FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Darwin's Legacy

Chapter 3 - Confrontations

Da-Lan was stunned when An-Gar-Lun announced that she was to become Mi-Ran, a pack courtesan. His mind would just not accept it.

"Annie, why?"

She had been clinging to his side as they lay on the bed in the small private cave that was to be hers now that she was Mi-Ran. She released him and rolled over to face the wall.

"It's complicated." She said.

"Tell me." He insisted.

"It had to be. I am too small, too delicate to make a good mate." She said, anger rising in her voice. "But I am told that I am beautiful, desirable in a certain fashion, so it is the life that I have chosen."

"But why Mi-Ran?" He asked, still confused.

"I told you that you wouldn't understand. You and Ro-Ack were so caught up in your apprenticeships that you did not see how insecure I was on my own. You know what can become of a female with no family to protect her."

"But, we took care of you, An-Rum and me." He used the Ro-Ack's childhood name to stress the personal connection the three used to share.

"You fed me, and kept the worst of the predators away, but my life was still miserable. The other young females treated me with distain, the matrons with open contempt. It got worse as I grew up and became more beautiful. I was a threat to them, you see."

"How can you say that Annie?"

"Don't call me that!" She almost shouted as she spun to face him again. It had been An-Rum's and his pet name for her when she was little. It was a corruption of An-Ni, Little Eyes, and Heg had applied it jokingly after noting the way she squinted just before attacking one of their many antagonists. She was looking at him in exactly the same way now. That more than anything brought grief to Da-Lan's heart.

"I am not a cub anymore, and neither are you." She poked him in the groin to remind him of their recent activity. "All that males care about is a mate capable of bearing big sons. All that the females care about is snaring the biggest wolf they can find. Haven't you noticed that mated couples are always of a similar size? I am small, too small to be chosen by anyone with any rank in the pack. But I am also attractive, too attractive. Unmated females are uncomfortable around me because I distract the ones they are after. Mated females are threatened because they are afraid that one day I will produce a cub that looks just like their mate while they go barren."

"How can they say that?" Da-Lan cried, his fear turning to anger directed at females in general.

She cast her eyes downward as her own anger evaporated.

"Since you and Ro-Ack became apprentices I have been often alone." She said sadly. "Terribly cold and alone. I have taken comfort where I could. The role of Mi-Ran will not be as strange to me as you think."

"And Ro-Ack permitted this?"

"Ro-Ack suggested it."

Da-Lan was stunned into silence for the second time in as many minutes. The revelation that his best friend, and hers, would propose such a thing let alone condone it forced him to re-evaluate their relationship.

Ro-Ack must have known about her and her situation, he supposed, it was his job after all to know everything that was going on in the pack. Even if he did not notice it himself others would have been happy to pass the gossip on to him. And since his friend An-Rum had been Ro-Ack for several years now he would have known for at least that long. Did he feel guilty when he found out, Da-Lan wondered, as I do now?

As the pack story teller Da-Lan also observed the members of the pack and listened to the idle gossip around the cooking fires to gather material for his tales. He tried to recall everything he had heard said about An-Gar-Lun in the last few years while he was still an apprentice. Sadly none of it was good, and he realized, because she was his friend and his secret desire, that he had dismissed it all as malicious gossip without a second thought. He also recalled memories of his personal observations of her that he had suppressed. Images of her skulking off when the rest of the pack was engrossed in one of his stories, closely followed by the departure of one of the males. Memories of the wolves whose eyes never left her and their knowing leers. The stricken looks when he came upon her unexpectedly, her fur dishevelled and soiled as if she had been rolling in dirt. The strange smell that clung to her fur that he had only just discovered came from the mingling of the male and female climax. He suddenly grasped the fact that she thought that he knew what she was doing all along and thought that he did not care, and that hurt most of all.

A few minutes ago he had been on the verge of confessing his love for her. He had worked up enough hope to believe that she would agree to be his mate, and almost enough courage to ask her to. How could he tell her now? It would sound like a desperate act by one whose chances were so slim that he would take the pack slut as mate. 'Pack slut', that is what the young wolves called any female that engaged in sexual activity with more than one partner before mating when they bragged among themselves. Annie must have heard them as well as he did.

Even if she believed that I was blind and stupid and not callous, he thought sadly, how could she ever forgive me for being so? He swallowed his hopes.

"Is there no other way?" Da-Lan asked miserably.

"I could pick one of the scrawny leftovers and settle down to push out skinny cubs that would never get enough to eat until the teeth fell out of my head, but I do not want to bring any more cubs into this dismal existence. If you haven't noticed, life around here is cruel, and the offspring of a second-class couple would be no better off than we three were." She stared at the wall as she spoke, and Da-Lan doubted the harshness in her words, but could not produce an argument against them. "Now that I am a Mi-Ran," she continued, "Pak-Nor will see to it that I do not conceive."

"You said 'A' Mi-Ran, do you not mean 'The' Mi-Ran?" Da-Lan had never known her to make that sort of mistake when speaking.

"No, Ro-Ro says that the current Mi-Ran will remain as long as she is needed. So I suppose that I will be called Ba-Mi, or even Ah-Mi as he also said that there will be more Mi-Rans assigned in the near future."

