Belgarath the Sorcerer by David Eddings Page A

it around yourselfat night to ward off the chill. You really ought to try it sometime.
    I ran north for a week or so, but I still hadn’t come across any Alorns. Then on one golden afternoon in late summer I encountered a young she-wolf who was feeling frolicsome. She had, as I recall, fine haunches and a comely muzzle.
    â€˜Why so great a hurry, friend?’ she said to me coyly in the way of wolves. Even in my haste, I was startled to find that I could understand her quite clearly. I slowed, and then I stopped.
    â€˜What a splendid tail you have,’ she complimented me, quickly following up on her advantage, ‘and what excellent teeth.’
    â€˜Thank you,’ I replied modestly. ‘Your own tail is also quite fine, and your coat is truly magnificent.’ I admired her openly.
    â€˜Do you really think so?’ she said, preening herself. Then she nipped playfully at my flank and dashed off a few yards, trying to get me to chase her.
    â€˜I would gladly stay a while so that we might get to know each other better,’ I told her, ‘but I have a most important errand.’
    â€˜An errand?’ she scoffed with her tongue lolling out in amusement. ‘Whoever heard of a wolf with any errand but his own desires?’
    â€˜I am not really a wolf,’ I explained.
    â€˜Really? How remarkable. You look like a wolf, and you talk like a wolf, and you certainly smell like a wolf, but you say that you are not a wolf. What are you, then?’
    â€˜I am a man.’ I said it rather deprecatingly. Wolves have strong opinions about certain things, I discovered.
    She sat, a look of amazement on her face. She had to accept what I said as the truth, since wolves are incapable of lying. ‘You have a tail,’ she pointed out, ‘and I have never seen a man with a tail before. You have a fine coat. You have four feet. You have long, pointed teeth, sharpears, and a black nose, and yet you say you are a man.’
    â€˜It is very complicated.’
    â€˜It must be,’ she conceded. ‘I think I will run with you for a while, since you must attend to this errand of yours. Perhaps we can discuss it as we go along, and you can explain this complicated thing to me.’
    â€˜If you wish.’ I rather liked her and was glad by then for any company. It’s lonely being a wolf sometimes. ‘I must warn you though, that I run very fast,’ I cautioned her.
    She sniffed. ‘All wolves run very fast.’
    And so, side by side, we ran off over the endless grassland in search of the God Belar.
    â€˜Do you intend to run both day and night?’ she asked me after we had gone several miles.
    â€˜I will rest when I grow tired.’
    â€˜I am glad of that.’ Then she laughed in the way of wolves, nipped at my shoulder, and scampered off.
    I began to consider the morality of my situation. Though my companion looked quite delightful to me in my present form, I was almost positive that she would seem less so once I resumed my proper shape. Further, while it’s undoubtedly a fine thing to be a father, I was fairly certain that a litter of puppies might prove to be an embarrassment when I returned to my Master. Not only that, the puppies would not be entirely wolves, and I didn’t really want to father a race of monsters. But finally, since wolves mate for life, when I left my companion - as I would eventually be compelled to do - she would be abandoned, left alone with a litter of fatherless puppies, and subject to the scorn and ridicule of the other members of her pack. Propriety is very important to wolves. Thus, I resolved to resist her advances on our journey in search of Belar.
    I wouldn’t have devoted so much time and space to this incident except to help explain how insidiously the personalities of the shapes we assume come to dominate our thinking. Before we had gone very far, I was as much or more a wolf as my little friend. If you should ever