The pack fell silent. I was aware of every sound around us—the ravens squabbling over bits of meat, small prey rustling in the bushes, even the fleas jumping on old Trevegg’s fur. Ruuqo stared at Rissa.
“The humans,” he said. “You want to take them to see the humans. When they are barely four moons old? I thought you were cautious with your pups, Rissa.”
“I am cautious,” she snapped, stalking up to him. “That is why I want to take them now. You had no problem marching them across the Great Plain, Ruuqo, for no other reason than to soothe your pride. This is my decision to make!”
Ruuqo stumbled back. If I hadn’t been so shocked myself, I might have laughed at his astonishment. Upon seeing Rissa angry, I realized that anyone who thought Ruuqo was the only leader of the Swift River pack would have to think again. Sleekwing and Rainsong looked up from the kill, cocked their heads to listen for a moment, then fluffed their wings and returned to their feast.
“Humans,” Ázzuen said softly, tasting the word. “They are not like other creatures. Are they prey or rival?” His brow wrinkled in confusion.
“Since when do the humans come to the Tall Grass plains in the summer?” Rissa demanded. “They should be at the mountain’s edge this time of year, or at the salamander lake. Not here, not now. They no longer stay within their territory. They go wherever they want, whenever they want. Do you want the pups to come upon them on their own, with no preparation? In another moon they will be taking journeys by themselves. They must know before then.”
Ruuqo growled, as if to make up for his earlier cowering. Rissa narrowed her eyes and pulled back her lips. She was no longer weak from bearing pups, and was nearly Ruuqo’s weight. Her white fur was sleek and healthy, her shoulders broad and strong. It was clear she would not back down. The two leaders of the Swift River pack stood, glaring at each other. Around them the rest of the pack grew restless. No one likes dissent between the leaderwolves; it calls into question the strength of the pack. Trevegg walked up to Ruuqo and whispered something in his ear, but Ruuqo pushed him away. Minn whined anxiously, his thin frame trembling. My own stomach clenched in apprehension. What would happen if Ruuqo and Rissa truly fought? Beside me, I could feel Ázzuen shaking and could hear Marra’s sharp breaths. Only Yllin and Werrna seemed interested as well as concerned. Yllin’s eyes went from Rissa to Ruuqo and back again. I could almost hear her thoughts as she watched them, learning everything she could about being a leaderwolf. Werrna growled very softly in her throat as she observed the battle with a calm and calculated eye. Any show of weakness by either leaderwolf could mean the possibility of advancement for an ambitious wolf. I didn’t think I’d like Werrna as a pack leader.
“I think only of the pack, Rissa.” Ruuqo did not give ground, nor did he press Rissa into a spot where she would have to fight him. “The Stone Peak pack is strong and you must enter their territory to watch the humans,” he said reasonably. “We cannot afford to lose pups this season. Come winter, we will need all the hunters we can get. Prey is not what it once was.”
Anger surged in my chest. Ruuqo hadn’t cared if Ázzuen and I died crossing the plain. I’d heard him telling Werrna that every pack loses pups, so what did a couple of weaklings matter? Now he pretended to care about our safety. I owed Ruuqo my loyalty, but I did not like him much. I stifled a growl.
But Rissa’s voice softened as she, at least, saw concern in Ruuqo’s reasoning.
“Yes, prey is not what it was,” she said. “Prey is not what it was because the humans take it all. It will soon be time for our winter travels, Lifemate, and we will surely see them then. The pups must know, and they must know now.”
“I don’t like it,” Ruuqo said, but the fur settled along his back. “If we are careful we can just ignore them until winter.”
“Like Hiiln ignored them?” she asked.
Ruuqo winced. I had heard the adults whisper of Hiiln. He was a wolf who had left the pack before we were born.
“You can’t ignore a long-fang at the kill, Lifemate,” Rissa said. “You know as well as I do that this must be done. We will wait until moonrise. The humans are as blind as baby birds in the nighttime. It will be safe enough.”
Ruuqo’s shoulders drooped a little, but he dipped his head in acknowledgment.