"More Mi-Rans?" Da-Lan's misery was temporarily overcome by his natural curiosity. "Why would we need so many?"

"Because Ro-Ro said that war is coming."

* * * * * * * *

After trying a few lines of conversation that led to nowhere but awkward silence, a bewildered Da-Lan had left An-Gar-Lun in her new cave. He returned to his own, only detouring to the river to wash the odour of sex from his fur; he did not want to run into one of the other males and have them recognize her scent on him. Then he had gone back to his cave, a spacious, private one, delegated to the pack storyteller to store the precious scrolls that contained their history. There he paused to consider her revelation. It was quite possible, he decided, that he had missed something important because he tended to concentrate on individuals and special events rather than background activity. He then spent the next few days carefully observing the den.

What he saw surprised him. With his new insight the signs of preparation for war were obvious. Weapons were being made at an accelerated rate and stockpiled in the deeper caves. Runners were coming and going at odd hours. Some scouts were reporting directly to Ro-Ro rather than to their group leader. The pack leader was even meeting with delegations from other packs in his cave after dark, something Da-Lan only discerned because of the proximity of his storeroom to the leader's cavern.

And all of this was happening while Ro-Ack was away with a distant hunting party, he thought. How strange.

On the third day since he laid with Annie a runner from Ro-Ack's group arrived with the news that the hunt had been wildly successful, but because of the extra load it would be several more days before they could transport all of the meat back. The runner passed on Ro-Ack's request that Ro-Ro send reinforcements to speed the effort.

In another bizarre turn of events, because a Ro-Ro would almost never refuse a request from his Ro-Ack, the leader declined to send assistance. Moreover, he told the runner not to bother taking the message back, but to eat and rest and be prepared for a new assignment. Then Ro-Ro ordered the pack cooks to prepare for a feast to be held five days hence. A feast for twice as many wolves as there was in the entire pack. That left Da-Lan more confused than ever.

After passing on his report and request the rest of the pack, including Da-Lan, clustered around the runner to hear his account of the hunt. This particular wolf had been chosen for his role based on speed and endurance, and not for having an outgoing or cheery personality. In fact, Tie-Ro was one of the sourest, dourest pessimists in the pack. But today he was positively bubbly with praise for Ro-Ack and how he had led them to one of the pack's greatest kills ever.

"And in the rain yet." The normally reticent wolf said several times. "He just come out from under that tree in the middle of the worst downpour I ever saw, sniffs the air once and he says to me, Tie-Ro, he says, tell the hunters to go one mile in that direction and they will find a whole herd of antelope asleep in the sumac grove. Now hop to it and after you are done you can rest under my tree here. Then he walks to a hill overlooking the plains and stands there like Cor-No the storm god himself with his wet fur streaming in the wind behind him"

Da-Lan wondered how Ro-Ack's fur could have been streaming in the wind if it was so wet, his storyteller's instincts sensing an embellishment or two, but he did not interrupt. In the end it was obvious that his old friend had done something extraordinary enough to impress the cynical runner, and probably all those in the hunting party as well.

Still, among all these unusual events, the matter of Annie becoming a Mi-Ran stood out foremost in his thoughts. How could Ro-Ack have ever made such a suggestion?

With all the hustle and bustle of the war preparations and the upcoming feast no one was paying any attention to him, so Da-Lan decided to intercept the returning hunters and confront Ro-Ack where he could get him alone. He returned to his cave to pack enough for a few days away and set off before anyone could question him. A day and a half of walking, even at his reduced pace, should see him join up with Ro-Ack's group coming the other way.

* * * * * * * *

Ro-Ack trudged along at the front of a long line of wolves, most of who were struggling under a heavy load of meat. It was an unusual position in the marching order for him. He was more used to being further back, in the centre of the main body where he could control the different groups and flank parties easier. Other than the scouts, who always went ahead, the lead position was usually occupied by Ro-Ro or in his place, the commander of the vanguard.

Since this was a hunting party returning from a successful expedition and not a war party security was minimal. And for some reason everyone waited for Ro-Ack to set off each morning and then fell into line behind him, except for the times when he took a turn carrying the meat. The rest did not want him to help carry the carcasses. They said that he had done enough by leading them to the herd, but he had insisted on taking his turns just like everybody else.

"We all have to do our share, the big and the small, the strong and the weak." He told them. "Each must carry for as long as they can, no matter how short a distance that is, so that the others can recuperate and take up the burden again. Otherwise they will exhaust themselves and the meat will rot before we can get back to the den to preserve it."

The decree had made him a favourite among the assaulters, those massive wolves that did the heavy lifting and carrying during the hunt and led the attacks when at war. It also improved the sense of comradery between the various groups as the runners, scouts, archers and stalkers all threw themselves into the task with great enthusiasm, each group trying to outlast the others in an effort to impress Ro-Ack. Each time it was his turn to carry he did so with a different group, so as not to seem to favour one over another.

