Wolf, Tome 5: Wolf Hunting

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“Here, kitty, kitty… Here, kitty, kitty…”

The voice was mocking, but Truth turned toward the sound. Those words offered something she had been without for what seemed like an entire lifetime: direction.

Truth did not hear the voice. Rather the call appeared to her as a physical thing, a strand of certainty amid the chaos of nearly infinite probability. She followed that strand’s odor, though she smelled it with her nose no more than she saw it with her eyes, no more than she heard that mocking voice with her round, furred ears.

The jaguar dipped her head close to the ground and took the scent, then followed its trace — for how long? Truth had no idea. The notion of time was one of the first things that had fragmented beyond repair. Even so, she followed, desiring certainty as once she had desired the hot blood of her prey, the attentions of lovers in season, lavish praise or admiration.

Truth followed, hearing a voice that wasn’t there, scenting a trail that did not exist, seeing a path that left no mark on its surroundings. She followed, because all these things led her toward certainty.

* * * * *

Forever after, that full year’s turning of seasons on Misheemnekuru, the Sanctuary Islands, would remain green in memory for Firekeeper. Events of the summer before had freed her from responsibility for her human companions. Now she ran with the wolves, as free and unencumbered as ever she had been in her childhood.

The wolf-woman even had acquired a pack of her own, she and Blind Seer, for though Moon Frost had won Dark Death back from the doom he had ordained for himself, the season was too early for mating. Instead of dispersing to seek their own territory, the pair ran with Firekeeper. The greatest wonder of all to Firekeeper was that she, she and Blind Seer, were the Ones of this small pack.

Later, another joined them. Young Rascal of Moon Frost’s own birth pack followed these first four when they moved on from hunting with his family. The pups Rascal had nursemaided were hunting small game on their own, so neither his mother nor his father held Rascal back from his desire to explore his strengths, though his new teachers would be odd indeed.

Summer was a fat time, as was the autumn that followed. Firekeeper’s reputation was such that no wolf pack minded if the wolf-woman’s small band shared the hunting in their lands — as long as the five first cried for permission, and granted those who held the territory their due.

When they were not hunting, the wolves usually slept, but Firekeeper — who was wolf and not — often searched out the human ruins that dotted Misheemnekuru. Blind Seer — who was wolf, but had run where no wolf had run for a hundred years and more — went with his Firekeeper. Between her questing eyes and his keen nose they discovered many curious things.

Winter was harder, though to Firekeeper and Blind Seer, born farther to the north, the temperatures were comparatively mild. Firekeeper’s five joined with another little pack, a mated pair and their first year’s pups. When a pup or two who might not have otherwise survived the winter’s lean hunting lived because Firekeeper was clever with bow and snare, then, to the songs that were already sung of her battles were added those of her generosity, and of her mercy.

When spring came around, Firekeeper and her pack went their way, seeking fresh hunting grounds. Spring had brought with it a small litter, born to Moon Frost, sired by Dark Death. Only two pups survived the birth. There were others, but deformed so that they came forth dead or only breathed a few shallow breaths. This was the curse of Misheemnekuru, and the reminder of it darkened Firekeeper’s idyll.

Yet nothing could diminish the wolf-woman’s contentment for long. The surviving pups grew strong and fat with only one other to share Moon Frost’s milk, and with five adults eager to spoil them, for wolves love their pups and indulge them greatly. Firekeeper had Blind Seer at her side, and a pack with which to sing songs to the Moon.

That summer a few young hunters trying their skill — and some not so young, nor without skill — came to challenge Firekeeper, for being wolf and yet not wolf, there were those who doubted Firekeeper’s right to walk freely on Misheemnekuru. These battles she won — and the fact that her pack showed willing to fight alongside her counted for much in all eyes.

With the coming of the raven, this time of contentment was shattered forever.