I recited the chant without making a sound.
What was seen is unseen; what was sensed becomes senseless. What was bone is bending; what was fur is air.
Siffrin shuffled forward on his belly, wending a slow path through the grass. He was slimmering while in wa’akkir, layering one foxcraft on top of another with practiced expertise. The tiny frame of the sandy-furred dog barely grazed the grass stems as he slid between them. Compared to him, I felt large and clumsy.
Slimmering came easier than it used to in the Snarl. With the chant, my eyes grew misty and my heartbeat slowed. My body relaxed to a steady rhythm. Stealthily I crept along the grass, my tail trailing behind me.
“There!” woofed the black-and-tan dog. “Did you see that? The grass moved!”
“The grass moved!” mimicked the pack leader to the yips and snarls of the other dogs. “The wind blew the grass! It must be a monster.”
The black-and-tan scowled. “I can smell foxes. You must be able to smell them too?”
The shaggy white dog raised her muzzle. “There are foxes all over meadows like this. They usually sleep in the day, don’t they? That scent trail must be old. They set it down for other foxes. Everyone knows that!”
“But it’s familiar … I think it’s the foxes from the bracken field. The gray and the cub who lied about the rabbits.”
“That was your fault,” snapped the pack leader, though it was he who had fallen for Haiki’s trick, not the more suspicious black-and-tan. He turned to the others. “You can’t trust foxes, that’s what I told him, but would he listen?”
Rage rose off the black-and-tan’s fur. If she caught us now she would make us suffer. I tried not to think about it as I followed a steady path toward Siffrin. He was making for a burst of hazel. Once we reached it, we would be out of the circle of hostile dogs. I held back my breath, though it pulsed in my throat. Not far now.
“Are you sure it wasn’t Red you saw?” snarled the leader.
A stout, ginger dog responded with a bark, capering about with his stubby tail held high. “Look at me, I’m a fox! I’ve got a great big tail like a fluffy cat!”
The dogs barked raucously, mocking the black-and-tan. I tensed as they cut between me and Siffrin, unwittingly barring my escape.
The urge to breathe was squeezing at my throat. If I drew in breath, I’d be visible to them.
What was seen is unseen; what was sensed becomes senseless.
I was only faintly aware that Siffrin had reached the hazel bush and had broken from his slimmer. The figure of a tiny dog was well concealed beneath the spiky branches.
The pack leader yawned noisily. He had tired of his game. “I’m hungry. There’s nothing to eat around here.”
The others stopped playing, alert all at once.
“I saw rabbits on the other side of the meadow,” said the scruffy white dog.
At last I sensed them move away. My chest quivered urgently, my throat felt thick. Just a little longer, I coaxed myself. They’ve almost gone.
What was bone is bending; what was fur is air.
One after another, the dogs padded after their leader, making for the valley downstream.
All except for the black-and-tan.
Stubbornly she hung back. She circled the tall grass, her muzzle trembling. If I tried to run, she would catch me. She trod so close that she almost stepped on my tail. I froze, too scared to move. My breath was screaming at my ribs. My head grew dizzy and my shoulders quivered.
My vision sharpened, the haze of the slimmer breaking away. I spotted my forepaws nestled in the grass.
The pelt of invisibility was lifting.
“You! How dare you enter my territory!”
I jerked up my head, the breath exploding from my mouth. I cringed against the earth, gasping for air, sure to feel the dog’s teeth snap around my throat. The black-and-tan was only a brush-length before me but she didn’t spare me a glance. Her gaze was fixed on the hazel bush.
Still panting, I raised my head.
The tiny dog was nowhere to be seen. Standing by the hazel bush was a beast so savage that I cringed and scrambled backward. Her massive shoulders flexed with power, the muscles bunching beneath her slick black fur. Her limbs trembled with rage and her lips peeled back to reveal glistening fangs.
I had seen this dog before—back in the Snarl she’d guarded a furless yard. Except, of course, this wasn’t a dog: Siffrin had shifted his shape again.
The black-and-tan froze, her hackles up.
“I asked you a question,” Siffrin growled.