At the end of each day the wolves, all exhausted and bloody from the dripping carcasses, would drop their load in a campsite selected and prepared by a small scouting party and wash in whatever body of water was nearby before cooking up a carcass to share among them. Ro-Ack circulated around the camp while the meat cooked and checked in with each group, taking a status report from each group leader, inspecting equipment, examining sore feet, and joking with the pack members. He had little time to take care of himself.

The first night after the meal was finished and he had seen to the overnight security watch he discovered that someone had unpacked his bedroll and laid it on a pile of freshly cut pine boughs. There was even a bag made of hide stuffed with grass for a pillow. He found the same arrangement every night, and at every meal there was a dish piled with choice cuts of meat and fresh wild vegetables waiting at his place in the circle. So far he had been unsuccessful in discovering who was responsible for these favours, but he suspected that most of the hunting party was in on it. He could have ordered them as a group to stop doing these things for him, but he refrained because the previous Ro-Ack had told him never to give an order that you are not certain will be obeyed. So he ate in embarrassed silence and did not enjoy the food, but thanks to the grinding pace and heavy burden he slept soundly each night on a soft bed of fresh pine.

The march had been going as well as could be expected, with no raids by rival packs and just a few stress injuries, none of them serious, but Ro-Ack was growing concerned. They were only a day and a half away from the den and the relief party he had requested should have joined with them the night before or this morning at the latest. Their absence could only mean that the runner had either failed to reach Ro-Ro or the rest of the wolves were needed to counter some dire threat to the den. Either possibility was worrisome. The prospect that Ro-Ro might simply refuse to send relief never crossed his mind.

As he walked Ro-Ack alternately scanned the horizon and checked on the hunting party. Looking back he saw that many of the meat bearers were walking with their heads down, eyes toward the ground, as avoiding obstacles was the most important thing in the world for them at the moment. Yet despite the heat and the weight they were joking and urging each other on. Those that were not carrying ranged themselves on both sides and kept watch, occasionally glancing at the bearers and lending a paw where needed. Ro-Ack smiled, adjusted his pace slightly, and turned around to scan the horizon ahead again.

That is when he saw the figure standing in the middle of a clearing on the next rise, silhouetted against the light blue sky. The creature was short and broad and had arms that almost dragged on the ground, and at first Ro-Ack's fatigued brain brought forth an image of a troll, one of the legendary creatures that supposedly had inhabited the mountain caves before the wolves took them from them. The previous Da-Lan had shown him and Heg a picture of a troll in one of the scrolls when they were both younger. Heg had joked that it must be his real father, since they had shared similar physical traits. Ro-Ack remembered the exchange fondly, but he was fairly certain that trolls did not really exist, at least not anymore, so he blinked to clear his eyes and looked again.

The figure resolved itself into his old friend Heg, the new Da-Lan, but Ro-Ack was no less startled. A Da-Lan might occasionally accompany a hunting party to gather materials for new tales of the pack's prowess, but Heg rarely did because he could not keep up with the swifter wolves with his withered legs and twisted back. Seeing him this far from the den was rare, and he was alone on top of it. Ro-Ack wondered what was up.

The scouts must have met him, very little escaped their eye, but because he was an important member of their pack they would not have returned to report him if he told them not to bother. So he must not have wanted Ro-Ack to know he was coming, yet standing in the open and silhouetted as he was meant that he wanted to be seen before the group got near. That was the way that delegations from other packs usually approached when they wanted to parley with the leader of a group. Da-Lan knew that his best friend Ro-Ack was the senior wolf in the hunting party, and his actions seemed to indicate that he wanted to talk with him privately.

Ro-Ack signalled for a halt. It was almost time for a break anyway. Several of the other wolves had also seen Da-Lan up ahead and were looking at their leader quizzically.

"Maybe he is leading the relief party." Ro-Ack shrugged. That brought out a burst of laughter. "I'll go see what he wants. You see to the group. Move out in thirty minutes whether I am back or not." He instructed one of the flank party leaders. Then he turned his back to them and jogged toward the crest of the hill where Da-Lan waited.

When Da-Lan saw Ro-Ack approaching alone he moved further away from the trail, toward a small copse of woods. Ro-Ack angled his route to join the storyteller there.

When he entered the grove he found Da-Lan sitting in the middle of a small clearing at its centre, staring at the ground and absently plucking at the grass. Ro-Ack squatted in front of his friend and waited for him to acknowledge his presence. He waited in silence for a full minute before Da-Lan spoke.

"How could you do it?"

"How could I do what?" Ro-Ack replied, but he suspected he knew what Da-Lan was referring to already.

"How could you let her become Mi-Ran?" Da-Lan snarled, looking up at Ro-Ack with blood red eyes. Red from anger, Ro-Ack wondered, or from crying? He noticed how every muscle in Da-Lan's considerable torso was standing out in tension, yet the crippled wolf was breathing quickly and shallowly, hardly keeping any air in with each breath. Probably a little of both, he decided.

"I did not let her become Mi-Ran." Ro-Ack explained carefully, aware of the shorter wolf's great strength. "I proposed it as an alternative to a lifestyle that was leading her to destruction."

"Destruction?"

"There is no sympathy or protection for those who steal from others."

