Promise Of The Wolves (5 page)

“I waited for you.” Yllin stood tall at the edge of the wood. “I knew you’d find your way here, little sister. And welcome to you, smallpup.” She grinned at Ázzuen. I was too tired to do anything but gratefully touch my nose to her lowered muzzle. We found the pack-scent and walked the last hour to the gathering place and fell into a heap of exhaustion.

Ruuqo didn’t even greet us. He just looked over at Rissa, who gazed at him with a challenge in her eyes.

“She can stay,” he said, “until her winter coat comes in. But I make no promises that I will make her pack.”

I didn’t know what he meant, but Yllin had spoken of something similar. I didn’t have the energy left to figure it out. And after a moment I didn’t care, for Rissa, and then the rest of the pack, came to me and licked me in greeting, and called me by my name.

T
he place that was to be our home as we grew strong and learned the ways of the pack was a wide, shady clearing an hour’s walk, for a pup, from the forest edge. It was surrounded by the same spruce trees and juniper bushes as our den site, and smelled like safety. A small hill at the north side of the clearing gave a good view into the forest. I learned later that Ruuqo always chose places with lookout spots—hillocks, or rocks, or stumps of fallen trees—to better protect the pack. Two sturdy oaks stood sentinel at the west entrance to the clearing, and a fallen spruce ran nearly from one end to the other. There was springy moss to lie in and soft dirt to play in, and the tall trees would give us shade in the hot summer afternoons to come. I could hear a spring full of good water burbling nearby. It was worth the long, terrifying walk and the sore leg.

Ázzuen, Marra, and I stood together at the roots of the fallen spruce, looking in wonder at this good place. Borlla and Unnan huddled together by a large boulder, whispering and looking at us. Reel poked his nose between them, trying to hear what they were saying. I knew they were planning some harm for us. But before they could make trouble, old Trevegg trotted across the clearing, bringing them over to where we stood. I resisted the temptation to knock Borlla ears over tail when she stepped hard on Ázzuen’s injured paw, making him yelp.

“Listen, pups,” Trevegg said before Ázzuen or I could retaliate, “this is Fallen Tree Gathering Place, one of the five gathering places, or homesites, in our territories. You must learn it and remember it.”

Trevegg was the oldest wolf in the pack, and Ruuqo’s uncle. He had the same dark-rimmed eyes as Ruuqo, but Ruuqo’s eyes always seemed anxious while Trevegg’s were open and kind. The fur around his muzzle and eyes was faded to a lighter shade than the rest of his coat, giving him a gentle, welcoming appearance. He opened his mouth to breathe in the scents of our new home.

“Gathering places are where we come to plan hunts, and to develop strategies to defend our territories. They are where wolves who have wandered from the pack can return, and where pups can grow strong while the pack hunts. Wolves must wander to eat, but good, safe, and healthy gathering places make a pack strong.” He gazed across the clearing. “Never forget a gathering place, for you never know when you may need it again.”

I lifted my face to the wind, tasting the acorn-tinted scent of Fallen Tree. I memorized the rippling of the breeze in the bushes and buried my nose in the dirt that smelled of my pack.

“Watch, pups!” Yllin called from halfway across the clearing. She dropped onto one shoulder and rolled onto her back, turning to and fro in the dirt and grunting happily. She and her brother, Minn, were just a year old, Rissa and Ruuqo’s pups from the year before. Although they were nearly as large as the grown wolves, and considered almost full members of the pack, they were not really grown up. We watched her curiously.

“When you leave part of yourself on the earth,” Trevegg explained as Yllin continued to roll gleefully in the dirt, “on a bush or a tree, or on the body of an animal whose spirit has returned to the moon, you speak to the Balance.” Trevegg seemed younger when he taught us, years of hunting and fighting lifting from his face. “The Balance is what holds the world together. The Ancients—Sun, Moon, Earth, and Grandmother Sky—who rule the lives of all creatures, created the Balance so that no one creature might grow too strong and cause problems for all others. You will learn more of the Ancients,” he said sternly as Ázzuen opened his mouth to interrupt with a question, “if you survive your first winter. Know now that they are more powerful than any creature. And know that we must obey their rules, and the rules of the Balance. Every creature,” he continued, “every plant, every breath of air is part of the Balance. With everything we do, we must remember to respect the world we have been granted. So even as we take things—water from the river, meat from a successful hunt—we leave part of ourselves as well, to show our gratitude for what the Ancients have given us.”

