Casseomae looked back into the dark. The child was still sleeping. It was so helpless. And it was alone in the world … like she was.
“What should I do?” she whispered.
Alioth came close. He pressed the flat of his snout into her neck, nuzzling her fur. “Let me pass. It would be a mercy. Quicker than the Ogeema’s wolves.”
Casseomae shook her head. “I cannot.” She paused, then said, “I will leave, and take the cub away from the Ogeema’s realm.”
The bear chief backed away, fear showing on his downturned snout. “This is madness,” he said. “The Ogeema commands more than just the wolves and coyotes of this territory. His influence extends far beyond these borders.”
“I know,” Casseomae said. “But there is no other choice.”
Alioth’s dark eyes were sad. “Your heart has always been too strong. A mother’s heart. You have until tomorrow. One way or another, the creature must be gone by then.”
Casseomae watched Alioth lumber back across the meadow into the shadows of the trees.
R
end rarely ventured near the Ogeema’s hall. Even at the Summer’s End Offering, the coyote would hurriedly leave her rout’s tribute of a fawn or some other viand and get as far away as she could before nightfall. As the towering hall came into sight, Rend’s panting quickened and her heart thundered in her rib cage.
“Quit stalling, you whelps,” she snarled at her rout.
Her mate, Gall, trotted at her side, but the rest of the rout—Pule, Plod, and Fest—were trailing farther and farther behind.
“We’re nearly there,” Rend said. “Once the Ogeema hears our news, we’ll have nothing to fear ever again from his pack. We’ll be heroes—”
Gall whined as the rout stopped sharply. Rend
surveyed the skeletons littering the Forest ahead. Picked clean and bleached by the seasons, the Gateway of Bones always made her feel as if she were seeing snow, as if winter never ended here at Dire’s keep. So much white poking through the ferns. So many tributes brought before the Ogeemas over the ages. Bodies of viands going back until the Rising.
“Turn back if you’re too cur-hearted to come with me,” she growled. “But know that I won’t share the Ogeema’s reward.”
Pule and Fest leaped away into the Forest. Plod hesitated for half a moment before joining them.
“Cowards,” she yipped after them.
Gall flattened his ears. “Rend?” he said.
“What?” she barked.
“Behind you,” her mate managed to say.
Several wolves paced toward them through the mist. When they had made a semicircle around them, the largest one growled. “What business have you here, yellow backs?”
Rend gathered her wits. Whimpering like a pup would only provoke the Ogeema’s guard. She lowered her eyes respectfully and said, “We seek an audience with Ogeema Dire. We bring important news.”
Another wolf laughed mockingly. “What would coyotes consider news? Is a blight of mange going through your rout? Is your fur falling out?”
Reflexively, Gall licked at his front leg where the rat had taken out a chunk of fur. In a wounded voice he said, “We’ve news meant only for the Ogeema’s ears.”
Rend stiffened at her mate’s stupidity. She quickly said, “It would not do that the Ogeema’s guard hears before he does.”
The leader took a step forward. “Do you know how many mite-brained coyotes, foxes, and curs, as well as dirt-ranked wolves, come to waste Ogeema Dire’s time with so-called news in the hope of winning favors? You tell us what news you have. If it is worthy of the Ogeema’s attention, then we will deliver it to him.”
Gall paced anxiously behind Rend. “We should go,” he muttered.
Rend had to think quickly. The news of the Skinless One was too important to give away to low-ranking boneyard guards. She looked at Gall. “Yes, you’re probably right, my nipper. It would not do getting the Ogeema angry with these fine masters.”
The leader growled. “Angry? Why would the Ogeema be angry with us?”
Rend let her tongue drop slackly from her jaws like some half-wit cur. “Let us waste no more of your time, cousins. Especially on nonsense from the bears.”
“Bears?” the wolf asked. “Where do you range, coyotes?”
“In Chief Alioth’s domain,” Rend said. “We try not
to give credence to anything a bear has to say, but it is hard not to listen when he slights the Ogeema.”
“Insults Ogeema Dire!” one of the other wolves growled. “Who is insulting our father?”
Rend dipped her eyes shamefully. “If we share news of something Chief Alioth said, wouldn’t you be duty-bound to report it to the Ogeema?”
“Of course,” the leader said.
