cave. This was against all the rules. It was good that Brecco had become a proficient hunter, but his manners were deplorable. Did he want to invite a larger, fiercer animal right into their den?
Brangwen’s first instinct was to chase after Brecco himself and give him a good cuff on the ears. But Moraghad quickly jumped up and said, “No, I’ll go.” He knew he had to let her try. Ever since she had stumbled during the musk ox byrrgis , she had been out of sorts. She must be scared of falling, for she moved slowly, tentatively, like a very old wolf. This litter was probably her last, but many she-wolves, especially outflankers like Morag, still had a lot of chase left in them.
Brangwen winced now as he saw Morag bump into one of the immense upright stones. Brecco looked back at his mum and saw what had happened. The look of shock in the yearling’s eyes was like a stab to Brangwen’s marrow.
I must not rush out. I must let her do this herself. He watched Brecco approach his mother. Brecco’s ears were laid back, his tail tucked so tightly between his legs that Brangwen thought he looked like that loathsome yellow gnaw wolf from the MacDuncan River Pack. Morag snarled and commenced scolding the yearling. She cuffed him, but Brangwen could tell that her marrow wasn’t in it. Brecco stood there for several seconds as if demanding that she cuff him again, harder. But Morag turned away and walked back to the cave.
When she entered, she said nothing but circled twice and settled on the pelt of a caribou. Her eyes were halfclosed. Brangwen could only see thin slits of green, and he realized the green was not as bright as before. There seemed to be a film over it. He settled himself on another pelt close by.
The sun at this time of year flooded directly into the cave until it sank below the horizon. As the pale violet shadows of twilight seeped into the cave, Brangwen thought his mate had fallen asleep. But she had not. She had been thinking of how to handle the twilight that was slowly creeping through her and what she must tell Brangwen.
It had begun long before the stumble in the byrrgis . It had begun when the pups were still in the whelping den and she had set out to find a new den for them. She had ranged farther than she had intended, and before she knew it, she was out of the MacDonegal territory and crossing the big river. But it had felt so good to roam after being penned up with those rambunctious pups.
It was shortly after she had crossed the river that she found the skull of a grizzly bear, and seconds later, a scent came to her, dim but immediately recognizable as that of the beautiful silver pup with the stars in his fur.
That was when the darkness began. It didn’t seem possible that memory should dim her vision. And tocomplicate matters, she had never told Brangwen about her life in the MacDuncan clan. She had not wanted to lie, but the forgetting had truly worked back then. She had no memory of that pup or his siblings when she met her new mate.
It had worked . The words kept running through her mind. Worked . She had rehearsed so many ways how to tell her mate, but now she simply began.
“Brangwen,” she said quietly. He started, for he had thought her asleep. “The forgetting has stopped.”
“What? What are you talking about? Forgetting what?”
She should have realized that males did not really know about this in the way females did, even if they had been the fathers of malcadhs . She closed her eyes tightly. It seemed that now she could sometimes see better with her eyes shut. “Brangwen, you must believe I am no double-tongued wolf. I would never lie to you.”
“Of course not. How could you ever think such a thing, Morag?”
And so she told him about what had happened to her before they met, when she had given birth to the silver-coated malcadh .
“A malcadh ,” he whispered with disbelief. “And our pups so healthy.”
“Because we make good pups, you and I together,” she
Brangwen’s first instinct was to chase after Brecco himself and give him a good cuff on the ears. But Moraghad quickly jumped up and said, “No, I’ll go.” He knew he had to let her try. Ever since she had stumbled during the musk ox byrrgis , she had been out of sorts. She must be scared of falling, for she moved slowly, tentatively, like a very old wolf. This litter was probably her last, but many she-wolves, especially outflankers like Morag, still had a lot of chase left in them.
Brangwen winced now as he saw Morag bump into one of the immense upright stones. Brecco looked back at his mum and saw what had happened. The look of shock in the yearling’s eyes was like a stab to Brangwen’s marrow.
I must not rush out. I must let her do this herself. He watched Brecco approach his mother. Brecco’s ears were laid back, his tail tucked so tightly between his legs that Brangwen thought he looked like that loathsome yellow gnaw wolf from the MacDuncan River Pack. Morag snarled and commenced scolding the yearling. She cuffed him, but Brangwen could tell that her marrow wasn’t in it. Brecco stood there for several seconds as if demanding that she cuff him again, harder. But Morag turned away and walked back to the cave.
When she entered, she said nothing but circled twice and settled on the pelt of a caribou. Her eyes were halfclosed. Brangwen could only see thin slits of green, and he realized the green was not as bright as before. There seemed to be a film over it. He settled himself on another pelt close by.
The sun at this time of year flooded directly into the cave until it sank below the horizon. As the pale violet shadows of twilight seeped into the cave, Brangwen thought his mate had fallen asleep. But she had not. She had been thinking of how to handle the twilight that was slowly creeping through her and what she must tell Brangwen.
It had begun long before the stumble in the byrrgis . It had begun when the pups were still in the whelping den and she had set out to find a new den for them. She had ranged farther than she had intended, and before she knew it, she was out of the MacDonegal territory and crossing the big river. But it had felt so good to roam after being penned up with those rambunctious pups.
It was shortly after she had crossed the river that she found the skull of a grizzly bear, and seconds later, a scent came to her, dim but immediately recognizable as that of the beautiful silver pup with the stars in his fur.
That was when the darkness began. It didn’t seem possible that memory should dim her vision. And tocomplicate matters, she had never told Brangwen about her life in the MacDuncan clan. She had not wanted to lie, but the forgetting had truly worked back then. She had no memory of that pup or his siblings when she met her new mate.
It had worked . The words kept running through her mind. Worked . She had rehearsed so many ways how to tell her mate, but now she simply began.
“Brangwen,” she said quietly. He started, for he had thought her asleep. “The forgetting has stopped.”
“What? What are you talking about? Forgetting what?”
She should have realized that males did not really know about this in the way females did, even if they had been the fathers of malcadhs . She closed her eyes tightly. It seemed that now she could sometimes see better with her eyes shut. “Brangwen, you must believe I am no double-tongued wolf. I would never lie to you.”
“Of course not. How could you ever think such a thing, Morag?”
And so she told him about what had happened to her before they met, when she had given birth to the silver-coated malcadh .
“A malcadh ,” he whispered with disbelief. “And our pups so healthy.”
“Because we make good pups, you and I together,” she
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