Wolves of the Beyond: Watch Wolf (4 page)

FAOLAN GASPED. “YOUR MOTHER
gave Dunbar MacHeath his scar?” Edme nodded at him. They had met up again near the marsh where they’d seen the frost-covered spiderweb. Faolan was dizzy with what Edme had told him. The false
tummfraw.
Her maiming. Her mother’s courage and Edme’s own courage in rejecting her clan.

“There was one more thing I forgot to tell you,” Edme said.

More!
Faolan thought.
What more could there be?

“I never realized how truly superstitious the MacHeaths are. But when it started to snow, I took a chance because they were all pretty tipsy on Litha juice and I thought it might play to my advantage. I wanted them confused.”

“So what did you do?”

“I commented on the strange weather for this moon. I said not since the Ice March out of the Long Cold had there been snow in this moon.”

Faolan tipped his head to one side. “You did?” An odd light seemed to glimmer deep within his eyes. He rubbed his splayed paw into the ground.

“Yes. Do you think that was wrong?” Edme asked, suddenly nervous.

“No, no, not at all.”

But as Edme looked at Faolan, it seemed as if he had withdrawn to some distant, unreachable place. Something within Faolan stirred like the tatters of a long-forgotten dream.

“But what will the Fengo say?” Edme asked.

“About what?” Faolan blinked. He snapped back to his old self, as if he had just taken a wander and then slipped into his own pelt once again.

“Will he reject me because I am not a true gnaw wolf?”

“But you won — you proved yourself at the
gaddergnaw.
You are as true as any gnaw wolf, Edme.”

“Perhaps he will think that acceptin
g me will encourage others to maim pups.”

“Never!” Faolan was shocked. “No clan is as savage as the MacHeaths. Don’t say it. Do not even think it. Now come on; we have to get on our way.”

Edme felt that she should have asked Faolan more about his
tummfraw,
but what seemed almost more important to Faolan was the return to the place where Thunderheart had first found him. Edme was sure the
drumlyn
Faolan had built to Thunderheart was beautiful, for no wolf carved bones as magnificently as Faolan did. She supposed her own mother’s bones were long gone. It would have been nice, though, to make such a
drumlyn
for Akira.

Akira.
She said the name softly in her head. It was a lovely sound and kept running through Edme’s mind as the two wolves made their way toward the Ring of Sacred Volcanoes.

They had been traveling east, skirting the
far edges of a territory in which the MacHeaths often hunted during the summer. Faolan was about to comment on how odd it was to see snow on the ground, when suddenly they came across a snow patch streaked with blood. Both wolves stopped, their hackles raised, their eyes narrowed to slits
of green. A breeze caught the scent of slaughter and pushed it toward them.

Wolf blood! Edme felt a sudden chill in her marrow.
Great Lupus, let it not be her,
she prayed. Airmead’s words coursed through her.
If they find out, they’ll set a
byrrgis
on me and kill me. Tear me apart.

“What has happened here?” Faolan said. It was a gruesome scene, with wolf parts scattered all over.

“Ingliss,” Edme said.

“What?” Faolan asked.

“Ingliss and Kyran. I recognize their pelts.” She was relieved that Airmead wasn’t one of the dead wolves, but this seemed wrong, terribly wrong, even though she had loathed the sniping taunts of the young she-wolves.

“But why?”

“They are the ones who told me that I was made a
malcadh.
Dunbar MacHeath must have found out.” She took a deep breath and then softly continued, “They always do. But this … why this? Why not the Pit?”

“The Pit?” Faolan asked. “What is the Pit?”

“Never mind,” Edme replied grimly.

The two wolves gave a wide margin to the bloodied patch of snow and tried not to look at the scattered pieces
of what had been silly young she-wolves whose worst crime was teasing and taunting. With each step Edme took, she felt reassured in her decision to reject her clan. At the same time, she felt she was taking a step closer toward her mother, Akira. She knew now that she came from a brave she-wolf, and this to her was as meaningful as discovering a
tummfraw.
Her journey had been exactly what the Fengo predicted — a journey toward truth, understanding, and reconciliation with her fate. Edme felt blessed to have had such a mother.
Mum,
she thought.
I found a mum!

As Faolan and Edme walked on in silence, the snow patches appeared with less frequency. The weather evened out and started to feel as it normally did in the Moon of the Shedding Antlers, though they found fewer antlers. It was as if the migratory herds were not returning in the great numbers they usually did. The thought gave Faolan pause. Had he seen this sparseness of antlers before? There was a haunting familiarity in the scarcity. But how could this be? It was only the third summer he had ever known — only the third Moon of the Shedding Antlers he had ever experienced. On
ce again something rustled in Faolan, like a distant wind blowing tatters of memory from an ancient place.