"A thief?" Da-Lan rose to his feet in anger and raised his fist as if to strike Ro-Ack, but confusion over the tack the conversation had taken stayed his paw. "Annie is no thief!"

"Not in the traditional sense, and not intentionally." Ro-Ack conceded. "But stealing the affection and attention of another's mate is just as bad, and that was what she would have eventually been forced to do to feed herself, and any illegitimate cubs she whelped. Some of the older females were already complaining."

Da-Lan slumped back on his rump and buried his face in his paws.

"I could have kept her safe from all that." He moaned, his great shoulders shaking as he was wracked with sobs. "If only I'd have told her before ... before ... Aggghh! How come I didn't see this coming?"

"Strangely, we are often blind to the talents and faults of those we hold most dear." Ro-Ack placed a comforting paw on his friend's head. "Only seeing them clearly when it is too late to praise or change them." As I have only just now realized the true depth of your feelings for her, Ro-Ack thought, his guilt growing at his own ignorance.

"I thought that you and her ... that's why I never said anything ... the way you two always lit up when you saw one another."

Ro-Ack loved Annie like a little sister, and her unflagging spirit had always brightened his day when they were young. Even as they grew into adulthood and they began to drift apart the memory of the fierce cub she once was brought a smile to his muzzle. Yes he loved her, but not in the same way that Da-Lan obviously did. Still, it had hurt him deeply when he had proposed that she become Mi-Ran. And now that he knew the nature of Da-Lan's affection for her he felt even worse.

But Ro-Ack did not talk of his pain. He stayed silent. A Balance's duty was to listen, not to speak. He let Da-Lan rant between sobs as he tried to come up with a solution that would alleviate the situation.

"I almost told her, there in her new cave." Da-Lan was saying. "I thought that if I spoke up before she ... she got too involved as Mi-ran ... I thought that she might consider ... but with the war coming ..."

"War?" Ro-Ack's head came up so quickly the vertebrae cracked.

"Yes, the war." Da-Lan looked up apprehensively. "Don't be mad, Ro-Ack. She probably shouldn't have said anything, it just slipped out. But once she did the signs were obvious. I know that you and Ro-Ro want to keep it a secret, but when it is common knowledge, would you mind telling me why?"

"Why? Why what?" Ro-Ack's mind was reeling.

"Why we are going to war." To Da-Lan's astonishment, instead of answering Ro-Ack jumped up and looked around wildly for a moment before focusing on some invisible point in the distance. There was a moment of silence while the taller wolf processed the information he had just received and then he spoke.

"Go join the hunting party." He instructed Da-Lan flatly. "Your legs are too weak to carry the meat but you can help lift the carcasses up on their backs. Tell heroic tales tonight around the fire, they will need the encouragement if they are to go to war. Tell Ro-Fa that I said that he is in charge. Do it publicly as soon as you get there so that the other leaders won't think that he coerced you." Ro-Ack concluded as he headed out of the copse of trees in the direction of the den.

"And what do I tell them about you?" Da-Lan called after him. "That you were taken by pixies?"

Ro-Ack stopped on the edge of the grove and looked back over his shoulder. His gaze was steady and devoid of any emotion.

"Tell them that I have been summoned by Ro-Ro." He said in a chilly tone. "And not a word more."

With that Ro-Ack loped off westward, leaving the confused and bewildered story teller behind.

* * * * * * * *

Ro-Ack covered the distance from the hunting party to the den in less than a day, arriving just before the noon meal. He would have preferred to arrive early in the morning, before most of the pack woke, but exhaustion forced him to sleep for a few hours. He had carried carcasses most of the previous morning and had missed two meals by leaving suddenly as he did.

Before approaching the den he washed in the river to remove the blood and the dirt and sweat. The pause also gave him a chance to catch his breath and compose himself; the sudden appearance of a panicked and dishevelled Ro-Ack would have had a greater effect on pack confidence than a casual announcement that they were going to war, he was sure. For one thing, until recent years war was a common activity, and one that most males looked forward to as an opportunity to prove their valour and move up in the pack. But if a pack thought that their leaders had lost control they became disjointed, nervous and ceased to work as single unit. Whole packs had been destroyed by infighting because they lost confidence in their leaders at a crucial time.

Freshly cleaned, and outwardly calm, Ro-Ack strolled into the den as if he had just been out using the sanitary pits. Wolves that chanced upon him were surprised to see him, and several asked if the hunting party had already returned. Ro-Ack acknowledged their greetings but avoided their questions by claiming that he had no time because he was on his way to a meeting with Ro-Ro.

As he traversed the den he kept his eyes open for any signs of the unusual. When he found one, and he found several, he registered it and then casually looked in another direction. By the time he was half way to the caves he had confirmed Da-Lan's report, the pack was preparing for war, and it looked like it had been for some time.

The thought disturbed him. Some of the preparations, repairing weapons, preparing preserved food for the campaign, shoring up the den's defences, could all have commenced after he had left due to a sudden and unexpected threat arising. But if such a treat had come up would Ro-Ro not have called the hunting party back on the double? Other preparations, like the stockpiling of arrows and stones for the slings, had obviously been going on secretly for some time from what he could see as he glanced into the storage caves. Even sending out a hunting party to the farthest plains to track down the last of the big herds seemed to fit into a larger plan. If an attack in force was planned there would be no one available to hunt, and if they were to defend the den against a significant foe they would be trapped inside it. Either way, large stockpiles of food, like the ton of meat a half day behind him, would be required.

