never to return.”
“Are those who came last autumn among those who returned?” Firekeeper asked, never doubting the wolves would have noted the scents.
“Yes,” the One Female replied. “The One Male has made a study of them, for he was here while I was away and took better note of them.”
The One Male, who had been gnawing a thick bone much as a man might have smoked a pipe, cracked it along its length and licked out the marrow before speaking.
“Not only,” he said, carefully arranging his thoughts, “are there those who are the same—though, of course there are more now—but the male who serves as One in their pack was the leader of those who scouted.”
Firekeeper bit her lip.
“The humans call him Ewen Brooks,” she said. Then she recounted Ewen’s history as she had heard him tell it to Derian. Sensing the wolves’ interest, she went on to detail Ewen’s raptures about the potential of these western lands.
“So it is as we suspected,” the One Male said, and he sounded not in the least surprised. “Human ways may be strange to us, but the wingéd folk who came to look at them said that the two-legs were showing denning behaviors. Indeed, we had thought so even before the birds offered their opinions, for why else would the humans fell trees to make sturdy places to live and bring their young with them if they didn’t intend to stay?”
He rolled the shattered bone beneath his paw, but Firekeeper was certain his forlorn expression had nothing to do with having licked it clean of marrow.
“It is good,” he said at last, “that you chose to come home. We were thinking about sending for you.”
Firekeeper didn’t need to ask why and didn’t waste breath doing so.
The One Male went on. “There are many and mixed feelings regarding the coming here of these human folk. Do you remember the tales you were told last autumn, the tales of how the Royal Beasts first met two-legged kind?”
Firekeeper nodded. “At first there was some balance between the four-footed and two-legged kind. Then the humans became territorial. They fought themselves and they fought our people. In the end, because the humans had great powers we did not, we retreated across the mountains where they did not like to come. They did not follow us because they did not like the mountains. Also, a sickness came over the humans, burning to death those who had the most power. In the end, so many humans had died that they no longer had to fight each other for land. We in turn decided to stay where we had come and leave them the lands east of the Iron Mountains.”
It was a short form of the elaborate tale she had been told, but served to demonstrate that she remembered the high points.
The One Male thumped his tail in approval.
“Good enough, Little Two-legs, though you condense the time over which events occurred. Remember that this rivalry and fighting and the time of the sickness happened over many long years.”
“I,” snapped Northwest, “do not see why how much time it took matters at all! What is important is that these humans now are different from those humans then. Those humans then had great powers. The Ones of my pack tell of lightning drawn from the sky, of fire burning through the air and catching onto fur and flesh, of senses so acute that not even the stealthiest among us could go unnoticed.
“These humans have none of these powers. Two nights ago I crept into their settlement, ate one of their foolish birds as she slept on her nest, pissed on their doorposts, and the only ones among them who noticed my coming were their silky-haired foxes and these cringed from my least growl. They at least knew their master.”
“Dogs,” Firekeeper said inconsequentially. “The humans raise them as they raise their horses and mules. They come in many sizes and shapes. Some of the larger, indeed, might give a wolf second pause.”
“But not these,” Northwest challenged.
“No,” Firekeeper agreed. “These
“Are those who came last autumn among those who returned?” Firekeeper asked, never doubting the wolves would have noted the scents.
“Yes,” the One Female replied. “The One Male has made a study of them, for he was here while I was away and took better note of them.”
The One Male, who had been gnawing a thick bone much as a man might have smoked a pipe, cracked it along its length and licked out the marrow before speaking.
“Not only,” he said, carefully arranging his thoughts, “are there those who are the same—though, of course there are more now—but the male who serves as One in their pack was the leader of those who scouted.”
Firekeeper bit her lip.
“The humans call him Ewen Brooks,” she said. Then she recounted Ewen’s history as she had heard him tell it to Derian. Sensing the wolves’ interest, she went on to detail Ewen’s raptures about the potential of these western lands.
“So it is as we suspected,” the One Male said, and he sounded not in the least surprised. “Human ways may be strange to us, but the wingéd folk who came to look at them said that the two-legs were showing denning behaviors. Indeed, we had thought so even before the birds offered their opinions, for why else would the humans fell trees to make sturdy places to live and bring their young with them if they didn’t intend to stay?”
He rolled the shattered bone beneath his paw, but Firekeeper was certain his forlorn expression had nothing to do with having licked it clean of marrow.
“It is good,” he said at last, “that you chose to come home. We were thinking about sending for you.”
Firekeeper didn’t need to ask why and didn’t waste breath doing so.
The One Male went on. “There are many and mixed feelings regarding the coming here of these human folk. Do you remember the tales you were told last autumn, the tales of how the Royal Beasts first met two-legged kind?”
Firekeeper nodded. “At first there was some balance between the four-footed and two-legged kind. Then the humans became territorial. They fought themselves and they fought our people. In the end, because the humans had great powers we did not, we retreated across the mountains where they did not like to come. They did not follow us because they did not like the mountains. Also, a sickness came over the humans, burning to death those who had the most power. In the end, so many humans had died that they no longer had to fight each other for land. We in turn decided to stay where we had come and leave them the lands east of the Iron Mountains.”
It was a short form of the elaborate tale she had been told, but served to demonstrate that she remembered the high points.
The One Male thumped his tail in approval.
“Good enough, Little Two-legs, though you condense the time over which events occurred. Remember that this rivalry and fighting and the time of the sickness happened over many long years.”
“I,” snapped Northwest, “do not see why how much time it took matters at all! What is important is that these humans now are different from those humans then. Those humans then had great powers. The Ones of my pack tell of lightning drawn from the sky, of fire burning through the air and catching onto fur and flesh, of senses so acute that not even the stealthiest among us could go unnoticed.
“These humans have none of these powers. Two nights ago I crept into their settlement, ate one of their foolish birds as she slept on her nest, pissed on their doorposts, and the only ones among them who noticed my coming were their silky-haired foxes and these cringed from my least growl. They at least knew their master.”
“Dogs,” Firekeeper said inconsequentially. “The humans raise them as they raise their horses and mules. They come in many sizes and shapes. Some of the larger, indeed, might give a wolf second pause.”
“But not these,” Northwest challenged.
“No,” Firekeeper agreed. “These
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