WolvesoftheBeyondLoneWolf

KathrynLasky

“AndinourwolflanguagethewordHoolesimplymeans‘owl.’Yousee,myfriend,itwasthespiritofaHoolethatIfollowedwhenIledmykindhere

fromourice-lockedland.”

—FromthefirstbookoftheHoolianlegends

TableofContents

TitlePageEpigraphMapPARTONE:THEBEYOND

AWAY…CHAPTERONE:THERIVERROARSCHAPTERTWO:THESPARKFROMTHERIVERCHAPTERTHREE:MILKANDLIGHTCHAPTERFOUR:THUNDERHEARTCHAPTERFIVE:DENLESSONSCHAPTERSIX:BLOODLESSONCHAPTERSEVEN:THEGOLDENEYESOFTHUNDERHEARTCHAPTEREIGHT:THEWINTERDENCHAPTERNINE:ADIMMEMORY

PARTTWO:THEOUTERMOST

CHAPTERTEN:THEFROSTFORESTCHAPTERELEVEN:ASAVAGEWORLDCHAPTERTWELVE:OUTCLANNERSCHAPTERTHIRTEEN:THEBITTERNESSOFTHEOBEACHAPTERFOURTEEN:THECAVEBEFORETIMECHAPTERFIFTEEN:ASTORYINSTONECHAPTERSIXTEEN:FIRSTMILKCHAPTERSEVENTEEN:THEBYRRGISOFONECHAPTEREIGHTEEN:AFIRSTDRUMLYN

PARTTHREE:THEBEYOND

CHAPTERNINETEEN:THESKULLINTHEWOODSCHAPTERTWENTY:ANOWLLISTENSCHAPTERTWENTY-ONE:AFIRESIDECONVERSATIONCHAPTERTWENTY-TWO:‘YOUMUSTGOTOTHEWOLVES”CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE:INSPIRATIONCHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR:THERIDGECHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE:MOONROTANDDOOM

CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX:THESARKOFTHESLOUGHCHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: THE TRAIL OF THE SPLAYED

PAWCHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT:JUMPFORTHESUN

Copyright

Map

PARTONETHEBEYOND

AWAY…

BEFORESHEFELTEVENTHEFIRSTtwingeinherbelly,theshe-wolfsetouttofindaremotebirthingden.Sheknewsomehowthatthisbirthwouldnotbethesameastheothers.Shehadbeentravelingfordaysnow,andshecouldsenseher timewasnear.So far shehad seennothing thatwould serveas aden.Therewereseveralshallowpits,but thosewouldn’tdo.Pitsofferednoshelter,andthoughitwasalmostspring,theweathercouldturntreacherousina flash. The pups could freeze. The sound of their fresh hearts beating sofiercelywouldgrowdimunderathinglazeoficeuntiltheheartsstopped,andtherewas only silence. This had happened before to the she-wolf. She hadlickedthosethreepupsuntilhertonguewasdryandbleedingfromthecoldshards,butshehadnotbeenabletokeepupwiththeice.Thiswasherthirdlitter.Andthis time,sheknewshehadtogetfarawayfromthepack,awayfromtheclan,awayfromhermate,andmostofall,awayfromtheObea.Finally, on the night of the fifth rising moon that now hung like an ice

bladelowonthehorizon,shefoundacreviceunderarockledge.Shesmelledit before she saw it. The scent of fox was distinct. She hoped it wasn’t awhelpingden.Just the fox,dearLupus.Shesentupasilentprayer.Shedidnotwanttocontendwithfoxkits.Andithadbeenjustafox—afoxwaitingtogivebirth.Theshe-wolfrouted

herandtooktheden,settlinginforhertime.Thefoxsmelllingered.Fine,shethought.Itwouldprovideanotherlayerofconcealingscent.Sherolledinthescat thatshefoundnearbyandthensnortedtoherselfassheimaginedwhatherpupswouldthinkoftheirmum.Nomatter,theywouldlive—andifneedbe,liveawayfromtheclan.Thentheycame.Threepups,twotawnyliketheirfather,theothersilvery

gray.Theywereperfectinhereyes.Indeed,ittookherawhiletodiscovertheone little flawon the silverpup—a slight splay tohis front paw.When theshe-wolfexamineditmoreclosely,shesawthatthispawhadadimtraceryofa spiral, like a swirled star, on its footpad. It was odd, but certainly not adeformity.Andshetoldherselfthesplayofthatpawwasminor.Hewasnotmalcadh, theancientwolfword for“cursed.” Itwassucha slight flaw,andshehadhopethatthesplaymightlesseninthedaysthatfollowed.Thetoesthat pointed outmight rotate back, and the tracerywas so dim itwouldn’tleaveaprinteveninsoftmud.Thesilverpupwasstrong.Shecouldtellbythewayhesuckedonherteat.Still,shewasgladshehadtakentheprecautionoffindingabirthingdenfaraway.Shedragged thepupsonebyone into thedeeper recessesof thecrevice,

which thankfully had two or three tunnels that extended into a nestingchamber.Heresheplannedtostaywrappedaroundherpupsforseveraldays,nursingtheminthequietdarknessaslongasshecould.Sheknewthatsoonenoughtheywouldbecomerestless,andwhentheireyesfinallyopened,theywouldseekthatpalethreadoflightthatgleamedfeeblyattheden’sopening,drawn to it as strongly as they were drawn to the milk from her teats, asstronglyastheywouldlaterbebythescentofmeat.Butiftheycouldremainconcealed, theywould survive and the silver pupwould grow stronger andstrongersothatthethreatoftheObeawouldbegintofade,likeanoldscentmarkscouredawaybywindandrainandsnow.Theshe-wolfwouldhaveonlyafewhoursforsuchfancifulthinking.

Inaworldthattoanyotherwolfmightappeartrackless,Shibaan,theObeaoftheMacDuncan clan, had found the she-wolf’s trail. The laws of the wolfclanswereharsh.TheObeawas the femalewolf ineachclandesignated tocarrydeformedpupsoutofthewhelpingdentoaplaceofabandonment.Onlybarrenshe-wolveswereeligible,sincesuchwolveswereassumednottohavedevelopedmaternal instincts.With nobloodoffspring,Obeaswere devotedentirelytothewell-beingoftheclan,whichcouldnotbehealthyandstrongifdefectivewolveswerebornintoit.Theruleswereprecise.ThedeformedorsickpupwastoberemovedbytheObeaandcarriedtoaremotespotwhereitwouldbe left todieof starvationorbe eatenby another animal. If thepupsomehowmanagedtosurvive,itwaspermittedbackintotheclanasagnawwolf and became the lowest-rankingwolf in the clan.Amalcadh’s motherwasneverwelcomedback.Theclanmustberidofherandhermate,whohadcontaminatedthebloodlines.Iftheyweretosurvive,theymustseparateandseek new lives in different clans, for they were deemed to have destiniesmarkedbyblightthatmightbesetrightonlybyfindingnewbloodlines.Shibaanhadlearnedtobecomesuspiciouswhenapregnantfemaleaboutto

givebirthwentby-lang,whichmeant“deeplyaway.”ShewasanexperiencedObeaandwasnotfooled longby the tricksof theshe-wolfMorag.ShibaanhadtoadmitthatMoragwasmorethoroughthanmostincoveringhertracks.Moraghadnoturinatedexceptinstreamsortheice-freepartsoftheriver.Shehadleftnoscentmarkstodeclareherterritory.Theaveragewolfwouldnothavenoticed theclues to thedesperatemother’s flight.ButShibaanwasnoordinarywolf,norwassheanordinaryObea.Shefoundthesubtlestoftraces.Atuftofsilverfurcaughtonsomethistle.Scratchmarksonarockthathadservedasa footholdwhenMoragcrosseda stream.Aslightwhiff—ascentmessageperhaps,notfromMorag,butanother.ToShibaan,itflareduplikeasignpost. The message was clear: My territory, first lieutenant of theMacDermottclan,aresponsetoanoutsiderveeringtooclosetoMacDermottland. So, thought Shibaan, Morag has crossed the MacDermott border.

Daring!Thentherewasthescentoffox,butnotpurefox.Shibaanshookherhead

wearily.Ialwaysfindthem,nomatterwhattrickstheyplay.Andshedid.Thefox scat outside the den even had a thread of fur, like a silvery pennantquiveringinthebreezetoannouncethatinsideashe-wolfconcealedherself,stickywithfoxscat,butstillredolentinthesweetfragrancesofnewpupsandwarmmilk.Nofuss,nomuss.Themothersofmalcadhneverdidputupafight.They

knewtheconsequenceofresis-tance—immediatedeathtoallthepups.

MoragwatchedtheObeacarryingthesplay-pawedpupinherjawsuntiltheywereadarkspeckonthehorizon.HowperfectlysuitedShibaanwasforthisjob! It was as if the years of performing her duty with unquestioningobediencehadscouredawayanykindoffeelingorimagination.WhenMoraglookedintothegreeneyesoftheObea,theywerecompletelydevoidoflight,ordepth,oranything thatmight reflectemotion.Theywere likedrystones,bleachedofnearlyallcolor.Thesilverpuphadalloweditselftobepickedupbyitsneckscruffandhad

instinctively curled its body into carrying position. Did he not sense theObea’s scent was different from his mother’s? Did the pup not mind themilkless,dry,sterilewindofherbeing?Thepuphadnursedconstantly—butconstanthadbeen just a sliver in the short day since it hadbeenborn.Thepup’s eyes and ears were still sealed shut. It would be days before theyopened.Thepup’sonlywaytoknowhismother,theMilkGiver,wasthroughher scent and perhaps the feel of her fur and the throbbing rhythms of herheart.Wouldheremember?Butwhatdiditmatter.Atweenseasonstormwasbrewing,andtheseweretheworst.Comingon

the edge of spring or the cusp of summer, tween stormswere full of rage,tumultuouswinds, and slashing ice.Morag had felt it coming and seen theleadenskiessinkinglowerandlower,clampingdownonthelandlikeatrapforearth’screatures.Herpupwouldbeabandonedinthemidstofthisstorm.Andsheherselfwouldhave to remainwith the twootherpups toawait theObea, whowould return to leadMorag back to the clan. TheObeawouldcarryonepupandMorag theotheras they traveled that trailofshame.Thenews of themalcadh pup would be announced, andMorag would have toleave theclan immediately,anoutlaw.Thesurvivingpupswouldbenursedbyanotherwolf.

TheObea,thoughlackingimagination,didhavethoughts.Practicalthoughts.Whereshouldshetakethispupsothattherewasnochanceitwouldsurvive?Shehadseensomethingonthepadofthesplayedpawthatdisturbedher.Shewasn’tsurewhy;allsheknewwasthatshehadnotlikedthosemarkings.

WhatShibaandidknowwasherjob:totakecareofthebadbusinessoftheclan.Shedidnotmindherdutynow.Longagoherfailuretohavepupswaslikeasharppebbleunderfoot,aconstantreminderthatshewouldneverbeamother but instead an unranked wolf charged with an unpleasant task.However,sheperformedherworkwell,andovertheyearsshehadgraduallygainedsomerespectfromthechieftain.Thesharppebble,onceanirritation,becamesmoothandsettledinherbeinglikeapolishedriverstone—therenotasa reminderof failure,butsimplyaspartofhercharacter,hercharge,herdutyasanObea.As shecarried thepup, sheglimpsedagain theodd spiralingmarkon its

footpad.Shefeltatremorinherheart.Shecouldhavekilledthepup,buttheObeawasverysuperstitious.Itwasagainstthelawtotakeshortcuts,andshewanted to climb the spirit trail to the GreatWolf, Lupus, and the Cave ofSouls.Ahead,Shibaansawthegleamoftheriverunderthegrayskiesthatpressed

down.Itwastheresheintendedtoleavethepup.Theriverwasjustbeginningtobreakupinthespringthaw.Andwhenthathappenedthelevelwouldrisesuddenly, torrentially, and the pupwould drown.Shewould leave it on theedge,whereitwouldbecaughtbythesurgingwaters.Shearrivedataspotwherethebankhadbeenundercutbythecourseofthe

river.Therewerealreadysignsofthaw,sosheplacedthepuponaniceledge.Itwasaspotcertaintobeswamped,especiallywhenthestormrumbledin.TheObeawascarefulassheputthepupontheice—heedful,precise.The

pupwasanit,neitherahenorashe,norevenawolf.Justanitthatsquirmed,mewlingandwhiningweakly.Butall thatwouldbeoversoon. If thestormdidn’t take the pup, anowlwould.The riverwas on amajor flight path ofcollier owls who flew into the Beyond for the coals spewed from thevolcanoes. They were always hungry when they got to this point. Thismalcadh would not be the first seized by an owl from the kingdom ofGa’Hoole.Thereweresmithowls,too,thatsetuptemporaryforgesnearthevolcanoes.Smithingwashardwork.Thoseowlsatea lot.Despite thecloserelationshipbetweenowlsandwolves,amalcadhwasfairgame.Therewasa tick-ticksoundasthepupattemptedtogripthecold,smooth

surfacewith its tinypaws.Themewlingandwhiningescalated toweeping,buttheObeadidn’thearit.Herearsweresealedaseffectivelyasthepup’s.Therewerenovaguestirringsdeepwithinher.Ifanything,shefeltonlythecold,smoothweightofthatstonethathadbecomesynonymouswithherduty,hercharge,heridentity.IamtheObea.ThatisallIneedtoknow.AllIneedtobe.IamtheObea.

CHAPTERONETHERIVERROARS

HECOULDNOTSEE,HECOULDNOThear,andvainlyhepokedouthistonguetolick,butthesmellofmilkwasgoneandwithitthewarmteat.Hecould feel only cold, nothing else. It filled him until his small body wasrackedwithviolentshivers.Howhadeverythingchangedsofast?Wherewasthe stream ofwarmmilk, the soft fur, the squirming presence of the otherpups?Inhisbrieflife,hehadknownlittle,butnowheknewless.Smell,taste,and feeling, the only senses he had, were starved. The pup felt himselfdriftingoffintoavoidthatwasneitherlifenordeath,onlyaterriblenothing.Andwiththisgreatvoidcamenumbness.Something stirred—a vibration—and with it a new element entered his

barelypulsinglife.Theterriblecrackingandboomingastherivericebuckledwas so loud that it penetrated the pup’s sealed ears. Then suddenly, a roarsurgedthroughhishead.Therewasagreatlurch,andhebegantoskidofftheiceshelf,butdigginginhissharplittleclaws,hegrippedhard.Itwouldseemacrueltrickthatthelonepupgainedtwovitalsenses,sight

andsound,asthewinter-lockedriverrupturedandbrokefree.Itwasperhapstheshockthatcausedhiseyestounsealandhisearstoopen.Thefinalthawoftheriverunleashedimmensecataractsofwaterthattore

at the banks, uprooting trees, dislodging boulders and rocky outcrops. TheshelfonwhichtheObeahadplacedthepupcreaked,thentilted,andatlast,therewasasharpcrackthatsplinteredinhisears.Lightflashedbrutallyinthepup’seyesasthemoonscorchedtheicefloessweepingdowntheriver.Dim in the pup’s memory was a previous violence. Birth. He had been

launched from the warmth of his mother’s womb into the grip of forcesgreater than himself. His small body was nothing against the intensecontractionsthatexpelledhim.Andnowitwashappeningagain.Butinsteadof going from the inviolablewarmthof hismother’swomb, hewas slidingintothefrigidwatersofthetumultuousriver.Hedugharderwiththatsplayedpaw, which seemed to have a better grip than the others. He clung, clungdumblytotheshelfthathadjoinedtheotherflotsamintheriver.Itwouldhavebeeneasier, lesspainful, to releasehisgrip, toslipoffand

drown.Buttherewasonlyinstinct,andtheinstinctwastogrip.Heopenedhiseyeswiderandsaw thegleamof the fullmoonon the river.Thebrightnessmadehimsquint.His first lesson: He could adjust his eyes to the light. His first thought:

What else might he adjust or be able to change?Might he bring back thewarmthheonceknew?Thesmellofmilk,thetaste?Thesoftcrushofthosewigglingfurrycreaturesthathadtumbledabouthimastheyallscrambledforthemilk?Thecomforting rhythmicvibrationshe felt ashepressedclose tosuck?Therewassomethingbeneaththefur,deepintheMilkGiver,thatbeat.Icywaterdashedoverhim,butstillheclung.Occasionally,hefelttheice

shelfspinroundandroundinoneplace.Thelightswirledandheexperiencedadizzyingnausea.Tosteadyhimselfandkeephisgriphehadtoshuthiseyestight.Thentherewouldbeajoltandhisraftwouldbreaklooseandjointhetumultofthestreamagain.Hefelttheicediminishingbeneathhim.Hishindlegs hung off the raft now and were growing numb in the water. Thenumbness crept through him. It was not an unpleasant feeling, but with itsomethingelseseemedtogrowdimmer,toseepfromthedeepestpartofhim.Hisclawsbegantolosetheirgrip.Thelastthinghefeltwasatremendousjolt;thelastthingheheardwasthe

soundofhisclawsskiddingacrossthefinalfragmentofhisiceraft.

CHAPTERTWOTHESPARKFROMTHERIVER

ONTHISSTORMYNIGHT,THEREwasasoundthatroselouderthantheroar of the river and the howling of the wind. The anguished cries of themother grizzly shook the banks on which she sat. Her great gulping griefseemedtosucktheairfromtheearth.Thelongguardhairsonherbackweresheathed in ice and trembled, creating a bristling litter of small soundsbeneaththerageofhergrief.Whentheriverhadthreatenedtofloodherden,shehadturnedherbackfor

a few seconds to scan for higher ground. In those seconds, cougars haderuptedoutofnowhereandmadeoffwithhercub.Hersinglecub.Shehadonlygrownonethistime.Allsummerandfallshehadeaten,fattenedherselfup,andforwhat?Tohavewhatwouldmostlikelybeherlast-bornkilled.Now,withherteatsstilldrippingwiththemilkmeantforhercub,shewas

readytodie.Shewelcomedtheriverthatshehadhopedtoescape.Notsincethematingtimefivesummersbefore,whenamalegrizzlyhadkilledoneofhercubstogetnearher,hadshegrievedlikethis.Shewouldnotmovefromthedenwhere shehadbirthedandsuckled thecub.She tippedhermassivehead toward themoon that watched her like a dead eye, and pleadedwithGreatUrsus,Takeme,takeme!

The grizzly had lost all sense of time, but the night became darker as themoonslippeddowninthewesternsky.Neardawn,thestormhadblownout,leavingdarkcloudsonthehorizonlikesmolderingashes.Theriverfloodhadreacheditspeak,butstillhadnottakenthegrizzly.Adarksoddenclotsnaggedonherhalf-submergedhindleg.Sheshookher

footattheannoyingscratchingsensation.Butwhensheshook,theclotclungtighter.Itmadeherirritable,andshedraggedherpawupontothebank.Shewouldlaterwonderwhatitwasthatstoppedherfromreachingforward

and simply scrapingoff the clot. It betrayedno signof life.The scratchingcouldhavebeen theprickly thornsofabramble thathadbecomeentangledwiththeflotsamoftheracingcurrents.Rivertrash.Thatwasall.Andyetshefeltsomething.Shewouldthinkofitasaspark.Shehadseensparkscomefromthesky,

and sparks struck from rockswhen tumblingboulders collided,but shehadnever imagined a spark coming from a river. A spark from a river,unquenched, undamaged, undiminished, flying upward from the watery

turbulenceandcontaininginitsminusculesphereoflight,thepromiseoflife.Soshereachedforwardandcarefullypickedupthesoddenclumpwithbothher frontpaws. It didn’t squirm.Shecouldn’t see signsofbreathing.But itwasacubofsomesort,andwhenitopeneditseyeswithwhatseemedgreatpain,shesawthespark.As thesun liftedover thehorizon,shesaw its light reflected in thecub’s

two eyes. And then she saw an image that shocked her. It was her ownreflectionintheeyesofananimalthatwasnotbornofher,norofherkind.It’sawolf,shethought.Iseekdeath,anditseekslife.And then she looked up at the sky, searching for the Great Bear

constellation.Shecouldnotseeit,fordawnwasbreaking,butdeepdownsheknewthatthiswolfwasamessagefromUrsus,ascolding.Shemustnotthinkofdeath.Her timehadnotcomeyet. Itwasn’t anaccident that thepatheticpuphadfetcheduponherleg.Itwasagiftfromtheriver.“Faolan,”shewhispered.“IshallcallyouFaolan.”Faomeantboth“river”

and“wolf.”Andlanwasthewordfor“gift.”“Youaremygiftfromtheriver.”Andshegatheredhimtoherchest.

The Milk Giver? The pup smelled the milky traces in the thick fur andnuzzled toward the source. But the closer he got, the more confused hebecame. It did not seem the same.The smellwasdifferent and the taste aswell. And there was a new, frightening sound. The thunderous roar of theriverwas replaced by a great rhythmic booming, and threaded through themighty reverberations were gusty bubbling sounds. As the grizzly gentlypressedFaolancloser toher teat, thesoundsactuallyshookhim.Yethefeltsafe.ItwasadifferentMilkGiver.Ahugeone,manytimesbiggerthanthefirst,

and he was hearing the pumping of her heart and the turbulence of herstomach. Gradually, he became used to the sounds. They blended into therushingoftheriver,foldedintothequieternoisesofhisownsucking.He sucked.Hisworld became one ofmilk. Thick richmilk.He shut his

eyesandslept,stillsucking.

ThegrizzlylookeddownonFaolanandhugetearsrolledfromthecornersofhereyes.Theriverspiritbroughtyoutome.Theremustbeareason.Ishallnurseyou throughthismorning into thedayandthroughthenight.Asparkcanbecomeaflame,aflameafire.Sheblewherwarmgentlebreathontohim.Thepup’seyesfluttered,andhe

sankdeeperintodreamlesssleep.

CHAPTERTHREEMILKANDLIGHT

THEPUPMIGHTHAVEBEENSENT fromUrsus, and the grizzlymighthave had the best of intentions, but she was at a loss to imagine how shemight take care of this pup beyond nursing him. He was a greedy littlecreature, that was for sure, and he was so different from a bear cub. Hesmelled different. He sucked differently. And although he was a bit largerthananewbornbearcubwhenshehadfoundhim,hewasnotfatteningupasfast.Abear cubwould have doubled itsweight by now.Thewolf puphadgrown some, but not enough. And yet he nursed incessantly. The grizzlyworried that her milk was not right, or perhaps she wasn’t holding himproperly.Whatdidsheknowaboutraisingawolfpup?Ifhehadbeenasignfrom Ursus, there should have been more signs. Signs that told her whatexactlytodo.Thegrizzlytoldherselfeverydaythatthepupwasagift.Butshewanted

himtobemorethanjustagift.Didhefeelshewasstrange,too?Butwhatdocubsknow? Shewas startled andnearly chuckled. I calledhima cub!Andthensherealizedthateventhoughthepupwasawolf,perhapstheywereallalike.Cubs,pups.Theythinkaboutnothingbutmilk.Faolanisnodifferent.Hehadpausedinhisnursingforamoment,andshetooktheopportunityto

pickhimup inherhugepawsandholdhimclose toher face.Theypeeredinto each other’s eyes.Hiswere becoming a lovely green, like thewolves’eyesintheBeyond,andherswerearich,gleamingbrown,soshinythatthetinywolfcouldseehisreflectioninthem.“You’reafunnylittlecreature!”Andshestuckouthertongueanddabbed

hiswetlittlenose.Hegaveahappyyipyip.“Oh,youlikethat!”Shediditagain,andhesquealednowwithdelight.She sethimdown.He immediately rolledontohisback,holdinghis tiny

paws in the air expectantly. The grizzly thought this was a signal that hewanted some tickling. She began to speakwith amixture ofwords, snorts,andhuffs.Shewasn’tsureifheunderstoodherornot.Itdidn’tmatter.“Oh,GreatUrsus,youwantmetodothisagain,youfunnylittlefellow.”Thewordsof thewolvesand thebearsand theowlsdidnotdiffermuch,

but the toneand theexpressions in the subtlermovementsof theirheadsortheireyescreatedahiddenlanguagestrangetootheranimals,andsometimesincomprehensible.Faolanlayonhisback,waitingforthehugetonguetoticklehisbelly.So

she did.And the pup leaped up gleefully. Thiswas repeated several times.Thenthepupranadistanceandturnedhisheadtolookslylybackather.Hesuddenlyhurledhimselftowardthegrizzly,leapingintoherarms.Shewassostunned, she fell backward.He climbedup her chest and began licking herchin,thenhernose.Thebear’schestrumbledwithchuffsofdelight.Themoreshechuffed,the

moreFaolanlickedhernose.Thebearfelthereyesfillwith tears.Fordaysthiswolfpuphadnursedbuthadhardlyseemedtolookather.Butnow,nowwhenhehad finally stoppednursing for just amoment and shehadplayedwithhim,heplayedback.Heunderstood.Shepickedhimupagaingentlyandheldhimawayfromherface.Theypeeredonceagainintoeachother’seyes.Hewiggledabitandmade

themilk!milk!bark.Shecradledhim,andheclampedontoherteat.Butthistimetherewasadifference.Heopenedhiseyesashenursedandlookedrightat her. It was as if there were a current flowing between them. Faolanconsumedthemilk,and thegrizzlydrankin the luminousgreen lightofhiseyes.Shefeltadeepsurgeoflove.

CHAPTERFOURTHUNDERHEART

THEYMADEACURIOUSTWOSOME—thegreat lumberinggrizzlywiththesunreflectingoffthesilverytipsofherbrownfur,andthesmallpup,hiscoatabrightersilver,scamperingsometimesaheadofher,sometimesatherside, sometimes behind as they foraged for the spring bulbs that were justpushing their sprouts through the ground. One would grunt and the otherwouldyiporhurloutsnappishbarks.Yetsomehowtheyhadfoundawaytobegincommunicating.Faolanhadbeguntoswinghisheadexactlylikeabearcubwouldwhensayingno.More and more the grizzly realized that rearing a pup was not all that

differentfromrearingacub.Shemarveledatthesimilaritiesbetweenthetwo.YetitfrightenedherhowsmallFaolanwasincomparisontobearcubs.Smallanddefenseless.However,thepupwasveryfast,muchfasterthanabearcub,and could cover ground with great bursts of speed. The grizzly thoughtFaolan’s speedmightcompensate forwhathe lacked in size.But therewastheproblemofhis splayed frontpaw,whichhe favored.Awolf, just likeabear,neededfulluseofallitspaws.Faolan now had begun to lag behind andwasmaking smallwhimpering

I’m tired sounds. The grizzly turned around and glared at him. Faolanwhimperedandsquatted inahummockofsoftgrass,wagginghisheadandgrowling. “No, no, no!” he said, then blew a great spray of air throughhisnostrilsasiftoproclaimtoohot!He walked slowly forward as if he could hardly drag himself to the

grizzly’sside,andnudgedagainsthertotrytoclamberontoherback.Therewasahugemuscleover thegrizzly’s shoulders thatpoweredher forelimbs,and Faolan loved to climb aboard and ride high on it. Bear cubswere toolargetorideatthisstage,butnotthewolfpup.Evenintheden,Faolanlikedcurlinguponthatfurrymountainwhenhewasn’tnursing.Having mothered three sets of cubs, the grizzly had heard all the

complaintsbefore.And it reallydidn’tmatter if theywerebearsorwolves,theyounggot tired, theygotcranky, theywanted togoback to thedenandnurse—easyfood.Butonedaythegrizzly’smilkwoulddryup,andthepupwouldhavetolearnaboutothersourcesoffood.ItwasparticularlyimportantforFaolanbecausehewassosmall.Ishesmallforhisage?Perhapsthisisthe size of all wolf pups? the grizzly wondered. Nonetheless, it made hernervous.

Itsurprisedthegrizzlythatshehadgrownsoattachedtothelittleone.Butthat spark she had detected when he had first fetched up on her foot andopened his eyes seemed to kindle throughout his tiny body.Hewas quick,smart,verystrongwilled,andnowthefiresfromthesparksometimeshadtobetamed.Howcouldsuchatinylittlethingcontainsuchfierceness?ThegrizzlylumbereduptoFaolanandbuttedhimwithherboxynose.He

tumbledbackward,squealinginmockpain.“Getup,”shegrunted.“No!No!”“No”wasmostdefinitelyFaolan’sfavoriteword.“No”and“Moremilk.”It

soundedslightlydifferentwhenhesaidit thanwhenbearcubsutteredthesesame words. His voice was higher, not as deep as a cub’s. The grizzlywonderedifthiswasbecausehischestwassomuchsmallerthanabear’s.Itwassonarrow,sofragile.Hisgrowlswerealsoshallowerthanabearcub’s.However,theaccompanyinggestureswereverysimilartothoseofacub.Didthe pups of thewolves’ packs toss their heads about thisway? Fromwhatlittle she had seen of full-grown wolves, their gestures were nothing likethese.Onceshehadwatchedapackfrombehindahugeboulderastheytoreat the carcass of amoose. Therewas an elaborate formality to their everymove. Certain wolves ate first and then others crept up as if requestingpermissiontopartakeofthemeat.Shewasn’tsurehowtheywoulddealwithawhining,obstreperouspuplikeFaolan,whohadjustfloppedhimselfonhisbackandwasflailinghissplayedpawdramatically.Hewanted togoback to theden, to thecool,welcoming shadows, to its

earthycoziness,tothesmelloftheriver,tothesoftmosspadsthatgrewattheopeningwherehelovedtotakehismorningnap.Butmostofall,hewantedtocurl up against the grizzly and nurse. Even the thought of that sweetmilkmade his stomach growl.Bulbs had a horrible taste. Therewas no juice inroots.Hehadevencomplainedthattheyweretoohardforhisteeth.Hebeganwhiningloudlynow.“Urskadamus!”Thegrizzlygrumbled theancientbearoath,whichmeant

“curseofarabidbear.”Thensheblastedhimwithaseriesofshorthuffsofintolerance.Thiswasthefirstlevelofscolding.ButFaolancontinuedtowhineandroll

onhisback,waggingthesplayedpaw.Enoughofthis!shethought.Hemustlearnnottogiveintohisweaknesses.