“And—forgive me, for I have never met nose to nose the esteemed ruler Dire—isn’t his temper legendary?”
The wolves glanced at each other uncertainly.
Rend turned to Gall. “Let us go, my dearest. Best that we keep Alioth’s words to ourselves.”
The pair had trotted no more than a few steps before the leader of the guards barked sharply. “Come with us, you two! You are to report to the Ogeema immediately what you have heard.”
As they were led toward the Ogeema’s hall, Rend heard one of the guards chuckle to another, “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen the Ogeema bite the nose off a coyote. I can’t wait to see this.”
Gall whimpered and licked a swift pink tongue over his wet snout.
As they crossed over a rise, they left the Gateway of Bones and entered the Field of the Fallen. Perfectly preserved skeletons of ancient wolves covered the field, wolves who had fought in the Rising. And among them
were the remains of their defeated foes—the Skinless Ones.
Some of the skeletons were lying in open-topped wooden boxes. Others lay on the ground. These bodies had been set out on display by the Ogeema’s ancestors so that all would remember what the legendary Ogeema Taka-Dirge had done during the Rising. How he had gathered all the packs of the Forest into an army that had slaughtered the last of the Skinless right here on these sacred grounds. Ever since, the Ogeemas had used the neighboring building as their den.
The Ogeema’s enormous territory and his influence over the other packs and clans of the Forest were founded on this story. But if the end result of the Rising was somehow in dispute, then what would happen to the Ogeema’s rule?
Anxiety rose in Rend’s belly. She would have to be careful how she revealed this news. To suggest that the legend was wrong—that Taka-Dirge had not killed the last of the Skinless—might incur Dire’s wrath. Maybe she should have let the guards deliver the news after all.
Rend looked at the guards surrounding her and ahead at the towering den. Wolves—more wolves than she had ever seen together in one place—lay around the exterior of the stone structure. Some wrestled with one another. Some slept. A few watched her impassively as she and Gall passed them.
There was no turning back now. To gather her courage she reminded herself that the reward could be immeasurable if she played it right. But if she incurred the Ogeema’s wrath, she would have to hope her and Gall’s deaths would be swift. She knew they would not be so lucky.
“Look up,” Gall whispered to her.
The exterior of the den was covered in ivy and vines. A few exposed portions showed that the structure was built in the Skinless’s fashion of stacked stones. From the roof of the den rose an immense spire, taller even than the surrounding trees. At the top Rend spied a solitary wolf poking his head through the tangle of ivy.
“How do they get up there?” Gall gasped.
Before she could reply, the wolf high in the tower howled. His call was instantly answered by the wolves surrounding the den. Even the guards leading them stopped to add to the tremendous sound. Gall sank to the ground, terror paralyzing him. Rend listened as barks and howls echoed from the surrounding woods. Wolves innumerable cried out the Ogeema’s name, warning any who heard their chorus that they would die upon a thousand teeth if they entered their domain.
Rend had heard this call before, but only carried faintly on the wind. As terrifying as it was, she knew it was purely ceremonial. None who heard the call would consider taking up against the Ogeema’s army.
As the last of the chorus died away, the guards led Rend and Gall into the den. Rend was surprised not only by the enormity of the space but also by its dimness. She had been in caves—many where she had birthed litters—but they were tight and comfortable. Never this cavernous! She had also been inside the Skinless’s ruins, but they were mostly open to the sky. The Ogeema’s hall was the most perfectly intact Skinless structure she had ever entered.
Along both sides of the long space were faintly glowing panels of every imaginable color. Some were broken, and through them Rend could see the wall of ivy that covered the outside of the den. The hall was deeply shadowed, and nowhere more so than the far end where they were being led.
The guards stopped just before they reached an area where the floor was higher. Atop the rise, immense wolves—much bigger than the guards and any of the wolves outside—lounged about, a few lifting their ears or heads as the guards approached. A scattering of rolling pups snapped at one another in playful bundles.
Behind the wolves lay an alcove of utter darkness. Rend could hear breathing coming from the darkness, and while she could not see the wolf inside, she knew it was the Ogeema.
The guards backed away, all except their leader. “My general,” he said.
The wolves on the rise turned to the dark alcove. The pups ceased their games. Rend heard a strained sound slip from Gall’s throat, and she feared her mate might make a suicidal dash for escape. She gave him a quick nip on the top of his nose.
