The Elders

by Inbali Iserles

  I allowed my head to rest on my forepaws. Gradually, my breathing grew steady. Weariness edged through my aching muscles and I let my eyelids close. I found myself wondering about the Elders. Were they hostile, like the vixen I’d met on a wildway my first night alone in the Snarl? Were they thoughtful and wise, like Greatma? If they were really so mysterious, how had Siffrin grown close to them?

  When I opened my eyes the sun had crept over the mountain. All around me, the rocks were burnished orange. Haiki was lying on his side fast asleep. As I yawned and stretched, he opened his eyes.

  “How are your ears?”

  The shriek had dulled to a hiss. “Better. How about you?”

  His tail gave a wag. “I feel all right now. Glad we got away from that furless.”

  “I’ve never heard one make so much noise. He must have been furious.”

  Haiki shook his ears. “It wasn’t him that made the noise, it was his stick. That thing can kill instantly. The furless have stumps for teeth and claws as soft as leaves. They use the stick to hunt.”

  I ran my eyes up the rocky path ahead. “I’m going to keep climbing. I’d like to see what lies beyond these rocks.” I have to get up there before the sun sets, I thought. I need to talk to Pirie.

  We took the rest of the mountain at a gentler pace, clambering carefully as the light deepened. Already the sun was bobbing lower on the horizon, throwing long shadows across the rocks.

  By the time we approached the peak, I was ready for another rest. The air up here was cooler, banked in cloud. A sputter of dampness touched my nose and I breathed deeply. We’d made it to the top of the mountain! I turned to look over the rock, creeping up a shallow incline.

  Instead of a valley, I was greeted by a giant lake of glistening water. Far beyond it was a craggy hill, with outcrops of grass clinging to its borders. At the edge of the horizon, the sun was starting its slow descent. Its body hummed deep red, like a fox’s pelt, and it trailed a violet brush. With a pang of sadness, I remembered how Siffrin’s eyes lit up as he spoke of sunsets in the Wildlands.

  My gaze trailed back to the lake. Even the strongest swimmer could never cross so much water, or survive the drop to the surface. A lip of rock overhung it, a cliff that loomed over the glittering water.

  I looked at Haiki. “There’s no way down.” I couldn’t conceal the disappointment in my voice. “We’ll have to go back the way we came.” My tail curved around my flank and my ears twisted sideways.

  “But it’s so far,” Haiki sighed.

  I craned my neck. Over his head, I’d caught movement. A shadow crept across the rock. A head loomed into view.

  A furless with a long brown stick.

  The furless was lowering his stick. I barked in alarm and Haiki whipped around, ducking behind a cluster of boulders. The furless grew still, his forelegs extended, his attention fixed on Haiki.

  “Slimmer!” I yelped, forcing my heart to beat slowly. “Make yourself invisible.” I was able to do it quickly now, gulping down my breath and quieting my mind.

  What was seen is unseen; what was sensed becomes senseless. What was bone is bending; what was fur is air.

  I felt myself drifting, fading from view. I pressed back against the rock, allowing my body to meld with its sharp gray lines.

  Kaa-thump, kaa-thump.

  But as my eyes rolled dreamily to Haiki, I saw him scrambling against the stone wall. Was he crazy? Did he want to be killed?

  “Slimmer!” Snapping at Haiki broke my own concentration and I struggled to stifle my breath.

  “I don’t know how!” he whimpered as the furless steadied the stick.

  My gaze shot across the steep drop to the lake. I rushed to the lip of the rock. There was no way we could jump it, no chance we would survive the fall. I noticed a dark gap beneath the shaft. It might have been nothing, a dimple in the rock. I craned my neck. There was a small jutting boulder down there. Was it large enough to land on?

  I crawled on my belly, tilting my head for a closer look. The gap slipped darkly into the rock wall.

  I turned to Haiki. “This way! Quick!”

  In an instant he was at my side. I heard the crack of the stick and a whistle as its fire roared over our heads. I slunk to the edge of the rockshaft. With a deep breath I launched myself off it, paws splayed to brace myself on the small jutting boulder. I landed with a thud, the boulder quivering under my forepaws. My back legs scrambled precariously over the lake. With a furious yowl I heaved myself up and looked straight into the gap I’d seen from above. It cut through the center of the rock. I scampered inside as another screech burst from the stick. Had Haiki made it?