Hemust,sherealizedsuddenly,learntomakethemhisstrengths.Itwouldbeacruellesson,buttherewasanevencruelerworldawaitinghim.Shegrowledforthefirsttimeeveratthepupandthenwithherownmighty

pawwhackedhisgoodfrontpaw.NowFaolanhowledinrealpain.Hisgreeneyes flooded with astonishment. How could you? How could you? hewondered.

Thegrizzlydidnothavewordsforeveryoccasionthatayoungpupwouldunderstand.Sometimesteachingorcommunicatingbyexamplewasthebestway,andthenlaterthewordswouldcome.SoshelumberedpastFaolanandbegandigginginapatchofoniongrasswithherownpaw,theonesherarelydugwith.Themessagewasclear:Usethesplayedpaw!Makeityourdiggingpaw.Meekly,Faolanbegantoscratchthedirtwheretheonionsgrew.It tooka

longtime,butfinallyhedugoneup.The grizzly was proud. She came up beside him, making low purring

sounds, then nuzzled him gently and licked Faolan under his jawwith herenormous tongue.She turnedandbegandigging inanothernearbypatchofonions. Faolan stared at her in dismay.More? he thought. But he beganscratching with the splayed paw. He did not want to risk her wrath again.Whatwouldhurtmorethanawhackwasifshesaidhecouldnotnurse.Nomilk,onlyonions!Unthinkable!Hedugharder.

Thepuphaddonewell.Thegrizzlyhadwatchedhimoutofthecornerofhereye.Inaveryshorttime,hehadturnedthesplayedpawinaspecialwaysothathecouldgetnearlytheforcehehadwiththeotherpaw.Faolan was a quick learner, and not just quick, but inventive. Still, the

grizzly constantly regretted that she knew so little aboutwolves.But bearsandwolves tended to avoid one another. Thiswas quite different from theowls and thewolves,whohad formeda close allianceover agreat spanoftime that reachedback towhen thewolveshad first arrived in theBeyond.Thegrizzlyoftenthoughtthatifshehadbeenanowl,shewouldhavebeenabettermothertothispup.Butitwasstupidtowastetimeregrettingthatshewasnotanowl.Instead,shethoughtandthought,searchingforeveryscrapofmemoryshe

had of wolves. She vividly remembered once watching from a highpromontorytwopacksthathadcometogethertohunt.Shehadbeenquicktoseethat thewaywolveshuntedwasverydifferentfromthatofbears.Bearsweremuch largerandmorepowerful,butwolvesmadeup for their lackofpower with their clever ways. Bears never formed packs. And perhapsbecause of that they had a differentmanner of thinking. Thewolves’waysseemedcomplicatedandmysterious.Andowls,thegrizzlycontinuedhermusing,owlsaresoclever!Theyknew

howtomaketools,weapons.Theystuckthingsinthefiresoftheirforgesandmade claws that fit over their talons. Perhaps, she thought suddenly, bearsweren’tsosmartbecausetheyweresomuchbigger,biggerthanwolvesandsomuch bigger than owls. Then a really dreadful thought occurred to her:PerhapsIamnotsmartenoughtorearawolfpup!Shelookedbackatthepoorlittlethingastheymadetheirwaytotheden.

He was completely exhausted, wobbly to the point of staggering off thenarrowpath.Hewasmost likely too tired to even cling to her humpwhileriding.Well,shethought,smartordumb,I’mallhe’sgot.Sheturnedaroundand picked the little pup upwith his head in hermouth and the rest of hisbodydangling,thewayshewouldhavecarriedaone-moon-oldcub.Atleasttwomoons had passed since Faolan had fetched up, and hewas still smallenoughtobecarriedcarefullyinhermouth.Tomorrowtheywouldmaketheirwayanevenlongerdistancetoforagefor

thesquirrelcachesofwhitebarkpine.Thewhitebark thatsquirrelsused tolinetheirnestswasoneofthemostnutritiousofthefoodsavailableinspring.Andwithluckperhapstheywouldfindasquirrel.Thespringdietwasmostlygrasses, roots,nuts.Meatwouldcomelater,but theycouldalwayshopeforcarrionofanoldanimalwhohadnotmadeitthroughthewinter.Evenasthegrizzly led thepupback to theden,sheswungherheadconstantly tosniff,scanningforthedistinctivesmellofrottingflesh.

Thegrizzlyhadfoundanewdenforspringandsummer,oneoftheloveliestever. Itwas in a thicket of alders on the river near a back eddy thatwouldsoonbebusywithtrout.Justoutsidetheden’sentrance,glacierliliesnoddedtheirpaleyellowheads.Thesteepbankdownto theriverwasstippledwithwildblueirises.Bythetimetheyenteredtheden,Faolanwasasleep.Butheneversleptso

soundly that he couldn’t nurse. The grizzly sat upright with her legs stuckstraight out in front of her.While Faolan nursed, shewatched the lavendertwilight fall softly on the land. The river reflected the clouds on its glassysurface.ItwasdifferentfromthestormynightFaolanhadarrived.Shelookeddownatthepup,whowasdrunkwithmilknow.Shewondered about himmore andmore. The splayed pawwas not that

odd,butthefainttraceryofswirlinglinesonthepadintriguedher.Theswirlswere sodim, but therewas something almost hypnotic about thepatternoflines.Whatdid itmean?WherehadFaolancome from?Whyhad the rivergiven him up to her? Was he lonely? Wolves were pack animals. Bearssolitary.Howcouldshebenotjustamotherbutanentirepacktothiswolf?“Urskadamus!”shemutteredquietly.Thegrizzlywonderedallsortsofthings.Sheknewwolvescouldnotsitup

likebears.So theymust nurse their young in a verydifferentway, perhapslying down. But she was always worried about rolling over and crushingFaolanaccidentally.Hewassosmallandshesohuge.Andwolvescouldnotstand up on their hind legs, let alone sit up. This seemed especiallyunfortunate.Shesawsomuchstandingup.Shelearnedsomuch.IttroubledherthatFaolancouldnotdothis.Wouldit,shewondered,bepossibletoteachawolftostandupandwalkjustabitonhishindlegs?Shemighttryit.She

lookeddownathimagainandgavehimacuddleandanuzzle.Shelovedhimso.Itwasveryodd,sheknew.Otherbearswouldlookathersuspiciously.Butshedidn’tcare.Shesimplydidn’tcare.

Faolansquirmedabitandsettleddeeperdownintohismilk-lacedsleep.Hehadgrownaccustomedtothepercussivesoundsofthegrizzly’sinnards—thewindy drafts of her gut as she digested, the bellowing inhalations andexhalationsofherbreathing,butmostofall,theepicthumpingsofherheart,thathugemajesticheart.ThesoundwovethroughFaolanwhilehesleptlikeasongforhismilkdreams.ThegrizzlywasnolongersimplytheMilkGiverinhismind,butThunderheart.

CHAPTERFIVEDENLESSONS

IT WAS DURING THE FIRST SLIVER of dawn that Thunderheartunceremoniously dumped Faolan from her lap and gave him a gentle buttwithhernoseonhismuzzle.“Watchme!”Sheleftthedenandhefollowedherdownthebanksoftherivertotherock

slab that slid into thewater. Itwashis first fishing lesson.The trout at thistimeofthemoon’scyclewouldbeginschoolinginthebackeddybytherock.Fishingtookpatience,andThunderheartknewthatwolfpups,likebearcubs,were shortonpatience—especiallyFaolan.Buthewasaquick learner.Shehoped hewas ready for the very practical lesson of fishing.He just had tofattenup.Sheworriedincessantlyaboutwhatsheperceivedashissmallness.Fishingofcoursewouldbeeasierinthefallwhenthesalmonbegantheir

runuptheriver.Thenallonehadtodowaswadeontheupstreamsideofasmallwaterfallandcatchthesalmonastheyflippedthemselvestowardtheirspawninggrounds.Dumbwith theirurge tomate, theywereeasyprey.Buttroutweredifferent.Freeofanycompulsiontospawnatthistimeofyearandcertainly having no obsessions about swimming upstream, trout were achallenge.Nomatter,Faolanmustlearn.Hehadtogrowfatter,bigger.Thegrizzlywaitedandpeeredintotheamberwater,scanningforthefirst

flickerofatrout.ShefeltFaolangrowingrestless,andsheknewhecouldnotremainstillmuchlonger.Butthefishdidn’tcome.Thepupwhinedabitandwaggedhishead in thedirectionofanearbyclusterof sedges.Shegruntedherpermission.Nowshewouldhavetokeeponeeyeonthepupandoneonthefish.He was happy, though. The sedges provided an endless opportunity for

nosingaboutforgrubsandbeetlesandladybugs,afavoriteofbearsandnowafavoriteofFaolan.Hefoundanestandwassoonyippingwithdelight.Faolanraisedhismuzzle,whichwasspeckledwithreddots.At thesame

momentThunderheartglimpsedtheflashofatrout.Therewasaloudplashasshesmackedherforepawintotheriver,grabbedthetrout,andslappeditontherock.Bloodspurtedintotheair,thedropletscaughtindazzlingshardsoflightfromthesunonthehorizon.Faolan froze. He smelled…blood. His eyes fixed on the spinning drops

glitteringmadlyin themorninglight.Hisheartraced,hefeltaquickness inhismouth.Histonguewentsuddenlywet.Hewasstunnedbyanewhungeraroused deep within him, and with an overwhelming admiration for

Thunderheart. He shook his head fiercely to rid himself of the annoyingladybugsandmeeklywalkedovertoher.Faolanloweredhisheadandthenhisentirebody,flatteninghisearsashe

flashedthewhitesofhiseyes.Thunderheartsoftlywoofedathim.“Whatareyoudoing?”sheasked.Faolanhadneverappearedmorewolfish,andyetsheinstinctivelyknewthathewasshowingherrespect.Butwherehadhelearnedthis?She knew the answer.Blood.With the claw-ripped body of the fish, she

hadawakenedFaolan’sbloodpassion. Itwas thesamewithcubs,butneverhadanyofhercubsbehavedinquite thisway.Theyscrambledandtussled,tryingtogetinforthefirstnipoffreshmeat,shovingandpushingrudelyintheirclamor to try thisnew taste.Faolan,however,wasapproachingheronhisbelly.AsifIamUrsusandnomeremotherbear!She ripped the trout in two and dropped it in front of Faolan. But he

hesitatedand lookedupatherwithalmostpleadingeyes.Shecouldsee thesalivadrippingfromhismouth,butstillhehesitated.Shepushedthefishevencloser to him.ButFaolanonly flattenedhimself farther andbegan tomakesmallsqueakingsounds.Thunderheartstudiedhimcarefully.Shenoticedthathestoleaquickglanceatthefishandthenather.Suddenly,itburstuponher:Ishouldeatfirst!Buthow,shewondered,willhesurviveifheallowsotherstoeatfirst?Was

thissomethingwolvesdid?Packbehavior?Buthehastoeat!Hecannotgivewaytoothers,hewillbeeaten!Hermindroiledwithconfusion.Shewasrearingawolfbutknewonlythewayofbears.Faolanremainedflattenedonhisbelly,stealingaglanceathersometimes,

butmostlyrollinghiseyesbackasifhedarednotevenlookather.Finally,shegaveupandbitoffthetailofthefish,makingsuretoleavethemeatiestpartforthepup.Immediately,hepouncedonwhatremained.Fromthatmomenton,sheneverhadamoreardentstudentoffishing.By

mid-morning, Faolan was following Thunderheart into the river to swimbehindher as they examined every cranny for schooling trout.The splayedpaw served him well, and this, for Thunderheart, was perhaps the mostrewardingaspectof thewhole endeavor.Faolanbecame skillful at slappingandscoopingwiththatoddfrontpaw.By mid-afternoon both Faolan and Thunderheart were stuffed with fish.

They lay on a sunny bank and traced the path of clouds across the sky.Thunderheartgruntedandraisedonepawtopointoutacloudthatlookedjustlike the trout they had been catching. Faolan yipped with glee andimmediatelybeganscanningthecloudscapeforanotherpicture.Suddenly,hejumpedupingreatexcitementandbegantobeathistailagainsttheground.Two towering clouds had silently collided, a humpbulging fromone cloud

near the top. Around that hump shoulders rose. Faolan yipped andThunderheartsatup,too.Abovethehumpasmallerdarkcloudwassettling.Faolancouldnotcontainhisjoy.“It’sus!It’sus!Irideyouinthesky!”And with that announcement, Faolan flung himself onto Thunderheart’s

back. The huge bear roared with delight, and the ground shook as theyboundedofftogether,withFaolanperchedontopofher.

CHAPTERSIXBLOODLESSON

THEY HAD NOT GONE FAR WHEN Thunderheart felt Faolan growsuddenlytense.Shesawimmediatelywhatcaughthisattention.Inaclearing,amothergrizzlyandtwocubsweremakingtheirwaytotherivertofish.Thegrizzly mother and cubs spotted them and froze in their tracks. FaolantumbledfromThunderheart’sbackandscurriedbehindher,tryingtohide.Henudgedup against her hind leg, pressing intoher fur.Themother and cubsapproachedcautiously.Faolanpeeredout, and the cubsbothmadechuffingsounds. They were laughing at him and he knew it! Their mother simplystared,dumbfounded.ThunderheartcouldfeelFaolanshivering.Heknowshe’sdifferent! Itwasbound tohappen.Her first instinctwas to

shieldhim,preventthebearsfromstaring.Butthemorethemotherstaredandthemorethelittlecubschuffed—onewaschuffingsoharditwasrollingonthe groundwith glee at this odd sight—themore determined ThunderheartwasnottoshieldFaolan.ShemovedherlegssothatFaolanwasexposed,andshudderedwhensherealizedhowtinyhewasincomparisontothecubs.Faolanmadeamournfulcryand lookedupatThunderheart. If shecould

have,shewouldhavewilledhimtobetwicehissize.Butshestoodstillasarock.Notasign,notasoundpassedbetweenthem.Allshecouldthinkofwasthat night she had dragged him from the river, that spark of life, nearlyquenchedyetstillflickering.Thatfierceness!Faolan caught something in her eyes. Slowly, he turned his head to the

cubs, who were now convulsed with chuffing in the tall grass. In a splitsecond,thepup’sbodytransformed.Hisshiveringstopped.Heliftedhisheadhighandbegan towalk forwardwitha regalbearing,his tail raisedandhisearsalert.Thecubs’motherbristledwith fear.She reachedoutandswattedthecubnearesttoher.Heyelped,andthenhissistergaveagaspasshelookedupfromhertumblingandspottedFaolan.The bear family regarded the pup with confusion now. How could

somethingsosmalldothistothem?Thunderheartherselfwasbaffled.Faolanhadnotgrownaspeckbiggerandyet somehowheappeareddominant.Foronemoment shehadobserved thepupcaughtbetween twoworlds—oneofwhich he had never seen. It was as if Faolan had joined something veryimportantandveryold,asifheweresurroundedbythespiritofaninvisiblepack.Then his tail began to waver just slightly and droop, and Thunderheart

trottedovertohim,gruntedthecommandtofollow,whilereinforcingitwithalighttaptohisshoulder.Themothergrizzlyblinked.Whowasthisstrangecreaturewholookedlike

awolf,butnowwasbehavinglikeabearcub?In truth, all the animals were confused, including Faolan. As he trotted

behindThunderheart,onethoughtranthroughhishead:Iamdifferent.Iamdifferent.Iamdifferent.Ontheirwaybacktotheden,theypassedasmallinletfromtheriverwhere

theyhad fished.Thewaterwas still, undisturbedby current.Faolanpausedandpeereddownatthegleamingsurface.Thunderheartcameupbesidehim,wondering ifhehadfoundmorefish.Both their reflectionsquiveredon thesurfaceof thedarkwater. I looknothing likeher,nothing likeanyanimal Ihave seen. Why are my eyes so green? Why is my face so narrow?Thunderheart’s face is huge, wider than my chest. Her fur is so thick anddark.Myfuristoobright.

Theyreturnedtotheden.Outofhabit,FaolanclampedontoThunderheart’steat.Ashenursedhelookedgravelyintohereyes,andshesawaquestioninthedeepgreenpoolsoflight.WhyamInotlikeyou?Shegrowledsoftlyandlickedhisnoseinanswer.Love,shethought,loveisallthatmatters.Butshedidnotsaythesewords

aloud.Bears,beingsolitarycreatures,hadgreatreserveanddidnotoftengivevoicetotheirmostpowerfulfeelings.Itwasasiftouttersuchthoughtsaloudwas to diminish them.But she looked into Faolan’s eyes, and he,who hadlearnedthewaysofthebears,methergaze.Engulfedinthedeepamberlightof Thunderheart’s eyes, the wolf understood that he was different. And heknewhewasloved,asifhewereherowncub.Hewouldnotbeable tonursemuchlonger, forThunderheartsensed that

hermilkwasdryingup.Shewashappythattheyhadbeensuccessfulwiththefish,butknewthatshemustnowteachhimtogoaftertherealmeat,theredmeat.Thismightbeeasier thanshehadthought, for itwasFaolanwhohadfirst sensed themother grizzly and her cubs.Hemust have picked up theirscent.Andifso,hehaddoneitfasterthanshehad.Agoodthingforhuntingredmeat.They both slept through the rising heat of the day and into the late

afternoon.

Thunderheartthoughtshesmelledthebearcoming.Butshecouldnotmove.Her limbs felt heavy. Itwas as if she had sunk into cold sleep. This is notwinter, she told herself. Imustmove.My cubs…my cubs.Yet if it is coldsleepitisnotmatingtime.SowhyshouldIhavescentmarked?WhyamIsoconfused?Was there time toscentmark?Shecouldhardly liftherhead, let

alone rise to her full height andmark the trees near the den. A torrent ofbloodslashedtheperfectblueoftheskyasthegreatmalegrizzlyrippedopenthebackofhercub to itsbone.Thunderheart roseup, roared,andchargedthemale.Shetoreathisarm.Adeepgash.Hescreechedinpainandranoff.Butwasitamortalinjury?Shefearednot.Hewouldbeback…Hewouldbeback…

Thunderheart woke up from the horrific dream with a violent shake thatspilledthewolfpupfromthelap.“Urskadamus!” she muttered. Faolan blinked at her in alarm. He pulled

backhislipsinagrimaceoffear,thehacklesonthebackofhisneckrisingashe tuckedhis tail betweenhis hind legs.The grizzly huffed nervously.Thetimewascomingwhensheknewthemaleswouldbefeelingtheurgeforhercompany. If she could scentmark before shewas fertile and before such amalecameintoherterritory,itwouldbegood.Sheknewthatwolvesscentmarkedaswell.Thismighttrulyconfuseother

bears.Shehadnoinclinationtomate.Faolanwasher lastcub,andshewasdeterminedtodothebestpossibleforhim.Nomalewasgoingtoharmhimorrunhimoff.But couldhe learn to standupandwalk, even run like abear?Hecould

jumpquitehighwhenhewantedarideonherhump.Hecouldalmostreachhershoulderandsheknewhecouldscentmark.Hehadcertainlyurinatedintheareaaroundtheden,butmorescentmarkingwasneeded;theotherspecialkindthatshehadsometimescaughtwindofwhenshepassedwolfterritory.Thiswasapractical lesson.Unlikethenotionof lovewhichcouldnotbe

expressed in words, this one could be spoken, with very clear actions toaccompanythewords.Faolan’slanguageskillshadgrown.Thunderhearthadheardwolvesandowlsspeakonoccasionandatthetimethoughtthewordswere so different from her own, but theyweren’t at all. It wasmerely thetones, the register in which they were uttered that seemed strange. Shesometimesthoughtofitaswater.Thesoundofwaterinafast-runningbrookdiffersfromtheclamorofafallsorthetrickleofastreaminthedryseason.Butitwasallwater.Onejusthadtolisten.Faolan’svoicewasshallower,notasdeepasherown.Owls’tonesvaried

widely.Somewerealmosthollow,othersmoresonorous,andafewscreechy.Noneoftheowls’voiceswereremotelylikethatofabear,andyetthewordswerealmost identical.Nevertheless,Faolanwasbeginning tosoundslightlybearish when he spoke. He was acquiring some of the rough, back-of-the-throatsoundsthatwerecommontothegrizzlies.And as soon as theywere out of the den, Faolan scampered toward the

riverbank. Thunderheart gave him a low snarl and a firm head butt to hisflanksthatspunFaolanaroundinthedirectionthatshewantedhimtofollow.

“Thisway!”Sheswungherheadtowardalargewhitepine,thenroseuphalfwayonher

hind legs and began rubbing her back against the tree. There was a harshscratchingsound.Shewasleavingascent,butitwasnottheodorofafemale,fertile and receptive tomating. Faolanmust leave a scent aswell, his ownscent.Thunderheart stared at him hard. She sensed that Faolan must do this

scentingwithhishindquarters.Sheloweredherselfnowandsprawledonthegroundandwoofedsoftly forhim tocomeoverassheoftendidwhen theytussled.Heimmediatelyclamberedontoherback.Astrongodorrosethroughthethickfurfromthestimulatedscentglandsbeneathherskin.“What’sthat?”“Myscent.”Faolanhadsmelledthatscentbeforewhenhehadriddenonher,butnowit

was stronger, almost overpowering, andverydifferent from the thick sweetsmellof themilk. Itwasa strongsignal.Adefensivemessage that thisdenandeverythingarounditfromthewhitesprucetotheriverbankanduptothegroveof alders belonged toThunderheart, and to him, her pup. It triggeredsomethinginFaolan.“Icandothat!”He sank into the thick, odiferous fur and nuzzled her neck, licking the

insideofherearandthentumblingofftoruntothenearesttree.Thunderheartwatchedhimashebackedhishindquartersagainstitandloweredhistail.Heisquick!Thunderheartthought.Shehadn’thadtoexplainanything,really.Hehad immediately understood the urgency of this scent message. What aremarkableyoungpup!Amuscleat the topofFaolan’s tailcontractedashebegan torubagainst

the trunk. He felt something release. Immediately, he began running aboutmarkingevery tree, rock,andstumphecould find.Mine!Mine!Mine!Thethought coursed through his being.But thiswas only the beginning.As hemarked, therewere stirrings inotherpartsofhisbody.Hebegan to scratchfuriouslyattheground.Anotherscentfrombetweenhistoeswasemitted,andthe cry in his head, Mine! Mine! Mine!, changed to Ours! Ours! Ours!Somethinghadunlockeddeepinhiswolfhistory.ButThunderheartwastheonlyothercreaturethatheknew.Hepausedand

lookedatheroncemore.Shestoodbya tree thatshewasrubbing,nothalfcrouchedasbefore,buttallandmajestic.Sheeyedhimwiththedeeptawnylight he loved somuch, and yet now therewas challenge in her eyes. Shehuffedandbarked.“Comeon,comeon!”Faolancockedhishead.Hebegantojumpupforarideonherhump,buteachtimeshemovedtoanothertreebeforehe could catchher,wavingher armsandbatting thebranches aboveher.Somebrightgreen leavescaught the lastof thesettingsun’s lightas they

fluttered down. He leaped up to catch a leaf before it hit the ground.Thunderheartmadealowamiablegruntandthenshookthetreeagain.Faolanleapedagain.Theyplayedthisgameforawhile.EachtimeFaolanjumpedabithigher.ThenThunderheartturnedfromthetreeandcontinuedwalking,stillonher

hind legs. She looked back to see Faolan following, but on all fours. Shestoppedabruptly,facedhim,andloweredherselfdownbriefly.Next,sheroseup,wavingherarmsasshehadwhenshehadencouragedhimtojumpatthetree.“Twolegs!”shecommanded.Faolanstoodverystill.Itwasalmostasifshecouldseehismindturning

overwhatshehadjustproposed.Heroseuponhishindlegs.Thunderheartwatched,hardlydaringtobreathe.Tentatively,Faolantookasteptowardher.ThunderheartgruntedhappilyandloweredherselftolickFaolanunderhis

chin,makingsoftchuffingsounds.Shespottedalowshrubwithsomeplumpberriesandbrokeoffabranch.Then,raisingherselfupagainonherhindlegs,shewaved the branch in front of Faolan. She knew he loved these berries.Instantly, he was on his hind legs walking. This time he took four steps!Thunderheartwasthrilled.Hewaslearningandshewasdelightedwithherselfforteachinghim.Cubs

knew how to do this almost from the start. It was natural for them. But itwasn’tnatural forFaolan.Shewasbeginning to realize thatFaolanwasnotjustanexceptionalpup,butanextraordinarycreature.By the timedarkness fell,Faolanwaswalkingonhishind legsalmostas

wellasacub.And,onthatbrinkoftimebetweenthelastdropofdaylightandthefirstpurpledarkness,Faolanlearnedhisbestlesson.Hecaughtaflashofwhite as an ermine scuttled into a burrow on the far side of a tall shrub,somethinghewouldhaveneverseenhadhenotbeenupright.Hesprang inonearcingleapacrosstheshrubandlandedonallfours,madlydigging.Thesplayedfrontpawhadgrownstrongersincehehadbeenforcedtouseit.Heneverthoughttwiceaboutitnow.Thunderhearttrottedupbehindhimasastormofdirtspunthroughtheair.

Suddenly, a furry dart shot from the nest. Faolan staggered backward andtumbled heels over tail as something lunged onto his back. Sharp diggingclaws.Heleapedupintotheairandtwistedhimself, tryingtogetridofthehorrid attacker. It was much smaller than he was, not much bigger than asquirrel, but itwas strong. Faolan yelped as the sharp claws and teeth dugdeeper.Thunderheartroared.Shecouldnotriskswattingtheerminefromhisback without injuring Faolan. They fought fiercely: The pup had just tornapart her nest and her young kits quivered in fear. If the ermine got nearFaolan’sneckandthevitallife-pumpingartery,hewouldbefinished.Thunderheart was frantic. She could see that Faolan was weakening

already,losingenergy.Thiswashisfirstrealbloodbattle.Thunderhearttried

to false charge, but the ermine paid no attention. Faolan sank to his knees,roseupagain,andthistimestreakedtowardtheriverbank.Inoneflyingleap,heplunged into thewater.Thunderheart plunged in after him.Shewatchedhisheadbreakthroughthesurface.Redstreakscourseddownthebackofhisneck, but on the opposite side of the river she saw the ermine slink up thesteepmuddybank.

In the den that night as leaves outside rustledwithwarm summer breezes,Thunderheart licked Faolan’s wounds. They were not as deep as she hadfeared.Theywouldheal,butshesensedanewrestlessnessinthepup.Hedidnotnurse.Hewasdonewithmilk.Hewantedblood.

CHAPTERSEVENTHEGOLDENEYESOF

THUNDERHEART

THE LESSONS CONTINUED THROUGH the summer. Faolan lovedlearning.He becamemore andmore proficient at rearing up, and he couldwalk for extended distances upright. His hind legs were becoming verypowerful,andbecausetheyweremoreflexiblethanabear’s,hecouldjumpveryhigh.Hetookapuppyishdelightinshowingoffhisleapingskills.Therewasanimmensesprucetreeneartheden,thelowestlimbsofwhich

were almost as high as Thunderheart’s shoulders when she stood. Nearlyevery afternoon theywent to this tree.Faolanwasdetermined to reach thatlimbbyspringinguponhishindlegs.“Watchme!Watchme!”heyapped.Eachdayhegot closer. “Watchme,

Thunderheart!You’renotpayingattention!”he’dscold.“I’malmostthere!”Andthenonedayhemadeit.Hefoundhimselfdrapedoverthelimbabove

the one he had aimed for.Hewas stunned. “Urskadamus!” he yelped. ThecursestartledThunderheart.“Wheredidyoulearnthat?”sheroared.“Fromyou!”Shechuffedheartily.“Don’tlaughatme!I’mstuck!”“Youjumpedtoohigh.Youweren’tpayingattention!”sheaddedslyly.“HowdoIgetdown?”“Idon’tknow.I’veneverbeenstuckthathighinatree,”shereplied.Faolangaveaplangentlittleyelp.“Nowhining!”Sheturnedherbackandwalkedawayasifshedidn’thave

acareintheworld.Faolanstaredatherbroadbackindismay.“You’releavingmelikethis?”“You’llfigureitout,”shesaidwithoutturningaround.“You’rethesmartest

youngsterIknow.”AfewsecondslatersheheardasoftthudasFaolandroppedtotheground.Hewassoonatherside,wagginghistail.“Ididit!”“Iknewyouwould!”Sheturnedherheadandgavehimasoftbumpwith

hermuzzle.