Down on my belly, I scrambled through the grass, making for the ivy upstream. When I reached the cover of ferns, I looked around. The other dogs were stalking back, converging on the grass where I had slimmered. Had they gotten there a moment earlier …
The pack leader strode to the black-and-tan’s side. “Who are you?” he barked. He tried to stand tall but his back legs trembled. Even surrounded by his pack, his fear of a confrontation was obvious.
“Why don’t you come closer and find out?” growled Siffrin in wa’akkir.
Nobody moved.
Suddenly the great dog turned and bolted over the grass. “By the third moon!” she barked as she neared the bank of the stream. As she reached a copse, she vanished from view.
The bewildered pack exploded in a frenzy of yaps. They pounded over the grass, racing back and forth along the stream. They couldn’t understand where the black dog had come from—or where she’d gone.
But I knew.
Concealed behind the safety of the ferns, I blinked rapidly. I saw through Siffrin’s slimmer as he eased himself across the lake and climbed out onto the far bank. I watched as he wound between ferns to cut across the meadow while the unsuspecting dogs paced the near bank of the stream.
They snarled and yapped, glaring over the ferns. They didn’t think to look beyond the water, at the hill dotted with straight-backed pines. They didn’t notice the bright red fox as he gazed back over the grass, or see him turn to bound into the forest.
* * *
I sat amid the ferns long after the dogs had gone, repeating the wa’akkir chant. Sometimes I mumbled the words. Sometimes I uttered them in my mind.
I am the fur that ruffles your back. I am the twist and shake of your tail. Let me appear in the shape of your body: no one can tell; others will fear; dare not come near!
It made no difference. When I looked at my forepaws, they remained silky black. My tail was ginger, the tip still white.
It was more than the chant. There was a trick to wa’akkir, a special knack. There had to be. Why wouldn’t Siffrin teach me? My whiskers crinkled in frustration. He’d made it look so easy.
I thought of the red-furred fox—pictured him speeding over woodland and meadow.
By the third moon!
“Isla? Are you out here?” The voice spoke softly and my ears flicked forward. Haiki was padding over the meadow.
I stepped out from between the ferns. “I’ve been …” My words drifted away. I didn’t want to admit that I’d been practicing wa’akkir for so long, not when I had nothing to show for it. “Those dogs from the gorge appeared, and there were others.”
Haiki gasped. “They traveled a long way from their territory.”
“I guess they’re hungry.”
“And they didn’t see you?”
“Siffrin distracted them and ran away. He’s gone ahead to the Elders.”
At the mention of the red-furred fox, Haiki licked his nose uneasily. “I’m not sure he really wanted to take us. You, perhaps … but not me, Simmi, or Tao. How do you know he’ll be back?”
“He’s just being careful.” I nibbled at a burr. “He’ll be back.”
“All the same, I’m glad you didn’t leave without us. You were gone from the den so long, I started to wonder if you had.”
I glanced up. “I wouldn’t do that.” Haiki’s ears were flat, pointing out at angles. “What is it?”
H
is gaze slid down to the earth. “There’s something about that fox that makes me nervous. He seemed so keen to take you to the Elders, like he had some special reason … but he didn’t want to help the skulk. Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps I’m imagining it.” He shook his fur. “I hope he does come back.” He sounded doubtful.
“He will,” I assured the gray-furred fox, ignoring a tingle of uncertainty.
Haiki took a step closer. “It’s different for us,” he said quietly. “The others … they’re friendly, and they want to help. But they can’t understand what we’ve lost.” He met my gaze, his brown eyes shining. “My heart was scorched to cinders the day my family disappeared.” His voice rose in a whine and he looked away. “I’d do anything to get my family back.”
I could feel the dark knot in my chest. “I can’t even see them in my thoughts. Ma, Fa, or Greatma …” The words died on my tongue. I had been forcing so much grief away but it hadn’t gone, not really. It was always just behind me, like a shadow.
Haiki rested his muzzle against my shoulder. “We’ll be all right,” he murmured. “We’ll keep going. One pawstep at a time, one sunrise, one nightfall. We mustn’t give up.”