One by one, we dropped onto one shoulder and rolled in a spot where weeks before a rabbit had died. A pungent fox had long since carried him away, but the scent of what had been life remained. We coated ourselves with the scent, adding our own essences to the spot and claiming Fallen Tree Gathering Place as our home. I knew then what I had not known before: Ruuqo could decide whether or not I was a member of the Swift River pack, but no one could take from me that I was wolf, and part of the Balance. I noticed Unnan watching me, a conniving look on his weaselly face.
I’m here,
I thought,
and you can’t do a thing about it.
I raised my head and took in more of my new home.

All at once, after the effort of marking my scent and exploring the gathering place, a wave of exhaustion overcame me, and I could barely stand on my feet. I spied a soft patch of moss under the shade of the big boulder. Feeling as if I walked barely ahead of sleep, I made wearily for this good resting spot. Before I got halfway there, Borlla and Unnan blocked my way in a quick and hostile scuffle of dust. Borlla narrowed her eyes.

“You aren’t going to our rock, are you?”

My fur bristled and I envisioned taking a piece out of her neck. She opened her mouth and panted, waiting for me to attack. Ázzuen’s voice pierced my fury.

“Kaala, over here.” He and Marra had found a shady spot in the shelter of the fallen spruce. I shook off my anger—I wanted sleep more than I wanted to teach Borlla a lesson. I trotted over to my friends, turning up my nose at Borlla and Unnan, and lifting up my tail to show them my backside. The ground under the tree was wonderfully soft and moist, and just the right amount of sun kept the patch from getting too cold. Gratefully, I sank into the welcoming earth and nuzzled the soft fur of Ázzuen’s neck. Marra rested her head on Ázzuen’s back and fell asleep almost immediately. But Ázzuen looked at me for a long time.

“Thank you,” he said at last. “I don’t think I would have made the journey if you hadn’t helped me.”

“We helped each other,” I said, embarrassed.

“No,” he said, shaking his dark gray head and making Marra turn in her sleep. “You’re the strong one.”

I wanted so much to tell him that I wasn’t so strong, to tell him about the spiritwolf who had come to me on the plain and lent me her strength. Our journey across the plain and our fights with the other pups had forged a bond between Ázzuen and me, and I was tired of being alone in the pack. But I didn’t tell him. The last thing I needed was to be seen as any more different than I already was. I just gave Ázzuen a quick touch on his face, and allowed myself to sleep.

A sharp pain in my ear awoke me. As I tried to stand, the pain got worse. Someone was tearing my ear off. Shaking my head and wondering what in the name of the moon was after me now, I tried to back away, but could not free myself. Ázzuen snored beside me, oblivious to this new threat. I couldn’t see Marra, but could smell that she was nearby. I twisted onto my back, trying to see my foe, but only succeeded in increasing the pain in my ear.

I twisted farther, until I thought my head would come off my neck, and looked into a pair of beady brown eyes set in a sleek, small head. I saw long, black feathers, and smelled leaves and wind. A large, black, glossy-coated bird had me in its grasp, pinching my ear in its sharp beak. It made a soft gurgling sound in its throat, and looked extremely pleased with itself. It saw me watching it and tugged harder on my ear. I whimpered. The bird released my ear and looked at me with shiny eyes. Then it gave an earsplitting shriek.

The bird’s strange way of speaking confused me, and I stared dumbly at it. It stared back, waiting to see what I would do. I looked around the clearing for help from the rest of the pack. I saw Minn and Yllin chasing and being chased by more of the black birds while the older wolves watched. I didn’t understand why they didn’t help. Was this another test? I wanted to cry and curl up in a little ball, but I was wary of that sharp beak. The bird did not attack again at first, but regarded me, head cocked to one side. I wearily stumbled to my feet and growled at it. Even to my own ears, my growl sounded halfhearted. Marra was awake and standing stock-still beside me, watching the bird. I shoved Ázzuen with my hip to get his attention. He slowly opened his eyes and looked at the large bird. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. He yelped and scooted behind me. The bird gave a cry of laughter and flapped its wings, sending twigs and dirt over us and making us cough.