All summer long the pup grew, although to Thunderheart he still seemed

smallcomparedtoabearcub.Forawolfpup,however,Faolanwaslargeandverystrong.Hehadabilitiesthatordinarywolvessimplydidnotpossess.Hewasawolfwithoutapack,whichmadehimfiercelyindependent.Andsincehehadacquiredthetasteformeat,hehadbecomeproficientathuntingdownthe four-footedanimals, theoccasionalptarmigan,andotherground-nestingbirds.SwifteronhisfeetthanThunderheartandwithakeennessforstrategy,hehadmanagedtochaseaninjuredcaribouintoanarrowdefileandtraphim.WhenThunderheartarrived,shebroughttheanimaldownwithasingleblow.Thisstrategyworkedsowellthatthetwohaddoneitseveraltimessincethatfirstoccasion.“I love caribou,”Faolan said one day after they’d brought down another

one.“Wheredotheycomefrom?”“Differentplacesatdifferenttimes.Inthespringtheycomedownfromthe

Outermost.”“TheOutermost?”“Northofhere.ThetasteofthecariboufromtheOutermostinthespringis

thebest.”“Howdoyougetthere?”Thunderheart pointed to the North Star. “In the early spring, when the

GreatBearconstellationrises,youfollowthelastclawinthefootthatpointstotheNorthStar.TheOutermostisinbetweenthatclawandtheNorthStar.Ioncehadadenthere.Someday…”“Somedaywhat?”Faolanasked.Thunderheart looked troubledanddidn’t

answer.“Somedaywe’llgoback?”“Perhaps.ButIamnotsureifitisgoodforyourkind.”“Mykind?”Faolan felthisheart race. “But theOutermost, it isgood for

yourkind?Ifit’sgoodforyourkind,it’sgoodformykind.”“Nevermind,nevermind.Eatup.”Shewasabouttosaymore,butFaolan

interrupted.“Iknow,Iknow,”Faolansaidwearily.“Imustgrowfatforwinter.”“Yes,eatthatliver.”Sheyankedoutthebloodyorganandtossedittohim.Heobedientlybeganeating, buthismind turnedoverwhatThunderheart

hadsaid. Iamnotsure if it isgood foryourkind.Hedidn’t like theway itsoundedanddidn’twanttohearitagain,outloudorinhismind.Hewouldsimplysealuphisears.

Togetherthegrizzlyandthewolfpupwouldoftenhuntlateintothesummereveningsuntil thestarsbrokeout.Faolan liked tosleepnear theopeningofthe den, where he could see the stars and hear the star stories thatThunderheart toldhim.BynowthewordsandthehiddenlanguageofbearsbeneaththewordshadbecomecompletelytransparenttoFaolan.Thunderheartwouldpointherpawtowardtheskyandtracethestarpicture

of theGreatBearconstellationwithher longest claw.“He leads theway toUrsulana,” she whispered. It was to Ursulana, the bear heaven, whereThunderheartwassurehercub’sspirithadtraveled.Everystarseemedtohaveastory,andeveryanimalaconstellation.Faolan

was impressed thatThunderheartknewsomany.Shepointed to thewestoftheStarBeartotheWolfconstellation.“It’sdisappearingnowinthemiddleof summer. It shines the brightest and rises the highest in spring, but look,therearetheGreatClaws.”Faolan blinked as a clawlike figure began to creep up over the purple

horizon.“It’slate,butitstaysthelongest,arrivinginearlywinterandstayingthroughsummer.IfyougotothebanksofHoolemere,youcanseetheyoungowls of the Great Ga’Hoole Tree practicing their navigation exercises bytracingit.TheowlscalltheGreatClawstheGoldenTalons.”“Hoolemere? Great—what do you call it—Tree? Navigation?” Faolan

asked.Hewascompletelybewildered.Thunderheart made a snuffling sound, which was the way she laughed

sometimes.“You’reyoungandyouhaven’tseenmuch!Hoolemereisavastsea,andthereisagroupofowlswholiveonanislandinahugetreeinthemiddleof that sea.Theseowls are called theGuardiansofGa’Hoole.Theyareveryintelligentowls.”“Youmeansmart?”Faolanasked.“Yes,verysmart.”“Assmartasyou?”“Oh,muchsmarter!Theycanfindtheirwaytomanyplacesjustbylooking

at the stars and how theymove. That is what navigation is—finding one’swaybythestars.”“Butyoutoldmeaboutthestartothenorth.Youfindyourwaybyit.”“That’s easy. That star nevermoves. It only sits high in the sky. It’smy

onlyguide.Buttheowlsuseallthestars—thewholesky.”“That’sprobablybecausetheyflyandknowitbetter.”Thunderheartgavethepupalittlesqueeze.Whatasmartlittlewolfhewas!Faolanyawnedandsaidsleepily,“SomedaymaybeI’llgotothebanksof

Hoolemereandmaybeevenswimtotheisland.Suchafunnyword,‘Hoole.’Whatdoesitmean?”“Well,”Thunderheartsighed,“somesaythatitisactuallyawolfwordand

thatitistheirwordfor‘owl.’”ButbythistimeFaolanwasfastasleepinherarms.

Withthewaningdaysofsummer,Thunderhearthadbutonethought:Eat!Eatallonecouldforthewinter!Thecoldsleepwascomingandthetwoofthemmust have enough fat. But beyond her overwhelming obsession aboutFaolan’ssizeand thequestionof fat, therewasanothermoreelusivefear—

thatofthecoldsleepitself.Soonshewouldhavetofindawinterdenfartherawayfromtheriver.Shewasnotsureifwolveswentintotheirdensandsleptfor endless days.Howwould she know?She had slumbered through everywinter of her life. She knew nothing of the winter world and what otheranimals did. How would she explain this to Faolan? She knew that shechangedduringthissleep.Shegrewthinnerandifshedidrouseherself,hermind was foggy. If she slept and he didn’t, how would she protect him?Perhapssheshouldwarnhim.Butnotrightnow.Right now, the salmon were swimming up the river to their spawning

ground. Thunderheart and Faolan had waded out to the shallows on theupstream side of a small rapid where scores of salmon were heavingthemselves forward. Thunderheart scooped them from the water or caughtthemonthefly.Itwas theeasiest fishingFaolanhadeverdone.Hepaused foramoment

andlookedatThunderheart.Facingwest,thesettingsunturnedhereyesgold.He felt a sudden surge of affection sweep through him as he realized howdifferenttheywere.Hehadputoutofhismindthatdaymonthsbeforewhentheyhadseenthegrizzlymotherwiththetwocubs.Hehadsincethenrefusedtoallowsuchthoughts toenterhismind.Excepthenowrememberedafewdays earlierwhen they had brought down a caribou, andThunderheart hadfirstmentioned theOutermostandhowitmightnotbeagoodplaceforhis“kind.”Thunderheart had mentioned wolves a few times, but Faolan had never

seenany,exceptfortheStarWolfinthesky.Sothenotionofarealwolfwasvague.The thoughtofwolvesdidnot troublehim, forwhenhe looked intothegoldeneyesofThunderheart,hefelthisworldwascomplete.Thoseeyesofferedauniverse.Heneedednothingelse.

That eveningwas their last night in the river den. The nextmorning, wellbefore dawn, they began their trek to find a winter den in the higherelevationsoftheBeyond.Thunderheartwasparticularaboutherwinterden.Mostgrizzliesdugoutdensunderlargetreeroots.ButthetreeswerefewinthispartoftheBeyond,andwhattreesthereweregrewatlowerelevations.Ifabearwentabovethesparsetreeline,thereweregoodnaturalrockcavestobefound,eventunnelsinthelavabeds.Butmostimportant,thesnowcameearlierinthehighcountry,insulatingthedenforalongerperiodoftime.By mid-morning, they had crossed the broad flat meadow, and

Thunderheart was pushing her bulk through the low-growing bracken andnettlesatthebaseofalongslope.Theywerealmostabovethetreeline.Theairwasthinnerandthegoingharder.Thunderheart’sbreathcameinlaboredbellowinghuffs,but shemarveledatFaolan,whonever seemed to tire.Hischest had broadened, she noticed, and she suspected it might have been

becauseof his jumping,whichhe loved topractice. Itwashard to imaginethat abrief fourmonthsbeforehehadbeenawhiny littlepupdramaticallyflinginghimselfontothedirtandwavinghissplayedpawintheair.Nowhescamperedahead.Hehadalreadypouncedonamarmotandmadequickworkofhim.Hismuzzlewasstillcoveredinblood.Thunderhearthad insisted thatFaolanconsume the liver entirelyhimself,

forsheknewthatitwasrichandwouldgivehimfat.Shewouldneverceaseworryingabouthissize.Andshewasnotreadyyet towarnhimabouthowshechangedduringthecoldsleep.Notyet…notyet,shetoldherself.

Thedayshadshortenedconsiderably,andbylateafternoon,asthelongshaftsof the setting sun angled across the short grass of the slope, Thunderheartfoundwhat she thoughtmight be a suitablewinter den. Itwas near a rockwheretheyhadcommenceddigging.Thunderheart’spawsweremuchlargerthanFaolan’s,butFaolananchoredhimselffirmlybythefourtoesofhisbackpaws and dug furiously with his five-toed front paws. The fifth toe wassomewhat smaller, andThunderhearthadwonderedoncewhat sucha smallclawcouldaccomplish.Itturnedouttobeperfectfordigging.The bear and the wolf had not been working long before both of them

struck something hard. Faolan looked up in surprise and paused, butThunderheartgrewexcited.Shehadheardthatsoundbefore!Itwasahollowkah-kahnoise.Inanotherminute,shegruntedindelight.Theyhaduncovereda lava bed with a natural tunnel that had been made from the flow of aninactive volcano to the north and west. Off the first tunnel, there was anelevatedsectionthatwouldtrapheatandprovidegooddrainageiftherewereanyleaksfromabove.“Thisisperfect,”shesaid,lookingaround.“Justperfect.”“Perfect for winter?” Faolan asked, for he had the feeling Thunderheart

wasreferringtosomethingelse.Thegrizzlylookedathimnow.Hergazewasveryserious.“Imustexplain

somethingtoyou,pup.”Faolan felt a dread stir deep within him.Please don’t talk about wolves

again.Notwolves!“I am not surewhat wolves do, but bears sleep through thewinter. Our

hearts grow slower and beat but a few times when there weremany beatsbefore.”“Mine, too! Mine, too!” Faolan said. Although he could feel his heart

racing.“No,Faolan,yoursdoesn’t.”“I’mjustlikeyou,Thunderheart.”“No,you’redifferent.IsenseyouarenotgoingtosleepasdeeplyasIdo.”“I’lltry.Ipromise!”

“You can try all youwant.But that doesn’tmatter.Youwillmost likelygrowboredhere.”Sheglancedaroundatthetunnel.“Oh,no!No,Iwon’t!Ilovetowatchyousleep.”Thunderheartliftedapawtosilencehim.“Don’t interrupt.You’rebignow.Youwillgethungry.AllIamsayingis

thatifyougrowhungryandbored,youhavemypermissiontogoout.Snowrabbitsareplentifulhere.Theydon’tsleep.Iamsureofthat.”Faolanwas suddenly alarmed. “Are you saying I am like a snow rabbit?

Areyou tellingme togoplaywith a snow rabbit?”Hisvoice seethedwithindignation.“Faolan!” Thunderheart roared, and the lava rock walls of the tunnel

shivered.“Don’tactstupid.I’mtellingyoutogooutandkilltherabbit,eatit.Notplaywithit!”“Oh!”saidFaolanmeekly.

CHAPTEREIGHTTHEWINTERDEN

IT WAS NOT LONG AFTER THE wolf and the grizzly moved into thewinterden thatThunderheartbegan thecold sleep. In thebeginning, itwasjustshortsnoozesandsheoftentoldFaolantogooutandscourtheslopeforrabbits and marmots. She wanted to get him used to going out alone. Hewould always bring some meat back for Thunderheart in his gut. He hadlearnedthroughsomeprimalinstinctthatthelargechunksofmeatthatlodgedinhisfirststomachcouldberegurgitatedinsteamingpilesonthefloorofthedenforThunderheart.Thefirst timehedidthis,sherousedherselffromthethickblanketofsleepinwhichshewasfolded,butitbecamemoreandmoredifficult to wake her after the first heavy snowfall. Thunderheart slept sodeeplythat,justasshehadexplainedtoFaolan,herimmenseheartbegantobeatslowerandmorequietly.Itwasasifadeephushhadfallenuponherandshesankdeeperanddeeperintoaninsensatesleep.Faolandidnotlikethequiet.Itunsettledhim.Thesoundofthatgreatheart

washisfirstmemory.Soitwasnotsimplyboredomthatdrovehimfromtheden,butthesilence.DespiteThunderheart’simmensesize,sheseemedinherstillnessashadowofhersummerself.Faolancouldnotunderstandhowshesleptsomuch.And,astherhythmsofThunderheart’sbodyslowed,itseemedthatthoseofFaolan’saccelerated.

The deeper the snow outside, the better for Faolan. He loved boundingthroughthedriftsandmakinghugepowderyexplosions.Downontheflatsofthemeadow,thewindhadpoundedthesnowintoagreathardsurface,andheenjoyedskiddingandcoastinggames.Hehadbecomeexpertat trackingthebigsnowharesandfoundtheirmeatdelectable.He loved everything about winter—the strange green sky as twilight

descended,thenthedeeppurpledarkofthenightandtheglitteringjewelstarthathunginthenorthandnevermoved,butguidedhimbacktotheden.Theice-spangled bracken poking through the drifts were as luminous as theconstellationsthatfloatedinthedomeofthenight.Onenightsoonafterthefirst snowfall, he had spied in the distance a spectacular sight. It was thewaterfall they had passed on their way to the winter den. But now thecascades were frozen in the air, suspended like silver flames caught in awintryeternity.

Eachdaywasshorterastheearthtippedfartherawayfromthesun.Butthenightswerelonger.Oncehethoughtheheardsomethingnewinthenight—alongmelodious howl that inscribed itself in the blackness like an unfurlingbanner of song. It stirred him profoundly. It was new to him, yet oddlyfamiliar.Hefeltcompelledtohowlinreturn.Itwasamazingtohimthatheunderstoodperfectlythemessageembeddedinthehowl:Iamhere,herewithmymate.Oursisterandbrothershavereturned.Inonemoremoon,whenthematingtimescome,weshallmove.Faolan understood the message, but there were strange pieces of it that

madenosense.Whatwasasister?Abrother?Eachnightforthenextcycleofthemoon,hewentouttohearthewolves.

Heunderstoodmoreandmore,butdespitehisgrowingcuriosity,hedidnotdare travelcloser.For therewasawarningwoven into themessage:This isour territory.Donot trespass.Thewarningwasasclearasanyscentmark.Bytheendofthemoon’scycle,thehowlinghadfinished.Thewolveshadleftastheypromised.Forthefirsttime,Faolanfeltabitlonely.Hereturnedtothedenafterthe

firstsonglessnightandlookedatThunderheart.Howlongwillshesleep?hewondered. She no longer slept sitting up, but instead lay on her side. Hecurledupnexttoherandlistenedtotheslowbeatingofherheart.Soslow,soslow, he thought. And yet still he found profound comfort in its languidrhythm.

Therecameadaywhentheearthbegantotilt towardthesun.Thedarknessneartheentranceofthedenseemedthinner,andFaolanevendetectedaslightquickening in the beating of the grizzly’s heart.Perhaps this lonely time iscomingtoanend,hethought.Faolan still made his forays out to hunt for the tasty snow hares and

marmots.Onedayas themorning lengthened,hewent farther fromthedenthanhehadinalongtime.Thedayhadturnedverywarmandgreatslabsoficebegantoslidedowntheinclines,peelingbacktheslopeuntildun-coloredgrassesbegantopokethrough.Itwasagreatdayforhuntingandheignoredthestormcloudsgatheringinthewestonthehorizon.Meanwhile, back in the denThunderheart began to stir. Itwasmuch too

earlyforhertoleavethecoldsleep,butshefeltanabsence,avoidinthedenthatpushedherfromherslumber.Itwasadangeroustimeforabeartobeout.Winterhadnotmadeitslast

mark.Bearswereweak, their reflexesslowdespite theirhunger,whichwasalwaysoverwhelmingattheendofthecoldsleep.Ifabearventuredout,thefirst danger, aside from sudden changes in the weather, was encounteringanotherbearwhowasjustashungry.Territorialmarkingshadnotbeenmade.Tempersragedandbearfightswereinevitable.Thunderheartknewthis,even

inhersleep-druggedstate.Andalthoughshewasnotextremelyhungry,shewasterrifiedwhenshediscoveredthatFaolanhadgone.Inherconfusion,sheforgotthatshehadexpresslygivenFaolanpermissiontoleavethedenandgoouttohunt.Thunderheartwasdeterminedtofindhim.Butwhenshecrawledoutofthe

den, she gasped. A sudden blizzard had torn in from the west, turning theworld white. Tracks were covered instantly, and when she looked up, shecouldnotevenseeadimsmearoftheNorthStar’slight.Still,shehadtogoout.Shehadtofindthepup.SheknewFaolan’sscent.Theblizzardcouldnotcover it completely. If he had found prey he might have marked a smallhuntingground.Shewasdesperatetofindhim.Desperateandconfused.

Withtheblizzardblowingsoferociouslyitwasdifficulttodiscernwhattimeofdayornight itwas.Theentireworldhaddissolved intoan impenetrablewhiteness.ButFaolanmadehiswaybacktotheden.Hewasshockedtofindit empty.HadThunderheart gonedeeper into the tunnelswhen the blizzardstarted?Heexploredbrieflybutheknewherscent,andtherewasnosignofher.Hebegantopace.Hetriedtoimaginewhatmighthavehappenedtoherorwhereshecouldhavegone.Hehadpickedupnoscentonhisownjourneybacktotheden.Itseemedasifshehadsimplyvanished.Shewouldn’thaveleftme…No,never.Shewouldnever just leaveme.Thevery thought sentatremorthroughFaolanuntilthehacklesonhisneckandeveryguardhaironhisbackstoodstraightup.Itremindedhimofsomething,somethingthathadhappened long, long ago that he couldn’t quite remember.Shewould comeback,hereasoned.Shehadto!He waited all that night and into the next day. He paid no heed to the

grumblesofhisemptystomach.Foodmeantnothingtohim.Therewasonlyone thinghewanted:Thunderheart.Thedenwas tooquiet.Thebeatofherenormousheart,eveninitsslowwinterrhythms,wasgone.Hecouldnotlivewithoutthesound.Itwasallheknew,allhehadeverknown.Hesteppedoutof thedeninto therageof theblizzardandbeganhowling.Howlingfor thegreatgrizzly.Howlingforallhehadeverknownandloved.Then as he howled, an odd tremor rose through the depths of the snow,

from the frozen land beneath it, from the very center of the earth. Thetremblingswerelikefaintquivers,butFaolanpressedhissplayedfrontpawdeep and these tremulous shakings became quite distinct. And then moreincredibly powerful. For a moment, it felt as if the entire snowfield hadshiftedunderhispaws,andinthedistance,hesawthefrozenwaterfallcrackandsuddenlygushtolife.Butinthatsecondhethoughtofdeath.Andheknewwithanoverpowering

certaintythatsomethingterriblewashappeningtohisbelovedThunderheart.

CHAPTERNINEADIMMEMORY

ON THE FAR EDGE OF THE BEYOND, the she-wolf Morag had beenabsorbed into a newpack. She had found a newmate and given birth to ahealthylitterofpups.Nooneknewherhistory,andinfact,sheherselfhadallbutforgottenit.TheminutetheObeahadwalkedawaywiththatpupinhermouthtodeliver it toa tummfraw, theplaceforabandonmentofmalformedpups, Morag began to build up barriers deep within her. These barriersfunctionedlikeakindofinvisiblescartissuetotoughenhersothatshecouldgo on, survive. Suchwas thewaywithwolfmotherswho had endured thespecialanguishoflosingamalcadhpuptoanObea.Theyquicklyforgot.Inthe wake of forgetting, there was for a time a darkness deep within themwhere that pup had grown inside their bodies. But it soon faded until itbecamemerelyagrayshadowofwhichtheywerehardlyaware.Theyhadtobe thisway if theywere going to go on, find anothermate, and bearmorepups.Moragwasnowconsumedwitharambunctioustrioofred-furredpups.At

nearly amoon cycle old, they were busy exploring the whelping den withtheirmilkteeth.Theywerebecomingbolderaswell,andbegantoscrambleclosertothewhitelightofthedenopening.Morag’smatehelpedkeepthemback.Soon,whenthepupswerejustabitbigger,Moragandhermatewouldletthemoutregularlytoexploreundercarefulsupervision.Atthatpoint,thepupswouldbegintoeatmeat.Thentheywouldbeweaned,andfinallyadenmustbefoundneartherestofthepacksthatmadeuptheMacDonegalclan.Moraghaddecidedthattodayshewouldleavehermateinchargeandset

out toward theheartof theMacDonegal territory tobegin the search foranappropriate den. The weather was still blustery from the remnants of thestormthathadblowninfromthenorth,bringingheavysnowstotheborderbetweentheBeyondandtheOutermost.Buthereitwasmerelysloppywithrainandsleet.Tothewest,theskywasclearingandtherewasthepromiseofbetterweather.Morag ambled along a creek bed. Since the earthquake, it was as if the

territory had been entirely rearranged. Boulders that she had never seenbeforehadtumbledfrommountainsandblockedupseveralpartsofthecreek,causingsmallpoolstoform.Itwasnolongerasimpletasktofollowthecreekto the middle of the MacDonegal territory. After several hours of travel,MoragfoundthatshehadswungfaroutofMacDonegalterritoryandskirted

closertotheriverthatranintotheOutermost.It was not, however, a tumbled boulder that caught her attention, but a

smallcreekstonepolished toagleamingblackfinishby thewater.Shehadjustsetherfrontpawsinashallowpoolwhenshespottedit.Itsparkledlikeadarkmoon in thewater andwhen she looked closely, she saw a pattern ofswirlinglines.Likeeddiesinthecreek,thelinesspiraledaroundandaround.Therewassomethingvaguelyhypnoticaboutthespinningdesign.Butmorethan hypnotic, it kindled a dim memory in Morag. It was disturbing. Sheturnedstiff-leggedinthestreamwithhertailpointingstraightoutandhowledheralarm.But instead of a response fromotherwolves, a jagged sound cut the air.

Kra!Kra! Itwas thecallofa ravenannouncing thediscoveryofacarcass.Thiswasnotjustanannouncement,butalsoasummonsforhelp.Withouttheripping teeth ofwolves, itwas impossible for ravens to penetrate the thickhideofalargeanimal.Usually,thissoundwouldhaveexcitedMorag.Butnoton this day. If she had been in the company of her pups, the raven’s callwouldhaveofferedalesson.Butnowsheonlyshrankfromthesound.Asshestoodinthecreekhereyesweredrawnbacktotheswirloflineson

thepolishedrock.Whatisthis?Whatisitthatsohauntsme?Theraven’skrakraagainlacedtheair.Thespinningpatternandthekras

mingledinthedeeprecessesofhermemory.Haltingly,shetookafewstepstowardtheotherbank.AlmostassoonasMoragleft thecreek,shespottedtworavenscirclinga

shortdistanceahead.Inaclearingshesawtheimmensecarcassofagrizzly.Herfirstthoughtwasoneofslightdisbelief.Whywouldagrizzlycomethisfarsouthatthistimeofyear?Itshouldstillbewinter-denning.She swung her head toward the north and west, the far reaches of the

Beyond in the low mountains, where the grizzlies frequently lived anddenned.SheknewfromwhenshehadtraveledwiththeMacDuncanclanthatitwasalwaysbadwhenagrizzlycameoutofitswinterdentooearly.Morag approached the carcass. If it had been in a fight, there were few

wounds,atleastnotenoughtohelptheravens.Shewalkedslowlyaroundthebodyuntilshespottedaterribleheadwoundnearthegrizzly’sear,wheretheravenshadalreadytornawaywhatfleshtheycould.Thebearwasonitsside,andshecouldseeboneprotrudingfromitsback.Shestoppedandpeeredatit.Thegrizzly’sbackhadbeenbrokenbyanenormousforce.Moraglooked

up.Ashortdistanceawaywasanimmenseboulder,smearedwithblood.Theearthquake,ofcourse!Theboulderhadtumbleddownfromtheridgeabove.Thebearmusthavebeeninitspath.Itwasn’talivinganimalthathadendedthisbear’slife,butthespasmsoftheearthitself.

Thetworavensperchedonthebear’ship,clearlyindicatingthatthiswasthe

sitetheyexpectedMoragtoripopenfortheirfeast.Theravenswerealreadyintoxicated by the scent of blood. ButMorag caught the thread of anotherscent.Thescartissuethathadsosubtlybuiltupwithinherbegantodissolve.The first shadowsofdarknessbegan to stealback in from thatemptyplaceshehadsocompletelysealedoff.She became agitated and began nervously racing around the carcass,

burrowinghernoseintothebear’sthickfur,firstbeneathitshugearm,thenbeneathitshaunches.Theravensbecameraucous;soontheywereconfused.Whatwasthewolfdoing?Morag circled back toward the grizzly’s shoulders, where an immense

hump rose like amountain.But evenwithout poking itwith hermuzzle, afamiliarscentdriftedfromthedensefur.Morag’shacklesroseandhereyesrolled.Sheknewthisscent.Thepupfromtheyearbefore!FromthetimeshehadtraveledtothefaredgeoftheBeyondtofindabirthingdenawayfromher old pack. The pup the Obea had taken, the one with the splayed pawmarkedwiththespiralprint.Everybitofthatsadtimerushedbacktoher:howshewasforcedtoreturn

withtheObeaandtheremainingpups,andwasthencastoutoftheclan.Foranentiremooncycleafterward,shewouldfindthehighestpointoflandeachnightandtipherheadtowardthesky,searchingfor thetrackofstarscalledthespirit trailthatledtotheGreatWolf,Lupus,andtheCaveofSouls.Shewaswaiting for lochinmorrin,whenherunnamedpupwith its splayedpawwould begin to climb the spirit trail. Then she would know that hisabandonment had ended in death, and he had found peace in the Cave ofSouls.Butlochinmorrinhadnevercome.Shehadneverseenthesoftmistofhislochin,thesoulofadepartedwolf.He had not died, but she had wiped him from her memory until this

moment.Shesatdownonherhaunchesclosetothecarcassofthebear.Shepressedherheadintoitsflanks.Thisbearhadcaredforherpup.Shewouldnot rip into the grizzly’s body. She would keep watch over it through thenight.Shewouldletnopredatornear.Thiswouldbelikelochinvyrr,theritualthatwolvesfollowedwhentheybroughtdownananimalanditwasdying.Itwasademonstrationofrespectinwhichthekilleracknowledgedthatthelifehewastakingwasaworthyone.AlthoughMoraghadnotbroughtdownthisbear,shefeltitwasherdutytoacknowledgethegrizzlyasworthy,forshehadrearedawolfpupas if itwereherowncub.The lochinof thismagnificentbearwouldfollowthatspirittrailofstarstoitsownCaveofSouls.ItwasallshecoulddoforthebearwhohadbecometheMilkGiverforherownpup,andallowedittosurvive.

PARTTWOTHEOUTERMOST

CHAPTERTENTHEFROSTFOREST

SOMETHINGTERRIBLEHADHAPPENEDtoThunderheart,butwhat?Ithad been days since the earth had trembled, since the frozenwaterfall hadbroken free of its chamber of ice.The landscapehaddrastically rearrangeditself. There were huge gashes in the snowfield, immense boulders hadappearedwheretherehadneverbeenanybefore.Someofthesegasheswereasdeepasthemountainsweretall.Thedayaftertheearthquake,Faolanhadseen a moose suddenly vanish. There were no trees around, no cave. Themoose was there one second and gone the next. Curious, Faolan hadcautiouslymade hisway to the spotwhere themoose had disappeared.Hefollowedaseamthat looked likenomore thanadent in thesnow,but thensplit wide just ahead where themoose had been standing. The animal hadcrashed through. Faolan could hear it now, baying deep in the earth. Hestoppedinhistracks,standinginthemiddleofadeathtrap.Therewasamazeofthesesnow-coveredseamsthatdisguiseddeepcreviceswheretheearthhadcracked.HadThunderheartbeenswallowedbyone?Faolangrewweakatthethoughtofherdyingaloneinthebottomofanicycrevice.But for Faolan, there was one thought even worse than Thunderheart’s

death:abandonment.Couldshehavelefthim?AlthoughheandThunderheartsometimes talked about the night she had fetched him from the river, theirconversationalwaysstoppedshort.Heneveraskedherwhyhehadbeenlefttodrown.Hehadneverdaredtothinkthathiswolfmothercouldhavedonethistohim.Hedecidedithadbeensometerribleaccidentthathadallworkedoutwell.