He turned to Edme. “When you were in the
gadderheal
of the MacHeaths, you mentioned the Long Cold and the Ice March and it … it …”

“Disturbed them, I think.”

It disturbs me as well,
Faolan thought.

They were within a day’s run to the region of the Ring of Sacred Volcanoes. In spite of their excitement, they decided not to push on. They had heard that the most spectacular time to arrive at the Ring was near twilight when the volcanoes often erupted, painting the fiery swathes of flame and plumes of ash against the purpling sky. So they found a mountain cat’s abandoned den and settled in for the night. There was no moon, but the stars were rising and seemed brighter than ever. An icy drizzle began to fall. Again they shook their heads in wonder at the oddities of the season. But they we
re too tired to speculate on the whimsies of nature and soon we
re fast asleep.

It was as though he were moving through a
landscape that was neither earth nor sky. Deeper and deeper, Faolan traveled into a misty place where the seasons of the moons fell away.
I feel as though I am wading through the shoals of
time,
Faolan thought. His pelt felt loose on his shoulders, his bones insubstantial. And yet he seemed to sense a twinkling in his marrow.
I am nothing and I am all.
He trotted on through the banks of rising mist. In the distance, he spied a trail through the vapor made by a very old wolf, an “ancient,” as the first wolves of the Beyond were called. The ancient was nearly toothless, and Faolan could see that his once bright green eyes had turned milky with age.
He must be almost blind,
Faolan thought, and yet the wolf looked down at the trail as if searching for something.
Hoofprints. He’
s looking for elk!
Faolan knew that the old wolf was bothered by the same questions Faolan had wondered over — why this scarcity of antlers? The elk had not returned. Why? Where had they gone? The old wolf’s knees began to buckle beneath him. And it came to Faolan that the wolf had come to this remote place to begin the steps of
cleave hwlyn,
the act of separating from his clan, his pack, and finally his own body.
He is dying,
Faolan thought. His life had been fully lived, and now his time had come. Faolan watched as the stars began to break out, his marrow quivering as he saw the first rung
of the star ladder that led to the Cave of Souls.
I will see him slip his pelt and climb the star ladder. Should I be watching?
Dying was a private act and yet … it all looked so familiar!

But Faolan did not see the old wolf climb the star ladder. He woke up just as the last star of the night was dissolving into t
he gray of the dawn. He sensed he had dreamed a wonderful dream tinged with sadness, but he could remember nothing about it. Not a shred. He felt a
certain peacefulness, a comfort. He looked over at Edme, who was still sleeping, and sensed that she was dreaming, too, perhaps of her mother, Akira.

AS FAOLAN AND EDME MADE THEIR
way east toward the Ring of Sacred Volcanoes, they noticed an increasing number of owls flying up from the Hoolian kingdoms to the south.
At least,
Faolan thought,
something is moving in the right direction this moon.

“Faolan, if we climb up this ridge, I think we might get a glimpse of the volcanoes.”

“Let’s go!” Faolan said. And the two wolves began to scramble up the steep slope.

When they arrived at the top of the ridge, they could see the cones of the five volcanoes in the distance. A dim rose-colored glow could be spotted over two of the volcanoes. “We’re too far away to see the flames,” Edme said. “But, of course, I only have one eye.”

“I’ve got two but can’t see any flames. But w
hen we get closer at twilight, I bet we’ll see them.”

“There are other ridges ahead. I can see them clearly from here,” Edme yipped.

Faolan had diverted his gaze and was looking straight down. Directly below them he had spotted the river.
“Tine smyorfin,”
he whispered.

“Huh?” Edme looked at Faolan, whose eyes were trained on the river. “What’s that you said? Sounds like Old Wolf.”

“What are you talking about?” Faolan asked.

“That expression,
tine
something.”

“I said ‘by my marrow,’” Faolan answered.

“No, you didn’t,” Edme insisted. “You whispered something that sounded very much like Old Wolf. I may just have one eye, but I do have two ears, Faolan.”

“Well, I was looking down there. See the river.”

The water was no longer amber but green, green as a wolf’s eyes. But what was more interesting was the scene. In a shallow part of the river, there were two wolves and a large grizzly feeding off the carcass of what appeared to be a moose. The grizzly’s cubs were frolicking on the river-banks. At a short but respectful distance away, ten or so other wolves waited their turn. Periodically, the bear left to regurgitate large chunks of steaming meat for her cubs.

Faolan was mesmerized by the sight. He had heard
that on rare occasions, wolves and bears shared prey. But he’d been told it was a practice from long ago. He recalled the chieftains saying that the wolves of the Watch kept up many of the old practices.