“Minn and Trevegg will stay here with me to guard our meat. You will take Yllin and Werrna with you.” Yllin and Werrna were strong fighters. Maybe Ruuqo did care what happened to us. Or at least he cared what happened to Rissa. Rissa placed her chin gently on Ruuqo’s neck, and all around me I felt the pack relax. The ravens, who had seemed busy with their feast, gave pleased burbles. Then Sleekwing opened his beak and gave a warning squawk.
The strange tingling in my chest returned, and I knew the humans were coming back. Before I could give warning, Werrna’s ears shot up.
“They return. And there are more of them.” A rumble started deep in her chest. “They are coming to take our prey!”
We all turned to Ruuqo.
“How many are there?” he asked Werrna.
“Seven,” Sleekwing answered from the kill, raising his wings. “All adults, all male.” He gave a rasping sigh. “Better take what meat we can now. Before there’s nothing left but bloody grass.”
“You could come with us to the humans,” Rissa said to the raven, amused.
“If you were not afraid to see them in the daytime we would,” Rainsong answered. “We are not afraid of them. We go whenever we wish.”
“The humans throw things at us,” Tlitoo confided, landing beside me and Ázzuen. “But they leave good things to eat at the edge of their homesite. There is plenty to take if they don’t see you.” He blinked at us. “I will take you there if your pack will not. I know the way.”
“May we fight them this time, leaderwolf?” Werrna’s eyes were hard and eager.
I waited for Ruuqo to give the command to fight, hoping he would include us pups this time. I felt a thrill of excitement. I could understand why the adults would not let us fight the bear; one swipe from one of her paws and we would be dead. But surely they would let us join in battle with the weak-looking humans. They did not have the powerful limbs of the bear. They were not very big.
“They are so noisy!” Marra whispered as the humans crashed toward the Tall Grass plain. We could hear them well, though they were still far off. “Are they stupid or just careless? We aren’t allowed to make that much noise.”
“Maybe they have reason not to worry,” Ázzuen said, his bright eyes intent. “They didn’t seem afraid of us before, just cautious. They are different, that’s for certain.”
“They’re rivals, idiot,” Unnan said. “You’re just too stupid to know it.”
Ázzuen was untroubled by Unnan. “No,” he said. “It’s something more. Can’t you sense it?”
Unnan rolled his eyes and turned away, but Marra nodded slowly. I wanted to tell them how I had felt, how the crescent on my chest warmed as the human creatures drew near, but I was afraid to do so. If anyone could help me understand it, clever Ázzuen could, but I would not take the chance of the others hearing. But the warm feeling in my chest grew, and I imagined myself leaping through the air to knock over one of the creatures. Ázzuen would be at my side, and together we would triumph over one of them. I would not kill it, though. I would spare its life and perhaps befriend it. It was a strange thought, but I could see myself running with one of them, racing through trees and meadows. I shook my head. One did not run with prey or rivals. You hunted them, fought them. I turned again to Ruuqo.
“Retreat, wolves,” he said. “Take what you can from the kill and withdraw to the woods.”
Yllin, Werrna, and Trevegg immediately began tearing meat from the horse. I couldn’t believe Ruuqo wanted to run. A sharp bite from Minn made me yelp.
“What in the name of the moon are you waiting for?” he said. I noticed for the first time how much his thin face resembled Unnan’s weaselly one. They had matching personalities, too. “Do what you’re told.”
Still baffled, I started toward the kill. Yllin had managed to tear off one of the horse’s front legs, including most of the shoulder and some ribs, and was struggling to drag it to the trees. Ázzuen and I ran to help her as Trevegg hustled the rest of the pups up the slope and into the woods. Each grasped a small piece of horse. “Hurry up!” Trevegg said. “The humans are moving quickly today.”
“Why don’t we fight them?” I asked Yllin as I grabbed hold of the horse’s shoulder. Ázzuen grabbed the leg farther down and yanked. Tlitoo hopped up to balance on the piece we carried, picking at the shoulder as we struggled with it.