Hehadnotbeenabandoned;hehadbeenfound.ByThunderheart.Butnow thequestionshehad so successfully resisted seemed to ambush

him.Hadhe,backwhenhewasjustatinynewbornpup,beenlefttodie?HadThunderheartnowlefthimbecausehewasn’therkind?Theuglywordsearedthroughhisbrain,butitremindedhimofsomething.Thatplace,theOutermost!Thunderhearthadspokenaboutthetasteofthe

cariboufromtheOutermostbeingthebestinthespring.She’doncehadadenthere.ButwhenFaolanhadsaidthatsomedaytheycouldgotogether,shehadreplied,“Perhaps.ButIamnotsureifitisgoodforyourkind.”Ofcourse! thoughtFaolan.Thatmustbewhereshehasgone. Shehadn’t

abandoned him at all. She had gone to get caribou and shewould bring itback.

Throughthemazeofsnowseamshecautiouslymadehiswaybacktothewinterden.Butwhenshehadnotreturned inanotherfewdaysandhuntingbecamemoreprecarious in the fractured snowfield,Faolandecided to headnorth,towardtheOutermost,tofindher.Hedidnotcareifitwasgoodornotfor his kind.Heneeded to bewithThunderheart.Andhe knewhow to getthere.AllhehadtodowasfollowthelastclawinthefootoftheGreatBearconstellation, which pointed to the North Star. “The Outermost is inbetween.”ThosehadbeenThunderheart’sexactwords.

Faolanknewitwouldbealongtrip.Buthewasdetermined.Alongtheway,hesoughttemporaryshelters,althoughtheyneverseemedasniceorascozyas thosehehad sharedwithThunderheart.Howcould theybe?Despite thewarmingweather,theywerecoldplaceswithoutthecomfortofthesoundofthatgreat,drummingheart.ThoserhythmshadbeenasmuchapartofFaolanasthebeatingofhisownheart.Faolanhadjustrousedhimselffromashortnapinacavefartothenorthof

Thunderheart’s winter den. The cycle of one moon had passed sinceThunderheart had disappeared. And although the weather was growingwarmer, therewerestillpatchesofsnowin the territoryheentered.Hewassurprisedtoseethatthetreesweredifferenthereaswell.Therewerehardlyanybroadleavedtrees,butmostlythekindwithgreenneedlesandtheconesthatThunderheartlovedtoeat.FaolanwonderedifhewasgettingclosetotheOutermost.Sinceitwascolder,thetreesalsokepttheirfrostlonger.Soevennowashe

wovehiswaythroughthecloselygrowingtrees, theirneedlesprickledwithminuscule stars of frost, wrapping the woods in a dazzling radiance.Sometimes the trees thinnedand forgreat stretches the landbecamealmostentirelybarren.Thegroundwascoveredwithlichen,whichThunderhearthadtoldhimmade for fat caribou.Perhaps thiswasa sign thathewasdrawingclosertotheOutermost.Hedecidedtopushon.A few nights, Faolan heard the howling of wolves, and at first he was

excited.But the howlswere as different from the ones he had heard in theBeyondasthetreeswere.Theywerenotmelodiousintheleast,andseemedoddlymeaningless.More likecrudesnarls in thenight. Indeed, if thehowlsremindedhimof anything, itwasof that cataclysmicmomentwhenhehadfelttheearthmove.Hehadthoughtperhapstheworldhadbeenpossessedofthefoaming-mouthdiseasethatThunderhearthadwarnedhimabout.Shehadtoldhimtobewareofanyanimalwithafoamingmouth.Hemustneverhuntone, but stay as far as possible from such a creature, even if it was a tinygroundsquirrel.AlthoughFaolanfeltsurehewasenteringtheOutermost,itwasfrustrating

that he had not picked up the scent of any grizzly. He ached for that old

summer den where the glacier lilies grew and the banks of the river werethick with irises. The gilded summer mornings he spent swimming andlookingfortroutnowfeltasfragileandfleetingasthecloudpicturesheandThunderhearthadlovedtowatch.Thedaysstartedtolengthen,andastheylengthened,theyseemedemptier.

Faolanwas diligent in his scentmarking so that even if he could not findThunderheart, perhaps she could findhim.But shenever cameand shedidnotfadefromhismemory.Still,Faolannevergaveuphope.Inthemeantime,hehadtogoonwiththebusinessofliving.Hehadtofind

meat.HemusteatandgrowfatasThunderhearthadtaughthim.Eventhoughhedidnot sleep throughwinter,hemustbe strongand fat tokeep thecoldawaywhenitcameagain.The loneliness of his life grew.Deepwithin him therewas an emptiness

thatseemedtoexpandlittlebylittleuntilhefeltalmosthollow.Onedayhepassedatreethathadbeenstruckbylightning.Itstrunkhadbeenscouredoutandallthatwasleftwasadeepblackgash.Itslimbsweregrayandskeletal,barrenofanyneedles.Ashelookedatitherealizedthathewasexactlylikethat tree. It still stood, butwhy? Itwas not living, yet itwas not dead.Hewalked on, the hollowness inside him amplifying with every step. But thehollowstepsbroughthimnoclosertoThunderheart.

Faolan continued to hear the howls of the otherwolves, but theymade nomoresensethanbefore.Heknewtheywerewolves,andyethefeltnokinshipwiththem.Theymightaswellhavebeenasdifferentfromhimasthemarmothe had killed a few nights before.Was that what Thunderheart had meantwhenshesaidthatthisplacemightnotbegoodforhiskind?Faolanpreferredtohuntatnight,butthenightswerebecomingshorterand

shorter.Andwhenthefrostforestseemedtotiltandturnfullintothesun,thenight simply vanished along with the last remnants of sparkling frost.Thunderhearthad toldhimthishappened in theOutermost.Therewouldbenonight,nodarkness,onlysunforthenextfewcyclesofthemoon.On the sameday thatnightdisappeared,Faolanbegan trackinga cougar.

Cougars were dangerous. Thunderheart had told him how just before shefound Faolan, cougars had killed her cub. They were big—bigger thanmarmots orwolverines—and fast and cunning.Shehad toldFaolan that hewouldnotbereadytotackleacougarforalongtime.Buthefeltreadynow.Andinthebackofhismindastrangelogichadstartedtohaunthim.IfIcankillthecougar,hethought, thecougarwhotookThunderheart’scub,maybeshewillcomebacktome.Hehadbeentrackingthecougarfromthetimethesunhadfirstrisenuntil

ithunglowintheskyandseemedtohoverendlesslyabovethehorizonlikeavigilant golden eyewatching the earth.And so am I, Faolan thought as he

enteredtheseconddayoftrackingthecougar.Theloiteringsuninspiredhim.Itwaswell into the second daywhen he began to sense the cougarwas

tiring, that he was actually closing the distance. But Faolan also becameawareofanotherpresence,onethathadbeenfollowinghimforashortertimebutwaspersistentnonetheless.Hewasimmediatelywary.Faolanhaddevelopedaquicknessofmindthatallowedhimtoconcentrate

deeplyandyetatthesametimemaintainhisalertness.Hehadcaughthisfirstglimpseof his tracker, a tawny smear, behind a thicket of bracken.Hewasbeingfollowedcloselynow.Buthewouldnotbeforcedoff thetrackof thecougar,norwouldherushthekill.He spotted the cougar settling down with a hare. The cougar was a bit

larger than Faolan, longer and lower to the ground, but it appeared moreslenderanditschestseemednarrower.Faolanhadbeencarefultomaneuverhimself into a position downwind of the cougar so his scent would not becarried.Hehadsoskillfullytrackedhispreythatthebigcatwascompletelyunawareofhispresence.Hewascertain,however,thatthereweretwootherwolvestrackinghim.Theywantthismeat,too.ButI’mnoraven!I’llnoteatsecond.Faolancreptuponthecougartoalmostwithinpouncingdistancewhena

suddenshiftinthewindbroughthisscenttothecat.Hesawtheflickerofthecougar’s nostrils and then the cougarwas off.ButFaolanwas not about togiveup.Thecougarseemedtobedevouringthelandinfrontofhim.Faolankeptup.Iwillkillyouandeatyou.IshallgrowfatonthemeatthatdevouredThunderheart’s cub.ForThunderheart!The soundof his feet engulfed himandthethunderousheartofthegrizzlybecamehis.Therewasathinstandoftreesahead.Hehadalmostreachedthecougarwhenthecatleapedupintothetree.An image flashed inFaolan’smind.The looming figure ofThunderheart

rearingupagainstadazzlingsun,brightgreenleavescaughtinthelastraysastheyfluttereddown.Heleapednow,ashehadwithThunderheart.Heleapedsohighthatthecougarmadeasoundhalfwaybetweenasnarlandascream.It was a sound of alarm. But Faolan had clamped on to the cat’s paw anddraggedhimfromthelimb.Stunned, forneverhadacatbeen felled in thismanner, thecougarcould

notreactquicklyenough.Faolansankhisteethintotheveinjustbeneaththecougar’s jaw, the vein that Thunderheart taught him pumped the life-bloodandmustbecutinordertokill.Thecougartwitchedonce,thenagain.Hewasdying.AninstinctrosewithinFaolanthatsurprisedhim.Heunclampedhis long

teeth,andhelaidhisownheaddownonthegroundsohecouldlookdirectlyintotheeyesofthedyingcat.Theystaredateachotherforseveralseconds,andFaolandidnotthinkofThunderheart.Nordidhethinkofthisanimalasa

killerofcubs.Hethoughtonlyofthecougar’sgraceandspeed.Andhesaid,“Youareaworthyanimal,yourlifeisworthyandshallsustainme.”Thecougarpeeredbackintothegreeneyesoftheyoungwolf.Thelightin

his own amber eyes was growing dim, and yet there was a flicker ofrecognition. Itwas as if a codedmessage passed between them: I give youpermissiontotakemylife.Maymymeatsustainyou.

CHAPTERELEVENASAVAGEWORLD

FAOLANHADBEGUNTORIPINTOtheflankofthedeadcougarwhenheheardarustlinginthebrush.Heraisedhishead,butnolongerinexpectationofseeingThunderheart.Assoonashehadlookedintotheeyesofthedyingcougar,hehadrealizedthathewasmistakentothinkthatkillingthecougarwouldavengeThunderheart’scub.Twowolvessteppedoutofthebrush,thefirstwolvesFaolanhadeverseen

otherthanthereflectionofhisownfaceinthewater.Hewasstunned.Theyare like me, but so different. He was bigger, much bigger than they were,although they looked older. And they were disreputable, raggedy andunkempt,theircoatsbearingfurlesspatchesthatrevealedoldscars.Bothweremales,oneadarkgrayand theother russet.The russetonewasmissinganeye.His facewasnearlybaldon the sidewith themissingeye, andFaolanknewthattheclawmarksonithadbeenmadebyanotherwolf.Whatanimalattackeditsownkind?Salivainlongsilverythreadsdrippedfromthedarkedgesofthewolfpair’s

mouths.Theyedgedcloser towhereFaolanstoodsnarlingover thecarcass.Several thingsbecameapparent toFaolanas the trioeyedoneanother.Thetwo wolves were trying to edge each other out as they moved toward thecougar.Althoughtheyhadtrackedhimtogether,thetwowerenotworkingasateam.Theywerenotcooperating,maneuveringasheandThunderhearthadin thedefile, combiningFaolan’s swiftness and thegrizzly’smight tobringdownthecaribou.Theyhadnostrategy.ButFaolandid.Thestrategycametohiminaquicklittleburstofinsight

thatflashedinhismind:Theywantmymeat,butIamnotgoingtoletthemhaveit.Theywillhavetofightme,buttheydon’tknowhowtofighttogether.GreedmeansIcandistractthem.Faolantoreoutachunkofcougarmeatandtosseditintotheair.Thetwo

wolves scrambled to pounce on it and fell together in a snarling, tumblingmass.Faolanjumpedstraight into theairandcrasheddownontopof them.Therewasaloudpoppingsound,thenascream.Thedarkgraywolfappearedtobreakinthemiddle,hislowerhalfskewingtoonesideandajaggedbonepushingthroughhispelt.Theimpacthadsnappedhisspine.The russetwolf growledand retreated, swinginghishead to seewithhis

singleeye,whichwasnowdartingfranticallyfromthegraywolftoFaolantothechunkofmeat.

Faolan’s hackles were raised, his head held high, his ears upright andforward.He took a step toward the russetwolf.Thewolf cowered, peelingbackhislipsinagrimaceoffear.Butstillhisoneeyekeptdartingbetweenthe chunk of meat and the dead wolf. Faolan was growing impatient andtensedhimself tospring,butmuchtohissurprise, therussetwolfranat thedeadwolfanddraggedthebodyintothebrush.Faolanknewhehadnothingtofearfromtheone-eyedwolf,butatthesame

timehewasmystifiedbyhisbehavior.Whywouldthewolfdragthebodyofhisfriendaway?Heprickedhisearsforwardasheheard theripofflesh.Itcan’tbe!Hewalkedquietly toward the thicketofbrushandpeered throughthetangledthornybranches.Therussetwolf’sheadwasburieduptoitssingleeyeintherippedbellyof

the deadwolf. So busywas he consuming the entrails that hewasn’t evenaware of Faolan’s presence for some time.When finally he looked up, hisfacedrenched in thebloodand slimeof theguts,Faolan sawonlygreed inthat single eye. Laying his ears flat, the russet wolf stepped back, not inshameforhisact,butinfear.HethinksIwanthismeat!Faolanturnedawayandwalkedbacktothecougarwithonethought:Imust

eat to get fat. To get stronger.Hewould need his strengthmore than ever.WhatkindofsavageworldhaveIentered?

CHAPTERTWELVEOUTCLANNERS

GUT-HEAVY,THERUSSETWOLFmadehiswaythroughatangledwebofscents.Hewasdrivennowbyadullsenseoffear.Hehadneverseenanythinglikethesilverwolfwiththesplayedpaw.Itwasnotsimplythatthewolfwaslarge,buthewasstrong.Hischestwasbroadandthesplayedpaw,althoughnotespeciallybig,lookedpowerful.Itwasluckythatthegraywolfhadbeenon top of him. If not, it would have been his back that snapped. He wasfrightenednowtobealone.Hehadtofindaroutofwolvesandtravelwiththemforabit.Thewolvesof theOutermostwereunlikeanywolves in theentireworld.

Theydefiedall thecommonnotionsofwolfbehavior;theywerenotsimplyabnormal, but an outrageous insult to the values and traditions that otherwolvescherished.Lawless,abidingbynoneoftheelaboratecodesofconductthatgovernedclansandpacks,thesewolveswereknownasoutclanners.Notions of honor and loyalty, which were central to the wolves of the

Beyond, didn’t exist for outclanners. Viciousness and greed were themotivating forces of their lives. Survivalwas their only instinct.Dulled bygenerationsofsavagery,theycouldneverconceiveoftheintricatestrategiesthatclanwolveshadevolvedforhuntingorlivingtogetherinthepackspiritofhwlyn,nurturingharmony.Theone-eyedwolfknownasMorbwasnoexception.Hehadswumacross

therivertoridhimselfofthegraywolf’sblood,forifheattemptedtojoinaroutwiththesmellofwolfbloodalloverhim,theotherwolvesmightbecomesuspicious.Perhapsiftheydidsmellit,hecouldclaimtohavepickeduptheblood scent in a craw, or a fight to the death between two animals. Mosttimes, the combatwas between two animals of different species, perhaps amarmot and a wolverine, trapped in a circle formed by the rout, butoccasionally the combat was between two wolves. It was peculiar that theonly time the wolves of a rout worked cooperatively was not for huntingpurposes, but for sadistic amusement. The wolf who won a wolf-to-wolfcontestenjoyedabitofnotorietyforawhile,butnotforlong.Itwasdifficultfortheoutclannerstoholdmuchintheirmindsforanylengthoftime.AsMorbmadehiswaythroughthetangleofscentsofthedenseevergreen

forest, he had almost forgotten the scent of Faolan.When thewind shiftedsuddenly, he did not even realize that the scent he detectedwas that of thesilverwolfhefeared.Thesmellmingledwithsomeothers,andMorbthought

perhaps there was a rout nearby. Soon he heard some random barks andhowls.Itwasacraw!Andagoodoneatthat!Amuskoxandanoldsickfemale

moose,acow.

Faolan was a silent moving shadow, his paws soft as moss. He watchedtransfixedasthewolvespressedinaroundthemuskoxandthemoose,oneoranotherdartingouttonipattheirlegsandencouragethebiganimalstostepforwardandchargeagain.Oneofthemuskox’shornshadbeenbrokenandwasdanglinginfrontofitsface,obscuringitsvision.Thisseemedtodelightthewolves.Themoosewas limpingandhadbeguntocrouchdown.Faolancouldseeplainlythatshewasreadytodie.Butalarge,skinnyshe-wolfwithviciousfangswasonherinaminute,goadinghertogetup.Itwasahorrorthat Faolan could have never imagined, even after watching the one-eyedwolfdevourhiscompanion.Faolan stood in the shadows, shivering although it was not cold, his fur

rising on his body. Had any of the outclanner wolves glimpsed him, theywouldhavebeenshocked.Shockedbyhissize.Shockedbytheferocityinthebrilliant green eyes and frightened by a light beneath the ferocity that theycouldneverhavenamed—intelligence.Faolan considered charging in and busting up the craw in hopes that he

might afford themoose a peaceful death. But he knew that, in addition toriskinghisownlife,soonerratherthanlaterthisroutofviciouswolveswouldtrackherdownfortheirownfiendishdelightandperhapskillherinanevenmore savage manner. And although he felt he could outrun any of thesewolves if they did set upon him, it became clear to Faolan that hewantednothingtodowiththematall.Hedidnotwantthemtoknowheexisted.

So with these thoughts in mind he turned away. As he traveled herememberedthoselongmelodioushowlsthathehadheardoutsidethewinterdenofThunderheartandwonderedifperhapshehadheardwrong.Thehowlsoftheseoutclannerwolveswerelikeshardsofbonescratchingthenight.Hecould not believe that wolves who had howled that beautiful, wild musiccould ever be the same as these. Theymust be different, but perhaps theyweren’t, andyetwhatdidheknowaboutwolves?Hehadbeen raisedbyagrizzly.ThenFaolanwasstruckbyanimmutabletruth,whichwasthathehadmore in commonwith a grizzly bear than anywolf. Surely therewould begrizzlies along the river. Or perhaps he would find a lovely summer denabovethebanksdottedwithglacierliliesandirises.Thelonelinessthathadforsolongfeltlikeanemptyspacewithinhim,that

emptinessthathadmadehimfeelhollow,grewnowuntilitseemedhisownbodycouldnotcontain it. It seepedoutofhimandbegan tocreateaneven

bigger hollow, a void, a space that was always at his side. A space whereThunderheart would walk next to him were she still there, a silence thatwouldhavebeenfilledhadshebeensnortingandhuffingastheymadetheirwaytohuntorgraze,thatunmistakablethumpofherimmensepawsmakingatrack next to his.Hewondered how nothingness could feel so heavy.Howcouldhollownessbesocrushing?CouldthewolvesoftheBeyond,theoneswhosehowlingherecalledasdistantbeautifulsongs,everfill thisvoid?Hebegantoevolveasimpleplan.Hewouldfindtheriver,theriverthatledbackintotheBeyond.AndsoFaolancontinuedonhisway,dreamingofsummerdensandlazyafternoonsfishingforsalmon.Maybe,hethought,Icouldeventeachlittlebearcubshowtofish!Hehadbeentravelingforafewdayswhenhebegantonoticethatthelong

lightwasseepingawaylittlebylittleandnightwasreturning.Itwasstillhighsummer—he recognized the thickets of sweet blackberries that grew at thistime.Butiftheendlessdayswerevanishingandnightwasreturning,heknewhemustbeapproachingtheborderbetweentheOutermostandtheBeyond.Hehadyet to reach the riverwhenhe sawayawnofdarkness ahead.A

cave!Itwasabigcave,perfectforalargeanimallikeThunderheart.Andyet,oddlyenough,Faolancouldnotdetect the scentof anycreature.ThemoonwasjustrisingasFaolansteppedinside,andaspikeofpalelightprickedthedarknessof the cave’s interior. In the flickeringof themoon’s silvery light,Faolancaught the imageofa four-leggedanimal that seemed tobe runningdirectlyoutofthestonewall.Abovetheanimalbeatthewingsofabird—ahovering owl. The wall pulsated with life. He could hear the breath ofcountlesscreatures.Thepoundingofhooves,thebeatingofpaws,thestirringofwings.Allontherockofthecavewall.

CHAPTERTHIRTEENTHEBITTERNESSOFTHE

OBEA

HOW MANY? HOW MANY HAD IT BEEN? the Obea wondered as shecarriedthiswolfpupinhermouth.Thisonewouldn’tlivelong.Ithadbeenbornlateintheseason,almostmidsummer,withjusthalfahindpaw,anditwasn’t breathing properly. These late-season pups were rarely normal. TheObeawaswearyandbitter.Shewasn’tsurewhyshefeltthisway.Thewinterhadbeenharsh.Theearthquakeatthecuspofspringhaddisturbedmorethantheland;insomestrangewaytheseasonsalsoseemeddisrupted.Springwasvery late incoming,almostas if it feared toappearamid theaftershocksofthequake.Wildflowers and themossblossoms that speckled thegrasslandsseemed to think better of showing themselves until they were sure of areliablepieceofgroundthatwasnotgoingtomove.Butnowtheweatherwasturning, and theObea’s aches andpainsweredisappearingwith theheat ofsummer. The rancor that she thought had been smoothed away over time,however,begantostiragain.Notsimplyasharppebblediggingintoherpaw,itwasmoreanimate,coilinginsideherlikeaserpent.Shecouldfeelitsfangswitheverystep.Whyme?Whyme?Thewhiningquestionoverandoveragain.TheObeanevergrievedforthe

pupsshecarriedaway,only theones thatshehadnevergivenbirth to.Whyme?Whyme?TherefrainplayedagainthroughhermindlikethemoaningofthenorthwindthatsweptdownfromtheOutermost.Shebegantorecallthetimewhenshehadfirstsuspectedthatshemightbe

barren. Onemate after the next had left her when she failed to bear pups.Afterthethirdmateleft,shemovedontoanewpackwithinthesameclan.Onceshehadbeenconsideredabeautifulwolf.Herfurwasalustroustawnygoldandshehadattractedafairnumberofsuitors.Butasshegrewolderherpelthadlostitsshine.Herteatsshriveleduntiltheywerethesizeofhardlittlepebbles.Shewentfrompacktopack,untilthenewshadspreadandshewasforced

toseekanewclan.TheMacDuncansweregood.Shehadcaughttheeyeofabigblackwolf,DonegalMacDuncan.Hewasanhonorablewolf,butitsoonenoughbecameapparentthatshewasnotabletobearpups.ItwasDonegalwhoasked theclanchieftain,DuncanMacDuncan, ifshemightbecometheObea.Itwasakindnessreally,forathersomewhatadvancedagetohaveto

becomea lonewolfwouldhavebeenhard.Still, itwasnoteasy toobserveDonegalwithanewmatewhopromptlyborealitteroffivehealthypups.TheplaceofanObeainthecomplexsocialstructureofaclanwaspeculiar.

Shewasrankless,neitherhighnorlow.Thismeanttherewasnopreciseformof conduct for greetingher, for sharing food, or a particular position in thebyrrgis, the traveling formation the wolves of the Beyond used when theyhuntedorexplorednewterritory.Nevertheless,sheexistedonthefringesofthegroupinmuchthesamewaygnawwolvesdid,atleastuntilagnawwolfwasselectedfortheWatchoftheRingoftheSacredVolcanoes.Thewolvesofthepackavoidedher.Thefemalesweretheworst.Someof

the females even thought the Obea smelled different, that her scent marksbetrayedherbarrenness.Sheknewtheytalkedabouther.Andwhentheywereheavywitha litter theywouldoften steal furtiveglancesather.Someevensuspectedthatshecouldseethroughthem,rightintotheirwombs,andknewifapuptheywerecarryingwasamalcadh.TheygossipedthattheObeacouldactuallyputaspellonthemandcauseamalcadhtoform.Thefewmalcadhswhodidsurviveandmadetheirwaybacktotheclantoserveasgnawwolvessuspected that she resented their survival, andavoidedher,as if fearful thatshemightpickthemupandcarrythemawayagain.Andthemales,ofcourse,hadnointerestinheratall.Theyseemedtolookrightthroughherasifshedidnotexist.Shewaslikeairorwater,invisible.IthadbeennolifeatallforShibaan.Well,shemustgetonwiththisbusiness.Thatwaswhatitwasforher—a

business,awaytoearnherkeepintheclan.Shedidherjobwell,verywellindeed. She was clever in finding ingenious tummfraws, the sites forabandoning cursed pups. The tummfraws that Shibaan found were placesfrequentedbypredatorsorvulnerabletonaturaldisasters,suchasriverfloodsor avalanches. If a pup did survive and made it back to a pack in theMacDuncan clan, it proved that he or shewasworthy and could become agnawwolfandacandidatefortheWatchoftheRingoftheSacredVolcanoes.Anddidn’tthewolvesoftheBeyondoweher,Shibaan?Thepresentchieftain,theFengooftheSacredRing,HamishwassaidtobethebestFengosincetheoriginalchieftaininthetimeoftheGreatKingHoole.Butwhat thanksdid sheget?None.She could remember clearly theday

shehadtakenthepupHamish,whohadbeenbornwithatwistedleg,tothesteepeasternslopesof theBeyond,where the latewinterblizzardsblew in.That particularwinter there had been a suddenwarm period following thatlaststorm,andbecauseofthesteepnessofthemountain,severalavalanchescrashedshortlyaftershehaddepositedthemewlingpup.Onecouldspottheseavalanches from a distance, and even if one couldn’t see them they couldcertainlybeheard.So itwasprofoundly shockingwhenamooncycleafterthe boom and crack of the last avalanche, she saw the twisted-legged pup

staggerintocamp.DuncanMacDuncannamedhimHamish,anancientwolfname derived from theword hamycch, whichmeant “to leap.” Despite histwisted leg, Hamish had leaped over the avalanches, or through them, andsomehowsurvived.Shibaannowspotted theperfect tummfraw directly ahead,ona trailused

bymigratingmoose. Shewould deposit the pup on the flat so itwould becrushedbytheweightofthehugebeasts.Andifthemoosedidn’tcome,theowlswould, for this trailwasdirectlybeneath the flightpathof thecollierswhocametotheBeyondtofetchcoalfromthefiresoftheRingoftheSacredVolcanoes.Thecollierswereexpertatdivinginthecoalbedsontheflanksofthevolcanoes,andwerealwayshungry.Ahalf-deadpupwouldbeeasyprey.Soshedroppedthemewlingpup.AndalthoughinallheryearsastheObea

shehadneverturnedbacktowatchapup,shedidnow.Forthefirsttime,shetriedtoimaginethemomentthiscreaturewoulddie—thesounditstinyboneswouldmakewhentrampledflatbyalonglineofmigratingbehemoths,oritsmewlofpainwhencaughtbythegripofanowl’s talons.Thatwasaworsethought,adeaththatwouldtakealongtime.Firsttheawfulfeelingofleavingthegroundandthentheripoftheowl’ssharptalonsandbeak.ThehacklesontheObea’sbackrosehigh,andhertailstoodstraightoutfromherbody.Sheabruptlyswervedoffthetrailandtookthefastestwaydownasteepslope.TheObeahadnotgonefarwhenshefeltaslight tremorcomingupfrom

theground.Notagain! she thought.More aftershocks. But thiswasworse.Suddenly,theslopeopenedupbeforeher.Therewasagreatrentintheearth.Shestumbledandheardboulderscrashingdownbehindher.Andthen therewasanothersound,thatofherownbonesbeingcrushed.TheObeawasnotsurehowlongshehadbeenunconscious,butbythetime

shewoke, themoonhadrisen.Shelookedupinto thesummerskythatwasdustedwithstars.ShesearchedouttheconstellationoftheGreatWolf,Lupus,thatwalkedthenighttowardtheCaveofSouls.Iamdying,shethought,butwill I go to theCaveofSouls?Or—andsheshuddered—to the dimworld?Shehadtakenthosepupsalltheseyearstothetummfrawsbecauseitwasclanlawthatshedoso.Shedidnotmakethelaws.Shemerelyhadtofollowthem,andasDuncanMacDuncanalwaysexplained,itwasforthewell-beingoftheclan. The bloodlines would be ruined if malcadhs were allowed to livewithout a real fight for their lives.Theoneswhomade it,who cameback,wereexceptionalpupsandoftengrewintoextraordinarywolves.Butwolveswerenottogrieveovertheoneswhodidnotsurvive.Thiswasthelawofthewild.Andshehadnotgrieveduntilnow…nowwhenshewasclearlydying.WillIbepunished?IstheresomechieftainhigherthanDuncanMacDuncanwhowillturnmeawayfromtheCaveofSouls?Shibaanwassuddenlyveryfrightened.Althoughthelowerhalfofherbody

was numb and she felt no real pain, she realized that therewas something

muchworse. Itwas this new sensation: grief.Griefmixedwith fear.Everyoneofthosepupsshenowbegantoremember—thefirstonewiththemilkyeyes, born blind. The one born with only three legs, the earless ones, andtailless ones, and the oneswith crooked hips so they could never run.Andthen therewas thatonefromjust theyearbeforewith thesplayedpaw,andthepeculiardesignonitspad,aswirlofdimlines.Forsomereason,thatpuphad unnerved her like none other. She could not get rid of that one fastenough.Therewasnothingunnervingor frightening about the little half-pawpup

she had abandoned this day. As the numbness crept through her body, sheimaginedtryingtogobackandrescuethathalf-pawpup.Itwasasifshewereoutsidetheboundariesofherownbody.Sheleapedup

the steep slope agilely, hopping over boulders, heading for themoose trail.Shewasonthetrailnow,rememberingeverybend,everypebble.Shesawthetinycreaturejustahead.Reliefsweptthroughherandatthesamemomentshewasconsciousofapeculiarsensation,afeelingshehadneverexperiencedinthewitheredteatsonherbelly.Theynolongerfeltshrunkenandhard.Milk,she thought.Milk is coming! I will take this pup and nurse it. Joy floodedthroughher.Themoosehadnotcomeyet.Theskywasclearofowls.Therewasonlythespirittrailabove.