“These have to be Watch wolves,” Faolan whispered.

“Yes, I was thinking the same. I’ve heard they do this. It’s strange, isn’t it?”

Faolan did not reply. For him, it didn’t seem that strange at all. He was not sure why. Partly, it was because watching these bears took him back to his youngest days as a pup, when he would wait with all the patience he could muster for Thunderheart to regurgitate the meat she had brought back from hunting. The smell of the fresh meat mingled with the juices from Thunderheart’s mouth and gut rushed back to him.

“You’re thinking about Thunderheart, aren’t you, Faolan?” Edme asked.

“Yes.” There was a small hitch in his voice. “I wish we could go down and meet these wolves.”

“We can’t, Faolan. The Fengo said we must go to that place, the Hot Gates, to be met and properly led into the Ring of Sacred Volcanoes.”

“I wonder how we’ll even know
what the Hot Gates look like. Such a strange name.”

“I don’t know. Maybe they’re little volcanoes that lead into the Ring,” Edme replied. “Look, Faolan, there’s an outcropping down below and downwind from the bears. We could watch the wolves from there. They’d never know.”

Faolan hesitated, but the idea was irresistible. It was as if his marrow were straining to be near that mother bear and her cubs. He could catch reassuring smells on the breezes when she regurgitated meat for her cubs. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to watch just a bit longer from a safe distance downwind.

By the time Faolan and Edme reached the ou
tcrop, the wolves had left the moose carcass. The grizzly mom and her two cubs had stayed on the banks of the river.

“Her den must be near here. Bears li
ke to have summer dens near a river. Good for fishing,” Faolan said.

“Those cubs are so cute. Just little fur balls! Look how playful they are.”

It took Faolan back. How much fun he had had with Thunderheart. He could picture himself so clearly, riding atop her shoulders or scampering after
her when they hunted for roots in the early spring. How he had hated
the bitter roots they dug at first. Now he would give anything to be out digging roots with his second Milk Giver.

The mother bear had a full belly and had stretched out to bask in the midday sun for a quick nap. It was odd, but Faolan himself had begun to feel sleepy. It was almost as if he had eaten all that meat and could hardly keep his eyes open to watch the cubs playing.

“I suppose, now that the wolves are gone and the mother bear seems full, we could help ourselves to what’s left of the moose, couldn’t we?” Edme said.

“I suppose so.” Faolan yawned. “But I’m really not that hungry.” He felt satiated though he had eaten nothing.

He soon fell into a dreamless sleep.

Faolan would never be quite sure what it was that awakened him or how long he had slept. But he was immediately alert. Something was not right. He laid back his ears, raised his muzzle, and slitted his eyes.
No! It can’t be!
He’d resisted his own yearning to go closer to the mother grizzly — and now Edme was there playing with the cubs! Thankfully, the mother grizzly was still slumbering. If the mother bear woke up, Edme would be dead before he could warn her off. He rose up trembling. His guard hairs
erect, he began walking stiff-legged as quietly as he could toward Edme and the frolicking cubs. He glanced at the mother. She was sleeping deeply. As he got closer, the cubs spotted him. He growled low at Edme.

Edme turned. There was shock in her eyes. “Faolan, whatever is the matter with you?”

“Get away from those cubs! Get away. She’ll kill you if she wakes up!”

The cubs looked up, startled. Edme read the horror in Faolan’s eyes and immediately backed away.

“Follow me!” he ordered and immediately began to run at press-paw speed. He looked over his shoulder. One of the cubs had tried to run after them but stopped when he realized he couldn’t keep up. He had a forlorn look in his eyes.
By my marrow, he’s about to cry,
Faolan thought, but he ran on.

When they had put a good distance between themselves and the grizzly, Faolan stopped. He glared at Edme.

“What is wrong with you, Faolan? You … you don’t seem yourself at all. You really scared me!” she said.

“I’m sorry, but I was scared. If that mother grizzly woke up, we would both be dead. You can never, ever touch or even come near a grizzly’s cubs like that. They go crazy,
cag mag — cag maglosc.”

Edme blinked. Faolan was speaking Old Wolf again. And she could have sworn she’d heard him muttering strange phrases in his sleep that sounded like Old Wolf.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” Edme said.

“You know how she-wolves are about their pups. It’s a thousand times worse with grizzlies. We’re used to aunties and other wolves around. But grizzlies aren’t very social. They lead solitary lives.”

“I’ll never do it again. I promise.” Edme paused. “But you have to admit they were about the cutest things ever.”

“Yes, they were,” he said, almost longingly. Deep within him he felt a pang — a pang of regret? A pang of loss? He wasn’t sure.