The Elders

by Inbali Iserles

  But Shaya’s reply was addressed to me. “The maa will fade. Then you’ll truly be alone.” She didn’t turn as she stalked beyond the blood-bark tree. A shiver of ferns and she was gone.

  Brin rose on his long legs. At last he met my eye, his curly whiskers trembling at his muzzle. “Tread lightly, young fox—run fast, be safe, live free.” He didn’t wait for a reply, darting between the trees without a word to the other Elders.

  I stared after him, wondering what I’d missed. Why was Shaya annoyed with Jana? Why was Brin hostile?

  Siffrin cleared his throat. “Isla’s only a cub. She can’t go to the Snowlands alone. Let me go with her.” He appealed to Jana with his eyes, then shifted his gaze to Mika and Kolo.

  Jana didn’t reply right away. I found I was holding my breath, wondering what she’d say. For a beat her eyes glowed. “I know you want to help,” she said finally. “But I need you close. You’re too valuable, Siffrin. You can see Isla to the outskirts of the Elder Wood, then come and find me.”

  “Please, Jana.”

  “Sorry.” Her voice was gentle but her gaze was firm. “The edge of the wood and no further.”

  Siffrin’s tail-tip jerked but he didn’t protest, and neither did I. Pirie was my brother—I knew it was right that I go alone.

  So why was there a knot of sadness in my chest?

  The sun was sinking between the bowing branches of the blood-bark tree. Jana shook her gray fur. “It is time for us to go our separate ways.” She touched my nose with her own. “Tread lightly, fox—run fast, be safe, live free.”

  Kolo and Mika stepped up in turn, touching noses and murmuring the same words to me, to Siffrin, and to each other.

  Run fast, be safe, live free.

  “Until the gloaming,” added Jana to the other Elders. The three old foxes trotted in separate directions, instantly melding with the shadows of the wood. I swiveled around to the Rock. The colors had vanished overhead. The stones had lost their sparkle. With the Elders gone, it was nothing special—a large plateau in a circle of trees.

  I followed Siffrin as he led a path through the wood. The air was pungent with blossoms. We didn’t speak as we trotted over roots and vines, winding north. I still felt the quiver of silver in my limbs, the force of the Elders’ maa. I had no problem keeping up with him.

  Siffrin’s muzzle was low, his pace determined. His muscles rippled beneath his red coat as he moved. I wondered what he thought of me. Had he suspected Haiki all along? I pictured the Taken, trapped on the Rock. I remembered the foxes in the snatchers’ den. I’d hated Siffrin for his deceptions, but perhaps I’d been too quick to judge him. It wasn’t always easy to do the right thing.

  It wasn’t always clear what the right thing was.

  We reached the outskirts of the Elder Wood. The soil turned to scrub, curving over a hill. I could hear the nearby swish of water.

  Siffrin finally spoke. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “Do what?”

  He tipped his muzzle. “You don’t have to travel to the Snowlands alone. Let me go with you.”

  Our eyes met. In those deep amber globes I caught a hint of what I’d seen in maa-sharm. The dancing colors, the soaring heat. The little cub lost, alone in the world.

  “I know you think I’ve been dishonest,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to trick you. I should have told you about your family.”

  My tail-tip quivered. “It doesn’t matter now.”

  He took a step toward me. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

  I touched his nose with mine. “I know.” I pulled away, padding over to the scrub. When I glanced back, Siffrin was in the same place, watching me with sad eyes.

  Yearning gnawed at me. “What about Jana?”

  Siffrin cocked his head. “She’ll understand.”

  I wasn’t sure that he really believed that. I hesitated, paw raised uncertainly. My ears flicked back and I wavered. “Yes,” I said, surprising myself. “Come with me to the Snowlands.”

  Siffrin brightened and he bounded toward me. He rested his head against mine and I breathed in the richness of his coat. “I really am sorry,” he said at last. “I’ll do anything I can to help you find Pirie.”

  My whiskers tingled and relief ran through me. The truth is I’d missed Siffrin, more than I liked to admit. I needed to tell him that it was all right. That I forgave him for lying about my family; that I understood why he did it. That the Mage had ordered their deaths. That a lone fox couldn’t have taken on Karka and a skulk of Taken.

