Secrets of the Wolves (28 page)

I opened my mouth to object.

“Go!” Jandru ordered, apparently at the end of his patience. I was surprised he had let me say as much as I had. He placed both muddy paws on my back and forced me down to the ground. “Stay with the humans and keep them from trouble until we tell you otherwise.” He stepped off me, and both Greatwolves stalked down the riverbank and into the water. They swam easily across and disappeared into the woods.

When I stood, my legs barely held me. I was exhausted, drained by my sorrow and my rage. It didn’t matter to the Greatwolves that Yllin was dead. It wouldn’t matter to them if every wolf in my pack was dead. I met Ázzuen’s eyes.

He looked back bleakly.

Tlitoo picked his way through the mud to stand next to us. “Now will you see what I have to show you, wolves?” he asked. “It is important.”

What could be so important? I looked wearily at him. I just wanted to swim the river and lie down with my pack.

“I have told your pack of the youngwolf’s death,” he said. “They will sing her deathsong when they can. They will send the fleetwolf for you when it is time for the pack to come together. What I have to show you is near the human homesite, so you need not go out of your way. Will you come?”

When Ázzuen and I just sat there, staring at him, he turned his back on us and strode back to the river, where he began to splash water over his wings and back. His feathers had finally stopped falling out, and he looked sleek and strong under his lighter spring plumage. His legs were scabbed over from the attack of the other ravens, but he didn’t seem bothered by them. He looked up from his bath, his manner casual, but his eyes keen. “I think it will help wolves. Help find what the Grimwolves hide. Help find out what it is we are to do.”

“Can’t you just tell us?” I asked.

“No, you must see for yourself,” he said. He flew from the river and landed in front of me. He leaned forward, as if to run his beak through my chest fur, then stopped himself and cocked his head to look up at me. “I cannot make you come. You must choose.” He was watching me, but I had the feeling he was talking mostly to himself. Then a sly look came into his eyes. “If you would rather stay here and mope, instead of taking action to make things right, then I will go alone.”

He took flight, soaring a few wolflengths to land on a branch at the edge of the woods. He turned away to pick at a scab on one of his legs.

“That wasn’t very subtle,” Ázzuen said, humor creeping into his voice.

“No, it wasn’t.” Sometimes Tlitoo acted as if Ázzuen and I were still smallpups. I watched the raven as he pretended not to watch me. For all he feigned indifference, he clearly wanted us with him. I didn’t have any better idea of what to do. I needed to regain my composure before returning to the humans, and needed some time to figure out whom I could trust—or whom I distrusted the least. Following Tlitoo was as good a thing to do in the meantime as anything else.

Catching Ázzuen’s eye, I walked slowly toward the raven. Tlitoo gave a triumphant shriek and led us into the woods.

I could barely feel the earth beneath the pads of my feet as we ran. My whole body was numb, my thoughts sluggish as Ázzuen and I ran to keep up with Tlitoo. I couldn’t get the sight of Yllin’s body out of my head or the smell of her blood from my nose. There was part of me that couldn’t believe she was really dead. I had seen her body for just a few moments, but she had been part of my life, vibrant and alive, from my earliest memories. A world she wasn’t in didn’t seem possible. The thought of it made me so weary I could barely keep up with Tlitoo. Ázzuen’s steady tread just behind me kept me going, but I was ready to tell Tlitoo I had to stop to rest when he banked sharply to the right.

“This way,” he said.

The breeze shifted, and I smelled TaLi. I stumbled after the raven and found her, curled up with BreLan on the soft dirt between the roots of a large ancient oak. I understood from the faint scent of smoke that we were near the human homesite. That was the last thought to stumble through my mind before I staggered to TaLi and threw myself down beside her. Ázzuen scrambled over us, scratching me with his claws, to lie half on top of BreLan. TaLi murmured in her sleep and threw a skinny arm around me. This was what I was fighting for, I told myself. For just a little while I could forget about the Greatwolves’ power games and who was in charge of the valley.

I pressed up against TaLi’s warm skin and inhaled her smoke-and-herb scent, allowing myself to be comforted by the soothing sense of being one with another creature, the knowledge that, at least for this one moment, I was not alone. I rested there, regaining my sense of who I was and what was most important to me. Then, grateful to Tlitoo for bringing us to our humans, I took one more breath of TaLi-scented air and started to get back to my paws, feeling more able to face the other humans and my pack.

“No, wolflet, wait there,” Tlitoo said to me from one of the roots of the great oak. “We will go to the human home soon. This is more important.”

He hopped onto my back, walked over TaLi and BreLan, then pecked Ázzuen’s shoulder. Ázzuen yipped.

“
You
stay where you are. You must not touch me or Moonwolf.” I raised my head in surprise. He had never called me that. Only NiaLi had called me that, and that had been when I had first met her. Tlitoo didn’t notice my surprise. He was still staring at Ázzuen. “Do you promise, wolf?”

“Yes,” Ázzuen said sleepily, “but why?”

