Wolves of the Beyond: Shadow Wolf (12 page)

THE FIRST EVENT OF THE
GADDERGNAW
was the
byrrgis
. The scouts had gone to look for the first of the caribou herds migrating north. Just past dawn, one came back with news. A small herd had crossed the river and was heading north by northeast at tock-tock speed.

“To the west or east of Crooked Back Ridge?” Liam MacDuncan asked. The large gray wolf had become the chieftain of the clan after his father, Duncan, died. But there were whispers that his mother, Cathmor, was the real power and guided him in every decision.

“They are crimping easterly.”

There were barks of approval, for this meant the herd was heading directly into MacDuncan territory.

Cathmor stepped forward. “Don’t count on it. The herd could split at the base of the ridge. I think it would
be wise if this
byrrgis
of gnaw wolves had experience in pincering. After all, pincer strategies are fundamental to all the
byrrgises
run by the gnaw wolves of the Beyond. Their responsibilities at the Ring of Sacred Volcanoes prohibit them from chasing herds too far. They do not have the luxury of extended hunts as we do. Why not see how these young gnaw wolves do?”

“Pincering?” Tearlach said in a shaky voice. “I’ve never done a pincer move.”

“I must humbly remind you, Tearlach, that none of us has ever been anything but the lowliest sweeper,” Heep interjected.

A low scathing hiss issued from the Whistler’s throat. “I humbly beg you to go off and eat a moose patty!”

The other gnaw wolves began to chuckle and wag their tails. Despite Tearlach’s apprehensions, all the gnaw wolves were excited to be running as truly significant members of the
byrrgis
and not sniffing the prey’s scat or urine. This was the one and only time that other wolves took on the responsibilities of sweepers.

“Can you beat that!” Little Edme gave Faolan a gentle poke and tossed her head toward Heep, who had moved off after the Whistler’s remarks. Once again, Edme, despite having been born with only one eye, saw
everything. The yellow wolf was now prostrating himself and began to writhe excessively before a handsome black wolf from the MacDuff clan, a high-ranking
raghnaid
member.

“What’s he saying?” Edme asked.

Faolan shoved his ears forward. But as seemed to be the tendency with gnaw wolves, it was the earless Tearlach who picked up the conversation.

“Dunstan MacDuff, I understand that your esteemed son has agreed to run as a sweeper so that we ignoble gnaw wolves might for this one time assume loftier positions in the
byrrgis
. Although it might seem presumptuous of me, a lowly, humble—”

“Here we go again,” said Edme. They had surreptitiously crept a bit closer and could now hear Heep without Tearlach’s aid.

“I thought I might offer some modest advice in regard to the sniffing of scat.” This was one of Heep’s most theatrical displays of humiliation and ingratiation, which was fortunately soon drowned out by the rallying howls of the
gaddergludder
.

Faolan was to be a packer alongside Mhairie’s sister Dearlea, who was a tight-end packer on the western flank. Heep was also a packer on the western flank.

Why couldn’t they have at least assigned him to the eastern flank?
Faolan thought grimly. Why couldn’t it have been the Whistler at his side? Why was it always Heep?

Just as they were forming up for the
byrrgis
, Creakle barked, “Look! Owls—a lot of them!” He pointed his muzzle toward the sky.

Dearlea, who was passing by, stopped. “Oh, yes, they love to see
gaddergnaws
. Mostly colliers and Rogue smiths.”

I wonder
, Faolan thought,
if Gwynneth is here?
At that very moment, the Masked Owl swooped down.

“Oh, Gwynneth, I’m so excited to see you. I’ve tried to do what you told me to. Become a gnaw wolf.”

“Yes, dear, I know.”

“I’ve had some…some…”

“Slipups? Yes, I heard about that first
byrrgis
.” Faolan dropped his tail. “Well, I know you’ve most likely learned your lesson.” Gwynneth paused.