DuncanMacDuncan,thewiseandreveredchiefoftheMacDuncans,steppedout to howl into the night, and told the far-flung packs of his ancient andvenerable clan that theCarregGaer, the chieftain’spack,was safe after thequake.He had forgotten about theObea and themission she had gone on;forgotten,thatis,untilhetippedhisheadbacktohowl.HiseyescaughttheconstellationoftheGreatWolf,Lupus,risingintheeasternsky.HewatchedasatawnygoldenmistgatheredneartheStarWolf’shead.Instantly,heknewitwasShibaan.Hehadseenheronce,longbeforeshejoinedtheMacDuncanclan, when shewas young and golden. So he howled his farewell into thevastness of the night. “You have left us, Obea, left us stronger for yoursacrifice.Nowfollowthespirittrail,Shibaan.Youhaveserveduswell.”Andthenheblinkedandthistimehowledwithsheerdelight,foradozenormorelittle star pups raced from the Cave of Souls to greet her. Another pupfollowedclosebehind theObea,andwherehishindpaws touched the trail,therewasonlyonelittlestar,asifhalfitspawweremissing.

CHAPTERFOURTEENTHECAVEBEFORETIME

FAOLANSTEPPEDCLOSERTOTHEstrangewallwiththeanimalfigures.Werethesecreaturesrealorimaginary?Doesthewallbreatheorisitmerelyrock?DoIdreamordoIwake?Thesepicturesweresomewhatlikethestarpictures that Thunderheart used to point out for him with her sharp blackclaws,buttheyweresomuchmorereal.Hethoughthehadactuallyheardtheanimalspantingas theypoundedacross thestone.Heevenwentrightup tothe wall of rock to sniff it. But it was merely rock—silent, cold, andunmoving.Faolan raised his muzzle and began to explore for scent, any odor that

might betray that this was the place a bear had lived. He would knowThunderheart’ssmellanywherealthoughitdifferedaccordingtowhatshewaseating.Inspring,therewasthewetgreenfragrancewhenshehadgorgedonplantsandbulbs.Buttherewasnotatraceofthatodor.Norwastherethedrycloversmellofsummer,orthescentoffishthatsaturatedThunderheart’sfurin lateautumnwhen the salmon ran. It seemedodd toFaolan that somanyanimals appeared on the walls, looking so real, when the cave wasuninhabited.Uninhabitedbutnotlifeless.Faolanscratchedhispawonthehardsurface

andtheglandsinhisfootreleasedhisownscent.AmIthefirstanimalevertomark here? How could that be? He caught sight of another picture andsteppedclosertoseethatitwasaspiral—exactlyliketheoneonhissplayedpaw!He felt his heartbeat quicken and he looked around, folding back hisears.Heloweredhistailandbegantosinkontohisbellyintheclassicpostureof submission. It was the ultimate gesture of respect to a superior power.Although therewerenoother livinganimals in this cave, therewasa spiritthatsaturatedtheveryair.Itwastothatsublimespiritthatreverencemustbepaid.WhenFaolanroseupandlookedonthecavewallsagain,hesawtherewas

apictureoftheGreatWolfconstellationontheceiling,butwithatrailofstarsleadinguptoit.Faolanwonderediftherewasaplace,askycaveforwolvestotraveltoaftertheyhadlivedtheirlivesonearth,likethatofUrsulana,thebearheavenwhereThunderhearthadsaidthespiritofhercubhadgone.Helookedabout.This,too,isacave.Yetitdoesnotfeellikeanend,butratherabeginning.Hefeltasifhewereonsomeearthlystartrail,apassagetoatimebefore

time,whenthehistoryofthewolvesandowlsfirstbecameintertwined.Faolanfeltallthis,notinthewaythatheknewhowtotrackananimalor

corner awolverine, or towait on theupriver sideof a rapidduring salmonspawning time. No, he knew this in another part of his mind, a part thatseemednotexclusivelyhisbutpartofaconsciousnessthatwaslargerthanthemindofasinglewolf.Apeculiarkindofknowingthatdefiedboundaries,thatwaslargerthanapack,largerthanaclan,beyondevenasinglespecies.Thisseeminglyemptycavebristledwithahistoryvital toFaolan’sbeing.

Hehadbeenbornof awolfmother and fatherwhomhehadneverknown,raisedbyagrizzlywhohadvanished,but ifhecouldlearnthemysteriesofthiscave,hemightlearnwhohereallywas.Andwhathewasmeanttobe.Hebegantofollowthewindingpaththattunneleddeepintotheearth.The

lightgrewdimmeranddimmer.Butlikeallwolveshehadexcellentvisioninlowlightandcouldseewellintothedarkesthoursofthenight.Hepressedcloser to thewalls,curious to studya silverystreak.Hesoon

realizeditwasapictureofaluminousflowofwolves,wolvesrunningagainstahorizon,flowingacrossafrozenlandscape.Hefeltanoverpoweringdesireto run with these wolves. There was a grace, a majesty as they movedtogethernotassingleanimalsbutinthisoneelementalformation.Theywerelikesomeearthly,terrestrialconstellation.Notcolddistantstarsbutflesh-and-blood wolves so beautifully etched on the rock walls that they seemed tobreathe.Overheadabirdflew.Hethoughtitwasanowl.Hehadnotseenmany,but

whenhehad,Thunderheartwouldnamethemforhim.Hewishednowthathehadpaidcloserattention.For therewereseveraldifferentkindsofowlsandThunderheart had known exactly which kind they were. Some she calledSpottedOwls and others Snowy. But the owl that passed over the flow ofwolvesseemedtoberathertheessenceofallowls,thespiritofanowlmorethanafeatherandboneandbloodowl—justaflashofwhitecuttingthesky.

Faolanlosttrackoftime.Hewouldneverknowexactlyhowlonghespentinthecave—theCaveBeforeTime,ashebegantothinkofit.Heseemednottoneedsleeporfood.Itwasasifhefedonthestorythatunfoldedbeforehim.Thereweremanygapsinthestoryandthepaintingsontheotherwallsdidnotseemsequential.Thefirstpaintingshadbeenofcaribou.Theflowinglineofwolves,which hewould eventually learnwas called abyrrgis, came in themiddle, whereas it should have begun the tale. To Faolan, this particularpaintingwasthecoreofthestory.Itwasthepaintingthatgavehimhope,thatremindedhimofthebeautifulhowlsofthewolveshehadheardwhenhehadventuredoutfromthewinterdenonthosecoldnightsasThunderheartslept.Itmadehimrealizethatnotallwolveswerelikethevicious,stupidoneshehadseenintheOutermost.

Itwas uncanny how themotion of thewolves had been captured by theblurring of their legs. However, it wasn’t simply the depiction of themovement that impressed Faolan but rather the sense of joint action, thecombinedeffortofmanywolvesworkingtogetherforthesakeofoneanotherandthepack.Thiswascompletely theoppositeof theoutclannerwolveshehadwitnessed in the Outermost. And this was only a fragment of a largerstorythathebegantopiecetogetherintheCaveBeforeTime.

CHAPTERFIFTEENASTORYINSTONE

FAOLANREMEMBEREDTHATTHUNDERHEART had told him of thesuperiornavigationskillsofowls.WhereasmostanimalsonlyusedtheNorthStar,thepolestar,theowlsusedallthestars.Sothatwaswhatheunderstoodfirst.Thewolvesweremigratingfromthefareast tothewestandthemistyowlwasguidingthem.Thenotherpartsofthestorybegantobecomeclear.Thewolf in thepointpositionof thebyrrgiswasagreatdirewolfcalled

Fengo,whowasthechieftainofwhatwasthencalledtheClanofClansandeventuallycame tobeknownas theMacDuncans.Therewereother imagesthroughoutthecaveofthewolvesinthistravelingformation.Hehadseenitperhapshalfadozentimessofar.Usuallytheformationhadbeenforhunting,butnowitwascleartherewasanotherpurposeaswell.Faolancouldseethatthewolveswereonthemove.Hecouldtellfromthepaintingsthattheywereleavingaplaceof ice—Great Icewashowhecame to thinkof it.Over theyears,a fiercecoldhadset in to thecountry fromwhence thewolvescameand each year stole more and more of the warm times, lengthening thewintertimes, until ice began to creep over the land and cover it for everyseasonoftheyear.TheseancientwolvescalledthisperiodtheIceMarchoftheLongCold.TheIceMarchseemedtofollowthemeverywheretheywentintheirterritory.Fengo,astheleaderoftheClanofClans,decidedtheymustleave.Theywanderedformanymoons,butitwasuncleartoFaolanwhenorhowtheyfirstencounteredthespiritofthestrangebird.Faolan suddenly realized that this owl had been called Hoole. He

remembered Thunderheart telling him about the extremely intelligent owlswholivedontheislandinthemiddleoftheSeaofHoolemereinatreecalledtheGreatGa’HooleTree.HealsorememberedhersayingthatHoolewasanancientwolfwordfor“owl.”Thenamedidnotseemstrangetohimbuthadan oddly familiar ring. As he traced the paintings on the cave walls thattwistedandturneddownoftenintodeeperrecessesandthenroseoncemore,opening into huge galleries with soaring spaces, he followed the spirit ofHoole,wholedthewolvestoalandhebegantorecognizeastheBeyond.Itwasalandaswildanddesolateasthewolveshadeverseenandstrange,too,fortherewasbothfireandice.Hoolehadguidedthemintotheeasternregionof theBeyondwhere therewasa ringofvolcanoes.ThatwaswhereFengoandhisClanofClansfirstsettled.Thecaveitselfwasamazeoftunnelsandpassage-ways.Itwaseasytoget

lost. And Faolan did for several days. He was never aware of being veryhungry. Therewaswater but precious little food.A rat or two, and bats aswell.Hebecamequiteproficientatpluckingoffthebatsastheysleptintheircuriousupside-downpositions.Whatreallyfedhimwerethestoriesandthepaintings themselves,whichhe foundextraordinarilybeautiful.Hebegan todevelopadiscerningeyeandadeepappreciationforhowtheartistexpressedthesensationsofmotion,speed,andweightallonaflatsurface.What stillperplexedhim,however,was the spiralingdesign, the sameas

thatonthepadofhissplayedpaw.Hehadspottedthisdesignintermittentlyduringhisexplorations.Sometimesthepassageswereblocked.ThefirsttimethishappenedFaolan

wasquiteupsetbecausehewasjustgettingtoaninterestingpartinFengo’sstory,afterheandhisclanhadbeenin theBeyondforseveralyearsandhehadmet anowlwhowas said tobe the firstowl todive for coals, the firstcollier.Thespiraldesignhadalsobeenappearingwithgreaterfrequency.Justashewasabouttoturnback,hefeltaslightdraftofhumidair.Sincehewasso deep in the cave, itwas hard to imaginewhere it came from.He nosedaroundabitanditwasnotlongbeforeherealizedthatwhathethoughtwasadeadendwasreallyapileofrockchunksthatmostlikelyhadcavedinduringtheearthquake.Hebegandiggingfiercely.Witheveryclumpofrubblethathissplayedpaw

cleared, he thanked Thunderheart for swatting what he had considered hisgoodpawandthusmakinghimuseandstrengthenthesplayedone.Hewasinafevernowtofindoutthesecretofthisspiraldesignthathadmarkedhim.When Faolan finally cleared away the rubble of the collapse, he passed

through into a great bay area that revealed themostmagnificent of all thepaintings. Itwasa rounded space that seemed fitting for the subjectmatter,forhewassurroundedbydepictionsofthefiveSacredVolcanoes:Dunmore,Morgan,H’rathghar,Kiel,andStormfast.Eachvolcanoseemed,uponhisfirstglance,moreor less the same.Butwith closer examination, twohad subtleyetdistinctdifferences.Thosetwo,althoughhecouldnotsensetheirnamesatthetime,wereH’rathgharandDunmore.Aroundeachone,owlsflew,somediving toward rivers of hot embers that spilled down the flanks of thevolcano. H’rathghar appeared to be almost translucent, and in its bubblingcauldron Faolan spotted an ember that appeared quite different from thosethatcomposedtheemberbedsoftheflanks.Thisparticularemberwasorangewithalickofbluetingedwithgreenatitscenter,theverysamegreenashisowneyes.Theemberwascradledinapocketofbubblinglava.Anowlwithawhitefaceandtawnyfeathersappearedtobeplungingdirectlyintotheconeof the volcano to retrieve the ember. He gasped at the sight.Was this owlintent on killing himself? But then he saw another volcano directly acrossfromthisone.Itwasinastateofviolenteruption,andflyingoutofacurtain

offlameswasamagnificentowl,thisonewithmanyspots,andinhisbeakheclutchedthatsameenigmaticemberforwhichthewhite-facedowlhadbeendiving. Two volcanoes, two owls, both diving through fire for the sameember.Whatdid it signify?Faolan sensed immediately that these twoowlswerevastlyseparatedintime.Buttheirstorieswerelinkedtoeachother.Andtothewolves.Slowly,Faolanbegantocirclethespace,tryingtofittogetherthepiecesof

thispaintedpuzzle.Atfirst,hehadnotnoticedthetoweringmoundsofbones.Atopeachoneawolfperched.Hebegan todimlyperceive that thewolveswereperchedonthosebonemoundsassentriesofsomesort.Hethoughttheirmission was to protect that ember from the shadow figures that were alsoflyingthroughthesky.Hesensedthat theseshadowfiguresweredangerousandtreacherousowls.ButmostfrustratingforFaolan,nocluewasgivenastowhatthemysteriousswirlingmarkwas.Itwasodd.Themarkswerescatteredthroughout but always over the head of an animal. Sometimes a wolf, butsometimesanowlorevenabear,afox,orahare.Faolanexhaustedhimself trying todecipher themeaningof themarkand

hefinallyfellintoadeepsleepinthisroundedbay,thevortexofthehistoriesofthewolvesandtheowlsintheCaveBeforeTime.

CHAPTERSIXTEENFIRSTMILK

AS FAOLAN SLEPT HE DREAMED, and a scent spiraled through hisdreams,entwining itselfwith the imageshehadseen in thecave.Thescentseemedtoflowlike thesilverystreakof therunningwolves.Butas itgrewstrongerherealizedthishadnothingtodowiththerunnersontherockwall.He could almost feel squirming soft bodies around him, all of themstruggling, fighting toward the warm milky scent. Milk! Milk! Shoving,pushing,vyingforateatinasmalldarkspacethatwaswarmandsilent.Hecouldseenothing.Hecouldhearnothing.Hecouldonlysmellandfeel.Andwhen he finally clamped on to that teat he could feel something else. Aheartbeat,notthegiantpoundingone,butasofter,quickerrhythm.Hetriedtopresscloserandclosertothelightthumpingandthemilk.AMilkGiver,butsodifferentinthismilkdream.Andthenacolddraftandsomethingpullingonhim, thesensationofbeingwrenchedfromtheteat,priedawayfromtheother struggling, small furry bodies. Coldness, dangling in the air as somecreaturewithnoscentatalltraveledwithhim,carryinghimawayfromfirstwarmth,firstmilk.Faolanawakenedwithayelpingbarkandstoodup,tremblingallover.He

sniffedtheair.Therewasnoscentofmilk,butithadbeensoreal!Soreal!AlthoughThunderhearthadbeenveryvagueaboutthatnightshehadfound

him,nevermentioningawolfmother,Faolanknewinonesensethathemusthavebeenbornofawolfbecausehelookedsodifferentfromthegrizzly.Butdeepwithin him, Faolan never truly believed it until now. Is it possible tohave twomothers, hewondered, the onewhobirthed you and the onewhonurturedyou?Thescentofthatfirstonethathehadsmelledinhisdreamstilllingeredinhisnostrilsandhismind.

He knew that hemust leave the cave. The cavewas before time.Hemustenter his time, his territory.Hemust cross the border into theBeyond andfollow the river. Hewould find his first mother, he would find those littlefurry bodies that had pressed and wriggled beside him.Why had he beentakenawayandnotthem?Hestoppedshortinhistracksandstareddownatthe splayedpaw.Hepicked it up, then twisted downonhis shoulder so hecouldfixhiseyesontheswirledprintofthepad.Thiswaswhy!But oddly enough, a great peace stole overFaolan.Hedid not know the

wordmalcadh, “cursed one.”But itwas not cursed that he felt, norwas it

blessed. Instead, it seemed as if he had a glimmering that he was part ofsomething larger, a larger pattern, a larger plan, an endlessly spiralingharmony.Darknesswasfallingaroundhim,andFaolanheldhispawuptothenewmoon,whichwas rising.A low cloud swept out on either side of thesilverbladelikeagreatluminousbirdhoveringonthehorizon.Thestarsbegan their statelyclimb in thegrowingblacknessof thenight.

Hewatchedsilentlyandbegantorealizethatthemovementofthestarswaslike the flowof runningwolves.Theydidnotmoveseparately; their transitwas inconcert.Theywerepartof something larger, and it seemedas if thesky, too, turnedaround theearth,whichmightbe just another star that alsoturned,averysmallpieceinasingleslidingwhole.Aroundandaround,justasthesemarksonmypaw.Ibelongtotheendlesscycle.

CHAPTERSEVENTEENTHEBYRRGISOFONE

FAOLANHADBEEN TRAVELING for several days. Themoon that hadbeen a thin blade when he had come out of the cave had swollen to animmense silvery sphere. He had seen no other wolves, heard no howls.Duringtheheatofthedayheoftenlaydownonacoolrockbytheriverandthen in the lateafternoonhewouldbegin to swim in searchof fish.Buthewas beginning to crave real meat. The woods along the river had grownsparserandonedayhefollowedatrailupfromtheriverbanktoabroadplain.Itwastwilightandanindigoglowbegantofilltheevening.Faolanrammedhis ears forward.Therewasanoddclickingnoise thathepickedupon thebreeze. He had heard it before with Thunderheart; he knew the sound.Caribou!Themusclesintheirlegssnappedastheytrottedalong.Theyweremovingtotheircalvinggrounds.The juices inhis stomachseemed to surge.Hecould tastebloodalready,

but therewasnoThunderheart tohelp,nodefile inwhich to trapacaribou.Thestrategythathadworkedsowellinthepastwasuselesshere.Buthehadkilled a cougar. Itwas just a single cougar and thiswas an entire herd.Hewouldhavetosingleouttheweakoneandthenpursueit.Hismindwentbackto the cave—themagnificent streamofwolves floating over the landscape,working togetherwith great purpose. A river of scents now poured towardhim,carriedonthewind.Hecoulddothisevenifhewasalone.Faolanbegantravelingtowardthescent,carefultokeepdownwind.There

wasaseaoftremulousvibrationsthatbegantorisefromthegroundandgrowstronger,andsoonhespottedtheherdbreakingoutfrombehindabluff.Theywereintheopennowandmovingintothecentralpartoftheplainthatdippedinto a shallowvalley. Itwas not a defile but still it offered advantages.Hecouldstayslightlyabovetheherdanddownwind.Itwouldgivehimaviewfromwhichhecould survey theherdandpickout aweakmember.He feltsleekerandfasterthanhehadafewmoonsearlier,forhiswinterunderfurhadbeguntoshed.Swiftly,heclimbedarockyridgeand,movingalongit,studiedthe flow of caribou. Two ravens circled above him. He sensed they werewaiting for him to attack the herd. He was annoyed. He didn’t want thecircling ravens to give away his location. But the herd moved alongmindlessly,relentlessly,atasteadypaceasinexorableasthecourseofariver.Faolan soon caught sight of an elderly cow at the edge of the herd. He

could tell that she was having trouble keeping pace. This was his target.

Stealthily, hemadehiswaydown the slope.Therewas a suddenbut slightwindshift.Theclickingofthecaribous’tendonsquickenedastheypickeduptheir pace.They smellme, Faolan thought.Hewatched the cow attempt tomakeherwaytothecenteroftheherd,butshewasshovedonceagaintotheedges.Hewasagooddistancebehindtheherd,whichhadmorethandoubleditsspeed.Thecowwasrunningfaster,too.ShewasperhapsnotasinfirmoroldasFaolanthought.Butherestrainedhimselffromaccelerating.Notyet,hethought.Imustkeepasteadypace.Actas if Iamnotonealone,butoneofmany.Helopedalong,keepinghiseyesonthecow.Instinctively,heknewthatin

thebyrrgis the femaleswere thefastestand therefore ran in thefrontof theformation. But hewould have to cover all positions and therefore hemustcarefullygaugenotonlythecaribou’sspeed,butalsohisownenergy.Theherdhadbeenheadingupaslightinclineanditwasherethatthecow

decidedtosplitfromthemassheknewshecouldnotkeepuponaslope.Sheturnedandpickedupspeedassheheadedinanotherdirection.Faolanveeredto follow her. The flat of the terrain renewed the cow’s energy. She waspressingonatanadmirableclip,butFaolancouldheartheroughnessofherbreathing.Shecouldnotkeepthisupforever.Orcouldshe?hethoughtsometimelater.Hehadbeentrackingherovera

greatdistanceforalongtime.Starshadrisenandsliddowntheothersideoftheblackdomeofthenight.Themoonwasnowonthedistanthorizon.Andstill her pacewas steady.But I amnot alone, he thought, and rememberedagain the flowing line of wolves. Each wolf had a part to play in theformation,whethertheyweremigratingorhunting.Whenhehadstoodclosetotherockwallandgazedforhours,thereweremomentswhenhehadfeltasif he was truly part of that flow of wolves. Now he could almost feel thepresence of scores of fleet animals pressing in around him, and then othertimes the wolves would stretch out in a long swift stream as they silentlysignaledoneanother in thisphantombyrrgisofmany,ofwhichFaolanwasjustone.Oneinall.Allinone!Hemust let the caribou cow think that he hadgiven up.He scanned the

landscape.Therewasadipaheadand thenbeyond it ahill,notbigbutbigenough.Ifhecouldfoolher,thenhecouldcomefromaroundtheothersideandforcehertoheadfortheincline.Hegaveashort,breathyseriesofhuffsfollowedbyahowlandturnedtail.

Therewasa suddenpocketofquiet in thenight.The soundof the clickingtendonsceased.Faolanturnedaroundslowly,almostelaborately.Hefelt thecow watching him. He disappeared into the dip and then circled aroundbehindalowbluff.Thecowhadslowedtoawalk.Therewasnodefiletotrapher,butifhecouldforcehertowardtheslope…Heactedfast,soshehadnotimetorecover.Heboltedoutfrombehindthe

bluffhehadjustcircledandchasedheruptheinclineinatremendousburstofspeed. Shewas only halfway upwhen he gave a great leap, slamming hisfrontpawsontoherhipstobringherdown.Hescrambledontopofherandsecuredajawholdonherneck.Then,peelingbackhisdarklips,hesankhisteethintotheneck,crushingherwindpipe.Hewantedhertodiefast,butnottoofast.Onceagain,aswiththecougar,hehadanurgetoacknowledgeherstrength,herendurance.Sheneededtoknowthatherespectedher,thathefeltherworthy.Theinstinctforlochinvyrrwasacompulsionasoldaswolves.Hewasdesperatetolookintothisdyingcaribou’seyes.Hewantedhertoknowthathevaluedherlife,hergifttohim.Ifthiscouldhappenthemeatwouldbemorrin,sanctified.Itwouldbewithgoodpurposethat thecaribouhaddied.Faolanknewnoneofthis;itwasonlyancientinstinctthatguidedhimasthecowlaydying.Therewasaflickeroflightintheoldcow’seyesasshelookeddirectlyinto

Faolan’s.He heard the crackle of the last breath in her brokenwindpipe. Ihavelivedalonglife,agoodlife.Ihavecalvedandrunwiththeherd.Iamreadytogo,toletgo.Mytimeisover.Itwasasifthetwoanimalsnoddedtoeachother,andthenthecariboudied.

CHAPTEREIGHTEENAFIRSTDRUMLYN

THERAVENSBEGANTOCIRCLEoverheadbeforethecaribouhadtakenherlastbreath.ItirritatedFaolan.Itwasnotselfishnessorhungerthatmadehimgrowlastwopairssettledonarockashortdistancefromthecarcass.Itwasnoteventhefactthathehadbeentheonetobringdownthecaribouandthey wanted to feast on his hard work. It was rather the notion of theseracketybirdswiththeirharshkraspeckingatthemeatofthisnobleanimal.Itdisturbed him deeply. There was still meat left and Faolan had more thansatiated his hunger, but the idea of the ravens sickened him.He decided totakethecarcasstoaplacewhereitwouldbesafefromscavengers.Hebegandraggingthebodybyitsantlersacrosstheflat,treelessplain.The

ravens followed andwhen he paused or rested theywould light down.ButFaolanwas a relentless sentry.He bared his teeth, revealing the long fangsthatthebirdshadoriginallycountedonforrippingopenthetoughhideofthecaribou.The ravens foundhisbehaviorbewildering.Normally,afterwolveshad their fill they left the rest for the birds. It waswhy ravenswere oftenknownaswolfbirds,fortheyfollowedthepacks.As Faolan hauled the body across the plain, an idea came to him. He

recalled the times when he and Thunderheart looked out onto the summernights,andthegrizzlytoldhimthestoriesofthestarpictures.Inparticular,herememberedthenightshehadtoldhimofUrsulana,thebearheaventowhichtheconstellationof theGreatBearpointedandwhereshewassure thathercub’s spirit hadgone. In theCaveBeforeTime,hehadbegun to think thattheremightbe a refuge for the spirit ofwolves aswell. It nowoccurred toFaolan thatperhaps therewasa starry refuge for the spiritsofcaribou.Thethoughtquickenedhispace.Abold raven swoopeddown toward thecaribou.Hewas still quitehigh,

however.Faolanwasincensedandleapedupandsnatchedthebirdrightoutof the air. The five other ravens were so stunned that they stalled in theirflightandbegantoplummettowardtheground.Neverhadtheyseenafour-legsoarsohigh.Faolanhadkilledhisraveninstantly.Theothersrecoveredfrom their near fatal plunges and flewoff.Thatwas the lastFaolan sawofthem.

It had been Faolan’s intention to drag the body of the caribou to the highbanks of the river, to a spot far from the fishing grounds frequented by

animals during the salmon spawning season, and far from the shallowcrossing points used by migrating herds. He knew that such places werefavored by predatory animals for bringing downmoose, caribou, deer, andmusk oxen. He was determined that no creature should touch these boneswhiletherewasstillmeatonthem.Hewouldfinisheatingwhathecould,andthenhewouldhidethebones.AtlastFaolanfoundagoodspothighaboveadeepplaceintheriver.The

calm surface water concealed treacherous currents, making it a precariousplaceformigratoryanimals tocross.Furthermore,hehadnotpickeduptheslightesttraceofscent.Foxfamilieswouldhavebeenfrightenedthattheirkitsmightfallofftheedge.Wolverinespreferreddensatthebottomofsteeprockslidesorattheverytopoftalusslopes.Theywereskillfulatfindingshelteredspaces between the rocks.Martens andweasels liked the deep forest. Thisplacewasperfect.Hewashungryagainfromthelaborofdraggingthecaribou.Soon,hehad

stripped a few bones clean. He had even scraped the hide clean and thencurled up on it to rest. Therewas amoment just before twilight when themoonroseintheeastlikeaghostofitselfjustasthesunsetinthewest.Thenthenightunfolded,firsttingeingtheairviolet.Thevioletdeepenedtopurpleandthenthepurpletoblackastheconstellationsclimbedinthesky.Faolantippedhisheadupandbegantohowl,callingtothestars.