Tlitoo didn’t answer him. He stalked back over the two humans, hopped down, and stood in front of me, peering into my eyes. He took two steps toward me, bending his head close to me. The last time I had touched him had been at Rock’s Crest, and contact with him had been terrifying. I pulled away.

“You must not be afraid, wolflet,” Tlitoo said. “You must trust me. This is what I am. This is what I can do.” He took two more steps toward me. I forced myself to remain still as he leaned his head against my chest. And then it came. The darkness and the absence of scent, the cold and the feeling of falling. I heard the sound of a thousand wings flapping. Scent came back to me and air filled my lungs. It was still dark, though. My eyes were closed, I realized.

I opened them and was immediately dizzy. Everything looked different, blurry and indistinct. Yet the colors around me were brighter than any I had ever seen before, richer than I thought colors could be. I was looking at the mud-rock base of a human shelter, but it was vibrant with bright colors I couldn’t name. The dizziness overtook me, nausea making me weak. I pulled sharply away and found myself back in the clearing, rolling away from TaLi and onto Tlitoo, who scrambled to get out of my way. Ázzuen, BreLan, and TaLi still slept.

“What did you do to me?” I gasped as he preened his ruffled feathers. He jutted his head forward so that we were beak to nose. I winced, anticipating a peck to the nose, but he just peered into my eyes.

“It is all right, wolflet,” he quorked. “It is what I do. What we do. Moonwolf and Neja raven together. You see what she sees, know what she knows. It is all right. I was afraid before, but I am not now.”

My mind tried to catch up with his words. “I’m seeing what TaLi sees?” I couldn’t believe it.

“Not all,” he answered. “What she is remembering, what she is thinking of, dreaming of, now. I am not sure. I am very new at this.” He raised his wings protectively over his ears. “It is what I am supposed to do. I am not afraid.”

I just stared at him. I had never heard of such a thing. The dizzy, sick feeling scared me.

“I’m seeing things that TaLi is remembering?” I repeated. I had no idea that Tlitoo could make that happen. I hadn’t known it was possible.

“Please, wolflet, will you try?”

Fascination and fear rolled over me. Fascination won out; I’d always wanted to know what was going on in TaLi’s head. I lay down next to the girl, leaning against her. Tlitoo pressed his back to my chest. This time, I was prepared for the shock of the lack of smell and the cold, the sensation of dropping off a cliff. When I opened my eyes to a bright, blurry world, I understood that I was seeing things the way a human might, and I wasn’t used to seeing things through human eyes. I would have to adjust. Experimentally, I pulled away just a little from TaLi’s mind, then a little more. I realized that, if I wanted to, I could pull away and return to myself in the clearing. Knowing I could do so took away my fear, and when I felt myself losing touch with TaLi, I drew closer again, until I felt as if I was watching TaLi’s memories as I might watch my packmates hunt in the distance. What I saw, I realized, was her dream. She was dreaming of a time before I knew her, and I eagerly settled in to watch TaLi when she was little more than a pup.

TaLi was five when she told her older cousin she could speak to the animals. Her cousin laughed at her and called her a baby. So TaLi told her aunt, RinaLi, who had taken care of her since her mother had died. RinaLi did not laugh. She grabbed TaLi by the wrist so hard that the girl began to cry. RinaLi pulled TaLi close to her and whispered harshly, “You do not understand the animals. Never say that again. Never!” She gave TaLi’s arm one more twist and shoved her away, looking anxiously around. Sobbing, TaLi ran to the edge of the homesite, behind the herb house, and flung herself down in the warm dirt.

“I can so hear the animals,” TaLi said. “I can. I spoke to a raven, and he told me I smell bad, and the dhole said I was smart. I couldn’t talk to the rabbits, though,” she said thoughtfully. “They didn’t want to say anything.”

Her grandmother found her there and asked her why she wept. TaLi told her, then gulped back her tears, afraid her harsh-tongued grandmother would yell at her as her aunt had done. But the old woman squatted down beside TaLi.

“Of course you can’t hear the rabbits,” the old woman said. “They never have anything much to say. And don’t believe everything a raven tells you. They are terrible liars.”

TaLi looked at her grandmother in wonder, and when the old woman stood and held out her hand, TaLi swallowed one last sob and got to her feet. The old woman, walking slowly, led the stumbling girl away from the homesite and into the woods. When they reached a quiet copse of trees by a brook, she sat again, and the girl sat beside her.

“Your mother spoke to the animals,” the old woman said. “It is a gift. When your mother died, her older sister, your aunt RinaLi, believed that it was because of her conversations with animals. Nonsense, of course, but people will believe what they will believe, and my older daughter has always been fearful. This is why she will not let you speak of the animals.”

The old woman talked to TaLi like an adult, not a stupid child, and TaLi felt her chest rise in pride.

“You’re too young, yet, to do much, and I don’t know if you will be able to speak to them when you’re grown,” the old woman said, as much to herself as to TaLi, “but if the ravens have found you, we’d best not wait any longer.” She stood and dusted the dry winter dirt off her deerskin tunic. “I will come for you tonight. Sleep apart from your cousin and your aunt. It is time that you met some friends of mine.”