Then Desmond slunk back a step from the circle they had made among the ruins of their history.
"You have much to answer for," the Alpha went on.
Defiantly, the other Prowler bared his teeth. "I did what I thought was right. If you had not written the book - "
With a roar, the Alpha rose up to his full height and slashed Desmond across the snout, tearing bloody gashes in his fur. The cur cried out in pain and clasped long talons to his face.
"What you did!" the Alpha growled. "Oh, what you did, you little bastard. That book is our legacy, our history, to be passed down to those who come after us, so that no one shall ever forget Bartleby and the principles upon which this sanctuary was founded."
Desmond sneered, blood dripping from his wounds. "That book is an abomination. You claim to despise human things, but you write this . . . this bible for the Pack, just like a human. Oral history has - "
"Silence!" the Alpha growled, and Desmond obeyed instantly. "Oral history is little better than mythology, particularly with the packs scattered and so many nomads drifting in the world. When they come to find sanctuary here, they need to understand what they have found."
The Alpha paced a moment, then leaped at Desmond, the sheer force of his presence forcing the younger beast to back down.
"Enough of this. I do not have to explain myself to you," he snarled in the guttural voice of the beast. You have put this sanctuary and everything it stands for at risk. The first law of our Pack - the law that has allowed us to survive so long when so many of the Great Packs upon this continent have died out or been hunted to extinction - says that we must never hunt at home."
"It was not hunting," Desmond replied, though tentatively, eyes downcast. "It was self-preservation."
The Alpha sat upon his hind legs and addressed the upper hierarchy of the Pack arrayed about him. "What he did, this foolish beast, was slaughter Foster Marlin and Phil Garraty, right here in Buckton."
"Marlin found the book. You didn't hide it well enough. He found it, and he read it," Desmond went on, voice tinged with pleading now. "Worst of all, he believed it. He had to die."
The Alpha growled low in contemplation. "There were other ways. You know the laws of this sanctuary. We have lived among the humans long enough to know there were other ways. Marlin may have read the book, but with him dead, we have no way to know what has become of it. And what of the postman?"
"Garraty brought the letters, the demands," Desmond reasoned, almost whining now.
At the young one's words, the Alpha reared back and slashed him again, this time long gashes upon his shoulder. "Garraty was the postman, you idiot!" he screamed. "It was his job to bring the letters."
"We could not know if he had read them! We could not know what he knew. And he was Foster Marlin's friend. Perhaps the man's only friend. And he knew of the book. He confessed as much before we killed him."
"And what have you accomplished?" the Alpha asked him. "Two men killed and left where they could be found. The postman's murder was in the newspapers, Desmond. I've had phone calls from Hartford, Boston, and New York. You have compromised us, and we are no closer to discovering who now holds the book.
Until it is safely back in my hands, the secrecy, and thus the safety of the pack of our sanctuary, is in jeopardy. Now that you have set us upon this path, we may have to kill again before it is through. We may once again be forced to abandon this place, our pack's original home upon this continent. The sanctuary we provide to others. And you are to blame."
There was a weight to his words that was unmistakable. Worse, though, was the low growl that began to emit from his throat when the last of his words had been drowned in the rain, stolen by the wind.
Desmond's eyes were wide. "No."
"You have shamed me. You have endangered the Pack," the Alpha declared. The single word that followed, a low and guttural
"You have much to answer for," the Alpha went on.
Defiantly, the other Prowler bared his teeth. "I did what I thought was right. If you had not written the book - "
With a roar, the Alpha rose up to his full height and slashed Desmond across the snout, tearing bloody gashes in his fur. The cur cried out in pain and clasped long talons to his face.
"What you did!" the Alpha growled. "Oh, what you did, you little bastard. That book is our legacy, our history, to be passed down to those who come after us, so that no one shall ever forget Bartleby and the principles upon which this sanctuary was founded."
Desmond sneered, blood dripping from his wounds. "That book is an abomination. You claim to despise human things, but you write this . . . this bible for the Pack, just like a human. Oral history has - "
"Silence!" the Alpha growled, and Desmond obeyed instantly. "Oral history is little better than mythology, particularly with the packs scattered and so many nomads drifting in the world. When they come to find sanctuary here, they need to understand what they have found."
The Alpha paced a moment, then leaped at Desmond, the sheer force of his presence forcing the younger beast to back down.
"Enough of this. I do not have to explain myself to you," he snarled in the guttural voice of the beast. You have put this sanctuary and everything it stands for at risk. The first law of our Pack - the law that has allowed us to survive so long when so many of the Great Packs upon this continent have died out or been hunted to extinction - says that we must never hunt at home."
"It was not hunting," Desmond replied, though tentatively, eyes downcast. "It was self-preservation."
The Alpha sat upon his hind legs and addressed the upper hierarchy of the Pack arrayed about him. "What he did, this foolish beast, was slaughter Foster Marlin and Phil Garraty, right here in Buckton."
"Marlin found the book. You didn't hide it well enough. He found it, and he read it," Desmond went on, voice tinged with pleading now. "Worst of all, he believed it. He had to die."
The Alpha growled low in contemplation. "There were other ways. You know the laws of this sanctuary. We have lived among the humans long enough to know there were other ways. Marlin may have read the book, but with him dead, we have no way to know what has become of it. And what of the postman?"
"Garraty brought the letters, the demands," Desmond reasoned, almost whining now.
At the young one's words, the Alpha reared back and slashed him again, this time long gashes upon his shoulder. "Garraty was the postman, you idiot!" he screamed. "It was his job to bring the letters."
"We could not know if he had read them! We could not know what he knew. And he was Foster Marlin's friend. Perhaps the man's only friend. And he knew of the book. He confessed as much before we killed him."
"And what have you accomplished?" the Alpha asked him. "Two men killed and left where they could be found. The postman's murder was in the newspapers, Desmond. I've had phone calls from Hartford, Boston, and New York. You have compromised us, and we are no closer to discovering who now holds the book.
Until it is safely back in my hands, the secrecy, and thus the safety of the pack of our sanctuary, is in jeopardy. Now that you have set us upon this path, we may have to kill again before it is through. We may once again be forced to abandon this place, our pack's original home upon this continent. The sanctuary we provide to others. And you are to blame."
There was a weight to his words that was unmistakable. Worse, though, was the low growl that began to emit from his throat when the last of his words had been drowned in the rain, stolen by the wind.
Desmond's eyes were wide. "No."
"You have shamed me. You have endangered the Pack," the Alpha declared. The single word that followed, a low and guttural
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