CHAPTER ELEVEN

The Hound

IT HAD BEEN seven days of ruthless pace-setting by the bear. And still the hound kept at it, following him north to the wild man, dragging her wounded leg. She did not know why the bear was angry with her.

She was too stubborn to care. She only knew she would not let him beat her.

They had just entered a rocky forest in the foothills of mountains so large that they made the hound feel dizzy at the sight of them when the bear tottered and collapsed without a sound.

The hound slowed and approached him, sniffing. He smelled nearly as much like death as had the fawn they had rescued from her mother’s womb. His fur was matted and his eyes were crusted shut.

She could see his chest moving evenly, however. He had spent seven days without a full night’s sleep, and he had not stopped to eat more than a few berries and roots and to drink from streams. She had taken down a large rabbit twice, and a field mouse several times, but the bear was relying on the wild man’s magic to keep him going. In that sense, she supposed, it was a wonder he had lasted this long.

She was so tired. And now that she had the chance, she would not waste it with thinking. She felt all hound as she pressed her back against the bear’s, almost as if they were back in the cave, and fell into the deepest sleep of her life.

When she awoke, it was with a start. It was bright daylight.

She had fallen asleep near dusk.

She could see ants and other creatures crawling on the bear, who was still asleep. And then looked to see them on herself.

She brushed them off, then carefully plucked them from the bear. She did not want him forced to awake before he was ready. His breathing was still very deep and regular, and he felt warm enough.

But when she pulled her body away from his, he stirred, then blinked at her, and shuddered.

The bear moved stiffly and slowly at first, making his way to a nearby pool of water. It was dark-colored, crusted over with moss, and it smelled ripe. But he drank it, and so did she. Her mouth was dry and her tongue thick after a night’s rest—and more—without drink. Especially after the week that had preceded that night.

She thought she could sleep another day and night through if she were given the chance. But when she turned to look at the bear, she did not dare try to speak of it with him, even in her wordless way. He had that faraway look in his eyes again, and then he put his head down and began to move forward.

They walked until late afternoon, when the bear seemed to stumble with every step. The hound barked at the sight of some berries.

He tottered toward them. The bush was low enough that he had to lean to one side to reach them.

When he had finished eating, he looked a little better.

That was when the hound’s eyes grazed over a rocky outcropping and saw a small pack of wild hounds, all gray except around their eyes, where their skin was white.

There were five of them, two larger than the others. Her mind instantly categorized them as lead male and lead female, but if that were so, why only three others? That was not nearly enough for a healthy pack.

Had they been attacked?

She saw no injuries on them.

She turned to look at the bear.

He saw the hounds as well. And was as curious about them as she was. Even in his current state, his eyes narrowed and took in every detail.

If there was an attack, thought the hound, it would be five against two—not good odds.

But the hounds did not attack.

They simply stared back at the bear and the hound. The largest, the lead male, even seemed to nod at the bear, as if they had met somewhere before.

The hound knew that the bear had traveled many places before he had settled in the forest near Prince George’s castle. But that would have been long ago, before this hound could have been born.

So what was this?

The lead male turned back to the others and nodded at them in a way that seemed not at all houndlike. A lead male would bark and tell the others what to do in a commanding tone. Not guide them to do what he asked in a way that was considered polite only by humans.

Humans indeed. The hound looked again at the five. Two and three. This was not a pack, not even a small one.

This was a family.

And since there were no families of hounds that she had ever heard of, she could only draw one conclusion: they were not hounds.

They wore the bodies of hounds, but that was all.

As they came closer, the hound became more certain of her suspicion.

They did not smell like hounds. They did not move or speak like hounds.

And they did not look at the hound or the bear as one animal looks at another.

Suddenly all her questions seemed answered as the animals transformed before her very eyes. The five hounds became humans, one after another.

A man and a woman, and three children: two girls and a boy, the youngest of all, perhaps five years old.

“We show ourselves to you. Then you show yourselves to us,” said the man. He had an old, puckered scar that ran the length of his face.

The bear shook his head in a clear negative.

The scarred man set his jaw and took a step forward. “How shall I know that you are not sent to destroy us unless you also show me your magic?” he said in a dark tone.

The hound made a whining sound.

The man stepped closer, and when the bear went down on all fours in a show of submission he put a hand on the bear’s shoulder. The man closed his eyes, then nodded.

“Ah, I see.”

What did he see? He certainly did not speak to the bear as he would to another animal. Nor did he look at the hound that way.

“Come, then. I am Frant and my woman is Sharla. We will welcome you with such as we have.” His gesture included the hound as well.

The hound found herself warmed by the family’s ease in the presence of animals. She would never have suspected that she could be with humans again and not feel discomfort.

But these humans did not live in a castle and wear foolishly uncomfortable clothing. They did not seem to have ridiculous rules and lists of names and polite words to offer as they stabbed one another in the back.

It was almost like being in a pack again.

And yet she would not say that they acted like hounds would, either. No hounds would accept two strange animals into their pack, even if they were not afraid of the damage they might do.

The hound wondered if perhaps she had changed a little as well.

All of them moved together back toward the rocky outcropping.

After a few steps, the hound noticed that the boy changed back into a hound.

Then the female, Sharla, shook her head at him sternly and he took the shape of a boy once more. The boy was more comfortable in his hound form than his human one, it seemed. The girls were more obedient, but the hound suspected they felt as the boy did—that they belonged in the forest, with the animals, more than in a village with other humans.

They found a copse ahead, and there Sharla prepared a varied meal. There were roots and berries to satisfy the bear, but also plenty of meat for the hound.

The hound thought that the animal was fresh killed, but she noticed that it was an old one, and that one of its legs was withered. A mercy killing?

It was tough, but better than nothing at all. At least the taste of the blood was fresh, and the meat was not cooked.

She noticed that one of the girls and the boy ate more of the meat than either of the parents and the other girl. And the bear, of course, ate only the roots and berries.

For her part, the hound ate meat, but not as much as she would have liked. She was used to gorging on a feast, and then going without for days on end. But such were the compromises to be made with humans.

The fire was not large, as a human might make. It was just enough to cook a few roots and then Sharla kicked it over and buried it. No fire kept for light and the feeling of protection against the strange creatures of the forest, as humans would do.

After that there were only stars above for light, and the hound noticed that there were no animals anywhere near them, as far as she could see—or smell. They kept their distance, as if they could tell that they did not belong amid this magic.

But the hound, for the first time since she had been touched by the magic that made her human, felt as if she did truly belong among others.