But why have I not been told? Ro-Ack wondered as he neared the leader's cavern. He longed to stop and ask some of the wolves engaged in the preparations how long they had been at it and what they knew about the situation, but the only question he asked of anyone was to the cooks, to find out if Ro-Ro was dining in his cavern today or with the rest of the pack around the central fire pit. He was in his cavern, they answered.

Ro-Ack strode into the cavern without announcing himself, as was his privilege as the Balance, ignoring the guards that had not been there two weeks ago when the hunting party had set out. Recognizing him, they ignored him in turn. He saw Ro-Ro standing behind a stone slab that served both as a dining table and planning station. The leader was listening to a small slight wolf and watching the cavern entrance. When Ro-Ro saw who it was approaching he spoke a word to the small wolf and sent him away in the opposite direction. Then he smiled at Ro-Ack and motioned him closer.

"Ah, Ro-Ack. Back from a successful hunt I hear." The big wolf boomed gregariously, but his smile never reached his eyes. "I knew that you would be successful, you are driven. And I am glad that you rushed ahead to report to me. We have much to discuss." With that the leader dismissed his guards to take up posts outside the cavern, out of earshot.

Ro-Ack was not surprised that Ro-Ro seemed to be expecting him. He knew that the leader had his own network of spies and informers, as did most pack leaders. It was necessary to make sure that the information being passed through the various group leaders was accurate because future challengers would come from that group. Withholding or falsifying intelligence to embarrass a leader and erode their support was a common tactic. It also ensured the Ro-Ack's honesty as Ro-Acks had been known to favour a rival over the leader when they felt a change of command would be of benefit, their loyalty being to the pack first and the Ro-Ro second.

"We are preparing for war." Ro-Ack said in a low voice when he stopped on the opposite side of the table. Glancing down he saw that wet sand had poured on the table and that a crude map of the region had been moulded from it. Bits of coloured cloth stuck on twigs marked the locations of the other wolf packs. Arrows and lines indicated a campaign that took in the entire range, including the tiny, almost feral packs that occupied the arid eastern slopes of the mountain range. "And it would appear that planning is well advanced." He concluded.

"And you are, of course, wondering why I did not consult you sooner." Ro-Ro replied smoothly, with just a touch of regret in his voice. "But it was necessary to preserve secrecy."

If Ro-Ro was expecting an angry outburst he was disappointed. Ro-Ack merely stood there staring silently at the leader until Ro-Ro was compelled to continue.

"Since I became Ro-Ro ten years ago it has been my dream to unite the packs under one leader, preferably me. Your predecessor and I spent seven years planning how it might be brought about, and we were at the point of initiating that plan when he became ill and died. It was he that counselled me to keep the plan secret from you once you became the balance for as long as possible. He felt that you would be overly cautious in your first few years as Ro-Ack, just as he had been; too cautious to contribute wholeheartedly to such a risky plan." This was untrue, the previous Ro-Ack had concluded that the plan was doomed to fail, and would lead to the destruction of their pack. But Ro-Ro had rehearsed his response for the time when his principal advisor eventually caught on to the signs around him, and the lies and half-truths fell easily from his tongue. "He believed, however, that I could rely on you to run the rest of the pack while I continued setting the conditions for the final phase of the plan. Those included secret alliances, rumours of a greater threat, and a slow build up of our force. With the supply of meat that you have provided the final element is in place. Will you allow me to explain the details to you before you cast judgement based solely on my secrecy?"

The gambit hit home. There had been just enough truth in his statements to make Ro-Ack doubt the conclusions he had already reached. It was true that he had been very cautious since taking over as balance at such a young age three years ago. And he had immersed himself in the day-to-day running of the den while Ro-Ro went about what he had assumed had been his business as leader of the pack. A generation older than him, Ro-Ro had never been his friend and had not made Ro-Ack his confidant when the younger wolf was elevated to his current position. Ro-Ack had also assumed that that would change over time, but had yet to see any sign of it, until today. He nodded his head to indicate that the leader should proceed.

"I plan to bring the packs together, without using force if possible. And then, before the other species learn of it or the rest of the packs can think about what is happening, I intend to move west to conquer first the coyotes, then the canines and felines of the valley. And this is how I intend to accomplish that ...."

* * * * * * * *

By the time that Ro-Ro had finished explaining and answering all of Ro-Ack's questions the evening meal was ready. Wolves hurried to eat because scouts had arrived with word that the hunting party and their load of meat were only hours away. That meat had aged as much as it should during the long march and it would have to be preserved by salting and smoking or cooking it with certain herbs as soon as possible.

Ro-Ack, his head reeling from the grandeur of Ro-Ro's plan and his stomach rumbling from missing several meals, excused himself to join them.

"After you have eaten and have assured that the preserving is well underway go get some rest." Ro-Ro ordered. "We can discuss the next phase of the plan tomorrow."

