Wolf Hunting Read online

  Truth if she did indeed break loose. Firekeeper thought the real reason the ravens were accompanying them was that Lovable had learned they were going to a ruin. Wise or not, the raven had an insatiable appetite for the pretty things - or fragments thereof - that were so often found in these places.

  With such a company, the trip should have offered no difficulties beyond those involved in covering the intervening ground in the swiftest time practical. The ebb and flow of the tides dictated when they could swim between the various islands. Once or twice, when the low-tide waters were not shallow enough to allow for safe fording, Bitter, who had status within the Wise Beast community, despite his flutter-brained mate, requested aide from some seals who lived in the vicinity.

  Firekeeper found the strength with which the seals moved through the water exciting, but Blind Seer protested the creatures smelled abysmally of fish. Truth loved swimming, so much so that she grew agitated when they took her from the water.

  After their first fording, when they were planning their second, Truth slipped her harness. They were contemplating a river, wondering whether to look for a ford or take their chances swimming, when Firekeeper noticed that the leash so firmly grasped in Powerful Tenderness's paw was strangely limp.

  Her gaze traced the length and found no arrogant jaguar at the end, just an empty nest of straps. She cast around and saw Plik emerging from the river, wherein he had gone to test the depth. Neither the ravens nor Truth were to be seen.

  "Hey! What!" Firekeeper howled. "Where is Truth?"

  At almost the same moment there were agitated croaks and quorking raven calls from the deeper tree line.

  "Here! Here!" the ravens called. 'Truth is here! Hurry!"

  They all followed that cry, Plik not even pausing to shake off the water that had soaked into his thick fur. They arrived in an unorganized mob to find Truth lying on a tree limb a good twelve feet off the ground. Her gaze was - for her - clear and direct, though the burnt-orange orbs flickered back and forth, as if seeing things invisible to the rest.

  "I want to go fishing," Truth announced sulkily. "My paws are sore, and I am weary of walking."

  "I thought," said Powerful Tenderness, his voice charged with the barely contained fury that comes when one has had a fright, "you wished to go to the house that is no longer a house. We will never get there if we keep stopping. Now, how did you get out of your harness?"

  Truth looked distinctly puzzled. "How did I get here?"

  Powerful Tenderness held up the tangled mess of straps at the end of the harness, suspending it from his broad hands so that all could see not a single buckle had been undone nor strap broken.

  "That is what I would like to know," he replied. "We were looking at the river, working out the best way to get across, and the next thing I realized there was shouting that you were gone."

  Firekeeper crinkled her brow in thought, remembering tales of Truth drinking water that wasn't there, water that was real enough to dew upon her coat. Had the jaguar somehow gone where that water was for long enough to shed her harness? If so, why did she need Firekeeper to come and open a door for her?

  Glancing at Blind Seer, Firekeeper could see that the blue-eyed wolf shared her thoughts. She ran her hand through his fur, a mute request that they not speak of this. It was not that she did not think it would occur to Powerful Tenderness or Plik, but she knew their concern was for Truth, and that they would not welcome suspicions that Truth was being less than completely honest.

  Besides, Firekeeper thought, now more than ever 1 want to go to this place. What is there that Truth wishes us to see? Perhaps there is indeed a door that she needs opened. Perhaps there is something else.

  Rascal was leaping and snapping at the treed jaguar.. Firekeeper kicked him solidly in the shoulder, sending him rolling.

  "Fool, pup!" Firekeeper snapped. "You merit an ear cut into ribbons for such behavior. Never taunt one of the great cats. Singly they are a match for any wolf."

  Truth liked this praise, and licked a paw complacently. Firekeeper grinned up at her.

  "But, Truth," she continued, "no jaguar is a match for three wolves - especially when one of them is quite good at climbing trees. Will you come down, or do I come up after you?"

  Truth wrinkled her nose and spat, but she also jumped down and haughtily permitted her harness to be put back on her.

  Even so, twice more she slipped her harness. Once was when a young doe bolted out of a thicket, surprising them all. One moment Truth was meandering along in her harness, partly steered by her two guides, the next she was a blur of golden light and compact speed, chasing down the terrified doe.