I looked again for help from my pack. The clearing was in chaos. The senior wolves had finally joined the fray but, to my surprise, did not seem to be taking the fight seriously. Birds swooped down on wolves, trying to grab their tails, their ears, their rumps, anything they could get in their beaks. The wolves snapped at the air, trying to get a mouthful of bird. But they were not snarling in anger or hurting the birds. They yipped excitedly and waved their tails.

“They’re having fun,” Marra said slowly. “They’re playing with the stupid birds.”

At first I thought she was crazy but, as I watched Ruuqo flip head over paws in pursuit of a bird, I realized she was right. I tried to count the birds in the clearing, but they moved so quickly it was hard to tell how many there were. I guessed there might be twelve of them. One especially large bird, bigger than Yllin’s head, landed atop her neck, and flew away again before she could snap at it. It flapped just above her head, laughing at her.

My attacker had been watching, but suddenly whipped its head around to seize my other ear. It pulled hard.

“Let go of me, bird!” I squealed.

It let go of my ear and, as I shook my head in relief, made a grab for my nose. I yelped, pulling away and tumbling into Ázzuen.

“Stupid bird,” I said under my breath. “I should bite you in half.”

It looked at me and laughed, then took flight with a whooshing of wings as both Minn and Yllin pounced on it from behind.

“Come on, Rainsong,” Yllin said. “Leave the pups be. Or are you afraid of a grown wolf?” She turned to Minn. “I think she’s afraid of grown wolves,” Yllin said, eyes dancing. I was impressed that she spoke so boldly. But then again, she was a lot bigger than the stupid bird.

“Who’s a grown wolf?” Rainsong said, dropping her strange way of speaking. “I remember when you were a mewling, puke-eating pup.” She flew over Yllin’s head and Yllin leapt high in the air, twisting her body in an amazing acrobatic leap. I thought for sure she would snatch the bird from the air. But Rainsong was too quick. She gave a yell of laughter as she flew up and away. Marra, who was the most adventurous of us, took an experimental swipe at the bird, but she was too small to reach her.

“Yllin, why do they attack us?” Ázzuen’s voice shook with fear and fatigue. “I thought we would be safe here.” He glared at the birds. “Why don’t we just kill them?”

Keeping an eye on Rainsong, Yllin snorted. “They aren’t attacking us, stupid. Haven’t you learned the difference between fight and play? If you can’t even play, how’re you going to hunt?”

“Be nice, Yllin. You were a pup once, too,” Rissa said, trotting over to us.

She shook a raven from her back, its black feathers a startling contrast to her white coat. Her eyes were bright as she turned to growl at the same raven, who was trying in vain to catch hold of her fast-moving tail. Rissa was thin, still, from birthing and feeding pups, but her energy was high and I felt my own tail begin to wag in response to her good spirits. Yllin gave an unapologetic snort and chased after two ravens. “I was never that much of a curl-tail,” she said.

“She was, you know,” Rissa said, looking fondly after her daughter.

When Borlla, Unnan, and Reel saw that Rissa was paying attention to us, they pelted over from their boulder. Two ravens, in close pursuit, stopped short as the pups tumbled into Rissa and hid behind her. With mocking cries, the birds flew to join the rest of their friends.

“Listen, pups,” Rissa said, giving gentle bites to get our attention. “There are creatures that are not wolf and are not prey or rival.” We must have looked confused, for she thought a moment and began again. “In the world, there is wolf, and there is not-wolf. Most important among wolf, there is pack. The good of the pack outweighs the good of any one wolf. Pack is more important than life, more important than the hunt.” She let that sink in, and then went on. “After pack, there are wolves that are not pack, some of which are our enemies, some our friends. Among not-wolf, there is prey, which we kill. Any prey may be killed as long as you follow the rules of the hunt.”

“How do you know if something is prey?” Ázzuen asked. I’d noticed that he was always the one to ask a question, and to figure things out more quickly than the rest of us.

“You’ll know,” said Yllin, who had returned, panting, to join us. “If it runs, you chase it!”