Ro-Ack gave a small bow of acquiescence and departed. After he had left the cavern a large figure detached itself from the shadows deeper inside and joined Ro-Ro at the table.

"Did you hear, Ro-Da?" He asked his mate, a great black female almost as large as himself.

"Some." She replied. "Most times you talked too low, and I did not want to intrude. How much did you tell him of the plan?"

"Just as far as moving on the dogs that control the valley. I saw no need to reveal the final objective of our campaign."

"Very wise, mate of mine." The big black female traced to contours of the sand model with her claws as she spoke. "Ro-Ack would surely object if he knew how far we intend to take this."

"He will find out sooner or later," Ro-Ro replied, his brow furrowing in a frown, "and I don't imagine that he will be any more agreeable when he does."

"By then you will not need him anymore. You will rule more than one pack or even one species. You can appoint counselors from each. A new order needs new ways, after all." She said persuasively, but her mate continued to frown.

"He is very popular, even more so after the recent hunt. If he disagrees with the final phase of the plan he will sway a significant portion of the pack."

"When he begins to be suspicious we can eliminate him, just as we did his predecessor. No one suspected a thing after he died, did they?" Ro-Da, who had apprenticed under the pack healer long enough to learn about poisons, rubbed her mate's broad chest with one paw and reached down to fondle him under his loin cloth with the other. "Have you been to visit our pretty new Mi-Ran?" She asked as he stiffened under her ministrations.

"No." He answered truthfully. He had been too afraid of her reaction to suggest it, and would not dare step out behind her back for fear of what she would do when she found out, as she surely would.

"Maybe you should." She said, giving him one last squeeze before turning away and heading for her private sleeping chamber in the rear of the cavern. "It would help relieve the pressure you have been under lately." And with that she left him alone in the main chamber, with a grin on face and an expectant bulge in his vestments.

* * * * * * * *

The hunting party arrived shortly before dark. The original members of the party were exhausted from their efforts to catch up with Ro-Ack, but they were happy and in high spirits too. The newest member, Da-Lan, was exhausted too, but simply from the effort to keep up with the rest. Even with their excessive burden they could move faster than his spindly legs could carry him.

The hunting party may have been happy with their efforts, but they were not happy with Da-Lan. Not only did they have to half drag the deformed story teller along, he refused to cheer them up by composing a heroic tale of their great hunt and prestigious journey back with the spoils. He had sat and stared at the fire throughout the meal the night before and sulked off to sleep immediately after. If they had not known that he was Ro-Ack's closest friend they would have left him behind at the camp that morning.

Back in the den Da-Lan did nothing to improve his reputation as he crawled off to nurse his aching legs, leaving the hunters to herald their feats to the rest of the pack as preparations to preserve the bulk of the meat got underway. A portion was taken to the cool lower caves to keep for the feast two nights hence.

The storyteller appeared at the evening meal the next day, but instead of praising the hunters he told tales of the foolishness of the proud and the powerful. They were met with a disapproving silence. Da-Lan retired early, leaving the bulk of the pack grumbling around the fire. They showed no hesitation in complaining to Ro-Ack when he appeared later. He had been delayed due to the need to catch up on Ro-Ro's plans for the feast to be held the next day. Delegations from several packs that Ro-Ro hoped to pursue to join them without fighting would be there, and an invigorating tale from the story teller to entertain their honoured guests was mandatory; preferably one that emphasized the strength and skill at arms of the pack. Ro-Ack promised to have a word with his friend.

When he approached Da-Lan the next day he found his friend cold and unresponsive, but Da-Lan did promise to present a suitable story at the feast. Ro-Ack left, wondering how he could help his cubhood companion through this rough patch on the road that is life. But pressing matters of pack business soon drove those thoughts to the back of his mind as he prepared for the pivotal meeting.

The delegations arrived throughout the day, each escorted in from a different direction and at a different time. Ro-Ack was immersed in the elaborate plot to keep each ignorant of the others until the last second. Fortunately the cooks needed no supervising and Ro-Ro had already seen to it that the stockpiles of arms, and the skills of the wolves practicing with them, would be evident but seemingly incidental during a tour of the den. The shock of seeing several other delegations at the supper fire was obvious, but the pride of the wolves kept the other leaders from admitting that they had been hoodwinked and so they took their places in the circle, just as Ro-Ro had calculated they would.

Da-Lan was nervous, but outwardly calm. He had prepared a tale of this packs legendary move from the barren hills of their ancestral hunting grounds to this location several generations ago, and their skill in protecting it since then. He would of course compare the feat that had brought the meat for this feast to the den with the ancient trek, as well as mention how the skills shown on the hunt were the same as those required in battle.

After a sumptuous meal and a few servings of fermented grains that served to put everyone in a receptive mood Da-Lan began. His voice was strong, as it needed to be because strict silence was not required from the audience; they were free to talk and gossip during his performance. It was Da-Lan's challenge to present it in a manner that would hold their attention, but since all the members of his pack had heard the main tale many times before there was bound to be a little chatter. Da-Lan ignored it and carried on.

