Catch a Wolf

by A. Katie Rose

  “I, too, would swear fealty to Raine of Connacht,” she said. “Whether he be of two legs or four, he has my undying loyalty and devotion.”

  Dipping into a low curtsey, her green eyes on the ground, she abased herself to me.

  Flabbergasted, I could do nothing but sit and stare at the top of her head. A royal princess, heir to the throne of a great nation, offered me obeisance. Though I outranked her, technically, her land didn’t run subservient to mine. Of all people, she alone shouldn’t bow to me.

  “Ly’Tana—” I began, forgetting for the moment she couldn’t possibly understand me.

  She looked up, deep into my eyes as though she heard me. Straightening slowly, she held herself erect, proud, her red-gold hair cascading around her shoulders. Her emerald eyes glistened with an emotion I couldn’t fathom.

  “Of all in this world,” she said softly, for my ears alone. “Of all that is seen and unseen, I have but one request. If my goddess answered but one prayer it is this: that I have you by my side forever.”

  “Ly’Tana—”

  Kel’Ratan staggered up. He swayed a bit on his feet, but on his feet he remained steadfast. “I, too, bow to the Great Wolf.”

  He suited action to words, and bowed low, from the waist. Staggering slightly upon rising, he kept his footing with an effort. He didn’t sit down so much as fall down, onto his backside, with a deep sigh.

  Witraz rose next. While his bow wasn’t as fluid as Kel’Ratan’s, his inebriation wouldn’t allow it, it was equal in sincerity. “To the Wolf,” he intoned.

  Between his mentors, Yuri and Yuras, Tor also bowed smoothly. “I pledge my sword,” he said, his voice low. “To you, Prince Wolf.”

  He glanced about himself, his hand on his vacant hip, and blushed. “When I get one,” he added hastily.

  Rannon and Alun staggered upright, using one another for support. “I am yours,” Rannon said. “After her.”

  “What he said,” said Alun, bowing. In his intoxication, he all but fell flat on his face. His arm around Rannon saved him from a headlong fall into the fire.

  Left and Right, the most sober of all, choreographed their bows in unison, saluted me with twin Kel’Hallan salutes before reseating themselves.

  Rygel rose elegantly to his feet. Of course he would, I thought. He’d be graceful if he’d had twice the wine and half the nobility. “I’ll always be yours, my prince. Now and forever.”

  Strangely, Corwyn rose last of all. His piercing blue eyes under red and silver brows looked deep into mine as though seeing right into me, seeing right through me. Even if he read my every inconsequential thought, he knew I doubted he’d follow me after knowing what I truly was. Yet, he saluted me.

  Connachti fashion, his right hand held to his brow.

  “My family always pledged fealty to the Barjlek family line,” he said quietly. “Once upon a time, had I been a better man, I’d have done the same. They pledged to a king, a throne, a symbol.

  “I pledge allegiance to the man. I pledge to the Wolf of Connacht.”

  I am not ready for this, I thought wildly, in panic. The urge to run, as fast and as far as I could, nearly overwhelmed my reason. Nearly overwhelmed the love I had for Ly’Tana, for Arianne, for Rygel and the others.

  “If you thought you were ready, I’d believe I had the wrong wolf.”

  “You have the wrong wolf,” I said, “I can’t do this. I cannot lead them to their deaths.”

  “You don’t know that they’ll die.”

  “I’ll die and so will they,” I said, forgetting to speak within my mind.

  “We won’t die,” Ly’Tana said quietly, confidently, when Rygel translated. “And neither will you.”

  “I do know—” I began.

  “My time draws near,” said Elder, cutting me off. My respect for him effectively stopped whatever else I might have said.

  He rose, stiffly, to his feet. Silverruff stood also, expectant, but with sorrow lowering his ears, curbing the brightness that once glowed from his eyes.

  “Where do you go, old one?” I asked, Ly’Tana leaning comfortably against my shoulder, her arm across my neck.

  “I have fulfilled Darius’ wishes,” he said, shaking his head, his ears flapping. “And my own. I have lived but for this moment.”

  Understanding dawned in my thick skull. “Please. Don’t go.”