“Because Ruuqo is afraid of the humans,” Yllin said, pausing for breath. She looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was near enough to hear her, and lowered her voice. “His brother, Hiiln, was banished for spending too much time with humans, which is how Ruuqo became leaderwolf. And Rissa was to be Hiiln’s mate, not Ruuqo’s. That’s why he’s so uncertain of his power. He thinks he’s second best. Even his name means ‘second son.’ His father named him that when he and Hiiln were only four weeks old.”
Rissa trotted by with a large chunk of meat in her jaws. She whuffed at us in approval as she saw the size of our prize.
“Hurry up,” Yllin said, taking the shoulder in her mouth again, and giving it a great yank, which nearly sent Tlitoo into the dirt. He flapped his wings to regain his balance and glared at Yllin reproachfully.
“You are as clumsy as a lame auroch,” he grumbled.
Grinning at him, I clamped my jaws around the horse shoulder and pulled hard. Together, Ázzuen, Yllin, and I dragged it into the trees, closer to where the rest of the pack was already hiding. The size of the meat we carried slowed us down. We stopped again, panting with effort. Tlitoo looked at us in disgust and flew off, back in the direction of the kill. Yllin watched him go.
“We’re supposed to stay away from the humans anyway,” she said. “It’s wolf law. But Ruuqo takes it too far. You aren’t allowed to kill them or hurt them unless they threaten you. And you can’t spend time with them. But you are allowed to steal from them, and protect your kills, as long as you don’t harm them unnecessarily. And as long as your leaderwolf gives you permission. You’re not supposed to starve to death to avoid fighting with them. If I were leaderwolf, I would fight them.”
“But you are not leaderwolf, Yllin, not yet.” Yllin cringed at the sound of Trevegg’s voice, but the oldwolf was amused. “You know as well as I do that we are forbidden to have unnecessary contact with the humans. It is a leaderwolf’s task to enforce that rule. Now, let’s bury this meat, before even the humans’ useless noses find it.”
“Yes, elderwolf,” Yllin said meekly, but she didn’t lower her ears.
Trevegg took note of her less than submissive agreement and snorted. “You will be a bad influence on the pups. Come on, youngwolf. You still have something to learn from us oldsters.” He took the whole leg—shoulder, ribs, and all—and pulled it into the woods himself, leaving the three of us to watch in admiration. As if she had not been rebuked at all, Yllin bounded after him.
We did not get to watch as the human creatures stole our prey. We hid in the bushes like rabbits. The humans were as loud as ravens, as if they didn’t care if every bear and long-fang in the Wide Valley heard them. We buried the meat at the fringes of the forest in a place that Rissa told us was Wood’s Edge, a small gathering place we used when hunting the Tall Grass plains.
When the meat was hidden, Rissa gathered us pups around her. Trevegg sat beside her, still panting a little from the heat. One by one the wolves of the pack joined us, settling into the softest, coolest spots they could find. Only Ruuqo stood apart, looking back toward the kill where we could still hear the humans taking our prey. Rissa waited until we all were watching her, and then she spoke.
“The Wide Valley is not like other places,” Rissa began, “and we are not like other wolves. We are chosen to fulfill a great task, and sworn to follow certain rules. So you must listen to what I say now, more carefully than you have ever listened before.”
Rissa didn’t look at me when she spoke of the rules, but I could feel the eyes of the rest of the pack upon me. No one had forgotten what Ruuqo and the Greatwolves had said about my birth going against the rules of the Wide Valley. Ázzuen pressed against me, but I found I wasn’t afraid. At last I might learn why I was different, why Ruuqo hated me. I leaned forward as far as I could, intent on catching every word.
“Tonight we will take you to see the humans who share our valley,” Rissa continued. “They are more dangerous than the bear, more dangerous than hunter-birds when you were small. You are forbidden to have anything to do with them. If you see them when you’re without leaderwolves, walk away, even if you are feeding on the best prey you’ve ever killed. If leaderwolves tell you to, you may steal from them or compete with them for prey, living or dead.”
I heard Yllin grumble softly at this, still peeved that Ruuqo had not let us fight the humans for the horse. Rissa ignored her.