Showmetheshelterintheskyforthenoblecaribou.Showmethestarrypathshemusttravel.Herwayisthewayofhonor—sheiscaribou.Iamwolf.Ilivebecauseshedied.Sheisgoodness,Iamhumblebeneaththissilvernight.Ibeg—showmetheway,andIshallputherbonestorest.

Faolanhowleduntil lateinthenight.Therewasnotabreathofwindand

whenhefirstspottedtheantlersofthecaribouconstellation,itwasnotinthesky but in the reflection of the moon-polished river. The surface quiveredslightly, like the spreading limbsof silver trees in a breeze.Faolan steppedclosertotheedgeandlookedstraightdown.Hispulseracedwithexcitementastheconstellationroseinthenightandhetracedthefamiliarprofileofthecaribou—startingwithitsantlers,thenitshead,dwarfedbytheloftyheightof

thosebranchinghorns.Hefollowedtheslightscoopoftheneckflowingbackto themeaty hump that rose above the shoulders. It took six stars tomakethoselargeconcavehooves.Faolanbegantohowlagain.

Follow!Follow!Followthestarcaribou.Followhertothespiritshelter.Findyourmotherwhodiedinthewinter,yourfatherfelledbythebear.Gatherwiththespiritherd—theywaitforyouinthestar-splashednight.

And when he finished howling, he looked down on the stripped bones

glisteninginthemoonlight.Anurgethrustupfromdeepinsidehim.Itwasanewkindofhunger,notforfood,notforblood,butsimplytognaw,tocreatesomethingbeautifulonthesegleamingbonesliketheimagesinscribedontherockwallsintheCaveBeforeTime.Thisoverpoweringurgewasonethatallgnawwolves, thosepupswhoalthoughabandonedhadsurvived, seemed topossess—a fierce compulsion to gnaw on stripped bones. Not all gnawwolves,however,perceivedsoclearlythepossibilityofthebeautytheycouldcreate,orkeptitsofirmlyintheirmind’seyeasFaolanseemedto.Hecouldenvisionpreciselywhathehadtodotomaketheseetchmarksintoapowerfuldesign.Theinstinctwasnotonlytognawbuttoinscribeonthebonesdesignsthat

weresometimesstoriesandsometimessimplyartwithnobeginning,middle,orend.IfagnawwolfwasselectedfortheWatchattheRingoftheSacredVolcanoes,thebonestheygnawedwerepiledontopofothersfromcenturiesbeforeandthemoundsthatformedwerecalleddrumlyns.ThewolvesoftheWatch perched on these drumlyns in their vigils at the Ring of the SacredVolcanoes.Faolanhadseensuchmoundsinthepaintinginthecave.Whetherheremembered themnowdidnotmatter.Hehadnevergnawedabone likethisbeforebuthe instinctivelyknewwhat todo.Forhewasfilledwith thisurge to gnaw a design, amessage for the star caribou. Andwith this urgecameayearningtobewithhisown,tofindwolves.Bythetimethedawnbroke,Faolanhadstartedhisfirstdrumlyn,thoughhe

didnotknow theword.Heperchedatop it andbegan tohowlat thedawn.The rising sunbrokeon thehorizon, fracturing the surfaceof the river intoshardsoflight—rose,burntorange,bloodred.TheriverglitteredfiercelyasFaolansanghiswildsong—asongoffarewell.

PARTTHREETHEBEYOND

CHAPTERNINETEENTHESKULLINTHEWOODS

FAOLANHADHOWLEDHISFAREWELLtothespiritofthecaribou.Hewascertain thespirithadfounditswayto theshelter justbeyondthestarrytipsof theconstellation’santlers.Hedidnot leavethedrumlyn immediatelybutlingeredforseveraldays,gnawingnewdesignsintheemptyspacesonathighboneorashoulderorrib.Hehadlearnedhowtousehisshearingteethdelicately, so that only the finest lines were inscribed. Had he heard thehowlingofotherwolveshewouldhavemovedontojointhem.Butheheardnone.However,hefeltcertain thathemusthavecrossedover theborderoftheOutermostintotheBeyond,andthewolvesherewouldbeliketheoneshehad heardwhen hewas at thewinter denwithThunderheart.But he neverheardany.Hehadmeticulouslyscentmarkedthesurroundingterritoryofthedrumlynsonoanimalswouldtrespass.Butcertainlyiftherehadbeenwolvesinthevicinityhewouldhaveheardthem.In addition to the absenceofwolves, therewerevery fewother animals.

Thisspotwherehehaderectedthedrumlynandwherehehadpassedmuchofthesummerseemedquite isolated.Whenhewent tohunthehadto travelafair distance if he wanted large animals like caribou. And he had gonehunting,addingthebonesofhispreytotheoriginalonesofthecow.Sonowthedrumlynrosetoafairlyrespectableheight.Itwashardtoleavethispeacefulplacethathadbecometheearthlypointof

departureforthecaribou,butasthesummerwanedandtheearthtiltedfartherawayfromthesun,thecaribouconstellationslidfartherdowninthewesternskyuntilfinallyonenight,onlythetipsoftheantlersroseabovethehorizon.Faolan knew that by the next evening the constellation would disappearcompletely. It was time to go. The days were shortening. Autumn wascoming.Heneededtofindawinterden.No, he thought. I need to find a pack of wolves. He recalled vividly the

paintingsonthewallsof theCaveBeforeTime.Hesowantedtobepartofsomethinglargerandsomethingbetterthanthoseroutsofoutclannerwolves.In theCaveBeforeTime,hehad seen twoconstellationsofwolves.One

wasthestarryoneontherockceiling.Theother“constellation”wasnotstarsbut the hunting and traveling formation ofwolves running together. In thatformationhehadsensedacommonfeeling,aspiritoffellowship.Itmadehimfeelallthemorelonely.Hehadwantedtorunwiththosewolves,tobepartofthat “constellation,” ever sincehehad first seen thepicture.Butwhat if he

wasrejected?At the same time hewanted to findThunderheart.Could he live in both

worlds—thatofhisbelovedgrizzlyandthatofthewolves?hewondered.ThethoughtofThunderheartdyingwasunimaginabletohim.Hecouldnotevenpermithimselftothinksuchathing.Forthisreason,whenhehadscannedtheskiesfortheconstellationofthecariboueachsummernighthewouldnotlethis eyes rest on theGreatBear.He knew his instinctswere selfish.But asmuch as he missed Thunderheart’s presence beside him in a den or outhuntingorfishing,itwasquiteanotherthingtoimaginehernotsharingthisearthwithhim.ThedistancebetweenhereandUrsulanawassimplytoogreat.Thunderheart had calledUrsulana “heaven,” but for Faolan, it felt like thedimworld.Faolan knew that he must leave this place now, before the horizon

swallowedthelaststartipsofthecaribouantlers.Sohebeganwalkingawayinthedirectionfromwhichtheriverflowed.Helookedbackonelasttimeatthemoundofbonesburnishedbythemoon’slight.He traveledaroundabigbend in the river.Thebendwasonehedidnot

rememberatall,buthesoonfoundagoodplacetocross.Uponclimbingupthesteepbankontheotherside,hesmelledafamiliarscentinthebreathoftheriver.Hebegantorun.Herecognizedthisodorandsawthewaterboilingwiththesilverybodiesoffishleapinginthemorningsun.ItwasthesalmonspawningrunandjustaheadwerethesamerapidswhereheandThunderhearthad stood catching fish after fish. He cringed now when he saw anothergrizzlyinthespot,standingwiththreecubs.Thecubsdidnotnoticehim,butthemotherdidandlookedathimwarily.Faolan’sheartseemedtoskipabeat.Hefeltastrangemixtureofdisappointmentandrelief.DisappointmentthatitwasnothisbelovedThunderheartbutalsorelief,forhecouldnothavebornethethoughtofThunderheartwithnewyoungones.Hewantednoothercubssleepingclosetothatgreatboomingheart.Thegrizzlygaveasoftsnarlofwarning.Faolanloweredhistailanddipped

his head to signal: Don’t worry. I will not harm your cubs. The bearunderstood perfectly. She had blinked because for just amoment the smallmovementoftheheadwassoessentiallybearthatitwashardtobelievethatthewolfwasnotonedespitehisappearance.It had been a long time since Faolan had tasted salmon, but desolation

chasedawayhishunger.HeyearnedforThunderheartmorethaneverbutwasglad to know that nowhewas truly back in theBeyond.The rapids of thesalmonrunconfirmedthis.ThisiswhereIbelong,hethought.IamawolfoftheBeyond.Buttherewaslittleconvictioninhisheartthataccompaniedthisthought.

He moved on through another day and two more nights. He began

intermittently to hear the distant howl ofwolves, aswelcome as theywereintimidating. He understood them, but they served to remind him of howdifferenthewas.Whenthegrizzlyatthesalmonrapidshadblinkedathim,hehadseentheconfusioninhereyes.Whatareyou?sheseemedtosay.Faolanhad toaskhimself thesamequestion.Hewasawolfofsorts,but

wouldotherwolvesaccepthim?Thefartherhetraveled, themoreuncertainhebecame.He saw signsof thedevastation that the earthquakehadwrought. Indeed

thecourseoftheriverseemedtohavebeenaltered,asmanynewcreeksranfromitwherehehadneverrememberedthembefore.Hesensed that the summerden thatheandThunderhearthad sharedhad

beenfloodedbyoneofthesecountlessnewcreeks,fortherewasnosignofit.The thicket of alders now stood inwater halfwayup the tree trunks.Therewasnosignoftheglacierliliesorthebluedriftsofirises.AndyettherewasafamiliarityaboutthewoodsthatmadehimachewiththosefirstmemoriesofThunderheart.Thewoodsbecamedenserbutwereriddledwithsmallstreamsandcreeks

thathadgurgledup since the earthquake.Faolanwas about to step into theshallows of a streamwhen the sunlight glinting off a polished black stonecaughthisattention.Heloweredhishead topoke itwithhismuzzle, forhethoughtitlookedpretty.Hequicklynoticedthattherewasaspiralingpatternalmostexactlyliketheoneonthepadofhisforepaw.Hestoppedandgrippeditinhisteethtopickitup,butcarefully,soasnottomarkit.Hedroppeditonthe bank and stared at it for a long time. There was an odd comfort indiscoveringthisdesign,suchapartofhim,inscribedonstone.Hegentlyplacedthestonebackintothestream,thenturnedandwalkedon.The sun began to sink, a cold blue light stealing through the forest and

strips of milky mist swirling around the dark pines. There was an eeriepalenesstothewoods,asifFaolanhadenteredaregionthatwasneitherearthnorsky.Hecouldfeelthegroundunderfootandyetwraithlikeswagsoffogwrapped the dark tree trunks so that they seemed to float. He proceededwarily,hisearsforward,histailslightlyraised,andhishacklesstraightupandbristling.Therewassomethingwhiteahead,whiter thantheswathsoffog.Blazing

white.At firsthesawonlyfragmentsof thiswhiteness.Asshapelessas thefogthatswirledaroundhim.Butashedrewcloser, thewholeofitrevealeditself, and he realized what it was—the skull of a majestic grizzly. Hestaggered briefly and then rushed toward it—the skull of his belovedThunderheart rose in the bluemilky light of the forest with amajesty thatmadeFaolandroptohisknees.Forlongminuteshestaredintotheemptysockets,hisowneyesthickwith

tears.Hedidnot seedeath, onlygrandeur in that skull of thegreat grizzly,

thatskullthathadbreathedlifeintohim.Hesawonlybeautyinthosebones.Thenhetippedhisheaduptothesky,nowindigoandsplatteredwithstars,andsearchedfor theGreatBear.Whenhe found theconstellation,he threwbackhis head andbegan to howl.Hehowledher toUrsulana.All night hehowledandwatchedthestarsandtheslidingspectacleofthebluenight.IntheCaveBeforeTime,Faolanhadseenthat timespiraledbackintoan

unimaginablemistwithnobeginningandnoperceivableend.Now,scanningthestarrypathtoUrsulana,hebegantorealizethattheearthonwhichhewasstandingwassimplyanotherstarinwhatmightbeaninfinityasvastastime.In all that time, in all the stars, Thunderheart and I came together for onemomentinthisnever-endingcycle.Thereareotherstars,otheruniverses,andsomuchtime,andyet…

Cycling,cyclingforeverbear,wolf,caribou.Whenhaditallstarted,wherewillitend?Weareallpartofone,fromsuchsimplebeginningsandyetallsodifferent.Yetone.Oneandagain,Thunderhearteternalnowandforever!

CHAPTERTWENTYANOWLLISTENS

GWYNNETH,AMASKEDOWL,TURNEDthetongsinthefire.Thiswasher thirdattempt tomakeametal replicaofawillow leaf.Therewasnot awillow leaf,norawillow tree,anywhere in theBeyond.And itwasnot thekindofitemforwhichtherewasmuchofademand.Roguesmithsmostlysettheir hammer and tongs to making practical articles—pots, kettles, battleclaws, and various weapons. But there had been a decline in the need forweapons since the end of theWar of theEmber.Her late father,Gwyndor,whohaddiedasaresultofwounds in thatwar,hadbeenahighlyregardedsmithspecializingindouble-actionbattleclaws.Gwynnethhadamoreartisticturnofmindandhadlearnedmuchofhercraftfromherauntie.Notherrealauntie,butaSnowyOwlwhorefusedtousehertalentsformilitarypurposes,and devoted herself almost entirely to artistic endeavors. It would haveperhapsservedtheSnowywelltohavemadeafewclawstokeeparoundherforge,forshehadbeenmurderedbyNyra,theviciousleaderofanempireofhellishowlsknownasthePureOnes.Gwynnethwouldhave takenoverher auntie’sold forge in the ruinsof a

walledgarden,butitfeltoddtoheraftertheSnowyhadbeenkilled.AlmostasiftheSnowywaslookingoverGwynneth’sshoulderseverytimeshetookupthetongs.Roguesmithswereknownfortheirsolitaryways.Theylikedlivingapart.

OnoccasiontheycametotheRingoftheSacredVolcanoestobarterforcoalsfromthevolcanoes.Andifaforestfirebrokeout,Roguesmithsmightsetuptemporaryforgesonitsfringes.Butforthemostpart,theysoughtoutdesolateplaces. Itwas unusual forRogue smiths to havemates, or children for thatmatter. Gwynneth never knew her mother, but her father had had a closerelationshipwiththeSnowyandwouldleavehisdaughterwithherforgreatstretchesoftime.And Gwynneth had grown to love them both, although each was very

different.When her father worried about her “going all artsy on him,” hewouldtakehertotheBeyond.Overtheyears,Gwyndorhaddevelopedaveryclose relationship with wolves. He had learned their ways and, mostimportant,hisearhadgrownfinelyattunedtotheirhowling.Hehadcometorealize thathisdaughter,Gwynneth,hadanevensharperearforwolfsongsandhaddecidedtoteachherallheknew.Shewasanaptpupil.Sheknewthepitchofeveryskreeleen,theleadhowler.Buttheskreeleenvarieddepending

on the situation. Whereas Gwyndor could only pick out the gist of themessage,Gwynnethcoulddeciphermuchmore.Shewasclosetofluentinthesongsofthewolves.Gwynnethwasinthemidstofherthirdattemptatthewillowleafwhenshe

heard theeerilybeautifulhowling.Shewithdrewthe tongs immediatelyandsetthemonthestonerest.Thesongwentstraighttohergizzard.Itwasasongofgrief,yetalsooneof

acceptance,beingsungbynoskreeleenshehadeverheard.Gwynnethdampedthefireinherforgeandputhertoolsaway.Shefought

anurgejusttotossthetoolsintoaheap,forshewasnearlydesperatetofindthe sourceof this song.But suchbehaviorwasunthinkable.Her father andauntiehadtaughtherthatasmithisonlyasgoodashertools.Rustytoolsledtorustyskillsandrustyskillsmadeforskart,whichwasanowlobscenitythatcoveredmanythings,includinginferiorproductsmadebypoorsmiths.ButitdidnottakeGwynnethlongtotidyup,andperchednowonthestone

restwherehertongshadbeen,shespreadherwingstotakeadvantageofthewarmdraftscomingupfromthesmolderingcoalsintheforge.Onthesecrispautumnnights,havingaboostfortakeofffromathermaldraftwasnothingtosniffat.Seconds later, she was skimming the treetops. Taking a bearing on the

secondstarintheGoldenTalons,sheveeredandflewacoursetwopointstothesouth.Thehowlsrosethroughthenight,afiligreeofsoundinscribingthewind.Gwynnethhadflownaleagueormorewhenshespottedtheyoungwolfinafunnelofmoonlight.Shealighteddeepinthebranchesofatreetolisten.ThoughGwynnethunderstoodthephrasesofthesong,somethingconfused

her.Frombehindascreenofpineneedles,shecouldseethatthewolf,amale,hadstationedhimselfbyalargeskullofagrizzly.Itwastothisgrizzlythatthewolfwas singingwith such passion.Butwhatwas themeaning of thatphrasethathehowled?“Weareallpartofone…”?Gwynnethlistenedcarefullyasthewolflaunchedintoasecondgwalyd:

MilkGivers,MilkGivers,doyoubothwalkthesky,climbtheladderstostarrycavesandwaitformetodie?Whenmytimecomestoleavewhereshallmyspiritwalk?ForamIwolforbear?Iknownotwheretostart.

When thewolf’showlingended,Gwynnethsawhimslide thesideofhis

faceintoapatchofearthnearthegrizzly’sskullandbegintorubhisheadand

his neck vigorously. Gwynneth recognized it as a scent roll, in which thewolvesannounceda territorialclaim.But thiswolfdidnotplanonhunting.Farfromit,especiallyifoneconsideredthekeeninglamentattheheartofhissong. By this time, the wolf was dashing about the skeletal remains androllingwherever he could, as close as he could to the bones. She began tosuspectthatthewolfhaddetectedperhapsasecondaroma.Andthenitcametoherinasuddenflash—twoMilkGivers.Twomothers.

CHAPTERTWENTY-ONEAFIRESIDECONVERSATION

“WEHAVEMUCHINCOMMON,”Gwynneth said, swoopingdown fromthetallpineandalightingarespectfuldistancefromtheskull.Faolanlookedup.HeheldabonefromwhathadbeenthepawofThunderheartinhisteethandstaredattheMaskedOwl.“Put thebonedown,dear, and followme.”Almostas soonasGwynneth

saidthewordssherealizedhererror.Faolanshookhisheadvigorously.“No,ofcoursenot.Yourmilkmother’sbone.Bringitwithyou,butfollow

me.”Shespreadherwingsandloftedherselfintotheair.Faolanlookedup.Whentheowlhadfirstappeared,hehadbeenconfused

byhis overwhelminggrief.But slowly he realized that an owl, possibly anowl fromtheGreatGa’HooleTree,hadactuallyspoken tohim.Heroseonwobblylegsandbegantofollowherflight.Faolanwasamazedathowquietshewasevenassheflappedherimmense

wings in takeoff. Somuch quieter than the ravens. Thiswas perhapswhatdrewhimtoher.Herquietness.Itsoothedhiminhisgrieving.Hewantedtobenearher.ItwasThunderheartwhohadfirsttoldhimoftheintelligentowlsofGa’Hoole.Tippinghisheadup,hewatched thedarksilhouetteof theMaskedOwl’s

wings printed against the full moon. He began to slip through the blueshadowsofthetreesandeveryfewpaceshewouldlifthisheaduptofollowthe owl’s flight against the sweep of the stars. It was not long before hepickedupthescentofsmokefromhersmolderingforge.

WhenhefirstsawthefireintheMaskedOwl’sforgehebackedaway.Hehadonlyseenfireonce,fromadistance,whenhewasfirst learningtofishwithThunderheart.Ithadbeenanimmenseforestfire.Thesmokehadturnedthedaytonight,andtheflames,likeredclaws,shotupasiftotearthesunfromthe sky. This fire was hissing and spitting sparks. There were cracklingsoundsaswellthatremindedhimofthesmallbonesofpreyhehadcaughtinhisjaws.Thecracklingnoisewaspunctuatedbyanoccasionalloudsnapandahiss.“Come,come,”theMaskedOwlsaid.“It’ssafe.Thefirewillnotleapfrom

myforge.Don’tworry.”Shetookouthertongs.Withaslightlyalarmingtwistofherhead,sheindicatedtoFaolanthatheshouldmakehimselfcomfortablenearthefirewithhisbone.

Suddenly, there were several new sounds, sounds he had never heardbefore.Theclankof the irontongs, thecracklingof thefire, thehuffof thewind-catcherclawsthattheMaskedOwlsqueezedandpointedattheembersinthefiretobringtheflamestolife.“Whatarethoseclaws?”askedFaolan,hisearstiltedtowardher.Gwynneth turnedaroundandchurredsoftly toherself.“These?Theseare

bellows. I’m a Rogue smith. A blacksmith. I craft things out of iron andmetals.”“Whatkindsofthings?”Faolanasked.“I’llshowyou.Butfirstweshouldintroduceourselves.”Gwynnethwanted

tohearthiswolfspeaksomemore.Hishowlinghadbeenunique,andsowashis speakingvoice.Therewas a curious roughness to it, notunlike the softtrillingburr of the clanwolves.Yet therewas somethingdifferent.Noone,however,wouldevermistakehimforanoutclanner.Hiswaysweresomewhatformal.He had a grace, a dignity that usually camewith being raised in apackwhereonewastaughttorespectrank,order,and,mostimportant,one’selders.Gwynnethhadnoticedthemalformedfrontpawimmediatelyandsurmised

thathehadbeencastout from thepackyethad survived.Sowherehadheacquiredthesequalities,thesemannersthatweresomuchapartofthewolfworld?ThetwoMilkGivers?Areference,evenanindirectone,totheseMilkGiverswouldperhapsopentheconversation.Thatcouldbeher“firststrike,”as they said in the parlance of Rogue smiths—the first strikewas the firstblowofthehammerwhenthemetalhadbeenheatedsufficiently.“My name is Gwynneth. I was named for my mother because she died

before Ihatched.Anotherowlhad to sit theegg.Shealsohelped raiseme.ShesometimescalledmeGwynnie.Andwhatisyourname?”Thewolfwas suddenly alert.He dropped the bone for the first time and

peeredhardattheowl.“Faolan.ShecalledmeFaolan.”Gwynnethdidnothavetoaskwho“she”

was.Itwasthegrizzlybear.Hemovedabitcloser,withhispawsstillonthebone.“Yourmotherdied?Anothertookcareofyou?”“Helped care for me and taught me the craft of smithing,” Gwynneth

replied.“Soyouhadafatherandasecondmother?”Faolanasked.“Yes,Isaidwehadalotincommon.”Faolancreptevenclosernowto the firewithhisbone.Hehadnever felt

thiskindofwarmthbefore.Thefireitselfwasalandscape.Theflamesdancedinawindoftheirown.Liketrees,theygrewoutofthebedofglowingcoalsthat were their earth. The snaps and crackles of the fire often wereaccompaniedbyexplosionsofstarrysparkles.Itwasnotjustalandscape,butaworld—anentireuniverse.

Ashestaredintothefire,Faolanbegantospeakslowlyinhisrough,liltingvoice.ItsoundedtoGwynnethasifhehadnotconversedinalongtime.Hisvoicescraped,creakedabitliketherustyhingestheMaskedOwlsometimespriedfromthedoorsoftheOthers’ruinstomeltdownforherfires.“I don’t knowwhomy fatherwas. I think I have amilkmemory ofmy

mother. Justher scent, that is all.But there ismore thanamilkmemoryofThunderheart.”“Thunderheart?”“Yes, she raisedme.” Faolan paused amoment and then began to speak

again,butnowitwasas if thehingebroke in two.Hisvoicecracked.“Sheleft…Idon’tknowwhy.”“Thunderheartwasabear,wasn’tshe?Agrizzly.”Faolandraggedhiseyesfromthefireandnodded.Somethingtouchedhim

deeply when Gwynneth spoke the grizzly’s name out loud. He had neverhearditspokenaloudbyanycreatureotherthanhimself.Hispawsrestedonthe bone and then he laid his head atop his paws and gazed at Gwynneth.“Sheleft.ThatwasherskullandnowIonlyhavethis…thisbone.”Helickedthebone.“ShewouldholdmeinherarmswhileInursed,holdmeclosewithherhugepawsandIcouldhearherboomingheart.”“AndsoyoucalledherThunderheart,”Gwynnethsaidquietly.“Yes.” He raised his head now. “Did your father leave you? Did your

secondmotheraswell?”“Myfatherdiedinwar.Mysecondmotherwasmurdered.”“Whatismurdered?”“Shewaskilledfornoreason—notpreyforfoodorforacause.”“Butshedidn’tleaveyou.Notyoursecondmotheroryourfather.Neither

oneofthemleftyou.”“AndIdon’tthinkeitheryourfirstmotherorThunderheartleftyou.”“Butmy firstmother did leaveme,”Faolan said stubbornly. “And Iwas

foundbyThunderheart.Ifithadn’tbeenforThunderheart—”Gwynnethinterrupted.“Youweretakenfromyourfirstmother.”“Taken!” Faolan, suddenly alert, raised his head. Every hair in his ruff

stoodout.“Faolan, I learned the craft of smithing from my second mother. But I

learned the ways of wolves, the wolves of the Beyond, from my father,Gwyndor.”“Tell me then. Tell me about the wolves and why I was taken,” Faolan

pleaded.Theburrinhisvoicethickened.HisgleaminggreeneyeswerefixedontheboneofThunderheart.AndsoGwynnethtoldhimabouttheObeaandhowwhenamalcadhwas

bornitwasrequiredbyancientwolflawstotakethepupandleaveittodie.Thatthemotherandthefatherweredrivenfromthepack.

The sky grewdarker, and in the folds of the night by theRogue smith’sfire,FaolanlistenedwhileGwynnethexplainedthewaysofthewolves.Ashelistened,hebegan tognawon theboneofThunderheart lightly, thedelicateetchingnoisesthreadingthroughGwynneth’swords.“Butifthatwolfpuplivesitmayrejointhepackasagnawwolf.”“Agnawwolf?What’sthat?”Gwynnethwaitedamomentbeforeansweringandcockedherheadtolook

atthelinesFaolanhadetchedonthebone.“Itiswhatyouhavebecome,butyourdesignsarebeyondyouryears,almostbetterthananyIhaveeverseen,evenatthedrumlynofHamish,theFengooftheWatch.”Whenshesaidthoselastwordstherewasafamiliarresonancetothem,as

ifFaolanhadheardthemsomewherebefore.Notheardthem!Seenthem!Herecalled the paintings on the cave walls where the five volcanoes weredepicted—thetoweringmounds, thedrumlynwithawolfperchedatopeachone.Itwasasifhehadnotjustseenthosepaintings,butlivedtheminsomedim,mistytime.“SoifIreturnIamtobecomeagnawwolf?”Gwynneth tipped her head straight up, then straight down. Faolan had

neverseenabirdoranyanimalabletomoveitsheadinthepeculiarwayanowldid.“Yes,”shereplied.“Andit’shard.”“ButyousayIamgoodatit.”“Thatwillmakeitharderforyou.”“Idon’tunderstand.”“They treatgnawwolvesespecially roughlywhen they first return.Other

youngwolveswillbejealous.Youneedtoproveyourself.”“Isn’tbeingabandoned,carriedaway,andexpectedtodie,roughenough?