  I crouched in the gap, my ears shrilling. There was a small pool of rainwater by my paws, and I drank thirstily. From here, it was impossible to watch the shaft above. Had the furless caught Haiki with his deadly fire? I drew my brush around me and waited.

  The stick shrieked, echoing through the rock. I craned my head over the edge of the gap to see Haiki spring onto the jutting boulder. Like me he landed awkwardly, his hind legs swinging over the drop. The boulder started tilting. With a scrabble of paws, Haiki dragged himself up and sprang toward the gap. As he thumped down by my side the boulder shuddered, breaking away from the rock with a growl. It lurched down to the lake. I heard a whoosh and a great distant splash as it sank under the water.

  We panted at the edge of the gap, shaking away the cries of the stick. There was no sign of the furless, no way he could reach us under the rockshaft. Far below, the water shimmered on the lake, lit by the orange sun with its violet tail. The rippling vastness seemed to shrink the world around it. White birds bobbed on the surface, little more than specks from our vantage point. At least we were safe from the furless.

  “He wasn’t interested in me,” I said at last.

  Haiki let out a long breath. “He wanted my pelt. They always do.”

  I was relieved that I could hear him properly over the buzzing in my ears. I frowned, taking in Haiki’s coat. In the Great Snarl, the furless did terrible things to us. I remembered the snatchers’ mangler, which rounded up foxes and took them away to be killed. But I had never heard of hunters using sticks with fire. Did they steal pelts because they lacked fur of their own? I looked down at my paws and along my forelegs, where the black hairs turned ginger. Was there something about Haiki’s coloring that made him more valuable to the furless?

  He got up with a huff and edged toward the mouth of the gap. Lapping at the puddle of water, he looked out over the lake. He took in the lip of rock above, then he turned to me. “We can’t go back where we came from. We can’t go forward.”

  I stared into the darkness of the gap, which seemed to reach into the heart of the rock. But how far did it go? What if it ended at a stone wall? We’d be stuck here, waiting to starve. I shuddered and rose to my paws, treading into the darkness. Haiki followed.

  We had no choice. There was nowhere else to go.

  * * *

  The passage was narrow. It wasn’t long before the light faded. The walls blackened and disappeared. I padded warily, listening for unusual sounds, hearing Haiki’s pawsteps just behind me. He seemed to make an effort to stay close, as though he was afraid of the dark.

  “I can’t believe you know foxcraft,” said Haiki. His voice echoed along the passage. “Back where I’m from, only a few foxes do, and they’re not the young ones. Did you learn to slimmer in the Graylands?”

  “Yes.” It was true, although it wasn’t the whole truth—I’d learned it from Siffrin, a Wildlands fox. But no one had taught Pirie how to slimmer; he’d grasped it instinctively. “I can karak too,” I added. That made me feel better. I’d learned how to mimic the calls of other creatures all by myself.

  “Amazing,” sighed Haiki. “I don’t know any foxcraft … Ma always said, ‘If you’re in a trap and you fear a bite, use your cleverness, not your might!’ ” He panted with amusement. “A fox is smarter than other sons and daughters of Canista, but he isn’
t as strong. There’s no point getting into fights.”

  I remembered how Haiki had tricked the dogs. But without being able to slimmer, he’d been helpless in the face of the furless. Beneath Haiki’s cheerful chatter I sensed frailty.

  My ears pricked up and my whiskers edged forward. I looked back over my shoulder. The last glimpse of light from behind us cast a glow around Haiki. Only his eyes shone against his long fur. For a beat, I lost my footing. The silvery gleam beneath his thick lashes made him look sharper, more cunning than he’d seemed.

  “It’s a cave.” My voice echoed along the rocks and my ears flicked back.

  “But where does it go?” asked Haiki. “You won’t leave me here, will you, Isla?” His voice crackled with anxiety. I felt a curious impulse to protect him. I drew in my breath, focusing on the unfurling darkness. I couldn’t leave the gray-furred fox, not now at least. Not until we reached open land.

  The passage cut deep into the rock. We walked a long time. I felt the ground rise beneath my paws, then stagger downhill. What if it simply fell away?

  “It’s pretty tight in here,” said Haiki. “I don’t like being in closed spaces. Do you?”