I hadn’t been close to anyone since my den was attacked. I closed my eyes and let Haiki wash my ears. His gentle touch took me back in time to the safety and warmth of a life I used to know.
Eventually, Haiki drew away. He flexed his whiskers and brightened. “Karo caught another rabbit. She’s a better hunter than those dogs!”
I cocked my head, impressed.
His tail started wagging. “Let’s go and eat!”
I followed Haiki back to the den. As he slipped between the nettles, I peered into the sky. The sun was floating over the meadow. There was no sign of the moon beneath its cool white glare. The gray fox was always so cheerful. But beneath his chatter, there was desperation and yearning. It was only a moment, a few words by the nettles. But we had an understanding now.
We were the same.
* * *
On the first night after Siffrin left it rained heavily, drenching the meadow. The skulk hunted till moonset but the downpour meant there was little to show for it and we all returned to the den before long.
On the second night, it was quiet and still. Karo caught a bird, and the rest of the skulk gathered earthworms and insects. By moonset, we were curled up inside, in case the Taken trod the borders of the meadow.
On the third night, the sun set in violet billows and an orange moon rose over the nettles. Most of the skulk rested in the den. Haiki curled up alone near the wall of the den, his fuzzy tail wrapped around him.
Simmi and Tao chattered nonstop about the trip to the Elder Rock. Now and then, they would turn to me to ask when Siffrin would arrive. To avoid their questions, I slunk along the tunnel and waited at the exit. My eyes grazed the dark nettles, searching for movement between the leaves. I sensed no paws racing over the grass, no trembling breath in the air.
As the moon faded to darkness, the only sounds were the click of insects and night birds screeching beneath the clouds.
Though the first hint of dawn rose over the east, Siffrin did not come.
We would set out for the Elder Rock without Siffrin.
A day had passed in heated conversations and half-formed plans. In the end, it was agreed that the same group would seek the Elders: me and Haiki, Simmi and Tao.
“You will have to cross the deathway,” said Rupus as the skulk gathered by the nettles. “Be careful. You in particular, gray-furred fox. Where the deathway passes, the furless are found. They will want you for your coat.”
Haiki swallowed, glancing at his fluffy gray brush.
“It is a shame that the messenger failed to return,” the old fox sighed. “Well, that’s how it is. You will have to rely on your wits.”
I lowered my gaze, still stung by Siffrin’s latest betrayal. He’d made me look foolish. I cursed myself angrily. I knew he couldn’t be trusted.
Tao’s tail was wagging. “Isla’s going to teach us foxcraft on the journey!”
“Just karakking and slimmering,” I said quickly. “I don’t know the higher arts.”
“It can’t hurt,” agreed Karo.
Flint turned to me. “Why don’t you take them downstream and show them tonight? Once you’re out of the meadow, you’ll need to focus on your surroundings.” He cocked his head at Simmi and Tao. “You can leave for the Elder Rock in the morning, armed with your new skills.”
Tao’s tail thrashed eagerly. “Let’s go right now! I want to slimmer!”
Karo gave him a nudge with her long snout. “Be back by moonset. The Wildlands are more dangerous than ever.”
“That’s why you shouldn’t travel by night,” said Flint. “Not until you’re far from the forest.”
Simmi’s whiskers flexed. “But how will we know which way to go?”
“I’ve heard the Elder Rock lies in a wood, enclosed in a circle of trees,” replied Rupus.
Tao rose to his paws. “In the pine forest? That’s easy enough. Come on, Isla, let’s go to the stream!”
“Be patient, young fox,” snapped Rupus sternly. “Use your sense. The Rock must be further than the pines.”
“The messenger said it would take him three nights to run there and back,” murmured Mox. “And he knows the way.”
Rupus threw Mox a sideways glance. “Shame that the brightest of the litter can’t go on the journey.”
Tao scowled and Simmi’s ears flipped back.
“If Siffrin was telling the truth,” Flint pointed out.
