shade of a large boulder. We hurried to catch up, and collapsed in a heap of fatigue. Even Borlla and Unnan were panting with effort and were too tired to harass me. We were allowed to rest for only a few moments before the adult wolves pushed and prodded us to our feet and we began the journey again. I had less time to rest than the others since I had reached the boulder last of all, and my legs shook as I stood. As we reached the crest of the long slope, we could see across the great plain to a distant stand of trees.

Rissa gave a great howl. “Your new home lies on the other side, pups. Once you make it to the woods and to Fallen Tree Gathering Place, you will be safe. You will have passed your first test as wolf.”

The rest of the pack joined her in the howl. “Keep to the journey. Call on your strength.”

We walked forever across that great plain, cringing against the openness of the sky. We were so used to trees above us, and the sights and sounds of this great flat land overwhelmed us. After what seemed like a lifetime of walking, I looked up at the sun overhead to see the day half over, and I could not believe we would reach the other side before dark. Ruuqo and Rissa led the way, with the rest of the pack following, the adult wolves surrounding the pups. Rissa, the yearling wolves, and the oldwolf, Trevegg, kept coming back to check on stragglers, and one of them always walked beside us. Marra, two weeks older than I and better fed than Ázzuen, managed to keep up, but soon the gap between the core pack and the stragglers grew, leaving Ázzuen and me behind.

Ruuqo barked for the adults with us to catch up. Trevegg turned back to me and lifted me gently in his jaws. From far ahead, Ruuqo gave another sharp bark.

“Every pup must walk the journey. They will arrive on their own feet, or they are not fit to be wolf.”

Trevegg hesitated, but put me gently down.

“Keep walking, littlewolf. If you do not give up, you will find us. Keep the strength. You are part of the Balance.”

When Trevegg set me down, I could not lift myself up again, but sat in despair as the rest of the pack moved away. Ázzuen sat beside me, whimpering.

Then Yllin, the strong-minded yearling female, broke away from the pack again and ran back to me. Her strong legs closed the distance between me and the rest of the pack in a matter of moments and I despaired of my tired legs ever being strong enough to carry me far enough and quickly enough. Yllin had a sharp tongue and little patience for weakness and I was certain she had come to mock me. But when she stopped, ignoring Ruuqo’s angry warning, there was mischief in her amber eyes.

“Come, little sister,” she said. “I plan to be leaderwolf of Swift River someday, and will need a secondwolf. Do not disappoint me.” She bent to speak so softly only I could hear.

“It’s the way of the wolf. This is the first of three tests you must pass. If you pass all three—the crossing, the first hunt, and the first winter—Ruuqo has to give you
romma
, the mark of pack acceptance, and every wolf you meet will know you are a Swift River wolf and that you are worthy of pack.” She paused. “Sometimes a leaderwolf will help a weaker pup through the tests. All of us love pups and want them to live. We’d sooner give up hunting and live on grass than hurt a pup. But if leaderwolves want to test a pup’s strength they may challenge her. If a pup is strong enough to survive such trials, she is strong enough to be pack. If not, there’s more food for the others.”

Then, before Ruuqo could come back for her and punish her for her defiance, Yllin pelted back to join the rest of the pack, tail low, and I could see her asking Ruuqo’s pardon.

The pack moved farther and farther away, until I could barely see their dark shapes on the open plain. But Trevegg’s kindness and Yllin’s cheerful defiance heartened me, and I got to my feet and began to take one painful step after another. Ázzuen followed. But after an hour, my breath came in gasps and I no longer looked up so often to see where the rest of the pack was. The gash in my leg began bleeding again and burned with every step. Ázzuen began to fall behind me and I slowed my pace even more, allowing him to catch up.

We walked. We walked until my paws felt bruised and each breath took so much effort I wished again and again I did not need the air. I could no longer see my pack and their scent grew fainter and fainter until I could no longer trust the trail I followed.

The sky darkened.