He was doing a commendable job of it until Annie appeared.

She had blossomed in the short interval since becoming Mi-Ran. She moved with newfound confidence and assurance though the pack, flirting with some, teasing others, and joking with the matrons about the sexual peculiarities of males in general as she went. Da-Lan continued to talk as he watched her, but failed to notice that his voice had fallen into a monotone. He also failed to notice how Cor-Wag, one of his two former rivals for the position of Da-Lan, sat up in interest when he did.

Cor-Wag meant storm cloud, and had supposedly been bestowed on the former apprentice story teller because the patterns on her grey and black coat resembled them. But it was also a sly comment on her dour personality and her tendency to choose depressing tales full of dark foreboding when it was her turn to perform for the pack. She believed that the business of the Da-Lan was deadly serious, unlike the normally humorous Heg, who won the position that she felt she more than deserved. Ever since his appointment several months ago she had harboured her anger and waited for a chance to show him up. It seemed that that chance would come tonight. She prepared a scathing comment to heckle his sub-standard performance, but before she could deliver it he presented her with an even greater opportunity.

Da-Lan talked with his eyes fixed on his Annie. She was surrounded by wolves; touching this one on the shoulder, slapping another on the buttocks, forcing her way between two others in an animated discussion, but suddenly she was alone. For a moment that seemed to last for an hour she stood isolated and illuminated by the fire, looking lovely and at peace in the unexpected lull.

Da-Lan faltered, and then ceased talking altogether as his heart was ripped freshly open. The crowd sensed something wrong and they fell silent too, but he failed to notice. It was not until a frown came over Annie's face as she turned to look at him that he realized what he had done. His maw opened and closed several times as he attempted to take up the story again, but he produced no sound. Angry expressions appeared on most faces and an ominous murmur came from the crowd. In a few more moments it would erupt into open anger, but Da-Lan's eyes were locked on Annie's and the silence dragged on. When her expression changed from confusion to one of pity he jumped up and fled the circle.

Behind him the attentive Cor-Wag leapt up to take his place. She knew the story of the trek and the various battles that followed as well as he did. She took up the story with a serious undertone that suited the current mood of the pack and the delegations quite well. From his place at the head of the gathering Ro-Ro nodded his approval. The decisions he would demand of his guests later in the evening were more suited to Cor-Wag's somber style. Perhaps the whole campaign was. He speculated on whether to change the Da-Lan or just elevate Cor-Wag to share the position, as he had done recently with the new Mi-Ran.

But Ro-Ro's speculation would prove unnecessary. Da-Lan retreated to his cave and lit a fire to drive off the chills that had nothing to do with the temperature. He took a few minutes to take a cold hard look at his short career as the pack story teller. It had been fun at first, recounting the old tales and making up new ones based on the peculiarities of the pack members, but now that he was the one acting peculiar it did not fell so good. He could image now how the subjects of his jests felt when they found their lives on display around the supper fire.

Something in him had died tonight, and he doubted that he would be able to carry on in the same manner as before. It was hard enough to be lighthearted as the pack geared up for war, but harder still when one had to watch the love of his life flourish in a role that he detested. He could try to imitate Cor-Wag's somber style, he supposed, but repeating all the bloody tales designed to drive the warriors into a frenzy before battle would only turn him into a bitter shell of his former self, he was sure.

In moment of clarity that stood out from the shadows of doubt that surrounded him Da-Lan decided to leave the pack and seek his fortunes elsewhere. He would become a lone wolf, one of those that sold his skills to the farmer canines or the travelling foxes in exchange for shelter and enough of the fermented brew to drift away soundly, if not peacefully, for another night. He hurriedly threw his personal items and a few useful tomes from the library into a pack made from the thick hides found on the backs of the moose and caribou.

He wondered if he should leave a note for Ro-Ack but decided against it. He was not yet ready to forgive his friend's role in these events and was unsure of what else to say. But he needed some form of emotional relief, so he grabbed the discarded end of a scroll he had finished recently and began to pour out his feelings for Annie onto the parchment. He spared nothing in his brutal assessment of his love, not his own feelings, not hers, not those of the disapproving pack in general. When he was done he read the words that he had barely spent a moment thinking about, and realized that he could never leave a document that laid his heart so bare where others might find it, nor could he stand to pass it to Annie directly.

Da-Lan crumpled up the scrap of rough paper and tossed it in the fire. He waited until the flames caught at the edges before he took up his pack and strode out into the darkness.

Behind him, a pocket of sap trapped behind a knot in the wood exploded, and the resulting eruption blew the light bundle of parchment out of the small fire ring. It rolled into a corner where it sat smoldering for a few minutes, but without the heat from the embers or a breeze to sustain them the flames soon went out, and after a while even the burning edges ceased to glow. The crackle of the fire gave way to the snapping of the embers and the final settling of the ashes. By the time the first glow on the horizon heralded the coming of the sun Da-Lan's cave had been silent for some hours.

* * * * * * * *

Things were not going well for Silver Tip's caravan. Late spring rains had made the trails muddy and the wagons kept bogging down. Yesterday, while trying to free one that was sunk to the axles they had been ambushed by a group of coyotes and two of his kin had been killed before the diminished guard force could chase them off. Their normal circuit along the edge of the plains was turning out to be a loss in more ways than one.