  Elder’s eyes glowed with warmth, humor and love. “Into each life must come death, Chosen One,” he said softly. “It is the way of things.”

  “But you—”

  “Do not grieve, my son,” he said. “Even my seed, my true son, knows it is my time to go.”

  “Father—” Silverruff began.

  Elder nuzzled his son’s muzzle in affection. “Find yourself another mate. You must have sons to follow after you. I would see grandchildren frolicking under the sun.”

  I drew myself up, my heart already grieving, in pain. “I am indebted to you, Elder.”

  He paused, his soldiers flanking him, as he prepared to walk, no limp, back into the dark forest. “No, Chosen One,” he said slowly. “It is I who am grateful to you.”

  He sat down again, his age not allowing for standing still. Either sitting or walking was best for him.

  “To know you, to speak to you, has been the greatest honor of my life,” he said quietly. “Not many wolves will have the chance to greet you as I have, to speak to the Chosen One.”

  “That’s not much of an honor.”

  “It is, however,” he replied, his head high. “I am in your debt, Chosen One, Darius’ son. You will do him, and us, proud. My life is now complete. I leave the world in good paws.”

  His guards flanking him, Elder limped toward the forest. Silverruff watched him leave, his head low, his ears flattened. Grief etched his features.

  “Elder, I need you,” I said. “Your son needs you.”

  “We will meet again.”

  “What if I fail?” I asked.

  Elder refused to answer. His shortened gait spoke of a certain determination. My heart ached within my chest. So little time—

  “Tuatha, called Elder,” I said clearly.

  He paused, looking inquiring back over his shoulder.

  I tipped my muzzle toward the sleeping pup at my feet. “I would call him after you. Tuatha.”

  Pleasure and satisfaction came over the old wolf’s face. He grinned, a young wolfish grin, his tongue lolling. “You do me honor. I am pleased. You will do well, Chosen One. Child of Darius.”

  My heart aching, I watched him limp into the forest, the dark shadows swallowing him up. Most of the wolves sat or lay silent, their heads averted. As though watching him leave, walking to his death, invaded his privacy. Only Silverruff watched, his ears sagging.

  “I would go to him,” he said, turning back to me. “One last time. By your leave, Chosen One.”

  “You don’t need my permission,” I all but snapped. “Go.”

  He quickly rose and trotted into the trees, disappearing instantly. I listened to his footfalls behind the slow limping gait of his sire and the deliberate pacing of the escort. I tuned them out, respecting the privacy of their final father-son chat. I gazed down at my adopted son, Tuatha the Younger. Absently, I wondered how wolves got their names.

  “Their parents, just like yours. Usually based on some aspect of their appearance or nature. You need a wolf name.”

  “My current name is quite enough, I think.”

  “Raine is not very wolfish.”

  I sighed. “Is there any wine left?”

  At Arianne’s amused translation, drunken humans cast about unsteadily for fresh skins, drunken wolves rose to follow their noses toward any scent of wine at all. Witraz pounced on a deflated skin lying near Joker, the wolf who still lay on his back with all four paws in the air. That big boy rolled over, his eyes bright as he gazed at the skin Witraz waved over his head in triumph.

  “Here, m’lord,” he announced.

  Witraz lacked t
he needed coordination to walk the short distance to me. His right leg stepped firm, his left wandered off course, making him stagger. His one eye gleaming in the firelight, he tried again. This time he tripped over Joker at his feet. Cursing and flailing, he went down.

  Fortunately for the wolf, Witraz’s big form toppled mostly sideways, missing most of the wolf’s body, with the exception of his hindquarters. With a half whine, half growl, Joker lunged out from under Witraz. He didn’t get any further, either. His front legs tangled together, bringing him down in a disorganized furry heap.

  I eyed the wineskin, lying in the dirt like a dead animal, thinking that if I wanted a drink, I needed to be human again. I’d need the use of my hands. As though reading my thoughts, Ly’Tana came to my rescue. As Witraz and Joker both staggered to their feet, each voicing loud complaints about the other, she rose from my side and picked it up. With a grin, she aimed the mouth at me.