Grown wolves travel at night, avoiding the heat of day, but a pup is prey and any pack that values its pups does not take them out in the open after dark until they are old enough to fend for themselves.

“Bear food,” Unnan had whispered to me before we left that morning. I was listening to Ruuqo and Rissa argue about the journey and had not heard him come up behind me.

“You’ll be bear food before tomorrow morning. Or a mother long-fang will get you for a snack for her cubs.”

I had stalked away from him with as much dignity as I could scrape up, but now as Ázzuen and I stood alone out in the open, Unnan’s words haunted me.

And yet we kept walking. I was angry and hurt that the pack did not care if I lived or died, but I had nowhere else to go and they were the only family I had. So I walked on until my legs gave out beneath me and my tired nose could no longer distinguish the scent of my pack from the other scents on the plain. As a cloudy dusk crept over the sky, I sank down on the ground and waited for death to come. Ázzuen crumpled beside me.

Sleep came, and dreams. Dreams of bears and sharp teeth. But as I fell deeper into sleep, I saw a face, the kindly face of a young shewolf. She was no wolf I knew, for only my pack was familiar to me. She smelled of juniper and an unfamiliar warm-acrid scent. And, like me, she had a white moon shape on her chest, like no other wolf in the pack had. I wondered if she might be a vision of my mother from a younger, happier time.

The dreamwolf laughed. “No, little Smallteeth, though I am one of your many mothers from a time longer ago than you can imagine.” I felt a warmth suffusing me, easing the aches in my body. “You are not meant to die today, sisterwolf. You promised your mother you would survive and become pack. You must live and carry on my work. You have much to do.” And her kind face grew suddenly sad, and then angry. “You will suffer for it,” she said. Her sadness and anger left as quickly as they had come. “But you will also find great joy. Stand now, my sister. Walk, my daughter. Your way will always be a difficult one and you must learn now to persevere when you think you cannot. Walk, Kaala Smallteeth. Take your friend and find your home.”

Dazed, I struggled to my feet, ignoring the pain in my sore leg. I poked Ázzuen awake and, ignoring his groans, bullied him to his feet. When he fell to the ground again, I bit him.

“Get up,” I hissed, my throat too dry and tired to speak loudly. “I’m going now and you’re coming. I won’t let you die here.”

“They gave me a name and they still don’t care if I live or die,” he whispered miserably. “They just left me here.”

Impatience with Ázzuen’s self-pity rose in me and I bit him again, much harder this time.

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” I said, ignoring his yelp of pain. “You saved my life when the other pups tried to kill me, so you have to come with me now. Show them you belong in the pack. Do you want Unnan and Borlla to be right about you? To be able to say you’re too weak to be pack?”

Ázzuen stood shakily and thought for a moment. “I don’t care about Borlla and Unnan. You cared if I got milk or not. I’ll go where you go, Kaala.” He looked at me with simple trust as if I were a grown wolf, and his belief in me gave me strength. Ázzuen trusted me to get him home, and so I would.

The pain in my feet and in my chest seemed distant from me, and the dreamwolf’s scent guided me as the pack-scent had before. I did not even know if it would lead me where my pack had gone, but I could no longer distinguish the scents of my family, so I followed it. I looked up and saw the great light of the moon, completely round and so bright that my way was not dark. It did not give warmth as did the sun, but its light heartened me, and I walked with determination. I could see, out of the corner of my eye, the shape of the young dreamwolf guiding me on. If I tried to look directly at her, she disappeared, and I got the sense that she was laughing at me. When my legs tired, I would remember Ázzuen plodding trustfully beside me and keep on going.

And, then, when I thought I could walk no more, the night became darker and the ground beneath my paws cooler. Trees rose above my head, dimming the light of the moon. I had crossed the great plain. The dreamwolf faded with the moonlight and everything in my body hurt. Being alone in the forest didn’t seem much better than being alone on the plain, and my weary nose could not pick up the scent of my pack. At last I caught a familiar scent.