Read Spirit Walker for Free Online

into his palm, he painted his clan-tattoo on the stone: two dotted lines, one with a break in the middle. The break wasn't part of the tattoo, it was a small scar on his cheek, but when Renn saw it she would know it was from him.
    As he finished making the sign, he stopped. His finger was stained red with alder juice: the same juice he'd used last autumn, in Wolf's naming rite. He'd 52
daubed it on the cub's paws, and been exasperated when Wolf kept licking it off.
"Don't
think about Wolf!" he cried aloud. "Don't think about any of them!"
The empty camp mocked him silently.
You're on your own now, Torak.
Hurriedly he shoved the pebble under Renn's sleeping-sack, then ran into the sunlight.
The Forest was full of birdsong, and achingly beautiful. He could take no joy in it.
Shouldering his bow, he turned east, and started for the Deep Forest.
53
Chapter SEVEN
Sorrow ran with Wolf like an unseen pack-brother. He missed Tall Tailless. He longed for his odd, furless face and his wavering howl; for the strange, breathless yipand-yowl that was his way of laughing.
     
Many times Wolf had loped off alone to howl for him. Many times he'd run in circles, wondering what to do. He was caught between the Pull of the Mountain, and the Pull of his pack-brother.
    The other wolves--the wolves of his new pack-- were puzzled.
You have us now! And you're not yet full-grown, you have much to learn! You don't know how to hunt
54
the great prey
-
how would you survive on your own? Stay here with us!
They were a strong, close pack, and there had been times when he'd been happy on the Thunderer's Mountain. They'd played uproarious games of hunt-thelemming; they'd leaped into lakes to frighten ducks. But the other wolves did not understand.
     
Wolf was thinking of this as he raced to his favorite ridge to catch the smells wafting from the Forest.
     
The Forest was many lopes away, but he caught the muzzle-watering scent of a newborn fawn, and the sharp smell of tree-blood oozing from a wind-snapped spruce. He heard the slow sucking sound of a boar turning over in its wallow, and the squeak of an otter cub falling off a branch. He longed to be in the Forest with Tall Tailless.
    But how could he ever go back?
It wasn't only the thought of leaving his pack that stopped him. It was the Thunderer. The Thunderer would never let him go.
    The Thunderer could attack at any time: even now, when the Up was bright and clear, and there was no sign of its angry breath. It could flatten the Forest with storms, and send down the Bright Beast-That-Bites-Hot to blast trees, rocks, wolves. It was all-powerful. Wolf knew that better than most, because it had taken his pack when he was a cub.
55
     
He'd gone off to explore, and when he'd come back, the Den had been gone. His whole pack--mother, father, pack-brothers--had lain wet and cold and Not-Breath in the mud. The Thunderer hadn't needed to come close to destroy them. It had sent the Fast Wet roaring down from the Mountains.
    Wolf had been lonely and frightened, and
very
hungry. Then Tall Tailless had come. Tall Tailless had shared his kills with him, and let him curl up on top of him to sleep. He had howled with him, and played tag with bits of hide. Tall Tailless had become his pack-brother.
     
Tall Tailless was a wolf, of course--anyone could smell that--but he wasn't a normal wolf. The fur on his head was long and dark, but the rest of him was without fur, and instead had a loose overpelt-
    which he could take off.
His face was flat, and his poor little teeth were hopelessly blunt; and strangest of all, he had no tail.
But he
sounded
wolf, even if he never hit the high yips. And his eyes were true wolf eyes: pale gray, and full of light. Above all, he had the heart and spirit of a wolf. As Wolf stood on the ridge, sadness filled his chest. He put up his muzzle and howled.
That was when the new smell hit his nose.
Not hunter or prey; not tree or earth or Fast Wet or
56
stone. This was bad. Something bad,