  That it wasn’t his fault.

  The words didn’t come. I’ll tell him later, I promised myself. When we’re in the Snowlands.

  Together, we rounded the hill. The twigs and roots of the wood gave way to tufty grass, then clattering shingle. I gasped in astonishment. A huge coast spread out before us.

  The Raging River.

  The current was furious, rolling in plumes as it charged downstream. I trod cautiously to the edge of the bank. Water crashed and frothed as far as the eye could see. A giant bird wheeled in the sky, stretching its earthy brown wings. I gazed in wonder as it tipped its white head and glared at me with piercing eyes.

  The river was too huge and wild to swim across. If only we could fly, could leap into the sunset like the bird.

  “What should we do?” I asked.

  Siffrin let out a long breath. “I don’t know.” He sat, looking out over the water, and I settled by his side. The tip of his tail swept next to my paw.

  He rose with a shake. “I’ll see if there’s another way.” I watched him pad along the shingle as I listened to the crashing water. The surge of maa made me more aware of the land beneath my paws. Malinta’s call had gone but I still felt a thump from the ground, a heart that beat with my own. What was Pirie doing now?

  I missed my brother. I missed his voice. I missed the wildway and hunting for beetles.

  You never were much of a hunter.

  I sat up. Pirie had spoken through my thoughts. I knew the risks of gerra-sharm. We might be overheard. “I can’t talk to you, Pirie. Not anymore.”

  Isla, what’s wrong? Don’t go so fast! I had to reach you. To tell you not to come looking for me.

  My muzzle tensed. “Goodbye, Pirie.”

  Please, Isla. You don’t understand! Stop searching. Before you go, promise me!

  “I won’t promise that.”

  I’d rather die knowing that you’re alive than live knowing that you’ve been captured. I caught the tremble of terror in his voice.

  “You’re not going to die,” I said firmly. “Neither of us are. We’re from the Great Snarl. We’ve lived among the furless. Nothing a fox can do is as bad as that.” The words comforted me, though I wasn’t sure they were true. “I have to go, Pirie. I’m sorry …”

  I’m scared, Isla … I don’t even know where I am. I can’t see.

  “I’ll be your eyes.”

  I can’t move.

  “I’ll be your paws.”

  I feel so weak.

  “I’ll bring you maa. Stay strong, Pirie. I’m coming for you.”

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I pushed him away. The space where my brother’s voice had been expanded like an echo, a great vacant nothingness. I rose to my paws, giddy with sorrow. The sun had set over the wood. My heart quickened. It was dangerous to speak to Pirie, especially at night. We’d only exchanged a few words—had anyone been listening?

  I peered along the bank. Siffrin was far up the water’s edge. For a moment I watched him sniff the ground as his long red brush swished behind him.

  An acid tang on the air. The scratch of claws.

  I whipped around.

  The red-eyed foxes climbed over the hill. Their silhouettes stood out against the last whisper of silvery light. Their eyes glowed like fire.

  The Taken streamed over the grass.

  “Siffrin!” I cried. He didn’t hear me over the crashing surf. “Siffrin!”

  Already, they
were sliding down the shingle.

  Siffrin turned, as though by some instinct. He started running toward the Taken, cutting an arc through the cobbles. I could see his lips moving in incantation.

  Shock gripped me as he morphed into a ginger cub—a cub with my face.

  As the Taken caught sight of him, he’d already changed. He spun around, tearing along the bank, and the Taken pounded after him.

  I reeled with giddiness, confused by the wa’akkir. But I knew why Siffrin had imitated me, and my heart thundered for him. The Taken were gaining on him, closing the gap, and I was to blame. I’d spoken to Pirie. It was only for a moment, but it was enough.

  Reckless, stupid little fox.

  The last of the Taken streamed down the shingle. Before I could think what to do, five other foxes climbed over the hill. Instead of chasing after Siffrin, they paused and looked around. Even from this distance, I could tell they were free foxes. Their bodies lacked the loping gait of the Taken.

