The Legend of Tyoga Weathersby by H L Grandin Page A

necks, dropped their heads, and began their menacing approach. They didn’t step in tandem, but each silently stepped forward after the other had made its move. This hunting technique broke the prey’s concentration by dividing its attention between the two advancing animals. Though no more than a fraction of a second, the diversion was all that a pair of stalking wolves needed to make the kill.
    Tyoga backed away while not diverting his gaze from animal to animal, but staring directly between the two advancing wolves. Their pace quickened.
    Unexpectedly, the wolves stopped their advance. They raised their heads and cocked their ears while listening to a sound not yet detected by the boys. When the piercing cry of the Commander’s howl was audible to Tes Qua and Tyoga, the wolves had already disappeared into the cover of the thick underbrush.
    A second howl filled the night air with icy contempt. There was no mistaking the audible signature of unquestioned authority that was the Commander’s voice. The order had been given to retreat. Despite the easy prey at hand and the gnawing hunger in their bellies, the pack was subject to his absolute authority. He ruled his domain with the majesty of a conquering warlord. His justice was meted out with cruel indifference. With no deference to sex or age, to challenge his authority was to invite a swift and slashing death by lethal white fangs and savage raw fury. The pack obeyed.
    Tyoga looked at Tes Qua. As if in slow motion he bent his knees and whirled around to scan the underbrush. His ears piqued to determine the direction from which the cry had come. He absently dropped the stone from his right hand, and placed the smoking bough back into the fire pit. It burst into flame and light danced off of the huge trunks of the surrounding pines.

    “This ain’t right, Tes’a. Somethin’ ain’t right.” Tyoga removed the spear from the lifeless body of the beast that had only moments before lusted for the taste of his flesh.
    “Why did the other wolves leave, Ty? Why did they up and go?”
    “Don’t know, Tes’a. Shhhhhhhhhhhh. Somethin’ ain’t right.”
    The boys were quiet. In the silence, they could discern the flowing of their blood through their veins, the pounding of their hearts, and the rivulets of sweat soaking their quaking frames.
    Tes Qua looked around the campsite. The fire was slowly dying. He looked up at his friend and said in a slow measured, commanding voice, “Tyoga. Run. Leave me here and run away. I’m gonna die anyway. Run, dithili. Save yourself. Run as fast and as far as you can.”
    “Seysha! Seysha, TesA, Nay ya ho!” Tyoga barked back. “That’s exactly what they want me to do. They want us to separate. Alone we don’t have a chance. Together we can make a stand.” He took a deep breath, stood up tall and strong and said, “We walk out of here together or not at all. That’s just the way it is, Tes.”
    Tyoga could sense that the Commander was near. He was coming for him. He would not sacrifice others of his pack to Tyoga’s cunning and speed. He would do the deed himself.
    The boys smelled his musky coat before they heard him make a sound. The rustling of the underbrush was his only betrayer.
    Tes Qua said in a hushed voice, “Behind you, Ty. He’s behind you.”
    “I know,” he responded in a near whisper. “Stay quiet and low. Git as low in the rocks as you can.”
    Tyoga looked up towards the stars and inhaled the clean night air.
    “If he kills me, Tes’a …”
    “I know. I know.”

    Chapter 6
    The Exchange
    G lowing amber eyes filled the darkness all around the boys’ campsite.
    From the south, two of the Commander’s foot soldiers paced on the other side of the big rock against which Tes Qua was leaning. The rustling in the underbrush to the north signaled the presence of other members of the pack. The ravine and the feeder stream the boys had been following on their way to the trout pond was in front of them, to the