A voice spoke from the dark. “What season is it, guard?”
“My Ogeema?” the guard asked.
The Ogeema’s voice was not the guttural snaps typical of a wolf. The words were whispered, but the power in that barely present voice unnerved Rend to her core.
“The season. I asked what season it is in the Forest.”
The guard hesitated a moment before saying, “Near High Summer, my Ogeema.”
A pair of eyes appeared in the shadows. One was golden and the other was a pale sky-silver. Rend thought for a moment the Ogeema might be blind in the pale eye, for she had heard the Ogeema was deeply battle-scarred from his rise to power in the pack. But as she looked closer she saw the dark pupil in the center and realized his eyes were simply two different colors.
“It isn’t yet Summer’s End?” the Ogeema breathed.
“No, my Ogeema.” The guard looked with confusion to the other wolves atop the rise, but they said nothing.
The eyes moved closer. For a moment Rend thought the eyes were simply hovering in the darkness. Then, as a set of white teeth flashed briefly, she understood that,
unlike the rest of the gray-coated wolves, Ogeema Dire’s fur was black.
He stepped out from the alcove, moving so silently and gracefully that he could have been mist. Circling around Rend and Gall, the Ogeema paused before the guard, who was only half his size. “Well, this is most generous of you … what is your name, guard?”
“Goad,” the wolf replied.
“Yes, forgive me, Goad. Of course. This is kind of you to bring your Summer’s End tribute early.” The Ogeema eyed Rend and Gall hungrily. “You clearly know my weakness for yellow backs. I will enjoy them immensely.”
Gall’s back legs gave out, and he whimpered as he tried to rise again.
“My Ogeema,” the guard said. “No. I’m sorry, I didn’t bring them for you to … what I mean, my general, is these coyotes bring news. From Chief Alioth’s range.”
The black wolf’s eyes narrowed. “The bears?”
“Yes, my Ogeema.”
The Ogeema glared at him. “You could not have carried their message to me, guard?”
“Well, yes … but I thought it best for you to hear it directly from them, my general.”
The guard cringed, but the Ogeema said, “Very well. Return to your post.” The Ogeema watched Goad as
he and the other guards trotted away. The Ogeema’s mismatched eyes lingered on them until they were gone. Without turning his head, the Ogeema asked, “Have the pickings grown so scarce in Chief Alioth’s range?”
Rend didn’t realize the Ogeema was addressing her until he turned to look at her.
“What do you mean?” she asked, remembering to add, “My Ogeema.”
“You want something. Usually it is better hunting grounds. The few that have managed to outwit my guards to gain an audience with me often ask to be allowed the last of the carcasses after my wolves are finished. Food. That’s what it often comes down to, doesn’t it?
“If it’s not better eating you seek,” he continued, “maybe it is territory. The others in your pack are attacking your young, or maybe it’s my wolves?”
“I’m not here for that, my Ogeema,” Rend said.
“But you’re here for something,” the Ogeema whispered. Rend noticed a pale scar beneath the fur at Dire’s throat and wondered if it was the cause of his quiet voice. “They always come to me wanting something. But it is customary to offer some token. What have you brought me, coyote? Is it your companion?”
Gall collapsed.
“No, my Ogeema,” Rend quickly said. “This is my mate. I apologize that I have no token to offer you, but you will understand once you hear what I have to say.”
The Ogeema growled, circling Gall, who had rolled onto his back with his legs limply sticking up as if he were already dead. “I care nothing for gossip, coyote! Whatever you have overheard Chief Alioth blabbering is worthless to me.”
“It is not gossip I bring,” Rend said, considering whether she would defend Gall if the Ogeema sank his teeth into his exposed stomach. He was a terrible coward, but he was the father of her pups, after all. To win the Ogeema’s favor, however, might be worth his life.
“My guard said—” the Ogeema began.
“I lied to him,” Rend interrupted. “What I have to tell is too important to give to any lesser wolf, my Ogeema.”
The Ogeema turned from Gall. His expression changed. His jaws relaxed and his ears perked up. “You have gravel guts, don’t you, coyote?”
Rend felt pleasure at this but knew better than to let a compliment get the better of her. She had to stay focused and to use all her cleverness and courage. “I admit I have no love of the bears,” she said. “And if what I tell you drives them from my territory, then I won’t whine.”