It seemed to Faolan there was something else she wanted to say to him. He peered into her shiny dark eyes. “What is it, Gwynneth?”

“It can wait until after the
byrrgis
. We’ll talk then.”

The summoning howl curled into the air. “To the Marrow!” The
byrrgis
was about to begin.

“I have to go now, Gwynneth.”

“I know, dear. All of you gnaw wolves are going to have more responsibility than ever in this
byrrgis
.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, an alert has just gone out. Outclanners have been spotted. So some of the scouts and wolves that would normally be in the
byrrgis
are hunting them down. I tried to help a bit as best I could. But the point is, there’s more opportunity for you gnaw wolves to show what you’re made of. Just one piece of advice.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s not all speed.”

“Oh, I’ve learned my lesson about that. Don’t worry! I won’t bump an outflanker.”

“No, I know that.” Gwynneth paused. “Look, I’ve been flying in the Beyond for longer than I care to remember. I have flown right above
byrrgises
and seen them from a perspective that you, or any other wolf, never will. It’s the signaling that counts—a pricked set of ears, a tail twitch, a quick change in pace by the packers. It’s not speed. It’s communication that makes them flow like a river across dry land and finally engulf their prey. It’s about communicating, yet never uttering a word.”

HEEP KNEW THAT THERE WAS NO
way he could outrun Faolan in a
byrrgis
. But could he outwit him? There was one thing that really set Faolan’s nerves on edge. It was the clicking sound Heep’s back teeth made when he gnawed bones. Heep had seen how it made Faolan’s hackles rise. How Faolan could barely keep his agitation under control. To Heep, his teeth on the bone sounded no different than that of any other gnaw wolf, but something bothered Faolan about Heep’s teeth.

Heep didn’t need a bone in his mouth to make those sounds. He could do it without one. Therefore, he was extremely pleased when he was assigned to the same flank as Faolan. Heep was in a perfect spot to drive that gnaw wolf
cag mag
!

They had started off at press paw over the hilly terrain, led by the scouts. It was not long before the caribou herd came into sight. Luckily, the
byrrgis
was downwind, so the caribou would not pick up their scent. This allowed the wolves to get closer before being discovered. The longer they could go at press paw while closing the distance, the better. It conserved their energy and was the most efficient running. Of course, if the wind shifted, their strategy did, too.

Faolan was concentrating as hard as he ever had. At last he was in the
byrrgis
—not as a sweeper, not in a dream, not as a distant observer on a ridge, longing to be a part of the hunt. This was real. The hard earth flew beneath him. He was barely aware of his paws striking the ground except for a tingle that traveled up through his femurs. But he felt a surge of vibrations from hundreds of paws pounding the earth. It washed over him, enveloped him, welded him to this hunt, these packs of wolves. At last he was truly part of something.

Faolan was very grateful that he had spoken to Gwynneth. Her advice was already proving invaluable. He had just picked up a second signal, which had traveled from a line wolf to a wide-end packer, and knew the entire formation of over forty wolves was about to compact itself.
It’s like Gwynneth said
, he thought,
the
byrrgis
is a river flowing over dry ground. And I am part of it. Like the stars swirling endlessly in the sky, I am part of this river on earth
. For the first time, Faolan began to understand what
hwlyn
meant, and the strange ways of the wolves of the Beyond began to have a deeper meaning. The silent flickers sang through his bloodstream as he raced on.

More signals were passed and the language of silence became clearer and clearer to Faolan. He spotted the ear flick of another wide-end packer. The wind had shifted, and the
byrrgis
immediately increased its speed as the caribou herd caught the wolves’ scent.

Close the distance!
The signal rang out as crisply as if it had been spoken. Faolan felt the
byrrgis
close up for attack speed.

This is beautiful!
Faolan thought. The motions were flawless. It suddenly struck him that this was like
biliboo
. The wolves, like the pieces in the game, floated almost magically across the land, just as the constellations slid across the night sky.