  Just in time, I caught the squirt on my tongue. Laughing, she tipped her head back, catching a thin stream into her own mouth.

  “I believe there’s just enough for us two,” she said.

  “Wait a minute,” Kel’Ratan demanded. “What about the rest of us?”

  “What about you?” she answered callously. “Royal prerogative.”

  Lying on my back, I laughed as Ly’Tana sat beside my immense head and dripped wine into my upturned mouth. Kel’Ratan grumbled sourly to himself, picking up a nearby cup and sniffing it. With a deep sigh, he tipped it over. A single drop slid out and down to land with a tiny plop onto a dead leaf.

  The search for more wine concluded with only the miniscule remains in a few skins. Wolves lay back down with sighs almost as loud as Kel’Ratan’s. Witraz made to sit, but fell instead. Curling up on his side, next to the fire, he soon began to snore. Joker eyed him for a moment before also lying down in a furry grey ball, tail coiled primly over his legs. With his muzzle resting on his tail, his eyes, glazing over as they stared into the flickering flames, slowly closed.

  “Can you humans make more of that?” asked Little Bull. He imitated his friend, lying down in preparation for sleep. “I like it.”

  “We’ll see about that,” I replied.

  “What do you mean?” Darkhan asked.

  I laughed, a silent wolfish laugh as Ly’Tana streamed more wine into my gaping jaws. “Come dawn, you’ll see.”

  After Rygel translated, Kel’Ratan grumbled sourly. “Hangovers.”

  “What’s a hangover?” asked Shadow, lying between Rannon and Alun. His long pink tongue dangled out of the side of his mouth, his brown eyes dull.

  At the translation, his human companions howled with laughter.

  “I wouldn’t be laughing, were I you,” Ly’Tana said. “You two are bawling babies come the morning after.”

  Silenced, the pair blinked owlishly in the firelight. Shadow glanced up at them, bemused. “I gather they’re susceptible to these hangovers?”

  “Very,” Ly’Tana agreed.

  “This should prove interesting.”

  At Arianne’s translation, Alun scowled and Rannon cursed under his breath. The wolf merely laughed to himself and put his head on his paws.

  Silverruff emerged from the forest and the shadows, his head and tail low. Every dejected line of his body screamed his grief. While he didn’t speak, I knew he wanted to howl his anguish to the stars.

  “Come, my friend,” I said, rolling over. “I think you need this more than I.”

  Wolves and humans alike made way for him as he walked slowly to my side. Ly’Tana scooted over, raising the skin to squirt wine into his mouth.

  “Hmmm,” he said, rolling the taste over his tongue. “It’s sweet.”

  “Let us drink a toast,” I said.

  “A toast?” he asked, puzzled. “I thought your humans called it wine.”

  “A toast is when friends drink wine together and speak words of hope or praise,” I answered.

  Kel’Ratan raised an empty skin. “To the Wolf,” he intoned. Lifting it, he dribbled a tiny trickle into his mouth.

  “To Connacht,” said Corwyn, lifting his own.

  “To our very own Princess,” growled Rannon. “May she reign forever.”

  “When she gets the throne,” added Alun.

  “To Arianne,” growled Darkhan, lifting his jaws so she could squirt a tiny amount onto his tongue.

  “I’ll drink to that,” Rygel said, seizing it to bring a drop to his lips. Caught between them, Arianne giggled helplessly, trying to hug them both at once.

  “To Elder,” said Joker, waking from his doze to lie once more on his back, paws high. Kel’Ratan managed to squeeze a few drops into his upside down, grinning mouth.

  Silverruff and I looked at one another, Ly’Tana in the middle. I think at that moment we understood each other perfectly. What he read in my eyes is what I saw in his. His tongue lolled in a wolfish grin. As one, we both spoke softly.

  “To victory.”

  * * *

  After tossing about for hours, unable to sleep, I sat up. I wiped grit and dust from my eyes, glancing about the camp. The fire burned low. Only red coals lay within the stone boundary where flames once flickered. Both human and wolf snores drifted through the darkness, the shapes of sleeping men and furry wolfish mounds met my cleaned eyesight. Once those shapes appeared as dim shadows to my human eyes, my wolfish vision remained clear in the dark hours before the dawn.