  My tail thrashed with relief. The Elders had found us!

  Then I spotted the tips of their white fangs.

  They weren’t the Elders.

  Five foxes of the Narral slunk toward me. Terror seized me and I yelped. The Mage’s inner guard weren’t fooled by Siffrin’s wa’akkir. They were masters of foxcraft. And they were coming for me.

  Desperately, my eyes skimmed the bank. Siffrin and the Taken were almost out of sight. When I looked back, the Narral were already at the bottom of the hill. A strange shimmer touched the air. Specks of yellow dust seeped after them, bringing the smell of decay. A dark figure stepped through the dust. He paused at the top of the hill. I’d seen him before in the Ghost Valley, though I didn’t know him then.

  I could make out the shape of his pointed ears, his scruffy coat.

  His stump of a tail.

  The Mage’s eyes glowed acid blue and a low groan rose over the river. Time slowed into a thick drift. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Could hardly breathe.

  The Narral crept over the shingle. Panic flooded my senses and I stumbled backward, where the water licked the bank. Its frenzied tug almost yanked me off my paws.

  Pirie’s voice cut through the groan, freeing me from the Mage’s enchantment.

  Foxcraft, Isla!

  My head shot up. The great bird had vanished in a granite sky. It was against foxlore, but what else could I do?

  “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!”

  I sucked in my breath and spoke through my thoughts.

  “I am Isla. I am changing. I am the great bird.”

  I looked at my paws. The black fur traveled up my leg, turning ginger—just as it always did.

  It’s not working!

  The Narral fell back on their haunches, preparing to pounce.

  I yelped with fear, drew in my breath, and fought to still my panic. I shut my eyes and started chanting again.

  I am the fur that ruffles your back …

  I imagined what it was to be a bird that terrified doves and sparrows, to grasp at fish with jagged talons, to slash their flesh with my beak. To live a wild, lonely life high over the world. To inspire fear in the creatures below. To see the land drop away as I tore through the air.

  My body gathered into itself, powerful, furious. The Elders’ maa rushed through my blood.

  “I am Isla. I am changing. I am the great bird.”

  I sensed it immediately. I was different.

  My eyes flicked open and I gasped.

  Instead of hind paws I had clutching talons. In place of a muzzle I had a beak—a beak with the power to shatter bone. My body was sculpted of muscle and feathers. I spread my enormous wings.

  The Narral cowered, whining in fear and backing toward the wood.

  I raised my wings, as the bird had done in the sky, expecting them to lift me effortlessly. Nothing happened. Panic jagged through me. How did birds do it?

  I struggled to steady my thoughts. In the Great Snarl, I’d seen pigeons thrash their wings as they took flight. Was it the same for a bird this size?

  Fly! I told myself. I flexed my wings but they were too large to bat like a pigeon’s. Up and down moved the great brown wings, but my talons stayed planted to the ground.

  The Narral had paused. They glanced at each other, their fear of me already seeping away.

  I loped clumsily, unable to run. If I didn’t take flight, I was dead.

  I gulped down my terror.

  I can fly. I must fly. I will fly.

  The Narral were creeping closer again, low to the ground.

  Clumsy on my skinny legs, I started to shuffle along the shingle. I was surprised to discover that the faster I moved, the surer I felt. I pushed away the thought of the Narral close by. In my mind, I pictured the great bird soaring. By some instinct, I started to pump my wings as my talons thumped along the bank. The air caught my feathers and speeded my path. It slid beneath me and lifted me, dropping me gently back onto the ground.

  It’s working! I realized in amazement.

  I drew in my breath and ran faster, my talons a blur of yellow, my wings great beams of brown at the edges of my vision. With a shriek of amazement, I rose into the air, slowly at first, then faster. I dashed over the foxes, my talons sweeping above their heads. Blood thundered through my body. I was flying!

  I shot above the bank. The ground dropped beneath me with dizzying speed. I could see the contour of the Elder Wood. My heart screamed through my blood. My eyes widened in wonder and I soared, lost in the vivid beauty of the land below, in the thump of wings, and speed, and heat.

  I was alive! My maa was silver!

  I am the great bird.