  “Not much,” I said shortly. I wanted to focus on the messages from my paws and whiskers. My brush swished, flicking against each wall. Was the air growing thin? The ground was lurching at an angle. I thought I heard the distant gush of a stream. I smacked my lips thirstily and paused, ears straining.

  Haiki stumbled into me. “What happened?” he yelped.

  “It’s all right,” I soothed. “I thought I heard water.”

  We both stood still in the darkness. Silence seemed to stretch in all directions. Perhaps I’d been wrong.

  I started padding down the incline and sensed Haiki following close behind. A couple of times, my brush swept against him as I felt for the distance of the walls. They were growing narrower. The air smelled damp. Despite breathing hard, I could scarcely fill my chest. Fear crept along the back of my neck as each step took me deeper into the unknown. My head felt light. My heart quickened against my ribs. I had a sudden impulse to turn and bolt, to throw my paws against the wall and claw my way to freedom.

  Greatma’s voice drifted through my thoughts.

  Fear is your friend, but it must never be your master. It will leash you just as surely as the furless do their dogs, and drag you to an even darker fate.

  The hairs spiked along my brush. I couldn’t remember Greatma ever giving me such a warning. It was almost as though I could actually hear her. Like I could feel her. My whiskers bristled and my mouth parted in wonder. “Where are you?”

  It was Haiki’s voice that responded. “Right behind you.”

  “I thought …” I blinked hard into the darkness. The thin air was making my thoughts fuzzy. I forced myself to breathe slowly. My ears pricked up. “Can you hear that?” A burble, a babble, like the patter of rain.

  “Water!” gasped Haiki.

  The ground leveled out beneath my paws. The sound of running water grew stronger. It wasn’t rain—it was the voice of a stream. In my excitement, I picked up the pace and smacked my snout into a wall of rock. Fear scurried over my back once more: the passage was blocked; we were trapped!

  Greatma’s voice:

  Don’t let it become your master …

  “What’s wrong?” hissed Haiki.

  I lapped at my sore nose, listening for the flow of water. It wasn’t far away, just beyond the wall of rock. I reached out a forepaw, hooking it around the hard stone. There was a narrow gap between the rocks. I slid my head through, blinking against prickles of light. A slender stream tumbled over a gap in the rocks. The air was cool and fresh.

  My tail started wagging.

  I drew back, turning to Haiki. “Just up ahead, the rock bends. I think there’s a way out!”

  “There is?” Haiki bounded forward, bumping me against the wall in his excitement. He shoved his head around the stone. “Oh, well done, Isla!” He fell back, allowing me to slide through the gap and out into the open. I took in great gulps of clean air. Even the murky light of dusk ached against my eyes.

  I heard a grunt behind me. Haiki was struggling to slip between the narrow walls. “Almost there,” he muttered. He squeezed his way out with a triumphant squeal.

  Together we slipped through the shallow stream, the icy water cleansing our coats. We had arrived at an outcrop of rocks at the edge of the lake. A narrow path cut between them, earthy and dank.

  We must have been inside the rock a long time. Twilight coated the still water. I gave myself a shake. My eyes were fixed on the lake but I wasn’t really seeing it—I was remembering my patch, back in the Great Snarl. Thinking of the meeting of day with night, when we’d shuffle from the den to explore the wildway.

  I remembered an evening long past, when Pirie was hunting for beetles. He was snaking through the grass, his tail bobbing up and down, disappearing from view.

  “Got one!” he yelped. I ran to his side, smacking my lips. Pirie was trying to grasp a huge beetle that was doing its best to creep up the trunk. It pulled itself free from my brother’s grip, but I batted it back with my forepaws. It tumbled to the grass, rolling back on its hard shell. We watched as it kicked pathetically, unable to right itself.

  I made a move toward the beetle. “I’m taking it to Ma and Fa.”

  “I found it!” Pirie went to block my path. “I’m the one who’ll take it.”

  Ma’s voice rose over the grass. “Isla! Pirie! It’s raining. Come back to the den.”

  I hadn’t even noticed the rain. Now I looked up to see the sky was murky. Drops slid onto my nose. I scowled at the streaky clouds. They always meant we had to go inside. Why couldn’t the rain just leave us alone?