Rupus peered into the lengthening shadows. The sun was sinking into dusk. When he spoke again his voice was low. “My greatfa talked about the Elders. The entrance to their realms is said to be beautiful, surrounded by waterfalls and burnished stone. The Elder Wood faces the rising sun. You will need to cross through the pines, walking into your shadows as they lengthen. Pass the deathway and keep going until you find the place of stone and waterfalls. The Elder Wood lies beyond it.”
“Did your greatfa say what the Rock looks like?” I asked, imagining dozens of stones that were all the same.
Rupus ran his tongue over his nose. “All I know is it’s overlooked by a special tree. One like no other. Locate the tree and you’ll find the Elders.”
My ears pricked up curiously. “What kind of tree?”
“A blood-bark tree.”
“Blood-bark?” The name made me shiver.
Rupus dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Older than the hills and valleys, its grasp on the loam is deeper than anything that grows in this meadow. The wolves believed such trees to be sacred, that they drew maa from the soil in the earliest ages of our world as Canista trod the earth. There was an abundance of maa then, before the furless arrived and chopped down the forests. So much maa, it turned the trees red.”
Mox’s eyes grew wide. “Canista … You mean the bright lights we see in the sky?”
“In a way,” the old fox acknowledged. “The wolves thought the lights represented a great canid, the queen of their warlike ancestor spirits. In the stories of their Bishars, Queen Canista existed in our own world.”
Mox stared at his greatfa. “Canista lived here?”
“That is what the wolves believed, long ago when they dwelled in the Wildlands. That Canista started life down here, before her maa rose to the sky.”
Mox’s tail gave a shake. “Greatfa, do you think that’s true?”
Rupus snorted. “Foxes do not hold with such beliefs. Even as my greatfa shared this tale, my greatma was quick to scold him. ‘A tree is just a tree,’ that’s what she said, and she was right. Wolves are superstitious creatures who make portents of the wind and rain. I tell you this only so you’ll understand the tree’s appearance.”
“How does it look?” I asked.
“I have never seen it myself. Perhaps the one by the Rock is the last of its kind, though there may be one or two others scattered far across the Wildlands …”
Rupus’s tatty tail flicked up. “They are said to be great trees with a deep red bark, the color of dried blood.”
Simmi was gnawing at a split claw. She rested her paw and looked at her greatfa. “Won’t it look like the other trees? In a wood, how can we tell?”
Rupus sighed. “You’ll know.”
Flint’s ears flipped back. “It’s getting late. We’ll talk more back in the den. Go with Isla now, and learn what foxcraft you can.”
Karo stepped forward to lick Simmi and Tao on the nose. “You’ll be well beyond our patch once you start your journey. We do not know what dangers lurk out there. Don’t stop for anything.”
Flint nuzzled her shoulder. “They aren’t going till the morning.” The two foxes rounded back to the den, their tails crossed.
With a playful yelp, Simmi burst toward the stream. Tao and Haiki bounded in pursuit.
Little Mox stared after them.
On impulse, I padded toward him. “Do you want to learn some foxcraft?”
He ran his tongue over his muzzle. “I can’t go on the journey …” His crooked tail hung low.
“That doesn’t matter, I could still teach you.” I tapped him with an encouraging paw.
His tail started wagging. “I’d love to learn foxcraft!”
“Absolutely not,” snapped one of the old vixens. She shoved her snout between us and I scrambled back. “Foxcraft takes maa, and Mox needs rest!”
She was right, of course.
Starting toward the stream, I wished I hadn’t said anything. When I glanced behind me, Mox was watching, tail still wagging—even as the two old vixens ushered him back to the den.
Rupus yawned and rose to his paws. For a moment he stared at me with his small, hard eyes. Then he shook out his fur and turned away.
* * *
I wove through the long grass, following the scent trail left by Haiki, Simmi, and Tao. I thought I’d teach them to karak first. It took less maa than slimmering. I was wondering about the best way to do it when I heard voices.
My ears pricked up.
“She seems very proud of herself.”
“She got it wrong about Siffrin.”
The fur twitched at my hackles. It was Simmi and Tao—they were talking about me.
The Elders Page 11