Ten?
The thought troubled her as never before. Citrine Shield was about that age and she was a child. Firekeeper knew that she herself was still growing. She’d grown taller even over the last year. With the bounty of human larders to augment her own hunting she’d put on weight, developed breasts, and, if Holly’s comments were anything on which to judge, she had more changing yet to come.
Blind Seer had filled out some, grown a bit broader through the chest. Indeed, he promised to live up to the image of his father—the previous One Male, who had sired only one litter before dying in a winter hunting accident.
“You’re distracted, Little Two-legs,” the One Male commented.
Rip was a big silver-grey wolf with a dark streak running the length of his spine even to the tip of his tail and a broad, white ruff. He was the One Female’s second mate, having won her against all comers. The Ones seemed well suited, but Firekeeper had the impression, as Northwest twitched an ear to attend to the One Male’s comment, that Northwest thought that perhaps he himself would serve better as One.
Firekeeper shook herself from this uncomfortable thought by addressing the One Female.
“Mother,” she said, gesturing toward the four romping pups who were now fiercely battling over a much-chewed tree branch, “when Blind Seer and I came home last you said that you didn’t plan on pups this spring, yet here I see four as strong and healthy as any in the land.”
Firekeeper knew from past experience that the One Female could decide not to bear pups. She wasn’t certain of the mechanics of the choice, but recalled it happening several seasons over her life. Usually the reason was that enough young had survived the previous season, but that couldn’t be the purpose here. The four yearlings were ample proof that the previous litter (numbering six initially) had done well.
The One Female swept her tail through the duff where she had reclined when her introductions were completed.
“Always full of questions, Little Two-legs,” she said, amused. Then she grew serious.
“I had a dream,” she went on, “a dream of flood. In it, a tree fell across a stream, damming it for a moment, but its trunk was too thin and the flood crashed over it and my pack was drowned. When I awoke, I felt stirring within me, stirring that had been quiet until that time, fed to fullness and settled into sleep by the growing pups. I might have fought them, I suppose, but my dream was warning and the One Male and I tied that very afternoon.”
Firekeeper nodded, nor did she question the One Female’s account of her dream. Its antecedents were apparent.
“Did you dream this,” she asked, “before or after the humans came to the Burnt Place?”
“Before they came to settle,” the One Female replied, “but over the autumn, before winter closed the gap in the mountains, a small group came and sniffed about. Perhaps these were the first trickle of the flood in my dream.”
Blind Seer cut in.
“You never mentioned this to us!” he said indignantly.
The One Female growled softly.
“And since when is it my duty to inform wandering pups of the business of the pack?”
Blind Seer abased himself. His own status within the pack was ambiguous. He had left of his own desire, wishing to accompany Firekeeper. In this way he had separated himself from the pack. However, as he had never joined another pack, nor formed one of his own—unless his relationship with Firekeeper could be taken as a pack of sorts—Blind Seer could still be said to belong to this pack, even as Firekeeper was still welcome.
The One Female licked her son’s nose, accepting his apology.
“You had worries enough last winter,” she said. “The One Male and I decided that this human coming should not be added to them. Indeed, those first might have been trappers or furriers more daring than the usual run, brought across the mountains by curiosity and with that curiosity fed
The thought troubled her as never before. Citrine Shield was about that age and she was a child. Firekeeper knew that she herself was still growing. She’d grown taller even over the last year. With the bounty of human larders to augment her own hunting she’d put on weight, developed breasts, and, if Holly’s comments were anything on which to judge, she had more changing yet to come.
Blind Seer had filled out some, grown a bit broader through the chest. Indeed, he promised to live up to the image of his father—the previous One Male, who had sired only one litter before dying in a winter hunting accident.
“You’re distracted, Little Two-legs,” the One Male commented.
Rip was a big silver-grey wolf with a dark streak running the length of his spine even to the tip of his tail and a broad, white ruff. He was the One Female’s second mate, having won her against all comers. The Ones seemed well suited, but Firekeeper had the impression, as Northwest twitched an ear to attend to the One Male’s comment, that Northwest thought that perhaps he himself would serve better as One.
Firekeeper shook herself from this uncomfortable thought by addressing the One Female.
“Mother,” she said, gesturing toward the four romping pups who were now fiercely battling over a much-chewed tree branch, “when Blind Seer and I came home last you said that you didn’t plan on pups this spring, yet here I see four as strong and healthy as any in the land.”
Firekeeper knew from past experience that the One Female could decide not to bear pups. She wasn’t certain of the mechanics of the choice, but recalled it happening several seasons over her life. Usually the reason was that enough young had survived the previous season, but that couldn’t be the purpose here. The four yearlings were ample proof that the previous litter (numbering six initially) had done well.
The One Female swept her tail through the duff where she had reclined when her introductions were completed.
“Always full of questions, Little Two-legs,” she said, amused. Then she grew serious.
“I had a dream,” she went on, “a dream of flood. In it, a tree fell across a stream, damming it for a moment, but its trunk was too thin and the flood crashed over it and my pack was drowned. When I awoke, I felt stirring within me, stirring that had been quiet until that time, fed to fullness and settled into sleep by the growing pups. I might have fought them, I suppose, but my dream was warning and the One Male and I tied that very afternoon.”
Firekeeper nodded, nor did she question the One Female’s account of her dream. Its antecedents were apparent.
“Did you dream this,” she asked, “before or after the humans came to the Burnt Place?”
“Before they came to settle,” the One Female replied, “but over the autumn, before winter closed the gap in the mountains, a small group came and sniffed about. Perhaps these were the first trickle of the flood in my dream.”
Blind Seer cut in.
“You never mentioned this to us!” he said indignantly.
The One Female growled softly.
“And since when is it my duty to inform wandering pups of the business of the pack?”
Blind Seer abased himself. His own status within the pack was ambiguous. He had left of his own desire, wishing to accompany Firekeeper. In this way he had separated himself from the pack. However, as he had never joined another pack, nor formed one of his own—unless his relationship with Firekeeper could be taken as a pack of sorts—Blind Seer could still be said to belong to this pack, even as Firekeeper was still welcome.
The One Female licked her son’s nose, accepting his apology.
“You had worries enough last winter,” she said. “The One Male and I decided that this human coming should not be added to them. Indeed, those first might have been trappers or furriers more daring than the usual run, brought across the mountains by curiosity and with that curiosity fed
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