  The beetle was swaying on its shell. With an effort, it rocked onto its legs and started tumbling through the grass. I pounced but Pirie was still in my way. I smacked into his flank and tried to reach around him, but the beetle had scuttled away.

  “You let it go!” I snapped angrily.

  Pirie’s ears flicked back. “You were closer.”

  “Isla! Pirie!”

  My ears flattened as I turned toward the den. Now we had nothing to show Ma and Fa. The rain was growing stronger, splashing onto the grass and sliding down the bark of the tree, gurgle-splash.

  Gurgle-splash.

  A fish broke the surface of the lake, washing away my memory. For an instant, I saw its lidless eye before it shot into the murky depths. Echoes of movement in endless ripples.

  I sighed, my tail curling around my flank. The memory of my squabble with Pirie saddened me. I should have let him take the beetle. He was right: he had found it.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmured. My whiskers flexed as I reached out with my senses, hoping to feel his presence. “Are you there?”

  “Did you say something?” It was Haiki, not far behind me. “It’s quiet here, isn’t it? Reminds me of this time when I was a cub—”

  “It was nothing.” I shuffled closer to the bank of the lake. I wasn’t about to tell Haiki that I was trying to reach my brother through gerra-sharm—it was none of his business. I drew in my breath. In my mind’s eye, I pictured Pirie’s mottled coat, golden-brown with splashes of flame. The creamy fur inside his ears, the black that touched their outside tips.

  The water of the lake grew still.

  Isla? Something’s happening to me … I don’t feel the same.

  I caught my breath. His voice in my head was soft as a whisper. The world around me darkened. The outlines of trees wove over my vision.

  There were branches and shadows. A bitter dust filled the air. It crept into my nose and sank down my throat.

  I drew in a long breath and the image faded. But a sense of dread lingered. “Pirie, where are you?”

  I don’t know anymore … I’m starting to forget.

  His voice was blurred by a curious hissing, like the wind in dry leaves. My head felt light, a muddle of colors and twisti
ng thoughts. Pirie running free in the wildway; Pirie alone in a dark land.

  “What are you forgetting?” I murmured.

  Everything.

  My ears quivered. I didn’t understand.

  I think it’s time that you forgot too. Let me go, and live your life. Turn back. Don’t look. It isn’t safe.

  “I’ll never forget you!” I yelped.

  “Isla? What are you saying?”

  I blinked hard. The colors dissolved and my thoughts grew steady. The lake lapped lazily against the rock bank. Haiki was standing by my side, a curious expression on his face. He gave me a gentle nudge with his nose. “You were talking to yourself.”

  I ran my tongue over my muzzle. What had he heard?

  I rolled onto my paws. “This way.”

  Haiki trotted behind me.

  The path strayed away from the water and we followed in silence. My belly rumbled. I promised myself I would hunt down a mouse when we reached a meadow.

  The path cut between the rocks till they opened onto a clearing, a valley at the base of the mountain. I paused to sniff the ground. It was mulchy under my paws, falling into scrubland. A low wind whipped between the rocks, blowing twigs and dried leaves toward me.

  Nothing green grew in the valley.

  The russet grass was patchy, as if scorched by a hostile sun, though the ground was damp and the air was cool. The odd withered vine bucked over the soil, ropy and raw like a rat’s tail.

  The last murmurs of dusk hung over the horizon. A faint scent prickled my nose, of rotting bark and withered leaf. My belly growled with disappointment. I couldn’t imagine a mouse living here—what would it have to eat?

  Haiki was gazing over my shoulder. “I don’t like the look of this place.”

  I glanced across the valley. “Let’s cross quickly. I think I see trees over there. It might be a forest.” I had passed through a wood on the borders of the Snarl. I knew that small creatures dwelled under the trees. Squirrels made their nests there. Birds trilled in the branches. I smacked my lips. Down in the soil, the worms were plump and bugs provided an easy snack.

  We started over the valley. Dead shoots sagged beneath my paws. The smell of decay grew stronger, stinging my nose. We slunk past small mounds of rotting matter. As I passed one I made out a slab of bark and some scrunched-up leaves. A tiny skeleton was half-concealed by soil—a mouse or a vole. Oozing over the slender bones was a slug. I paused to sniff the mound, whiskers flexing. The slug was the first living thing I had seen in the valley. It smelled faintly acidic.