her daughter.
‘Ask a scavenger’s permission to eat?’ she snorted. ‘No, Larka, we are Putnar, we ask no one’s permission.’
As the wolf pack came down the slope, the greedy crows took to the air in a cloud of black feathers. They settled again around the wolves, watching and waiting eagerly for the Vargs’ teeth to open their find.
‘A good lesson for survival, children,’ cried Huttser with pleasure. ‘When we can’t find game, wolves must look to the Lera to aid us and scavenge a meal. Though we are Putnar, we must listen for their calls on the air too, for as the pack works together, so all nature must aid itself.’
One of the birds was set slightly apart from the rest and was watching the children intently. Its eyes were as beady and black as they had been that night it had spied the pack with Morgra. It was a raven.
‘For this is the order of things,’ Huttser went on proudly, ‘as the Putnar must feed and the Dragga and Drappa must lead the pack. Come, Palla. ..’
Suddenly the reasoned look in Huttser’s eyes, the ancient intelligence of the Putnar, vanished. He swung back to the buffalo with a snarl, opening his huge jaws like a cave, plunging his teeth into the still warm flesh.
The birds crowed and flapped about delightedly and the young wolves watched in amazement as Palla joined her mate. Larka had never seen such a fury in her parents before, even when they quarrelled, and the sight suddenly terrified her. Fell too remembered resentfully the pain he had felt when Huttser had grabbed him by the scruff of the neck that sun Skop had arrived. But as they watched, suddenly all three children began to grow angry themselves.
The bloodlust was on their parents and the fur round their muzzles was already drenched with gore. Their eyes had grown almost sightless with the furious pleasure of the feast, and as the wolves joined them, biting and snarling at each other as they found their place around the body in their natural pecking order, they all settled in to gorge themselves.
‘Come, children,’ growled Palla at last, as she saw them hanging back.
Fell leapt forward. A frenzy had woken in his eyes and as he tugged at the meat and tasted the fresh blood he was mastered by the thrill of a wholly unfamiliar passion. That wild sense of freedom was mingled now with a strangely liberating anger. Kar joined him and Larka pushed in beside them too and started to tug at the buffalo. But as the crows flapped and cawed about them, Larka suddenly fancied that amid the noises she could understand words. The birds were talking.
‘Tear it,’ one seemed to say, ‘crack its bones.’
‘Hunger,’ snapped another, ‘time to feast.’
‘All in good time,’ crowed a raven. ‘Let the Putnar gorge and the scavengers wait. For when Wolfbane returns and his promise is fulfilled, all nature shall rebel and then we shall feed on them too.’
Larka’s head was dizzy, and suddenly she grew hot all over. She turned her head and noticed the raven watching her intently. Larka shivered, for she thought she had recognized it, and then something even more extraordinary happened.
For a moment Larka could no longer see and then, with a flash, she felt that she was in the air itself. Below her was the ravening pack tugging at the sides of the dead buffalo, pulling away at the skin that contained its flesh, desperate to get to the meat and tendons and bone inside. As Larka looked down she gasped, for there was her own body lying still in the grass next to the carrion. Larka seemed to hover and dive over the bloody ritual and then, almost as suddenly as it had happened, she found herself stirring in the grass again, as the sounds of the pack came once more to her ears and the raven settled quietly nearby.
Huttser lifted his head. Fell was trying to push Kar out of the way, but Larka had vanished.
‘Kar, where is Larka?’
‘I don’t know, sir,’ stammered
‘Ask a scavenger’s permission to eat?’ she snorted. ‘No, Larka, we are Putnar, we ask no one’s permission.’
As the wolf pack came down the slope, the greedy crows took to the air in a cloud of black feathers. They settled again around the wolves, watching and waiting eagerly for the Vargs’ teeth to open their find.
‘A good lesson for survival, children,’ cried Huttser with pleasure. ‘When we can’t find game, wolves must look to the Lera to aid us and scavenge a meal. Though we are Putnar, we must listen for their calls on the air too, for as the pack works together, so all nature must aid itself.’
One of the birds was set slightly apart from the rest and was watching the children intently. Its eyes were as beady and black as they had been that night it had spied the pack with Morgra. It was a raven.
‘For this is the order of things,’ Huttser went on proudly, ‘as the Putnar must feed and the Dragga and Drappa must lead the pack. Come, Palla. ..’
Suddenly the reasoned look in Huttser’s eyes, the ancient intelligence of the Putnar, vanished. He swung back to the buffalo with a snarl, opening his huge jaws like a cave, plunging his teeth into the still warm flesh.
The birds crowed and flapped about delightedly and the young wolves watched in amazement as Palla joined her mate. Larka had never seen such a fury in her parents before, even when they quarrelled, and the sight suddenly terrified her. Fell too remembered resentfully the pain he had felt when Huttser had grabbed him by the scruff of the neck that sun Skop had arrived. But as they watched, suddenly all three children began to grow angry themselves.
The bloodlust was on their parents and the fur round their muzzles was already drenched with gore. Their eyes had grown almost sightless with the furious pleasure of the feast, and as the wolves joined them, biting and snarling at each other as they found their place around the body in their natural pecking order, they all settled in to gorge themselves.
‘Come, children,’ growled Palla at last, as she saw them hanging back.
Fell leapt forward. A frenzy had woken in his eyes and as he tugged at the meat and tasted the fresh blood he was mastered by the thrill of a wholly unfamiliar passion. That wild sense of freedom was mingled now with a strangely liberating anger. Kar joined him and Larka pushed in beside them too and started to tug at the buffalo. But as the crows flapped and cawed about them, Larka suddenly fancied that amid the noises she could understand words. The birds were talking.
‘Tear it,’ one seemed to say, ‘crack its bones.’
‘Hunger,’ snapped another, ‘time to feast.’
‘All in good time,’ crowed a raven. ‘Let the Putnar gorge and the scavengers wait. For when Wolfbane returns and his promise is fulfilled, all nature shall rebel and then we shall feed on them too.’
Larka’s head was dizzy, and suddenly she grew hot all over. She turned her head and noticed the raven watching her intently. Larka shivered, for she thought she had recognized it, and then something even more extraordinary happened.
For a moment Larka could no longer see and then, with a flash, she felt that she was in the air itself. Below her was the ravening pack tugging at the sides of the dead buffalo, pulling away at the skin that contained its flesh, desperate to get to the meat and tendons and bone inside. As Larka looked down she gasped, for there was her own body lying still in the grass next to the carrion. Larka seemed to hover and dive over the bloody ritual and then, almost as suddenly as it had happened, she found herself stirring in the grass again, as the sounds of the pack came once more to her ears and the raven settled quietly nearby.
Huttser lifted his head. Fell was trying to push Kar out of the way, but Larka had vanished.
‘Kar, where is Larka?’
‘I don’t know, sir,’ stammered
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