It was early in the season, but Silver Tip was thinking of abandoning the traditional route and heading immediately for higher ground. The problem was that the wolves were usually out hunting this time of year, replenishing their stocks after a long cold winter in the mountains. If they were having as much difficulty with their endeavours as he was having with his then they would not have much worth trading, and they would be hungry. Hungry wolves would not hesitate to attack a lightly armed caravan. They would keep the food and trade the fox's goods for more when the next caravan came along.

Turn east or stay the course? It was a weighty decision, and one that Silver Tip dared not take without first consulting Star Gazer. He left his eldest son to supervise the transit of the latest mud pit and trudged toward the seer's wagon.

The old fox kept her elaborately painted wagon near the rear of the caravan, among the stores wagons where it was more private. As the march was held up she had parked it under the shade of a large oak, but with the horse still in harness in case they were ambushed again. Neither Star Gazer nor her helper, the fox child Amber Rain, was visible. Silver Tip walked around to the back of the wagon, climbed the three stairs mounted there and rapped on the heavy wooden portal. His fist had barely landed when Amber Rain opened to door.

"Madam Star is expecting you." The young fox, just a kit really, said.

Silver Tip was not surprised at the speedy response. Star Gazer had a way of anticipating things. That was, after all, the main talent of a seer. He stepped in and waited silently for the old vixen to acknowledge him.

"How is your mate?" She began. "How does she fare in these troubled times?"

"She is doing well." Silver Tip responded. "Her belly is round and firm." Having fathered numerous children with three former wives he was almost as well versed in birth lore as Star Gazer, who also served as midwife to the caravan.

"Good." She replied. "You have a difficult decision to make." She added.

"Yes." He did not elaborate, he did not have to.

"East into the mountains or south along the plains. Both are fraught with dangers. Both could end in peril. There could be no safe path."

"I need to know which, if any, is safer."

"Of course you do. Let me consult the dice. Amber!"

The young fox opened a carved wooden box and took out Star Gazers' prized possession, three translucent red plastic dice. They were relics from before the change, and Silver Tip had seen them on several occasions such as this. They were scratched and worn down on the corners, but he noted that the shallow dents that formed the spots from one to six had been repainted since he had last consulted with her. Amber Rain carried the precious dice to Star Gazer and knelt at the older fox's feet. She cradled the cubes in her paws and the seer placed her smaller paws on top to cover them. Then Star Gazer began to mumble the plea to the gods that governed chance and fate, to invoke their favour and receive a clear reading.

While he waited for her to finish the incantation Silver Tip studied the two vixens.

Star Gazer was very old, the oldest fox that Silver Tip had ever met. She claimed to have been midwife for his grandmother's birth. Amber Rain, however, was quite young, not yet old enough to breed. Her fur was vibrant, with a soft golden tone and a sheen that made it look like she had just come in from the rain, thus her name. The seer claimed that she had once had shiny red fur with jet black markings, but ever since he had known her coat had been dirty grey and somewhat shaggy. Star Gazer's eyes were also grey, but only because of the cataracts that had spread to cover them over the years. She was all but blind. Amber Rain served as her eyes now, and hers were an unusual shade of green that resembled emeralds. There were other differences. The seer was thick about the waist and bent over in a permanent crouch. Her assistant was thin as a newborn foal and stood straight as an arrow.

But there were also differences between the two that age alone could not account for. Star Gazer's fur was much thicker, and longer, than was common these days. Amber Rain's was much shorter, especially on her abdomen and face. The younger vixen's muzzle was noticeably shorter and wider that the seer's, yet her paws and the digits on them were longer and more defined. The old vixen had narrow claws that grew to sharp points despite being cracked with age. Her helper had claws that were relatively broad and flat, almost rounded. The caravan leader examined his own paws and noted how his were somewhere between the two.

It's like we are changing a bit with each generation, he thought, too slowly to notice from father to son but as steady as the growth of the oak. What will we become in another ten generations, he wondered.

Star Gazer had finished her recital and with a flourish she threw the dice down on the floor. In previous years she would have gone down on her knees to read not only the numbers but the relationship of each die to the others, but today she remained seated while Amber Rain read them for her.

"Three ones." The young vixen said, her voice breaking slightly at the ominous and rare result. "They landed in a triangle with two long sides of equal length and one short one at the base. The point is oriented to the south."

"Turn you wagons east, and head for high ground." The seer advised.

"And all will be well if we head to the mountains?"

"Who knows?" She shrugged. "Maybe you will trade well or maybe you will return to the winter campground with nothing. But to the south there is only death and despair."

"East it is then." Silver Tip turned to the door.

"Some will complain." Star gazer called as he descended the stairs. "Mask foremost among them."

"I'll deal with him when the time comes." The leader said, pausing on the middle step.

"Be careful Silver Tip. He has his father's speed and is just as ruthless as his sire once was."

Silver Tip did not reply, he knew of what she spoke better than any fox in the caravan. With a weary nod, he set off to pass new instructions to his sons.