tools we have, but perhaps we can learn?"
Briar shook her head. "You will have difficulty reaching them from here. I could find no safe path to the top from this side."
"There will be other trees nearby," Adel said, giving Netya a curious smile. "It is not our way to build houses of wood, but we have abandoned many of our people's traditions already. Perhaps we can afford to embrace some of yours."
—8—
Adel's Pack
It was rare Adel ever paused to enjoy the satisfaction of her accomplishments. She knew that pride was the ruin of many great leaders, and she had grown to despise it in both herself and others ever since she was a girl. Her father had been a proud man, and, much to Adel's resentment, he had passed the trait along to his daughter. She desired respect, acknowledgement, reverence —and perhaps part of her even wished to instil fear in her followers. She had the makings of a proud woman, but she hated to acknowledge that part of herself. Pride had not kept her followers alive through the winter, and it had not delivered them safely to the valley they now called home.
And yet, as much as Adel fought against her prideful urges, for the first time in many months she could not help but allow herself to feel a sense of satisfaction as she gazed down at her pack sitting together around their fire in front of the central cave.
She had not doubted she could lead them to such a sanctuary. Doubt was a slayer of wills, and hers burned as strong as that of any alpha. But she had understood the possibility of failure. It had loomed larger than ever during the winter, and she had felt keenly the suffering of each and every member of her pack. Netya had struggled especially hard with the will of her emerging wolf, but the den mother had faith in her apprentice's fortitude.
She still did not know whether the girl had it in her to one day rise to the greatness of a den mother herself. She was sharp-witted, brave, inquisitive, and had demonstrated a talent for insight on more than one occasion. But she was a young dreamer, still timid from the circumstances of her upbringing, and ignorant of many of the world's harsh truths. Netya would need to adopt her mentor's discipline and inner fire if she was ever to become anything more than a competent seer.
In the days that had passed since their arrival in the valley, the pack had set about making several of the caves liveable. Plants, moss, animal bones, and other refuse were cleaned out, bedding was put down, and their awnings were erected around the entrances to keep off the wind. It was not long before the small clutch of caves half way up the northern side of the valley had begun to resemble a proper encampment, and Adel was glad of the opportunity to retreat into solitude again as her pack settled into the tasks of daily living.
She had chosen one of the highest caves on the slope, just beneath the point where the rock face became near-vertical, forming an impassable cliff that stretched all the way to the top of the ridge. There she withdrew into the darkness of her medium-sized dwelling, and finally the den mother found time to think. To scheme, as her former alpha would have put it.
For many weeks she kept largely to herself, puzzling over the looming question of her pack's future, pondering how she would structure the new hierarchy of her people in the months to come, and trying to determine which alliances could be forged—and which enemies might be made—at the upcoming pack gathering.
Along with those plans, however, came the opportunity for Adel to do something she had not been able to indulge in for a long time. Khelt's pack had always believed her aloof and detached from the everyday concerns of the group, caring only for herself and the seers closest to her. The truth of it had been quite different. She had not engaged with the pack, but she had watched each and every one of its members closely. She studied them from afar, listened intently to
authors_sort
Pete McCarthy
Isabel Allende
Joan Elizabeth Lloyd
Iris Johansen
Joshua P. Simon
Tennessee Williams
Susan Elaine Mac Nicol
Penthouse International
Bob Mitchell