  The second time, they had taken shelter from a violent thunderstorm. Lightning struck a tree nearby and even before the air filled with the smell of burning wood, Truth was away. She came back, embarrassed by her own fear.

  "I was elsewhere" was all she would say, "and the sound caught me unawares."

  So it was that with a heart filled to brimming with a heady mixture of doubt and curiosity Firekeeper breasted the inlet that would take them to the island that held the house that was no house, a ruin that had, apparently, been ruined by some agency other than the passage of time.

  As ISLANDS WENT, their destination was not among the largest in Misheemnekuru, nor the best positioned. Long and narrow, but sheltered on the whole by one of the more massive islands from the force of the open ocean, it was large enough to harbor wolves, deer, and ample smaller game. Elk, being grazers rather than browsers, did not thrive there.

  This lack of large game was why the island only boasted a single small pack, and why Firekeeper's versatility as a hunter had been welcome. Bitter and Lovable had flown ahead, and the resident pack had sent their welcome. Bitter must have given the wolves reason to stay away, however, for the travelers landed without the reception Firekeeper had expected.

  She drew the raven aside, and he confirmed her suspicion.

  "Something is not right with what Truth tells us. I would not involve those who have young to help survive through the coming winter. There are a few resident great cats as well. I have sent word to them of what we are about, for I would not have rumor reach them that we are - abusing their kin."

  Firekeeper nodded. "I have felt that Truth is hiding something, but I do not know what. Do you have any wisdom you might share with me?"

  The raven fluffed his feathers as if feeling cold, though the day was quite warm. "I do not, but cats of any size are sneaky. They rely on stealth rather than force of number for their hunting. This contaminates all their thinking."

  Firekeeper, who held similar views, did not protest. Wolves and ravens, whether Cousin or Royal or Wise, were frequent allies, comfortable with the ways of their different peoples.

  Indeed, we are not too unalike. They have their flocks, and their mated pairs. So do we. They may be scavengers, rather than hunters, but they are clever, as one who snatches meat from a wolf's jaws must be.

  The group had made their crossing as daylight was waning. The beast-souled preferred not to travel by night, though the wolves and jaguar would have been as comfortable after dark. The ravens, though not bound to daylight hours as their Cousin kin were, also preferred daylight. Considering the possible pitfalls concealed beneath the land over which they must travel, Firekeeper decided in favor of those who preferred daylight.

  "We will travel on come morning," she said. "The ground here is unpredictable, littered with holes as Rascal learned. Blind Seer, do you scent fresh water?"

  The blue-eyed wolf tossed back his head and took the scent.

  "To the south," he said. "I think I remember the place. Rascal and I will scout ahead. Two alone may have some luck hunting."

  They did, and that night the small group dined on rabbit - roasted over a fire for Firekeeper, Plik, and Powerful Tenderness. Plik had proven to be enthusiastically omnivorous. He located an apple tree laden with fruit not completely ruined by the birds and insects, and brought back a sa
ck from which all but Rascal and Blind Seer shared.

  "Tomorrow," Plik said, rubbing his hands together, "I will forage for eggs. We brought oil, and an omelet would be wonderful after all this trail food."

  After dinner had been eaten, the three wolves went running, ostensibly to scout tomorrow's route, but mostly because Firekeeper wanted to warn Rascal to be on guard against Truth. Blind Seer needed no warning. If anything, he was more suspicious than Firekeeper.

  When they returned, both the beast-souled and the jaguar were asleep. Firekeeper laid her head on Blind Seer's flank as she had done hundreds of times before. but even when she drifted off to sleep, she chased suspicions in her nightmares.

  III

  THE HOUSE THAT WAS NO LONGER A HOUSE had been built on a rocky promontory near the southern edge of the island. The earth here was mixed with quantities of sand from which grew sharp-edged grasses, prickly shrubs with leathery leaves, and a few scrawny, twisted trees. There were none of the towering forest giants that were elsewhere common throughout Misheemnekuru. Their roots could not grab hold in the porous soil, and the corpses of those who had attempted to reach beyond what winds would permit lay scattered and slowly rotting.

