The Golden Swan by Nancy Springer

eastward.” He pointed.
    â€œHe will not be with the pack. Stay here. You will lose your way in the forest if you go off, and then he will have to find you. ”
    Frain glared at me, insulted, but worry won out over injured pride. “Dair needs my help. I am sure of it,” he said, and started away. I caught hold of him.
    â€œStay,” I said angrily. “It is bad enough that one of you two infants is out on his own.”
    He shook off my hand.
    â€œStay and give Dair a chance to keep his word,” I said in a different tone, reaching through anger to truth. Frain stared at me, then nodded.
    He kept to camp, but restively. Neither of us ate. We stood erect and alert all that long morning, as if any moment something might pounce on us with teeth and claws and send us reeling into disaster.
    Dair told us later what had happened.
    The wolves, the wild pack, his brothers. They had struck a fine stag that led them a long, swift chase. Dair followed the sound and scent through the night, feeling the surge of his own power and grace. He heard the brief triumph howl at the kill, but it was daybreak before he found them where they lay feasting.
    Seven of them in the sunlight —
    He spoke in wonder of the colors of their pelages. Two were tawny fawn, one cinnamon, one nearly red, one brown, one gray and one, the largest and the leader, pure black. That one was as large as he. But he did not get to look at them for long; they scented him almost as soon as he sighted them. Man! they barked, and with that warning they streaked away, leaving their kill.
    I must have lost my mind , Dair said wryly. I ran after them .
    And he caught up with them in a few moments, for he was swift and long of limb. He sped into their midst, and of course they were terrified by his strangeness, appearance and essence that did not match. Their terror made them savage. They attacked him fiercely.
    His thick fur gave him some protection. But he could not stand against them all, and within the minute he was forced to flee, limping and bleeding from a dozen slashes. They pursued him. He could no longer outrun them, wounded as he was, and they harried him. He ran at first back toward our camp, but as they continued to follow, biting and snarling and worrying at him, he thought hazily that he might be bringing danger down upon us and he changed direction, setting a twisting course through the ilex trees. After a while, sluggish from full bellies, the pack circled away and left him. Dair struggled on, no longer sure of his bearings, feeling lost and desperate to find us. He would not stop to rest or lick his wounds until he had rejoined us.
    Maybe the wolf god knows the effort it cost him—he endured. He came back to us. About noon of the next day he staggered back to the campsite where Frain and I stood frantically disputing. One of his eyes was swollen shut from a cut just above it, and the ear on that side was torn, and his gray fur was all dappled and clotted with brownish red—he had one glimpse of Frain’s shocked and anguished face and he was himself again in human form. His injuries looked even worse on his furless human skin.
    â€œOh, no!” Frain cried out, choking. “Dair—”
    He stood swaying a moment, and then he fell against Frain, who caught him with his one good arm and laid him down. But Dair came to himself again in a moment. He had needed that human embrace, I think.
    I am sorry , he muttered thickly.
    â€œHush,” said Frain fiercely, almost as if he could understand him. “Maeve, water. Eala, if only I could help him—”
    We used all our water on him. There was not enough to properly cleanse the wounds. We concentrated on the ones around his face and head, binding them as neatly as we were able, hoping they would not scar too badly.
    â€œWe ought to sear the rest for safety,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. Searing is an ugly business. Frain had Dair’s