Haven’t I proven enough already?” He paused and muttered somethingalmostunintelligibleinadeepreverberatingtonethatsoundedquitebearish.IndeeditwastheoldbearoaththatThunderheartoftengrowledwhenshewasirritated.Urskadamus,curseofarabidbear.Hesigheddeeply.“Somyfirstmother,myfirstMilkGiverdidnot leave

me.Iwastaken.Butwhataboutmysecond,Thunderheart?”Gwynneth blinked her dark eyes. “You don’tmean to say that you think

thatThunderheartabandonedyou?”“It’snot likewithwolvesandObeas.Noone takes things fromagrizzly

bear,”Faolanrepliedevenly.Gwynnethwascaughtupshortbytheyoungwolf’sresponse.Ofcourseit

was absolutely true.No creature in his or her rightmindwould try to takeanythingfromagrizzly.“Shedidnot leaveyou,Faolan.Youmuststopthatkindofthinkingrightnow.”“Then why did she go away?” Faolan shoved his ear forward, and his

hackles rose up. He was quivering with a new terror, a possibility he hadnever really thought of, or faced. The emptiness that had become anomnipresentspacebesidehimseemednowtoengulfhim.Italmostradiatedwithnot justhis loneliness,buthis fear thathewascompletelyand foreverunlovable.This terror came with its own shadow and the bright reflections of the

flames from Gwynneth’s fire, which had moments before filigreed thedarknesswithbrightorangelightrakedwithsparks,seemedtobequenched.Theveryairturneddarker.“Maybeshewent tofindyou.Tosearchforyou.Maybeshe thoughtyou

werelost.”Hecringedandpulledhislipsbacksotheyclearedhisteeth.Fearandshamecoursedthroughhim.Itallmadeaterriblekindofsensenow.Hehad found the winter den boring. He could not believe how muchThunderheartslept.Thethicknessofhersleeplaylikeaheavypeltontheairof the den. Sometimes he had to get out—to run, hunt. He loved leapingthroughthebigsoftdriftsofsnow.Andherememberedhowslowlyherheartbeat.Notthefamiliarboomingrhythm,butsofter,sluggish.Hecouldgetupand turnaround two times thensnugglebackdownagainstherbetween thebeats of that slow heart. And every once in a while she would wake up,groggyandslightlyconfused.Ifhehadbeenoutonarunwhenshewoke,shemighthavepanickedandgoneouttofindhim.Theshadowofthevoid,thatomnipresentspaceretreatedabit.Theterrorgrewslightlydimmer,theflamesoncemorethreadedtheblackwithglintsandwinksoflight.“Youare right.She left to search formebecause sometimes Iwouldget

boredinthewinterden.Shemusthaveforgottenthatshetoldmeitwasallrighttogooutandhuntsometimes.”“Thecoldsleepisthewayofbears.”“Yes,andsheknewIwasn’tabear.”Faolanpaused.“But…”Hecouldnot

finishthethought.“Butwhat,Faolan?”Gwynnethaskedgently.“ButwhatamI?”“Youareawolf.”“Acursedwolf.”“Notcursedforever.Youwillproveyourself.”Faolanhelduphissplayedfrontpaw.“ThisiswhyIamcursed.”“Iknow,yourpaw.Iseeit.”“No,youhavenotseenallofit.Takeacloserlook.”Faolanflippedhimself

onto his back and showed the bottom of his paw, the pad with the spiralmarking.HesawGwynnethflinch,andflippedinstantlybacktohisfeet.Iamworsethanmalcadh.Muchworse!ButGwynnethhoppedclosertohimandspreadherimmensewingoverhis

head, patting himgently as she combed a burr fromhis earwith her beak.

“Youareagoodwolf,Faolan.Youareagoodandhonorablewolf.Bothofyourmilkmotherswouldbeproudofyou.”HelookedintotheMaskedOwl’sduskyface.Hereyeswerelikegleaming

blue-blackriverstones.Theyweredarker thanThunderheart’s,buthecouldsee his reflection in them as he had once seen this face shining inThunderheart’s eyes. Faolan suddenly realized that this was his firstconversationwithanylivingcreaturesinceThunderheart.Itfeltgood.Itfeltcomfortable.He sensed that he could say anything to this owl and that shewouldunderstand.Thefirethathadscaredhimatfirstnowwrappedhiminitswarmth.

CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO“YOUMUSTGOTOTHE

WOLVES”

“MAYISTAYWITHYOU?ICANhunt. I cangetyoubigmeat.Not justthese littlevoles.”Faolannodded toward thebodiesof thesmall rodentshesawstashedunderarock.Gwynnethswiveledherheadslowly,awidearcthatwasalmostacomplete

circle.Butthemeaningofthegesturewasclear:No!“WhatdoIneedwithanythingbiggerthanavole?Iamsmallcomparedto

you.Ican’tgetoffthegroundifIweighmyselfdownwithtoomuchfood.”“ButIwanttostay.”“Youbelongwiththewolves.Youareawolf.”“Youdon’twantme.”Hesteppedback.“It’snotaquestionofmewantingyouornot.”Thiswasslightlyuntrue,but

it was difficult to explain to a social animal like a wolf. Owls, especiallyRogue smiths,were known for their solitaryways.So she simply repeated,“Youbelonginapack.”“Onthefringesofapack.”“Notalways.No.You’lllearn.Youwillgraduallyfindaplaceinthepack

andmostlikelywillbecomeamemberoftheWatchattheRingoftheSacredVolcanoes.”“I know nothing about theways ofwolves and I am sick of this Sacred

Volcanostuff,”Faolansnarled.“Whatdoyoumeansickofit?Youdon’tknowanythingaboutit.”Faolan lowered his head and shifted his gaze. It was his turn to not be

completely honest.Hehadnot toldGwynneth about theCaveBeforeTimeandnowhewasunsureifheeverwould.“IfonlyThunderheartwerehere.”“She’snot.She’sgoneon.”Gwynnethnowflippedherheadupso itwas

upside down and backward, and scanned the sky for the Great Bearconstellation.ItmadeFaolandizzyjusttoseethisextraordinarymove.“Howdoyoudothat?”“Dowhat?”“Thatthingwithyourhead.”“We—owls,thatis—haveextrabonesinourneck.Itallowsustospinand

twitchourheadseverywhichway.”Gwynnethbegantodemonstrate.

“Don’t!”Faolangrowled.“It’smakingmenauseous.”“Sorry!ButasIwassaying,Thunderheartisgonenow.Youcan’trecapture

that time.” Gwynneth spoke firmly, restoring her head to a fairly normalpositionwithhereyeslookingstraightatFaolan.Faolanhuffed.Hadn’thedonethatinthecave?Hehadgonebacktoatime

beforetime.Hethoughtofthosetwoowlsseparatedbytime:oneplunginginwhat appeared tobea suicidaldive into thecrater to retrieve theenigmaticember;theotherflyingthroughacurtainofflameswiththeemberinitsbeak.“ButIcan,”Faolansaidsoftly.Can’tI?hethought.“Youmustnotthinkoftimeasaquantity,aperiod,ameasure.Lookatthe

sky,”Gwynnethsaid.“Themoonhasnowslippedawaytoanothernight,intoanotherworld.Itwasnotthetimeitwasherethatyouremember,Faolan,butrather the luminescenceof the air, the blue shadows cast by the trees in itslight.Itwasnotthelengthofthetimebutthequalityofthemoon’slightthatyou felt and remember.”Gwynnethpaused.“It is thevalue, thequality thatliveson.”“But themoonwill be back tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and

Thunderheartwillnot.It—it…”Faolanstuttered.“It’snotfair.”Gwynnethpuffeduptotwicehersize.ShesteppedsoclosetoFaolanthat

herbeakalmosttouchedhisnose.“Youaretoofineawolftothinkinsuchasmall,selfish,stupidmanner!”Sheliftedonewingandwhackedhimonthehead.Hesprangback.“Nowyoumustgo.Gotothewolves.”“Iknownothingaboutthem!”“Youknowmorethanyouthink,”Gwynnethsaid,hervoicegentleagain.“CanIvisityou?”Shesighed.“Notuntilyoucomebackthegnawwolfofapack.”Thesoft

grayshadowsbeforethedawnwerethickening.“NowImustgotosleep.It’salmosttwixttime.”“Twixttime?What’sthat?”Gwynneth yawned sleepily. “Twixt time is that minute between the last

vanishing drop of the night and the first rosy drop of the dawn.We call ittwixttimeandifIdon’tgettosleepbeforethatrosydrop,it’sveryhardforme.”“Yousleepintheday?”Faolanwasstartled.“Um-hm.”Gwynnethnodded,hereyeshalfclosed.“Sucharethewaysof

owls.”Faolansighed.Theworldseemedverycomplicated.Owlssleptduringthe

day, bears through thewinter.Wouldwolves have a newway of sleeping?Whatdidheknowaboutanything?The fire was turning cold. The day growing lighter and emptier. Once

more,Faolanfeltadesperatedesiretorecapturetime.MaybeGwynnethwasright.Timecouldnotexactlybemeasured,not thatwarmtimehehadspent

withherinacocoonspunoffirelightandstarshine,ofthecracklesandhissastheflamesdancedintheirownhotwind.Heheavedhimselfupand,with theboneofThunderheart inhis jaws,he

begantowalkaway.Neverhadhefeltsolonely.

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREEINSPIRATION

AFTER MANY HOURS OF SLEEP, Gwynneth felt the world growingdarker.Tweentimewasapproaching.Thebrightshadowsthatdancedontheinsideofhereyelidswerebeginningtoturnaduskyviolet.Andalthoughshestill slept, something stirred in her, a gentle alert that the darkness all owlslovedwas approaching.Thoughher body remainedmotionless in thenicheacross from her forge, a part of her began to rise in a dream flight. Not afeather moved, and yet a whisper of wind lofted her toward that borderbetweensleepingandwaking.Then,preciselyatthemomentoftruetwilightwhen the sun dropped beneath the horizon, Gwynneth woke up. Her firstthoughtwasHashegone?She peered out from the stone niche and then stepped into the evening,

spinningherheadalmostcompletelyaround.Therewasnosignofhim.Shefeltamixtureofeaseandsadness.Shewasrelievedtobealoneagain,butshehad toadmit that shehad found theyoungwolf’scompanyapleasure.Thewolf was companionable and intriguing, and certainly the mark on thesplayed pawwas puzzling. The thought of it brought a little twitch to hergizzard.Gwynnethreflectedforseveralmomentsaboutthedesignonthepawand

thenwithonetalontried todrawthatdesignin theharddirtnearherforge.Shewonderedwhat the significancewas of those spiraling lines. But evenmoreunfathomabletoGwynnethwashershockuponseeingthespiral,likeabolt of lightning that seemed to flash through her gizzard. Why? Whatpossiblemeaningcouldithaveforher?Shepokedatthefireabitandthenpickedupthemisshapenmetalthatshe

was trying to forge into a willow leaf. But those swirling lines filled hermind’seyeand soon she realized that theelongatedovalof thewillow leafwasbeingstretchedintoanothershape.Shehadnotbeenawarethatshehadbeenslowlytwirlingthetongsassheheldthepieceinthefiretoheatit.Ithadjust seemed a comforting motion, almost hypnotic, as her mind hadconsidered the pattern on Faolan’s paw. The hunk of metal that had beenroughlytheshapeofaleafassumedaconicalshape,andthen,astheRoguesmithacceleratedthetwirlingmotionofthetongs,twistsbegantoripplefromthepointoftheconetowardthebase.Quickly,Gwynnethdrewthemoltenformoutofthefireandbegantotap

the indentations between the rippling twistswith her smallest hammer. She

becamemoreandmoreexcitedasshesawwhatwashappening.Itwasasifshedidn’tevenhavetothink,asifhertalonshadadirectconnectiontohergizzard. She worked ceaselessly, with a deeper concentration than she hadever experienced. Fluidly, she moved from one task to another as anextraordinaryobjectbegan toemerge.Shehad toadjust theheatof the fireconstantlybyeitherblowingmoreair into itwithbellowsordamping itbyshovelingdirtontop.Aftereveryfewblowsofthehammer,sheplungedtheobjectintoatubofwaterandtheninstantlybackintothefiresothatthemetalwould anneal properly. The rhythms of cooling and reheating for such adelicateobjectwerecomplicated.Ifnotdoneproperly,theinternalstressesofthemetalwouldcausetheobjecttobreak.Butfinallythepiecewasfinished.Sheheld itup,stillglowingcherryred—theonly light in thefoggynight

asidefromtheforgefire.Sheblinked,lookingatthespiralingcoilasitcooledinthemistyevening.Itwasathree-dimensionalreplicaofthespinninglineson Faolan’s footpad. “How did I do this?” shewhispered in amazement. Itwasthemostintricatepieceshehadevermade.She churred softly to herself, forGwynneth knew shewould have never

daredtoattemptsuchafeatifshehadknownwhatshewasdoing,ifshehadplanneditasshehadplannedthewillowleaf.Thiswasahundredtimesmorechallenging than the leaf. How in the name of Glaux did I do this? shewondered.Andwhy?Shenowfeltanurgetosearchforthewolf,totrytopickuphistracks.Not

that she intended tomeet upwith him, but shewas eager to see if he hadheededheradviceandsoughtoutthewolvesoftheBeyond.The weather was coming in from the west. The stars and moon were

obliteratedbehindwoollycloudsandathickeningfog.Nightslikethesewereoften used by owls in covert tracking operations, as they could concealthemselvesinthedensecloudcoverandtrackbysoundalone.MaskedOwlsweremembersoftheBarnOwlfamily,aspeciesrenowned

foritsauditoryskills.ABarnOwl’searslitswereplacedoneithersideofitshead,onehigherthantheother.Thisunevensetoftheearshelpedtheowlstocapture sound better. But of additional value, the edges of the owls’ facialdiskshadmusclesthatallowedthemtoexpandtheirsurfaces.Thishelpedtheowlsscoopupanysoundsandguidethemtotheirears.ItwasnotlongbeforeGwynnethfoundthesoundshehadbeensearching

for—the footfalls of Faolan. He had a distinctive rhythm because of themalformation of that forward paw. The spiral pattern in that paw wasn’tengraveddeeplyenoughtoleaveaprintexceptperhapsinveryfreshmud,butGwynneththoughtshecouldalmosthearasoundprintfromthespiral.Sheknewexactlywherehewasnow.Thewolfwasclawinghiswayupthe

rockyscrabbleofBentWingRidge.Good! she thought.He’s smack in themiddle of theMacAngus territory.

She suspected he had been born into the MacDuncan clan. But it didn’tmatter.AngusMacAnguswouldseethathegotbacktotheMacDuncans, ifthatwashisclan.ButneveraMacHeath,GlauxforbidheshouldbeaMacHeath!

CHAPTERTWENTY-FOURTHERIDGE

THEOWLSCALLEDTHERIDGETHEBentWingbecause the twopartsof it joined at an odd angle to form an off-kilter wingspread. The wolvescalledtheridgeCrookedBackandthehighestpartofittheycalledtheSpine.OnthefirstmorningafterFaolanhadleftGwynneth,hehadpickedupthe

wetodorofthecaribou.Andalmostimmediatelyheheardthewolvesbegintohowl.Helistenedcarefullytowhatheguessedmustbetheskreeleen, theleadhowler,announcingthatmeatwasnearing.Gwynnethhadtoldhimaboutskreeleens.Sheexplainedhowsomeskreeleensonlyhowledaboutmattersofpreyandhunting,whileothersdevotedtheirhowlingtorelayinginformationabout pack location back to the clan.Gwynneth had said that although sheunderstood the wolves’ howling generally, she never knew the precisemeaningofthemessage.ButFaolanunderstoodexactlywhat thisskreeleenwascommunicating. It

was thearrivalof a largeherd from thenorthwest. Itwas travelingat tock-tockpace.Tock-tockwasaslowbutsteadyspeedinwhichtheclickingofthecaribous’ tendonswasstilldistinct,notablurofsoundaswhen thecaribouranveryfast.Itwasthetock-tockspeedthatcaribouusedforlongdistances.Faolancouldheartherewereseveralnewcalves,ahalfdozenelderlycaribou,atleastthreeyoungbucks,andoneyoungcow.Itwasnot long after the skreeleen’smessage that the first of the caribou

herdcame intoview.Faolan spotted fourwolves lopingalmost lazilyalongthe edges of the herd. He marveled that the herd had not panicked at thewolves’presence.Perhaps thewolveswere feigningdisinterest.Faolanwasstill high in the rimrock. He began to weave through the shadows as hemonitoredthewolveswatchingthecaribou.Henoticedthefewsubtlesignalspassamongthesefourwolves—ayelp,aflickeringofears,aheadtoss.Soon,two of the wolves peeled away from the herd. It wasn’t long before theyreturnedwith the rest of the pack.The caribou immediately increased theirspeed.AndthenthescenebecameanexactreplicaofwhatFaolanhadstudiedso closely on the rockwalls in theCaveBeforeTime. Four females beganpressing in on the herd, nipping at the flanks of the caribou on the outsideedges.Swiftly,theherdsplit.Thefemalewolvesinfrontoftheformationofthe

packbegantobeardownontwoelderlybucks.Faolanwatcheditall.Eightfemalesnippedatonebuck’sheels,tradingoffinalternatespurtsofspeedto

conserve theirownenergy,yetkeep thecariboupressed to the limitsofhisownendurance.Faolanhadbroughtdownacaribouusinghisown ingenuityandwhathe

hadrememberedfromthecavepaintings.Buthehadbeenalone.Therewasan incomparable beauty to what he saw now: the pack working together,smoothly,flawlessly.Thesplendorofitcalledtohim.Hedidnotknowit,butthewolveshadawordforwhatFaolanwasseeing:hwlyn,spiritofthepack.Faolancravedthatwhichhecouldnotname.

Faolanwatched thewolvesforseveraldaysafter that firstmorning.For themostpart,hekepttotheridge,conductinghissurveillancewithextraordinarycaution.Hestayeddownwindofthewolves.The ridge ran foragreatdistanceaboveavalley thatwasa thoroughfare

formany clans ofwolves. It seemed to Faolan that normal territorial ruleswere not observed here. There were practically no scent markings, whichmustmeanthatitwasopenhuntingtoallclans.Hespottedsomethingandcreptdowncloser. Itwas the first time thathe

hadseenapackwithwhathethoughtmightbeagnawwolf.Hewantedtowatchcarefullyandseeexactlywhatthismeant.Gwynneth

had said a gnawwolf’s time in the packwas hard. Thewolf had to proveitself.Thepackhadbroughtdownamoose justbeforehespotted them.Faolan

watched closely as two members, a she-wolf and a male, approached thecarcassslowly,almost reverently,and thensank to theirkneesandbegan totearat thebellyand theflanks, the tenderestpartsof theanimal.After theyhadeatenforabit,themaleraisedhisheadandnoddedtowardfourothersofthe pack who now walked toward the carcass. The gnaw wolf, a smallyellowishwolf,hungbehind.Andnotonlydiditstayback,oneoftheotherwolvesgaveitasharpheadbuttandanipthatsentthegnawwolfyowling.Theshe-wolfwhohadeatenfirstracedovertothegnawwolf,peelingbackher lips in a ferocious low growl. The gnawwolf flattened himself on theground,rollingbackhiseyesuntilthewhitesshonelikethegauzyshadowsoftwomoonsinthedaylight.Heyelpedandwhinedpitifully.Theotherwolvesateandate.Thegnawwolfbegan tocreepabitcloser,

alwaysslitheringforwardonhisbelly.Ifhegottooclose,awolfbrokeawayfromitsgorgingandchargedthegnawwolf,snarling.Willheevergettoeat?Faolanwondered.Howlongmusthewait?Butwhilethewolves’treatmentofthegnawwolfwasharsh,theydidnot

seem vicious like the wolves of the Outermost. There seemed to be somegreater purpose to their actions.But itwas nonethelessmysterious. Finally,when thepackwolveshadeaten their fill, a silent signalwasgivenand thegnawwolfapproached.Therewashardlyashredofmeat lefton themoose

carcass.Theshe-wolfwhohadeatenfirsttrotteduptowherethegnawwolfwas trying to salvage a bloody tendril. She gave him a soft head butt anddisgorgedapileofsteamingmooseflesh.Thegnawwolfgroveled,mewled,andwhinedhisgratitude.ToFaolan,thegrovelingwasthemostrevoltingpartofitall.

Not every pack had a gnaw wolf, which seemed fortunate to Faolan afterwitnessingthetreatmentof thesmallyellowishwolf.Hesawsimilarscenesoverthenextfewdays.Itwashardforhimtoreconcileormakesenseofthegnaw wolves’ treatment with what Gwynneth had told him of the exaltedstatustheycouldattainwhentheybecamemembersoftheWatchattheRingoftheSacredVolcanoes.Theyseemedtobeutterlydespisedbytheothersinthepack.Faolanaskedhimselfthesamequestionoverandover.Whatkindoflifeam

Igoing to?Tobealoneorbe reviled, is therenootherchoice?Hedidnotwanttobepartofapackifitwasonlytobetheobjectoftheircruelty.Andyethehadseensomethingelsewhenhehadobservedthosewolveshunting.Itwas thematchlesssplendorofapackworking together, the inexpressible,amazing unity for which there was a single word, hwlyn, that Faolan hadnever heard but the meaning of which he sensed. It was the lure of thatunnamable spirit of hwlyn that would finally draw Faolan down from theridge.Andyetsomethingalwaysstoppedhimjustashewasabouttobounddownthesteepslopeoftheridgeandrevealhimselftoapassingpack.Faolanhadampleopportunitytoobservethedifferentpacksthatcomposed

thevariousclans.Onepackseemedabout thesameas theother.Hehadnorealpreference,excepthewouldprefer toavoidoneclan.Theyseemed theclosesttothewolvesoftheOutermost.Thepackleadersofthisclandidnotconfinetheirabusetothegnawwolves,butseemedtofightfrequentlyamongthemselves.TheMacHeathswereespeciallyvicioustowardthefemales,andhedidnotwanttojointhem.Therewasanotherclanthathenoticedwasmostlyfemales,ledbytheonly

femalechieftainhehadobservedsofar.Shewasatawnygolden-coloredwolfofsomeyears.HernamewasNamara,ashehadlearnedthroughthehowlingsoftheskreeleens.The territory Faolan traversed was dominated by theMacAngus clan. It

wastheMacAngusclanwhoanimatedforFaolanthesceneshehadobservedinthepaintingsfromtheCaveBeforeTime.HehadseenmembersofvariousMacAnguspackseversincehehadarrivedontheridgeandbecauseofthishehad stayed high near the rimrock that afforded a dense fringe of jaggedshadows.He had quickly learned how to thread his way through the shadows to

conceal himself. It didn’t take him long to learnwhat he thought of as the

rhythmofshadows.Itwasinthemorningsandtheeveningsthattheshadowsofthesunwerethelongest.Thiswasconvenientbecauseitwasmiddaywhenthewolvesoftenrested.Inhistimehauntingtheshadows,Faolanfeltasifhewerestraddlingtwo

worldswithpaws in each. Inoneworld, hewason the edgeof a beautifuldream, part of that painted pack on the cave walls, a fleet member of theflowing line of wolves. In the other world, the unpainted one he observedfromthespineoftheridge,hewasayounggnawwolfwaitingpatientlyatthefaredgeof thepackforhis turn toeat. It seemedgrosslyunfair, forhehadseenthatlittlewolfrundespitehistwistedleg,seenitscurryaroundtoblockthecaribou’swaywhen it tried toheadoff inanotherdirection.Andyethehadtosatisfyhimselfonmerescraps.Butthiswasthewayoftheclans.Theseasonofautumnstormshadarrived.Onnightswhentheweatherwas

mostmiserablehedared togocloser.Therewere torrentialdownpours,andwhen the skywas splinteredwith thunder and lightning, thewolveswouldgatherincavesandaskreeleenwould“readtheskyfire.”One eveningwhen thunderbolts fractured the sky, Faolan dared to come

closer than he ever had before. The lightning skreeleen told a story of achieftain from the timeof theLongColdwhohadgrownold and toothlesswith age and lost his hearing, and whose eyesight had dimmed. In thetraditionofoldwolves,hehadgoneouttoaremoteplacetobeginthestepsofcleavehwlyn,theactofseparatingfromhisclan,hispack,andfinallyhisownbody. He had felt the marvelous sensation of slipping free from his pelt,becomingnothingmore thanasoftmist.He lookedoverhisshoulderathispelt glistening in themoonlight.His bones lay silent and cold, and hewasbemused to realizehowlittle theymattered tohim.Hesprangforwardwiththeenergyofapup,leapingforthefirstrungsinthestarladdertothespirittrail leading to the Cave of Souls at the far point of the Great Wolfconstellation.Hehadmadeithalfwayupthestarladderwhentheskiesbegantorumble.

Therewasasharpcrack.Ahotwhitelineflaredandtheskysplitintwo.Thestar laddershookand theoldchieftain felthimself falling…falling…falling.He pawed the airwith his claws, trying to cling to the star ladder.But theladder had disappeared. There were no stars, only the storm-shatteredblackness of the night branded with slivers of lightning. The sound wasdeafening and the world too bright. How can this be? thought the oldchieftain.Iamdeafalreadyandnearlyblind!Whenthechieftainlookedabout,therewasnotatraceofhisoldpeltorhis

bones.He lookeddown.Hispawswerenotmisty,butplanted firmly in themud.Heliftedoneandstaredinwonderathispawprintinthemud.Iamnotold,butyoung.IamhereonearthandnotintheCaveofSouls.Mytimehasnotcome.

Andthenfromthecavewherethepackwashunkereddowncameachorusofhowlsinresponsetotheskreeleen.“And that is why,” the pack howled, “our chieftains wear pelts and

necklacesofbonesinhonorofthegreatchieftainFengo,wholedusfromtheLongCold.ForthatwasthereasonFengolivedagain.”

Throughtheboltsofthunderourhistoryisread.Athresholdbetweentwolands,thelivingandthedead.Forsakethestarryladder,thecaveofoursouls,Bringpeltandbonetogether.Theworkisnotyetdone,heedthecallofFengotowardthesettingsun.

The song of the wolves stirred something deep and mysterious within

Faolan. He understood the words of the song, but there was somethingbeyond the simplemeaning that eluded him.When the song ended he hadturned to leave.But thewind blewwhisperings from the cave toward him.Thepacksoundedfrightened.“Dangerous.”“Anenemy’scoming.”“Stranger.Beware.”Whataretheyscaredof?Faolanwondered.Theyareastrongpack.Safein

thecave,heavywithfreshmeat.Buthedidnotstayaroundtofindout.

CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVEMOONROTANDDOOM

THE RAINS HAD STOPPED FOR several hours when, after a long trek,Angus MacAngus, the clan chief of the MacAnguses, arrived at the cavewherethepackofthewesternscreehadspentthenightofthestorm.Hehadcomeinresponsetotheskreeleen’showling.Thereweremanyinterpretationsthatonecouldbringtotheceilidhfyre,ortheskydanceoffire,asthewolvescalledlightning.Itwasdisturbingthattheskreeleensawthestoryofthewolfwhodidnotdie,foritusuallypresagedmisfortune.Thechieftainhadnotwornhisceremonialrobesnorhisnecklaceofbones.

Hedidnotwanttomakeafuss.Itwouldalarmthepackunnecessarilyifhehadappearedintheelaborategarmentsusuallyworninthegadderheal.Theywould think he found the situation so serious that they would all besummoned for agadder. Thegadderheal was the ceremonial cave of eachclanwherethegravestofmatterswerediscussed.Theskreeleencameouttogreethim.Shewasahandsomewolf,hersilvery

pelt glinting darker underneath. She lowered herself immediately to theground,scrapingherbellyandgrindingthesideofherfaceintothedirt.Herearswerelaidflatandherblacklipsdrawnbackinaclassicgestureoftotalsubmissiontoherclanchief.“Nofire,Aislinn?”“No,thedancedidnotcastasparktotheground.”There were certain rules that governed conversation between the clan

chieftain and the skreeleen who interpreted the ceilidh fyre. Although thechieftainwasofhigherrankthantheskreeleen,hewasnotpermittedtodoubther howled testimony. He was only allowed to ask for concrete signs orevidence that might support the grim possibility that the ceilidh fyresuggested.Eventhoughthestoryofthewolfwhofellfromthestarladderwasultimatelyaheroicone,itinvolvedmuchsadnessanddeath.Afireignitedbyathunderboltorevenjustascorchedrockwouldbeconsideredmostdire,asignalofan imminentcalamity.Thechieftainsniffed, trying topickupanytelltale scent of ash or fire. He widened his circle. The pack watched himcarefully. A sudden shift in the wind brought with it a new scent. AngusMacAnguscrinkledhisbrowandsniffedsomething.“Anybearsaroundhere?”heasked.“No,never,”repliedahigh-rankingwolf.“Theynevercomethisfarfrom

theriver.”

“I don’t understand. I smell bear, but wolf, too. No wolf from here,though.”“Yousmelltwoscentstogether?”askedtheskreeleen.“Yes,oddlymingled.”“Asiftheyweretravelingtogether?Walkingsidebyside?”AngusMacAngusstoppedinhistracksandpeereddownatastrangepaw

print.Hishacklesrosestiffly,andheshovedhisearsforward.Sothiswasthemisfortuneforetoldintheceilidhfyre!Thetoepadsofthestrangepawprintwerespreadwidely,splayed.Itwasthepawprintofawolfwiththefoaming-mouthdisease.Thesicknesswouldend indeath.Butmadnesspreceded thedeath and if thewolf encountered any other creature and bit it, that animalwouldgomadanddie,too.Thebearscentmadesensenow.Itwasagrizzlysickwiththedisease,who

hadattackedandinfectedthewolf.Mostlikelythegrizzlywasdeadbynow,butthewolfprintswerefresh.Somethingmustbedone.AngusMacAngusturnedandbegantohowlintothesummermorning,the

shadowofthepreviousnight’smoonsailingoverhead.Moonrot!Anillomenespeciallywhencoupledwiththemeaningoftheskreeleen’showlingandthesplayedpawprint.Angusknewhemustalerttheotherclansofthedanger.Hemustsummon

all the packs of the MacAngus clan and those of their neighbors, theMacDuncans, for a gadderheal. The word must be spread from theMacAngusestotheMacDuncans,fromtheMacNamarastotheMacDuffsandeven to the loathsomeMacHeaths.For thisdisease could spread faster thananyhowling. Itmight alreadybe too late.Thepackmightbedoomed.Theclan might be doomed. Indeed, all the wolves of the Beyond could beannihilated.