  Someday, if the waters permitted, these dead trees might be the beginning of better soil in which plants that would strengthen the island's hold against erosion and decay could grow. For now, the fallen timber, overgrown with vines and brambles, only added to the general aura of desolation.

  The area must have been more inviting when the house that was no longer a house had been built here, Firekeeper thought, for who would have gone to such trouble when there were many other more pleasant places both on Misheemnekuru and on the mainland.

  The building or buildings that had stood here had not been the result of a passing fancy - no summer cottage or fishing cabin, as Firekeeper had seen in human lands. The cellar into which Rascal had fallen had been excavated from the surrounding rock. The building stones that remained scattered beneath the vines were large and cleanly cut. She and Blind Seer had found traces of richly tinted colored glass, such as was used for ornamental windows in fine houses. Doubtless the other trims had been equally ornate.

  Rascal loped ahead when they reached the promontory, his nose to the ground, his tail alert and straight behind him.

  "I found it!" he howled back after a moment. "I found the hole where I fell in."

  Blind Seer growled, "Then stay back from the edge, witless. We don't want to have to pull you out again, and the soil will crumble at a breath. I learned the hard way that matted vines only look solid."

  Rascal danced back obediently, but Firekeeper could tell the young wolf felt no real fear now that he knew for Certain where the hole was. Had she ever been so sure of herself?

  No, she thought, for I was always aware how weak I was in contrast to the wolves. Only among humans did I come to see my strengths.

  Even while watching Rascal frolic, Firekeeper had not neglected to keep an eye on Truth. The jaguar had been more vague than usual during that day's short march, and Firekeeper thought Truth might have gone wherever it was she went when she shed her harness. If so, it was a journey of the mind, not the body. The straps and ties remained snug around the rounded barrel of her body, the collar firmly around her neck.

  "So, Truth," Firekeeper said after she and her allies had investigated the area and found nothing that even vaguely resembled a door. "Where is this door you wish me to open for you? This is the place, is it not?"

  Truth did not respond. Only the rise and fall of her breath beneath her ribs gave lie to the impression that they were looking at a figure of a jaguar, stuffed and mounted. Her ears did not twitch, even when Firekeeper snapped her fingers directly outside their rounded cups. Her eyes, normally rich orange with the curious golden sheen that gave back light after dark, seemed almost opaque and dull. The pupils did not change in size when Firekeeper held up her hand to block the brilliance of the sunlight.

  "She sees somewhere else," Powerful Tenderness said. "This is not good."

  "Once before when Truth was like this, I put strong perfume beneath her nose," Firekeeper said, "and that seemed to awaken her. But there is no scent here stronger-smelling than piss - and we wish to awaken her, not offend."

  "Toss her in the ocean!" Rascal said, bouncing slightly. "Dunking her would wake her up. Go on! There's water all around us. Truth likes swimming. She won't mind! She might even think it's funny."

  Firekeeper had to admit she was tempted to take the younger wolf's suggestion. To come so far just to have the jaguar stand there ignoring them was annoying - offensive, even. Yet Firekeeper didn't want to act merely out of temper. As a compromise, Firekeeper ran down to the nearest beach, a narrow strip, almost as much pebble as sand, and filled her cupped palms with seawater. Some, inevitably, dripped away, but on her return enough remained to solidly splash the jaguar's face.

  Droplets beaded on the dense fur, but some rolled into those opaque eyes, into the rounded ears, and down the length of Truth's nose. Truth blinked, spat, and pawed at her eyes. Salt water stings, and the jaguar's inner eyelids had not been closed. Then she sneezed, and as if her spirit came back to her with the next intake of breath, Truth shook her head and glowered at Firekeeper.

  "So you are back with us," Firekeeper said. She was already out of reach of those sharp-tipped claws - at least if Truth stayed leashed - but she let her hand drop to her Fang, just in case.