“Any wolf who otherwise consorts with the humans,” the leaderwolf said, “will be exiled—not only from the pack, but from the Wide Valley itself.”
I looked around me. From our hiding place in the woods I could see neither the mountains nor the hills that bordered our home. But the valley was vast. I couldn’t imagine leaving it.
“Most important of all,” Rissa said, “you must never kill a human, unless you are defending your life or your pack. If you kill a human without cause, you and your entire pack will be killed. The Greatwolves will destroy every wolf who shares your blood.”
That got our attention. We all stopped fidgeting and looking around Wood’s Edge and stared at Rissa.
“It is time,” Rissa said, “for you to learn of the covenant of the Wide Valley.”
She paused for a moment, and looked over to Ruuqo as if she expected him to argue with her again. He met her eyes coolly.
“If you are taking them to the humans when they’re still mud-brained pups,” he snarled, “then you may as well tell them of the legends.”
He stalked several wolflengths away, found a patch of damp earth by a rotting log, and lay down, turning his back to us.
“Very well,” Rissa said, refusing to respond to his anger. “There was a time when humans and wolves fought, and all of wolfkind nearly came to an end.” She paused. “You remember what you’ve learned of the Ancients?” she asked us.
“Sun, Moon, Earth, and Sky,” Ázzuen answered quickly, repeating what Trevegg had told us many moons before. “They created creatures and the Balance, and we have to follow their rules. But Trevegg wouldn’t tell us anything else,” he said.
Rissa whuffed a laugh at the exasperation in Ázzuen’s voice. He hated not knowing things. “That is correct,” she said. “And you will learn more when you need to. What you need to know now is that our ancestors promised the Ancients that this valley would be a place of peace. That is what the covenant is about. It is why we must keep the promise, and why the fate of all wolfkind rests upon our backs.”
Her voice took on the cadence of story, of legend passed down from one generation of wolf to another.
“The promise was made long ago,” she said, “when wolves had just become wolf and when humans were not yet human, when a wolf named Indru met a human at the northern edge of a great desert. Both were very hungry, and both were leading their packs in search of food.”
“This was a time,” Trevegg added, “when humans were not so different from all other creatures.” The oldwolf lay down with a contented sigh. “They were cleverer than some, and less clever than others, better at survival than some, and not as good as others. There were fewer of them than there are now, and they were covered with fur like a normal creature, not half naked like they are now.”
Borlla snorted, and Trevegg opened his mouth in a grin before continuing.
“Even then they stood tall on their hind legs, and even then they had some use of tools, though not nearly as many as they have now.”
“What are tools?” Ázzuen asked before I could.
“You have seen ravens strip twigs and use them to dig grubs out from the inside of trees?” Trevegg asked. “It is like that. That twig is a tool and the humans are better at using them than any other creature. It’s one of the gifts given to the humans by the Ancients, as we are given fleetness of foot and the cleverness of the hunt.”
“Their tools weren’t anything like they are now, though,” Yllin asserted, interrupting the oldwolf. “The human-to-be that Indru met only had a stick for digging and a sharpened rock for cutting. They were the same tools his ancestors and their ancestors before them had used. He hadn’t thought to put the rock on the end of a stick or to sharpen the stick to throw at prey.”
Yllin looked suddenly abashed when she realized she had taken over telling the story, but continued when Rissa nodded to her.
“Humans were scroungers then,” the youngwolf said, “living mostly by eating others’ prey, and by catching what small prey they could on their own.”
“They’re just scroungers?” Unnan demanded. “Why do we have to worry about them, then?”
“Be quiet, pup!” Ruuqo ordered from beside his log. Ázzuen startled beside me, and Marra gave a small yip. I’d thought Ruuqo was sleeping but clearly he was listening to everything. Unnan flattened his ears and Ruuqo watched him for a moment before turning away from us again.
“They were scroungers then,” Trevegg said, glaring at Unnan. “They are not now.”
I muffled a grunt of pleasure at Unnan’s embarrassment, and settled onto my haunches.