And so the callwent out, summoning the chieftains from the three nearestclans to a meeting in the MacAngus gadderheal. In the feeble trickle ofmoonlight, the chieftainsmade an eerie sight. Their own bodies seemed tohave dissolved into wraithlike apparitions. Bedecked with headdresses andnecklacesof gnawedbones, their shouldersweredraped in cloaks from thepelts of animals, the ceremonial regalia required for meetings in thegadderheal. A low ground fog obscured their legs so the wolf chieftainsappeared to float across the landscape, their motion accompanied by theclinkingofthegnawedbones.Once inside the MacAngus gadderheal they paid obeisance to Angus

MacAngus, lowering themselves until their bellies were flat against theground.Althoughtheywerechieftains,traditionrequiredthatwhencalledtothegadderhealofanotherchieftain,thevisitormustacknowledgethatclan’ssupremacy.DuncanMacDuncan, theeldestof thechieftains,begantolower

himselfpainfullyonarthriticlegs.“Enough,Duncan,”Angussaidsoftly.Hethenquicklyturnedtotheothers.

“I have summoned you here because last night our skreeleen howled thegwalydsofthefirstFengo.”Tensionsizzledinthecavebeneaththecracklingof theflamesinthefire

pit.AngusMacAngushuffedandcontinued,“AndthismorningIdiscovereda

splayedpawprintintheshadowofmoonrot.”Loudgaspswerefollowedbymutterings.“Terrible…terrible.”“Ithasbeensolongsincethefoaming-mouthdiseasecamehere.”“Not long enough,”DuncanMacDuncan growled. “Andwe are far from

anycolliersorRoguesmiths,”headded,staringintothefirepit.Thewolves,unliketheowlsofGa’Hoole,hadnoskillswithfire.Theonlyfirestheyusedwere in theirgadderheals.Theybarteredkill shares ofmeat for coals fromRoguesmithsandcolliers.Therewas,however,oneotheruseforthecoalsintheir pits, and thatwas to kill any animal afflictedwith the foaming-mouthdiseasebydrivingitintotheflamesofalargefiretrap.Thefirsttimetheyhadusedthisstrategyithadbeeneasiertomakethefire,forthediseasedwolfhadstaggeredintotheregionoftheSacredVolcanoeswherehotcoalsandemberswereplentiful.Butnowtheywereavastdistancefromanysuchresource.“ThereisalwaystheSarkoftheSlough,”DuffinMacDuffsaidquietly.Achillseemedtopassthroughtheairatthementionofthestrangewolf.“Alastresort,”DrummondMacNabwhispered.“Isthereanychoice?”AngusMcAngusasked.“Falling star ladders, moon rot, doom, and the Sark of the Slough,”

MacDuncan muttered in his leathery voice. “I’d say not. No choice. Nochoiceatall.”

CHAPTERTWENTY-SIXTHESARKOFTHESLOUGH

THEWOLVESOFTHEBEYOND,alwaysconcernedwithorder,believedthatthesystemofrankandpositionthatprevailedonearthcorrespondedtoasuperioroneoftheheavens.Todisregard,upset,oraffrontthisrankingcouldbreedchaosintheworldofwolves.TherewasadesigntoallsetbyLupus,theheavenlyspiritwhoglitteredintheconstellationoftheGreatWolf.Lupushadsetthedesign,anditmustbefollowed.Thegnaw-bonenecklacesthatthewolfchieftainsworewerenotsimplya

symboloftheiroffice,butasymboloftheGreatChainthatlinkedthewolvesto theheavensandreflectedeverything—soil,water, rock,air,andfire.Thewolvesdividedlivingthingsintotwoclasses:wolvesandotheranimals.Butwithin the classes therewere other links in the chain extendingdown fromLupus.ThisGreatChainwasfirstdescribedinthegwalydsoftheearlygnaw-bones,indescendingorder:

LupusStar wolves (the spirits of deadwolves who have traveled to the

CaveofSouls)AirCeilidhfyre(lightning)Chieftains(clanleaders)Lords(packleaders)SkreeleensByrrgisleadersCaptainsLieutenantsSublieutenantsCorporalsPackersGnawwolvesUnrankedObeasOwlsOtherfour-leggedanimalsOtherbirds,exceptingowlsPlantsEarthFire

WaterRockSoil

This order had been inscribed on gnaw-bones from time immemorial. It

was,indeed,thefirstexercisethatyounggnawwolveswereputtoaftertheirreturn to a pack. Theywere required to spend endless hours on repeatedlygnawing the design of the Great Chain of the cosmic order that ruled thewolves of theBeyond.Wolves of theOutermost had flouted this order andhad descended into chaos and discord. Even their howling reflected thedissonanceoftheirlives.But there was one creature who had not precisely flouted the order, yet

daredtoexploreelementshigherthansheontheGreatChain.Thatwolfwasthe Sark of the Slough. She had become familiar with fire in a way thatseemed to defy the order of things, and somehow neither commotion norchaoshadensued.Shewascalledawitch,oraSark,foritwasbelievedthatshehadspecialpowers.ShelivedinamarshyregionoftheBeyondcalledtheSlough.There, in amany-chambered cavern, she pursued experimentswithwhatshecalledmaterialsofthenaturalworld.That,intheeyesofthewolvesoftheBeyond,wasthefirstinsult.Firewas

notofthenaturalworld.Itwasfromaboveandtheonlycreatureswhomightconsideritpartoftheirworldwereowls,fortheywerealsoofair.Of thewolves,only theSarkof theSloughhadsetherself to learnabout

fire.However,assoonasshehadlearnedtherudimentsofember,coal,flame,and fire, she had kept herself apart from the owls. She was reclusive bynature.Noonewas surewhere she had come from, nor did they knowherclanties.Therewere,ofcourse,rumors.Somesaidthatshehadbeenbornsougly,

no wolf would mate with her. Considered barren, she might have beenappointedObea,butshehadrefused.ItwasthenshehadgoneofftopursueherSarkishpracticesandpokehersnoutintomattersthatwereunnaturalforawolf.Otherssaidthatshehadbeenbornbeautiful,sobeautifulthatherownmother,ashe-wolfwithSarkishpowers,hadcastaspelluponherinafitofjealousythatresultedinherhideousface.Herfacewasnotpretty,blightedbyoneeyethatseemedtoskitterabitto

theside.Andher furwaswild,as ifnot justherhacklesbutherentirepeltwas in a constant state of alarm. If one could look closely at her eyes—ifindeedthatoneeyewasnotsoskittish—onewouldseethathereyeswerenotthesamecolor.OnewasthetruegreenofthewolvesoftheBeyond,buttherovingeyewasambercolored,liketheamberofanowl’seyes.Shewas,inshort,afreakishsortofcreature.Ofcourse,ifshehadhadthese

defects at birth she would have been deemed amalcadh and been carried

away by an Obea to be abandoned, and had she survived she would havebecomeagnawwolf.ButshewasnoneoftheseandthusitwasdecidedthatshemustbeaSark.TheSarkoftenmuttered toherselfas shepursuedherexperiments inher

cave.She thought theotherwolves’attitudes towardhera“grandsilliness.”Therewasnothingreallywitchyabouther.Shedidnothavepowers.Shehadideas.Shedidnotdealinevilcharms.Therewasnotanevilboneinherbody,not

anevilthoughtinherbrain.Intruth,shewasarathergentlewolf,andperhapshergreatestregretinlifewasnotthatshehadnevermated,butthatshecouldnot perform lochinvyrr as tidily as she might have liked because of herskittering eye. It was hard to look dying prey in the eye and acknowledgetheirlivesasworthywhenhereyeballwasjumpingaboutallovertheplace.ItwouldhavebeenashocktotheotherwolvesthattheSarkhadanysuch

emotions.The wolves needed a Sark, because if there was one thing that fed the

imagination of wolves as much as meat, it was the notion of strange,inexplicablepowers.Theyweren’t stupid, norwere theymean-spirited.Butthey were credulous, from the skreeleens with their half-baked starpredictions to the chieftains with their elaborate rituals designed to rid thegadderheals of ill omens. The Sark did not know how she came by herdecidedlypracticalandun-wolfishbentofmind.Shewascontemplatingallthisasshetendedoneofthefiresatthemouth

ofhercavern,preparingtomixhenbaneandminttotreatthescoursthathadafflictedaloneshe-wolf.Thewolfhadbeendrivenfromherclanforgivingbirthtoamalcadhjustdaysbefore.She-wolveswerefrequentlyafflictedafterlosingtheiryoung.Thisparticular she-wolfhadbeencastoutof theMacDuff clan.Shewas

restinginoneofthechambersdeepinthecavern.TheSarkoftenprovidedahalfway den for the grieving mothers. She hunted for them, gave themrestorative tonics that shebrewedup.Thewholebusiness thataccompaniedthebirthofamalcadhwascruel,butoneofthemorepracticalcustomsoftheclanwolves.Itkepttheclanhealthyandmaintainedgoodbloodlines.Itwasusuallypossibleforthecast-outparentstofindnewpacksinotherclansandnewmatesandproducehealthypups.Thiswolfwould,too.TheSarkwouldassureherofthatinafewdays,butitwastooearlynowtobroachthesubject.The last thing this she-wolf wanted to hear about was a new pack, or ahandsomerecentlywidowedmalewolf.The Sark caught a whiff of something cutting through the aroma of the

mintedhenbane,andstoppedstirring.Shewalkedoutsidetheopeningofthecaverntoseethefourchieftainsapproaching.“Oh,GreatGlaux!WhatinthenameofLupusaretheoldcodgersuptonow?”

CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVENTHETRAILOFTHESPLAYED

PAW

“YOUSAYTHEPRINTWASTRULYdistinct?”“Indeed.”Thefourchieftainsnoddedandrepliedinunison.The Sark shook her headmournfully. She had no potions,medicines, or

ointmentsforthefoaming-mouthdisease.Theonlywaytostopitwastobuilda large fire anddrive the foaming-mouthwolf into it.Of course shewouldhelpthem.Shetookhercoalbucket,forwhichshehadtradedmeatyearsbefore,and

joinedthem.TheSarkandthechieftainstraveledtogetherwithsomeoftheirpack lords and officers, winding their way out of the Slough and onto theraisedplainsofthecentralplateau,wherethechieftainshadlastseentheprintof the splayed paw. They followed the track for the better part of theafternoon,buttheSarkwasgrowinguneasy.Theprintwasnotasclearasshewould have thought, and most per-plexing, it seemed that the wolf wasfavoring one paw, or at least that the other three left indistinct marks thatcouldnotbe readas splayed.Was it that the sequenceof footfallswasoff?Butshegotnosensethatthewolfwasstaggering.It was slow going, as Duncan MacDuncan could not keep up on his

arthriticlegs.Onecorporal,afastfemale,ranpoint.Shewasaccompaniedbytwooutflankers,alsoveryfastfemales,whocoveredawiderswathoneitherside.Therewerebackrunners,too,bothmales,wholookedforevidencethatthefoaming-mouthwolfwasgoingbacktocoveritstracks.TheSarkthoughtthiswasexceedinglystupid,asawolfwithfoamingmouthbecamemadandwouldnothavethesensetodoubleback.ThatwastheotherthingthatdisturbedtheSark.Thefoaming-mouthwolf’s

trailwas straight, not erratic in away thatmight suggest a crazed creature.ButwhatdisturbedtheSarkthemostwasthesplayingofthatonepaw.Howcouldonepawbeaffectedbythediseaseandnotallfour?Theoutflankershad just returnedwith thenews that thewolfhadheaded

westtowardthelagoons,shallowtur-quoiselakesrimedinsalt.“Good!Good!”exclaimedAngusMacAngus.“Thereisadefilenearthere

that’sperfectforbuildingafiretrap.We’llsendateamwithyoutohelpdigthe trench.” Angus MacAngus wheeled about and reared. “Laird, Mac,Brienne,youthreeheadup thefuelcollection.”Thenhe turned to theother

chieftains.“Willyouhonorusbyappointingthreemid-rankinginyourclantoaidquarter-masterCorporalLairdinfuelingoperations?”Sark looked on, impressed by the crisp commands, the flawless

organization.Shehadtocreditthemfortheirremarkableabilitytomarrytheirrationalmessinessoftheirmindswiththeprecisionrequiredofoperationalthinking.Theywereawonder!TheSarkfeltthismightbethemomenttointroduceareasonablequestion.

Sheknewshewouldhavetogothroughallthenonsenseofthoseextravagantgesturesofsubmission.Whatapileofcariboupoop!Butshefoldedherfrontkneesunderherchestandbeganloweringherself,

peelingherlipsbackinagrimaceoftotalhumility.Sinkingherhead,grindingher jaw into theground, and then twisting it soher good eye looked at thechieftain,sheflasheditwhiteinthefinalsignofhumility.Theskitteringeyewashopelessatthissortofthing.“Yourquestion,Sark?”“Iwouldhumblybegtoasktheoutflankersforadescriptionofthemarks

ofthetoedigs.”ThechieftainnoddedtowardFinola.Cautiously,thewolfsteppedforward.

She was so frightened of the Sark that she trembled. “The toe digs wereclassicforafoaming-mouthcreature.Theydugdeepintotheground,spacedperhapstwiceormaybeeventhreetimesthenormalwidthapart.”“Allofthetoedigswereasyoudescribe?”theSarkasked.Itwasveryhard

tospeakwithhalfherfacescrewedintotheground,butthechieftainhadnotgivenherthesigntoriseupasyet.Heprobablydidn’twanttheout-flankertoseeherskitteringeye.Thepoorthingwasnervousenoughasitwas,andtherewas nothing like an amber-colored eye rolling about like some spoiled eggyolktosetastomachchurning.“Iamnotsurewhatyoumeanbyallthetoes,uh…uh.”Itwas obvious that Finolawas not certain how to address the Sark. The

Sarkheldnorank.TheChieftainhadcalledherSark,but—TheSarksparedherthepainofthisdecisionbyask-inganotherquestion.

“Imeanwere the toedigsall fromonepaw?Moreprecisely,weknow thatthiswolfisonaneasterlycourse.Whichwouldmeanthatthesplayedtoedigswouldflaresouthornorth.Didyounoticethemallflaringinonedirection?”Therewas a long pause before Finola answered. “Well, now that I think

aboutit,yes,themostdistinctmarksseemedtoflareslightlytothesouth.”“Nonetothenorth?”“Uh…uh…I’m…” she stammered. Finally, she said, “I cannot really say

thosemarkswerelessdistinct,butverypossibly.”“Mightthissuggestthatwearedealingwith…well,notaclear-cutsituation

ifonlyonepawseemstobearthesymptomsofthefoaming-mouthdisease?”“Onepaw, two, three, or four!”DuffinMacDuff stepped forward. “What

doesitmatter?Thisdiseasemeansdoom.”“Yes!Absolutely!”Therewasachorusofhuzzahs,criesofapproval,and

paw-poundingtosignalthewolves’agreementwithDuffinMacDuff.TheSarksenseditwasalostcause,butshefeltcompelledtogivereason

onemoretry.“Theevidencedoesnotsuggestthat.Iaskyoutoreconsider—”DuffinMacDuffsnarledandcutheroffimmediately.“Thereshallbenomoreargument.Wemustproceedtobuildthefiretrap

immediately!Thecoalsarestillhot?”AngusMcAngusasked.“Yes, sir,” the Sark answered grimly, peering down at the bucket which

glowedorange-redwiththehotembers.“Thenriseupandgotothesaltlagoondefile.”

CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHTJUMPFORTHESUN

FAOLANTROTTEDUPAGENTLEinclinetoapromontoryfromwhichhecouldseetwosparklinglakes.Theytwinkledliketwingemstonesintheclearair.Thesun,asluminousastheambereyeofanowl,wasmakingitsstatelydescent. Faolan was watching this spectacle when he had the suddensensationthattherewassomethingonhistrail.Oddlyenough,thefeelingwasnot unfamiliar.He realized that this sense of being followedhadbeenwithhimforsometime,perhapssincethesunhadfirstrisen.Hemadeforthelakes,butthesensationstayedwithhim.Who could be tracking me? He crouched down to press his ear to the

ground.Thesoundcut throughhimlikefangs.Thiswasnot justapredator,norwasitasingleanimal.Thiswasthesoundofwolves,andnotjustapack,butseveralpacks.Heclosedhiseyes,notabletoquitebelievewhathewashearing.ThepaintedimagefromtheCaveBeforeTimeflashedinhismind.Thosebyrrgises thathehadseenand longed to travelwith—thatwillneverbe!The words dropped into his mind like pebbles in still water, the ripples

radiating with the terrible truth. I am the prey! This was the sound of abyrrgis,andtheywereonhistrail.The soundwasdrawingcloser.Therewasno time for anger,no time for

regret.Hehadtouseallhiswitsandallhismuscle.Couldheconfusewolves?Couldheleaveafalsetracksomehow?Butwhere?Thelandscapewasbarren.Couldhecircleback,looparound?Desperatelyhelookedaboutandthenhecaughtaglimpseofthemjustbreakingoverthebluffsbehindhim.Onewolfagainstabyrrgis!I’mdoomed!Hecouldhear theirpace.Itwas

notpresspawyet.Theydidnotgofulloutuntiltheywereclose,toconservetheirenergy.A frantic thought flashed intoFaolan’smind.His chestwasbroader than

many of the wolves he’d seen, not just the yearlings but the full-grownwolves, too. Thunderheart hadmade him jump andwalk on two legs, andpressedhimtoeattherichestmeat.Nowhecouldtakebigger,deeperbreathstopropelhimself forward.Thatwouldbehis strategy.Let themcatchup tomeontheflats,andI’llfoolthemintothinkingtheyalmosthavemeandthenpress paw on the hills. There were several hills ahead; there was a slimchancehecouldoutrunthem.Butasheleapedforward,griefcoursedthroughhim.Hecouldnotbelieve

that thewolvesof theBeyondwere trying tokill him.Gwynnethhadbeenwrong.Hecutoffthethoughtandslowed.Hecouldheartheirpantingnow,andfourlongshadowsstretchedoneithersideofhim.Theywerecatchingup.Just ahead was the first bluff. Faolan sprang forward as he reached thebeginningof the inclineandbegan tostreak toward thecrest.Thesoundoftheirfootfallsreceded.Theshadowsoftheoutflankersthathadbeenclosingin vanished.He knew therewas another long flat stretch aheadwhere theywouldcatchupagain.Couldhewearthemout?Howlongcouldhespinoutthisgamewiththem?Faolanreachedtheflatsall toosoon.Thewolvesclosedinonhimagain,

steeringhimtowardsomethingbrighterthanthesun.ToolateFaolansawit,awall of fire in the gap between the two lakes. It was a defile. They werehuntinghimasheandThunderhearthadhuntedthecaribou.Therewasnosoundexceptforthewolvesbreathing.Hewasbeingdriven

intoawalloffire.Hecouldfeelitsheatreachingforhim.Animmenseheat.Hecouldhear itnow.Crackling.Spitting.The fiery tongues licking theair,gulping,raging.Closerandcloserhewasdriven.Ihavenochoicebuttodie.Thewords streaking through hismind angered him profoundly. The fire

was upon him.The sun reeled in the sky as thewordNO! exploded in hisbrain. He opened his jaws and his chest expanded with air, as if he wereswallowingthesky.Ihavejumpedforatree,jumpedforaraven,jumpedforacougar.Ishalljumpforthesun!

Overhead, the dark shape of an owl’s wings cut the blue-ness of the sky.Gwynneth soared ingrowingalarmon thewarmupdraftsof the fire as shebegantounderstandwhatwashappeningbeneathher.Shehadseenthesmokefromadistanceandcometoexplore,forfirewasanunusualoccurrenceintheregionofthesaltlagoons.Shenowhungonthewarmledgeofairinhorrifieddismay.It’sFaolan,GreatGlaux,it’sFaolan!Theythinkhehasthefoaming—She never finished the thought, plunging in what the owls called a kill-

spiral toward the wolves, screeching, “Stop! Stop!” But her cries wereswallowed by the roar of the fire.And then herwings seemed to seize up,freeze.Thewolves jolted to a stopas a silver streakarcedover thewalloffire,clearingthehighestflames.

“Yeep”wasthenameoftheconditionthathadafflictedGwynnethwhenherwings locked. Luckily, she recovered her wits before smacking into theground. By the time she had regained her flight instincts, the wolves hadbeguntohowl.“Idiots!Absolutelyidiots!”theSarkoftheSloughfumedatthechieftains,

whostoodwiththeirjawsgaping.Thesightthattheyhadjustwitnessedwas

oneofterrify-ingbeautyandgrace.Hadthewolfsproutedwings?Howhadhesoaredsohigh?Itwaseasiertobelievethathemighthavebeenscorchedbythesun.“Goaheadandhowl, the lotofyou!Henomorehas the foamingmouth

thananyofyou!Therewasenoughevidence.Onepawsplayed!Nottwo,notthree.Notfour,not…noteighteen!”theSarkroaredinathunderousbaying.DuncanMacDuncanlimpedforward.“Bowdown,bowdown,”acaptainfromtheMacDuncanclangrowledat

theSark.“Showyourrespect.”“No, no need! No one should perform the submission rituals,” the old

chieftainsaidwearily.“Itismyfault.I’mtoooldtobechieftain.”“Oh,no.No,”severalwolvesprotested.“Yes!”MacDuncangrowled. “Whenyourmemory shreds andyou forget

that a year ago amalcadh was bornwith one splayed paw.”A silence fellupon the wolves.MacDuncan looked about and nodded at a gnawwolf, ayearlingmissingitstailandwithacrookedhip.“Youhavebroughtyourbone?”DuncanMacDuncanasked.“Of course, honorable chief.” The young wolf named Heep sank to his

kneesandwasgrindinghisfaceintothedirt.“Rise up,” Duncan MacDuncan snapped. “Stop venerating and start

carving.”He turned to the others and began to speak in a tremulous voice.“Letitberecordedonthegnaw-bonethatinthemoonofthefrostblossoms,whentherivericestilllockedthewater,apupwasbornwithonesplayedpawto Morag and her mate, Kinnaird. The pup was taken by the late Obea,Shibaan, tobeabandoned.Thispupdidnotdie.Thispup survivedandhasnowearneditsplaceasagnawwolfintheMacDuncanclan.”The gnaw wolf Heep slid his eyes around nervously as if looking for

somethingandthenreturnedtothebone.DuncanMacDuncanthenturnedtotheSark.“Whereisthatwolfnow?”“He’sontheothersideofthetrapfirewithGwynneth,”theSarkreplied.“Gwynneth,theRoguesmith?”TheSarknodded.“Hesurvivedthefire?”thechieftainasked.“Hedidmorethansurvive,”theSarkansweredacidly.“Hejumpedthewall

offire!Youallsawhim!”Shetriedtospeakevenly,butshewasseethingwithanger.“Hechallengedtheorder,”awolffromtheMacDuffclanwhispered.Heep lookedupagain,aglintnowinhiseyes. Into thebonehebegan to

chiselwithhis teethadesigndepictingtheGreatChain.Cleverly,heplacedthechainoveralargecrackinthebone,makingitappearbroken.“Canyoufetchhimandbringhimforth?”MacDuncanasked.TheSarknodded.ShesooncamebackwithFaolan.Helookedfresherthan

theoutflankerswhohadchasedhimsohard.Standingbrightandsilver,asoftbreezestirredhispeltsothatheappearedalmosttoshimmer.Hesensedthewariness of the nearby wolves as he advanced. He kept his eyes forward,focused on the horizon and refused to even glance at the gathering ofchieftainstowhomhewasbeingled.DuncanMacDuncansteppedforward.Theairbegantobuzzwhenthewolf

with the splayed paw did not begin to lower himself to the ground, butDuncanMacDuncan took no offense. “Heep, come forward and read whatyouhaverecordedthusfarinthegnaw-bone.”Heepquicklytrottedupwiththeboneinhismouth,droppedit,andbegan

anelaboratesequenceofmovementsandposturesthatsoonhadmaneuveredhimintoastateofflatnessasifaboulderhadcrushedhim.“Honorable chieftain,highest lordof theMacDuncanclan, I offerwhat I

havecarvedinrespectandprofoundhumiliation.”“Sycophants,thelotofthem,”theSarkwhisperedtoGwynneth.“Justgetonwithit!”DuncanMacDuncanboomed.SoHeepbegantoread.Hedidnotreadthelastsymbolshehadstartedto

carveregardingtheGreatChain.Hehadafeelingthat thismightnotpleaseDuncanMacDuncan.“Bringtheboneyoujustgnawed,Heep,andshowthiswolfyourwork.”“Itisnotquitefinished,sir.”“Nomatter. I justwantfor thiswolf toseeexamplesofgnawing,for this

willbehistask.”Faolanwalked somewhat stiff legged, his lip nearly cleared his teeth—a

silent snarl threatening to break out.Hewas trying to sort out in hismindwhatexactlywashappening.Thesewere thewolves thathadwanted tokillhimandnowtheywerestaringathimwithanoddmixtureofwarinessanddeference.Hewasn’tsurewhatwasexpectedofhim.Gwynnethhadbrieflyexplainedtohimabout themistake.That theythoughthehadbeenafflictedwith the foaming-mouth disease. But no one was saying they were sorry.There were no apologies being offered. Heep dropped the bone betweenFaolanandthechieftain.Faolanlookedatthebonecarefully.Hewasnotimpressed.Thelineswere

clumsy,thenarrationdisorganized.Therewasonepartthatwasnotfinished.Faolanhadneverevenlivedwithinaclanandyettheboneshehadgnawedweremuchfiner.He thoughtof thepawboneofThunderheartonwhichhehadgnawedtheirstory,thestoryofthatglorioussummer,fall,andthewinterden.Hehadburiedthatboneontheothersideoftheslopehehadclimbedtoseethesaltlagoonsandhadnothadtimetogobackforit.Butbetterthatitwas buried in a secret place.Better that this younggnawwolf calledHeepneverseeit.Hewas suspicious.Suspiciousof all thesewolves.But somethingwithin

himbadehimtokeephisthoughtstohimself.Thechieftain turned toFaolan.“It takesa long time,avery long time to

becomeafinegnawer.Gnawingisanart.Younowqualifytobecomegnawwolf,andifyougnawwell,youmaygoontojointheWatchattheRingofthe Sacred Volcanoes. You will become a member of the clan of theMacDuncans. We shall soon decide which pack you may join, and nameyou.”Thelonelinessthathadwalkedbesidehimforsolongbegannottorecede,

but tocontract, tomigrate fromhis side to thathollowwithinhimwhere ithadbegun.Now,althoughhewassurroundedbyhisownkind,hefeltmoreestrangedthanever,gauntwithhisownloneliness.So,Faolanthought,Iamtojoinapack.Andapackwaspartofaclan.Iam

to become a wolf of the Beyond. He looked now at these wolves, thechieftains,theoutflankers,andtheotherswhohadcomprisedthebyrrgisthathadnearlykilledhim.Wasthereanywolfthatlookedremotelylikehim,onewhocouldhavebeenhismotheror father, a sister, abrother?According toGwynnethhisownparentswouldhavehadtofindnewpacksthatwerequitedistantfromtheiroldone.ButtheywouldneverhavegonetotheOutermost.AswaryasFaolannowwas,heknewthatthesewolvesweredecentcreatures.Theywerenotoutclanners.“You will join?” It was a question, not a command, that Duncan

MacDuncanasked.Faolannodded.“Doyouunderstand?”Faolannoddedagain.“Doyouhaveanyquestions?”Faolanhesitated.“Notaquestion,sir,but…”“Butwhat?Acomment,perhaps?”“Yes,acomment,”Faolansaid.Again, there was a surge of whispers. “How dare he?” “A gnaw wolf

doesn’thavecomments!”“He’lllearn!”“Goon,”DuncanMacDuncansaidsoftly.“Sir,letthegnaw-boneshowthatIhaveaname.”“Aname?”DuncanMacDuncanblinked.“Howdidyouhappentocomeby

aname?”The question almost confused Faolan. His name wasn’t an accident.

Thunderhearthadchosenitforhim.“Iwasnamedbymymilkmother,thegrizzlybearThunderheart.”“Yourmilkmotherwasabear?”MacDuncanstaggeredslightly.“Yes.Myname is Faolan.That is the namemymilkmother, the grizzly

bearThunderheart,gaveme.”HeturnedhiseyestowardthegnawwolfHeep,then swept the assembled wolves in the green light of his gaze. “Call me

Faolan.”

CopyrightCopyright©2010byKathrynLaskyInteriorillustrationsbyRichardCowdreyInteriorillustrations©2010ScholasticInc.CoverartbyRichardCowdreyCoverart©2010ScholasticInc.CoverdesignbyLillieMearMapillustrationbyLillieMear

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Lasky,Kathryn.Lonewolf/byKathrynLasky.—1sted.p.cm.—(WolvesoftheBeyond;#1)Summary:Abandonedbyhispack,ababywolfwithamysteriousmarkonhisdeformedpawsurvivesandembarksonajourneythatwillchangetheworldofthewolvesofTheBeyond.[1.Wolves—Fiction.2.Fantasy.]I.Title.PZ7.L3274Lo2010[Fic]—dc222009017007

Firstedition,January2010

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