On moonless nights, when the stars shone even brighter in the black infinity, Faolan sometimes felt that the earth on which he stood was but another small star, one little piece in the larger sliding nightscape.
I am part
of something bigger
. Earth and sky, wolf and owl, stars and stone, dirt and bone were all woven together into an immense design.

Another signal was passed to initiate the pincer action. They were going to press the herd into a narrows so it could not spread out too far on the high plains ahead. Led by the outflankers, the packers from both the east and west flanks began to race out and press each side of the caribou herd, forcing it into the narrows. Signals flew back and forth, except now there was a nick in the pristine silence.

Urskadamus!
That cursed gnaw wolf Heep was clicking his teeth as if he were gnawing a bone. The nick in his slashing tooth was fracturing the silence. Could no one else hear it? Faolan shifted his eyes to look about and nearly stumbled as his intense concentration broke. That tooth! He could not let this happen. A sly grin crawled across Heep’s face, and a glint flickered in his eyes. Heep was doing this on purpose! Faolan felt Dearlea tense as she detected the break in Faolan’s stride. He knew she had been impressed with him so far. Well, he was not going to let Heep wreck his attention.

Another signal passed. A
cailleach
had been identified, and the turning guards would begin to press on the
eastern side of the herd to expose him. Then the two point wolves and a blocker would be sent in to try and split off the
cailleach
. But the clicking of Heep’s teeth was making Faolan miss the signals. It was a constant noise in his ears, like the droning of mosquitoes during the summer moons.
He
is
doing this on purpose!
Faolan stumbled again. And once more, Dearlea shot him a look. Soon a
taiga
was running close behind. He had to get away from that sound. It was driving him
cag mag
.

The
cailleach
had been isolated, and the signal for the females to drop back flashed, while eight males moved forward. The endgame was the most fascinating part of the
byrrgis
. The wolves worked in relays signaled by the point wolves. There was a chance the gnaw wolves might be called to bring the
cailleach
down. It would be easy if not for the infernal clicking sound in Faolan’s ears. The clicking became louder as the gnaw wolves crouched in the grass with other packers to watch and wait for the tackle relay signals. It was so unfair. No one seemed to hear the clicking except Faolan. He realized that Heep was trying not only to ruin his concentration, but to get him to violate one of the most important rules of the
byrrgnock
, which was never to break silence before the kill rush. The clicking sound was inaudible to the other
wolves, but if Faolan snapped or growled at Heep, it would be Faolan who was blamed for violating the sacred rule.

I have to last until the endgame begins. I can do this. I can do this
. But the clicking of that nicked tooth buzzed in Faolan’s ear. He tried to transport himself to another place, any place except where he was.
Listen for the singing grass
, he told himself.

Heep moved closer and, with eyes full of treachery, opened his mouth wide to slash his teeth together. Faolan saw that broken tooth and then the snap of jaws as Heep clamped his teeth together and began to grind. The sounds scratched into Faolan’s brain like splinters.

Edme looked at him in dismay. The first signal had been given for the kill rush, and Faolan had missed his cue. He sprang off his hind legs but was too late, stumbling again and sprawling flat. Edme rushed into the gap he left. Now that the kill rush had begun in earnest, the air was lacerated with barks and howls as the wolves took the
cailleach
down.

Faolan, the wolf who had risen on his hind legs like a grizzly to confront a bull moose, lay sprawled on the ground!

When he returned from the
byrrgis
, Gwynneth was waiting for him.

“How did it go?”

Faolan’s tail drooped. “Well”—he might as well just get it out—“I stumbled a few times, and when it really counted, I fell.”

“You fell!” Gwynneth’s dark eyes blinked and she cocked her head at a very odd angle—an angle that only an owl with numerous tiny neck bones could achieve. “You!”

“Look, I’d rather not talk about it now. You had something else to say to me?”