  I turned myself back into my human shape before lying down to sleep, Ly’Tana beside me. Yet, wolf night eyes enabled me to see as easily I might under the noontime sun. Now both selves, wolf and human, had joined, my body might be human but my six senses, and instincts, remained those of a wolf.

  I glanced down at Ly’Tana, curled on her side, her head pillowed on her arm. She’ll wake with her arm numb, I thought, but knew if I tried to make her more comfortable I’d rouse her. I satisfied myself with a light brush of my lips against her silky hair before standing up.

  Tuatha lay beside her, curled into a dark furry lump, dead to the world. Ah, the innocent sleep of the young, I thought, stroking my hand over his puppy fur. Would that I could relive that.

  Quietly, as to not wake anyone, I gathered a few faggots, put them on the coals and stirred up the fire. Only Bar, lying down on the far side of the camp, raised his eagle head from his forelegs to watch me. I could only shrug, and offer him a half-salute. Whatever his thoughts were, he kept them to himself as I turned away.

  Changing back into the huge black wolf was easier than I thought. Easy once you know how, I thought wryly. Just willing the shape of either my human form or my wolf body brought the swift change. My mind wanted to linger on the rightness of my wolf shape, how fulfilling it felt to be a wolf. Yet, I forced it onto other matters. Like whether or not I’d find a way to survive this calamity Darius saddled me with.

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “If you don’t mind,” I said. “I’d like to be alone for a while.”

  “Very well.”

  Silently, I padded out of the camp and into the darker shadows of the forest. Behind me, the wood caught fire, brightening and warming the sleeping camp behind me. My night vision didn’t falter with the added shadows of the trees about me. My hearing picked up more night sounds than I cared to listen to and I tuned them out. Not far away, Tashira and Shardon raised their heads from their grazing in the midst of the small horse herd. Like Bar, they merely watched without speaking as I loped away under the trees.

  Scenting the wolves posted on guard, I stepped about them and past them. They also heard my presence approach, for how could my tremendous body pass under tree limbs without making a noise? Yet, they, in wolf fashion, sensed my need to be alone and satisfied themselves with quick tail wags of greeting before returning to their watch.

  I loped on, my paws digging furrows into the soft loamy soil. Uneasily, I pondered on the feelings running with four legs brought forth. I’m a man, not a wolf. At least, I was supposed to be a man
. How could two creatures possibly inhabit the same body? Unnatural. I should be feeling that being a wolf was alien, not as it truly was…comfortable.

  Yet, Ly’Tana was fully human. She also found great joy in flying as a bird. I’d have to think on this further, I supposed, but right then all I wanted to do was run.

  So I ran.

  I must have loped for miles, though I didn’t feel tired. Running on four legs was easier than running on two and wolves had natural stamina. I stretched out my legs, my paws flying over the grass, the wind hissing in my ears. The terrain rose. The trees fell away, leaving behind a steep rocky incline. I galloped uphill, my jaws wide, drinking in the cool night air, my hindquarters digging into the rocky soil. I reveled in the sheer power of my immense wolf body, feeling, for perhaps the first time, truly free.

  Climbing a steep hill, I slowed to a trot and at last to a walk. Finding a boulder large enough to accommodate my enormous frame, I stepped onto it. The night forest lay below and behind me. Only the stars above the distant hills greeted my eyes.

  A wolf body lies down on rock far more comfortably than a human’s would. I lay down, curling my tail about my hind legs. A shooting star, its tail a fiery red, trailed across the heavens. The red dragon, I recalled, the firedrake. The portent of things to come.

  Like a child, I wished on it. Wished that one day, someday, I would have Ly’Tana for my mate. As a slave, I never allowed myself to wish for that which I could never have. And here, I had done it: not once, but twice.

  Only children believed in dreams and expected that wishing on a shooting star brought those wishes true. Adults dealt with reality and, with a few exceptions in my personality, I was an adult. Reality was a quest that would end in success and death. I’d free my ultimate sire from his prison, but in so doing I’d die. I’d die a horrible death at the hands of the beast and Ly’Tana would die at my side.