Promise Of The Wolves by Dorothy Hearst Page B

know what it is. But there is something wrong with the prey. Something wrong in the air. We are concerned.” He shook himself, and the mischief returned to his eyes. “But the Tall Grass plains are crowded, the antelope and horses are plenty, and the elkryn roam the territory. They will return to the plain. With our help you will find good hunting.”
    “What are the humans? Who are the Stone Peaks?” Marra asked impatiently from beside me.
    “Be quiet,” Ázzuen whispered. “I want to hear.”
    “The Tall Grass plain is too near Stone Peak territory,” Ruuqo said, ignoring us. “It is contested. And it’s too close to the humans’ current homesite.”
    “If that is where the prey is, that is where we go,” Rissa said decisively. “I’m tired of the Stone Peaks taking over our lands bit by bit. It’s time we took what’s ours.”
    “I will keep that in mind,” Sleekwing said, with a gleam in his eye. “Come, let us plan for the coming hunts. I am bored with eating moles and voles. They have too many bones.” He looked longingly at us pups as if he would like to swoop down upon us again, but gave a sharp sigh and flew to Rissa at the lookout rock.
    Ruuqo, Trevegg, and two ravens joined them. They huddled, whispering together by the boulder. I tried to hear what they were saying, but they spoke too quietly. The rest of the wolves stretched and rested, preparing for the coming night’s hunt as the ravens hopped lazily about the clearing. I sat, watching the activity around me.
    Something pulled sharply at my tail. I swallowed a yelp. I didn’t want to be called a babywolf. I turned to see the small raven, Tlitoo, watching me.
    “Hello, babywolf. Come with me.” His voice was lighter and crisper than that of the larger ravens. He walked to the edge of the clearing, stopping where the tall oaks stood. He turned to wait for me.
    Nursing my bitten tail, I looked him over. “I’m not allowed to leave the gathering place,” I said suspiciously. He probably had brothers and sisters waiting to pounce on me on the other side of the trees. He gave a croak.
    Babywolf, whinewolf.
    Whimpers, scared of own shadow.
    Weevilwolf no fun.
    I just looked at him until he flew back to me. He brought his beak close to my ear, and I stiffened, fearful of another bite. “The Bigwolves say to come, Kaala Smallteeth.” He flew off before I could answer, alighting on a high branch of the taller oak.
    Wondering at my folly, I followed, checking behind me to make sure no one would see me leave the clearing. I stopped just outside the oak tree entrance, in a rocky patch of grass. Tlitoo flew down to meet me.
    “The Bigwolves told me about you,” he said. “You are not a true wolf.”
    “I am so!” I said, stung. “I made it across the Great Plain. I am named. I am Swift River.” I ignored the voice in my head that reminded me that Ruuqo had not really accepted me, that I was still an outsider.
    Tlitoo turned his head side to side. “All I know is that the Bigwolves say you are more and less than wolf, and that I am to watch over you. I am more and less than raven, too,” he said proudly. “I am named for our ancestor, who spoke to the Ancients on behalf of all creatures. I bear his mark,” he said, raising a wing to show me a white crescent on its underside. “I am born to either save or destroy my clan. As are you.”
    “Do you want to tell me why you made me come with you? I’m risking a lot of trouble by being here.”
    Tlitoo quorked quietly. “If you are forever worrying about getting in trouble, we will never get anything done.”
    “And what is it we are supposed to get done, if you know so much?”
    He quorked again, blinking his eyes at me.
    “Babywolf,” he said impatiently, “the Bigwolves told me to come to you. They told me to tell you to look for them and that you are to be careful not to get in trouble with your pack. They told me that I am to watch over you and you are to watch over me. That is