“It was a harsh time,” Rissa continued as if Yllin had never been interrupted, “and food was scarce. The humans-to-be were losing their fight to survive. Indru’s pack was struggling, too, and he had led them far in search of food. Although they fared better than the humans, he could not allow good prey to walk away. And by all that is wolf, the weak creatures standing before his pack should have been prey.”
I remembered how I’d felt when I saw the humans across the Tall Grass plain. How I’d been torn between wanting to fight them and wanting to run with them. I could imagine myself standing next to Indru, watching the humans. And before I knew what I was doing, I spoke.
“But he didn’t see them as prey,” I whispered, and then gasped when I realized what I had said. I lowered my ears before anyone could reprimand me.
Rissa pulled her lips back just a little, and then sighed. When she spoke again, her voice was very soft.
“He did not see them as prey. He looked into the eyes of the human and saw something he thought he recognized, something he might see in the eyes of a wolf.”
Ruuqo growled quietly from beside his log, and raised his head.
“Against all logic and sense,” Rissa continued, “Indru did not tell his pack to hunt the humans. Instead, he invited the tall-standing creatures to join his pack in play. And when the sun rose in the sky and it got too warm to run, they lay down together, and they slept, side by side.”
Rissa half closed her eyes. “When they awoke,” she said, “they awoke changed. Indru saw that the humans were not so different from wolves. When he looked more closely, he saw how sickly the humans really were—how close to death they were. And Indru did not want them to die. He wanted to be with them, to run with them as he would run with his pack. He could no more leave them to die than he could leave one of his pups hungry when his own belly was filled with meat. He decided to teach the humans some things to help them to survive. Some say that when the wolf and the human lay down together, their souls intertwined, and even when they stood and moved apart, each kept a piece of the other’s soul.”
“That is not part of the traditional story!” Ruuqo snapped, standing suddenly and making us all jump. He stalked over to us. “That’s not the legend as it’s meant to be told.”
“It’s what I heard as a pup,” Rissa countered. “Just because you don’t believe it doesn’t mean it’s untrue.”
Ruuqo growled deep in his throat. He paced back to the rotting log and turned restlessly in a circle. I waited for him to lie down again. Instead, he strode back to Rissa and sat next to her, poised on his haunches as if ready to pounce. Rissa gave a soft, annoyed growl of her own before continuing.
“The wolves taught the humans how to work together to bring down prey so that they no longer needed to rely on others to catch their food,” she said. “They taught the humans to set up gathering places where they could come together to rest and plan.”
“These were the secrets of the wolf clans,” Ruuqo interrupted, “and Indru should have known better than to share them with the humans-to-be. Each creature has secrets—skills given to them by the Ancients—and all are forbidden to share them. For the Ancients knew that if one creature learned too much, it could grow too powerful and upset the Balance. Indru was so blinded by his feelings for the human-creatures that he ignored the law of the Ancients, and continued to teach the humans things they should not have known. Before long, the humans were changed.”
He stopped speaking and stalked back to his log. When it became clear he would not start again, Rissa took up the story.
“They were greatly changed. Because they hunted as a pack, they had more food to eat, and they grew stronger. In their new gathering places they came together, and found that many minds were better than one. They learned new ways to seek food, and better ways to shelter themselves. One cold night, when they wearied of shivering and of hiding from the beasts that hunted them, they learned to control fire.”
I’d seen fire when it sometimes ate through the trees and bushes of the forest. It seemed impossible that any creature could rule it, and I couldn’t help but wonder what such a creature would be like. Rissa’s voice interrupted my thoughts. I shook myself and crept in a little closer to her.
“When the humans learned to control fire,” she said, “they no longer needed their thick fur, and it fell away from their bodies like leaves off a tree. They learned new ways to use their tools and ways to make tools that their ancestors would never have imagined. They found new ways of killing and fighting. They grew arrogant and proud. ‘We are different,’ they said. ‘We are better than other creatures. See how no other creature makes fire? See how no other creature makes tools of rock and of wood.’”
The sound of flapping wings made all of us look up. Sleekwing landed in front of Rissa and Trevegg, his beak still bloody from his meal. My stomach rumbled at the thought of that good meat, just out of reach.