  It took me a moment to recall who I really was, to remember that Siffrin had fled from the Taken. I dived along the bank, watching for him, the currents of air like a stream against my belly. I could pick out the Taken toward the trees. Was Siffrin leading them through the woods? I needed a wider view.

  Wind lashed my face and I drove higher, up and up into the clouds. When I dared look down, I caught my breath. The last of the Taken were no more than splotches that disappeared into the wood. I wheeled above it, a blur of dark greens and new blossoms below.

  High on warm winds, I gained confidence. Silver maa crackled at the base of my feathers. I tipped my wings one way, cruising, looping, dancing patterns beneath stars.

  I watched the land rush below me, no longer familiar, a new world seen from high above. I could make out the pines and the glinting cliffs. Here and there were dots of brightglobes—signs that the furless had settled deep into the Wildlands. Far in the west, beyond the meadow cast in darkness, a yellow haze hung over a forest. With a shiver, I tilted direction, watching for Siffrin’s vivid pelt.

  As I swooped over the Wildlands, a halo of light seized my eye—the blur of countless brightglobes. The Great Snarl sprawled across the vista, pulsing with intensity. Against the darkness of the Wildlands, it was like day trapped in night. Dipping lower, I recognized the towering buildings that shimmered like frost. Somewhere behind the snaking deathway was the patch where I’d been born, where I’d lived with my family. But that was a lifetime ago.

  I turned and flew over the river. I knew that Siffrin wouldn’t just leave me—he was bound to return to the bank. I spotted a red blot against the shingle. It had to be him.

  I whizzed above the river toward him, my heart soaring with my mighty wings. I was lost in a space where I was wild and free. Together with Siffrin, I’d find my brother. I was full of maa—on top of the world. I flicked a look over my shoulder and caught sight of the hill. A figure still stood there banked in yellow dust. An old fox with a stump of a tail.

  The Mage.

  He lifted his gaze my way.

  A shudder shot through me like a sickly convulsion. Pain gripped me and I cried out. My swift, sure movements broke into judders. I flapped my
wings wildly but something was wrong.

  Instead of feathers, a flash of fur.

  Horror gripped me. The wa’akkir was broken—my body no longer the great bird’s. Suddenly I was plummeting toward the rapids. My paws thrashed and I dropped, the wind screaming in my ears. In an instant, I glimpsed the lights of the Snarl, the Elder Wood, the yellow-hazed Darklands far in the east.

  With a mighty splash I plunged into the river, a frenzy of paws and blinding chill. The rapids batted me, wrenched me under. I fought the current, glugging great gulps of water. The river tossed me like a leaf and buffeted me against a rock. I hugged that rock with desperate paws and dragged myself up. Straining with effort, I heaved onto a sand bank, freeing my legs of the river’s grip. I gasped for every breath.

  What a fool I’d been to shift into a bird! Defying foxlore, I’d almost drowned. Siffrin was back on the southern bank and I was on my own again.

  But I was alive.

  I had crossed the Raging River. Relief bubbled up inside me. I was going to find my brother!

  I blinked the water from my eyes and the excitement drained away. A wilderness swept before me, an endless valley veiled in white. At its furthest reaches I caught the contour of snowcapped trees, and mountains that rose in giant splinters of ice. The moon was huge against deepest black. Canista’s Lights were lost amid countless stars.

  I shuffled onto my paws, shaking my fur. I had never felt so alone.

  I must have looked strange there, a ginger speck against a sea of white. I folded my tail around my flank, feeling scared and exposed. Anyone might see me from far across the Snowlands.

  Only then did I hear the haunting cries echoing over the valley.

  It was the howling of wolves.

  Their voices slashed the stillness of the night.

  Inbali Iserles is an award-winning writer and an irrepressible animal lover. She is one of the team of authors behind the New York Times bestselling Survivors series, who write under the pseudonym of Erin Hunter. Her first book, The Tygrine Cat, won the 2008 Calderdale Children’s Book of the Year Award in England. Together with its sequel, The Tygrine Cat: On the Run, it was listed among “50 Books Every Child Should Read” by the Independent newspaper.