  Truth did not vanish, nor did she miraculously shed her harness. Instead she looked side to side, apparently seeing where they were for the first time.

  "So we are here," she muttered.

  "So we have been telling you," Blind Seer growled. "Now, before you forget us once more, tell us, where is this door my Firekeeper is to open for you?"

  Truth wrinkled her lip in a feline sneer. " 'Your Firekeeper' - well, we shall see. As for the door, I will show you."

  The jaguar picked her way through the rubble without regard for the pair holding her leash. They scrabbled to follow. Plik, with his round shape and rather short legs, did not have the flexibility to pick his way.

  "Here," he said to Powerful Tenderness, and tossed over his leash so that the massive hand-paws held both lines. Powerful Tenderness acknowledged with a grunt, and pulled back. His strength was such that even the Wise Jaguar must acknowledge it.

  "Slow," Powerful Tenderness said. "This restraint is for your safety, more than for that of anyone else. Should your mind flee your body once more, someone must have hold."

  Truth spat. "Slow is not what I have. This close ... I am drawn in too many directions. Here now, here ..."

  The jaguar sniffed the ground in an area that Firekeeper had noticed was slightly higher than its surroundings. She dug with one paw, then the other, and was apparently satisfied with what she found.

  "Hear me well," Truth said, "for I may not be able to repeat myself. Dig in this place, but carefully-----It is a made hole..."

  The jaguar was already struggling for coherence. Rascal supplied what she did not.

  "A cellar, like the one I fell into."

  "Must take out the dirt and stone ..." was Truth's reply. "Northern wall... door... locked, sealed. Must open."

  "I must open," Firekeeper prompted.

  "You will see ...You will... understand ..." But the last phrase was little more than a rumble and hiss. When Firekeeper looked more closely, the jaguar's gaze was again opaque.

  "Do we splash her again?" Rascal asked, bouncing again. The young wolf looked willing to carry seawater in his mouth if he'd be permitted to spit it in the jaguar's face.

  Firekeeper shook her head. "No. Let the cat rest. I wish Truth could be more clear, but there is enough here to go on."

  Rascal transformed his bounce into a bound and went to sniff around where Truth had said there was a cellar.

  "I don't see any hole, nor smell one." He gave a short howl. "There's no echo either."

  Blind Seer bit him on one e
ar. "Idiot," he growled, letting go. "The jaguar said the hole was filled. Remember the proverb: 'A wise wolf scouts the prey, knows when to hunt, when to stay away.'"

  "But we're not going to run away, are we?" Rascal pleaded.

  "No, but this is a hunt like any other," Blind Seer replied. "As such, it must be planned. Let Firekeeper take a closer look at what we have found. Otherwise we'll only waste time digging you out again."

  Rascal groveled apology, and Blind Seer relented a little.

  "Later, you can put some of your mad energy into digging. Meanwhile, maybe you and I should go secure some dinner, and give proper greetings to our winter friends."

  The blue-eyed wolf glanced over at Firekeeper and she nodded her approval. She would have preferred to go hunting, but Blind Seer was right. She and the maimalo-dalum had the best chance of finding what must be found. Still, she had to swallow a sigh as Rascal, not she, followed Blind Seer into the green tangle.

  Powerful Tenderness bent and picked up the now inert Truth.

  "I will take her to the shade and secure her," he said, "for whatever good that will do. Then I will come and help."

  Plik nodded agreement. "As will I. There is no use guarding Truth when we cannot figure out how she vanishes, and I do not think any predator will come stalking her - not with our mingled scents to give warning that she is not alone. My time would be better spent trying to guess what type of place this was. I have gathered some knowledge of the old builders' ways in a long lifetime spent among their ruins."

  Firekeeper listened to this with half her attention. She was on her hands and knees, cutting away the tangling vines with her hatchet, then pushing back the accumulated leaf matter and the upper layer of dirt. Here and there she probed with a straight stick until she met resistance. The first few times she dug, all she encountered were stray bits of building stone, but finally her persistence was rewarded.

  "I've found an edge," she said. "Building stone, mortared together. It may well be the edge of the cellar."