What wolf and human
Share is pride. To humble both
Is the ravens’ task.
He pulled Rissa’s ear and flapped his wings in Trevegg’s face. When the oldwolf grinned and snapped his jaws at the raven, Sleekwing took flight, alighting on a branch just above us, where Rainsong waited for him. I wondered how long the ravens had been listening and why they cared to listen to our legend. Rissa watched them warily for a moment, and then spoke again.
“The humans decided that all other creatures should serve them,” she said. “The wolves refused, and humans and wolves fought. The humans, in their anger, began to kill every creature that would not submit to them. Then they set fire to the very forest they lived in.”
I shuddered. Trevegg had told me that fire had burned two of our best gathering places three years ago. I couldn’t imagine deliberately causing such destruction.
“That was what caught the attention of the Ancients,” Trevegg said. “And when the Ancients saw what the humans had learned from the wolves, and saw what the humans were doing, they knew that these creatures would threaten the Balance. That they would keep killing and keep destroying everything and every creature around them. And the Ancients would not allow such things to come to pass. So Sky announced to the wolves and humans of the world that the time had come for them to die.”
“When Indru heard this,” Rissa said, “he howled in sorrow and despair. He scaled the highest mountain he could find, and called out to the Ancients, to beg for the life of wolf and humankind. At first, they didn’t hear him.”
Rissa raised her head to look at Sleekwing and Rainsong in the tree above her. They both raised their wings, and Sleekwing spoke.
“Then, Tlitookilakin, the raven king, who had been watching the wolves and humans, flew all the way up to Sun and jabbed the Ancient with his sharp beak. Sun looked down and saw Indru, and called the other Ancients—Moon, Earth, and Grandmother Sky—to listen. Tlitookilakin flew to Indru’s side, for he did not want his ravens to starve for the foolishness of the wolves.”
The raven turned his head side to side and then settled back on his branch. Trevegg raised his muzzle to the wind, and then lowered it, and spoke to us again.
“Ears humbly lowered and tail tucked politely between his legs,” he said, “Indru stood before the Ancients. He spoke to them, showing as much courage as any wolf has ever had.
“‘Do not punish all wolves and humans,’ Indru begged, ‘for it was the fault of me and my pack that this happened. Do not end our lives. There are so many things we have yet to learn, so many things still to discover.’
“Sky sent a warm breeze through Indru’s fur. ‘All creatures have their time to live and their time to die,’ she said gently to the wolf. ‘It is time for you to make way for what comes next. It is the way it has always happened, and the way it must always be.’
“Indru looked at Sky in despair, not sure of what to do next. The raven king poked Indru hard in the rump, and the wolf spoke again.
“‘Our time is not yet done,’ he pleaded. ‘We have just begun to explore this lovely world we live on.’
“Earth rumbled in response to the compliment, making the mountain shake. Then Indru sat back and howled a song so sweet and mournful that even Sky trembled, and Moon and Earth held perfectly still for the first time in their long lives.
“The Ancients watched Indru with great curiosity. No other creature had stood before them and so courageously and so calmly argued its cause. The Ancients had lived a long, long time, and had grown tired of one another’s company. They were lonely—as lonely as a wolf without a pack. In the howl of the wolf, they saw the possibility of companions to end their loneliness. They spoke together while Indru and Tlitookilakin waited, shivering on the mountaintop. Finally, after what seemed to Indru like a lifetime, Sky spoke.
“‘We will grant you this request,’ Sky said, and Indru’s heart began to beat once more.
“‘But you must make us a promise—a promise that your children and your children’s children must keep.’
“‘I will promise anything,’ Indru said.
“Sky rumbled in approval. She had expected no less.
“‘Since humans now think they are better than all others,’ she told Indru, ‘they will become stupid with their own power. They will set fires larger than you can imagine. They will fight and they will kill, and they will not care if they destroy anything and everything that is not like them. Left alone, they will destroy the Balance itself, and then we will have no choice but to end the lives not just of wolf and humankind, but of the entire world.’”