Gwynneth swiveled her head about in a nearly complete circle, as if to scan the immediate area. The motion was enough to give Faolan a slightly nauseous feeling. Owls could do strange things with their necks, and Faolan had not been around enough of them to become used to it.

“Yes, yes, I do. I’d like to have a word in private with you. It’s rather serious.”

Faolan felt the marrow tremble in his bones. “Of course.”

He followed the Masked Owl toward the back of a large boulder.

“What is it?” he asked.

Gwynneth took a deep breath. “You know about…” Her voice cracked, then she gulped. “The pup on the ridge, the ridge just north of the Slough.” Faolan nodded. “The Sark told me that you saw it on your way to visit her, and you were quite troubled. Understandably so.” Faolan nodded again. “Well, Faolan, it was my unfortunate experience to witness that
malcadh
’s murder.”

Murder!
Faolan thought. The violence of those marks on the bones—how could it have been anything else. But murder! Truly, the story of the
malcadh
was not complete.

Gwynneth blinked. “You don’t seem surprised.”

“No, I saw the bones. But you saw the murderer!”

“I heard the murderer, but I did not see him or her. You know Masked Owls have extraordinary hearing. There was a thick cloud cover and I couldn’t see, but I could hear the tiny shrieks as the pup was torn apart, and then the panting. It was a wolf’s pants and a wolf’s footfalls as it ran away. No prints of course, for it is mostly shale and rock. But how do you know about the bones?”

“The murderer was a wolf!” Faolan felt himself stagger slightly. His hackles rose in a quivering fringe. A wave of absolute revulsion coursed through him. “I couldn’t get that little pup out of my mind, out of my marrow. I, too,
after all, had been abandoned on a
tummfraw
. How could I see that and not think of myself? But to be murdered by a wolf!”

“Of course,” Gwynneth said softly.

“I decided to make a
drumlyn
.”

“A
drumlyn
? That is the very ancient wolf word for a cairn, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps. I don’t know. I am still new to the ways and the expressions of wolves. But I wanted to honor the little pup. So I have been going back trying to find more bones.”

“Be careful, Faolan. Be very careful. It wouldn’t do for you to be caught with those bones. I know how some of the wolves here regard you. They are looking for reasons for you to fail. They might whisper that you challenged the order when you jumped the wall of fire, but it’s not the order you challenge, it’s them. Right now, they don’t know about this murder, but if they find out, they might try to blame you. I am an owl, but I understand these wolves.”

“Probably better than I do.” Faolan sighed. “Some actually think I come from the Dim World.”

“Exactly! They are ignorant, and ignorant, superstitious wolves can be treacherous. It’s your carving, right?”

“Yes, one said he could feel the heat from the sun I carved on a bone.”

“They have never seen such fine carving. They can’t understand it. They think a normal wolf would not be able to do such a thing.”

“But what if I am not a normal wolf? What then?”

“My dear Faolan, just because you are not normal does not mean you’re bad. I have no doubt that you are not a normal wolf, not an ordinary wolf. If anything, you are an extraordinary one!” She paused. “And have you built your
drumlyn
?”

Faolan shook his head sadly. “No, not yet. Something felt wrong. I wanted to protect the bones—they are so tiny—as long as I could. Maybe I have been waiting all this time for the murderer to be caught before I build my
drumlyn
.”

“So where have you kept the bones?”

Faolan looked up and gazed into his friend’s dusky face. There was a sudden sparkle in her dark eyes.

“Aaah,” Gwynneth said gently. “With Thunderheart’s paw, of course.”

Gwynneth knew of Thunderheart, for it was at the skeleton of the grizzly that they had first met. The Masked Owl had been drawn there by the eerily mournful lament
that Faolan howled upon the discovery of his second Milk Giver’s bones. She looked at Faolan. She was sorry she had to bring him this news. His experience with the
malcadh
had been bad enough, and now this. Well, at least she was glad she had not told him before the
byrrgis
. Although it was hard to imagine how he could have done much worse. A fall! Unbelievable!