Trevegg paused and looked at us. “You remember what I told you of the Balance, when you were smallpups?” the oldwolf asked. “That it is what holds the world together and that every creature, every plant, every breath of air is part of? Well, Sky—who is the leader of all the Ancients—feared that if the Balance were to be destroyed, the Ancients themselves might die. So she took a great risk in trusting Indru. But she was lonely, and wanted the wolves to succeed.”
The oldwolf stretched once again and closed his eyes, as if better to see Indru on his mountaintop.
“‘We will send challenges to the humans, great storms and droughts and fiery death from both the mountains and from above,’ Sky said to the wolf. ‘This will keep the humans from growing too strong and arrogant. They will struggle, and their struggles will keep them too busy to cause us trouble. But this you must promise us, wolf. You must not help them again. You and your kind must stay forever away from them. You must shun their company.’
“Indru would’ve given Sky his nose and his teeth if it had been asked of him, but he did not want to make this promise. He could not imagine staying forever apart from the human creatures. It would be as bad, he thought, as leaving packmates to die. He turned his face away from Sky and from Sun, and did not answer.
“Earth trembled beneath his feet. ‘It is the only way,’ the Ancient said.
“‘If you do not renounce them,’ Sun beat down hard upon Indru’s head, ‘they will learn more from you; they will grow too strong even for us to control. You will fight them and they will fight you.’
“‘It’s the price you must pay,’ Moon cried loudly to be heard from the far side of Earth.
“But it was only when Tlitookilakin poked Indru so hard on his head that the wolf could not hold back a cry of pain, that Indru gave his answer. He bowed his head then, and promised Sky that the wolves would forever spurn the company of humans.”
Trevegg paused, and for the briefest of moments, the oldwolf’s eyes met mine.
“For years upon years,” he said, looking away, “the wolves did their best to keep Indru’s promise. But try as they might, they could not stay forever away from the humans.”
“They didn’t realize how difficult it would be,” Rissa said, picking up the story when the oldwolf paused. “Neither the wolves nor the Ancients understood the strength of the pull between the humans and the wolves. Whether it was because wolves and humans shared a soul,” she looked to Ruuqo, daring him to challenge her, “or because they had spent too much time together, it was impossible for Indru’s children to keep distant from the humans. Time and time again they came together, and each time Sky grew angrier and pulled them apart. Then, many years later, long after the time of Indru, a youngwolf—not so much older than you pups are now—hunted with the humans, and taught her pack to do the same. In doing so, she caused a great war. That’s when the covenant of the Wide Valley was born.”
“The Ancients had warned the wolves that if they failed to keep the promise, all wolf-and humankind would die,” Trevegg said. “So when the wolf Lydda hunted with the humans, Sky sent a winter three years long to end the lives of humans and of wolves. But then, when all seemed to be lost, giant wolves appeared, wolves who said they were sent to be our guardians. These were the first Greatwolves, and some say that they walked down from the sky on the rays of the sun, and that they are part of the Ancients themselves.”
“The Greatwolves came to give us one last chance. They came to watch over wolfkind and to ensure that wolves never again forgot Indru’s promise,” Rissa said. “And since the Greatwolves knew they could not stay forever upon the Earth, they sought out wolves who would someday take their place as guardians of wolfkind, wolves who would watch over all others to make sure wolves and humans did not come together again. They searched across the world for wolves that might have the strength to fulfill this task, and brought those wolves here to the Wide Valley. Then the Greatwolves closed off the valley, choosing which wolves might bear pups and which might not and allowing in the valley only those wolves who would swear to the Ancients to obey the rules of the covenant.”
“That we would keep away from the humans as much as possible,” Trevegg said.
“That we would never kill a human unprovoked,” Yllin added.
“And that we would protect our bloodlines and mate only with wolves inside the valley,” Rissa finished. “These three rules would be passed down to every wolf born in the valley, and any who did not obey would be killed or sent far away. Any pack that did not enforce the rules would be wiped out. Since then, the Greatwolves have spoken for the Ancients and have been the guardians of the wolves and of the promise. But one day, when they return to the sky, we will take their place. We must prove ourselves worthy. We must be ready when that day comes, or wolfkind will be no more.”