Faolan was mesmerized by the sight. He had heard that on rare occasions, wolves and bears shared prey. But he’d been told it was a practice from long ago. He recalled the chieftains saying that the wolves of the Watch kept up many of the old practices.
“These have to be Watch wolves,” Faolan whispered.
“Yes, I was thinking the same. I’ve heard they do this. It’s strange, isn’t it?”
Faolan did not reply. For him, it didn’t seem that strange at all. He was not sure why. Partly, it was because watching these bears took him back to his youngest days as a pup, when he would wait with all the patience he could muster for Thunderheart to regurgitate the meat she had brought back from hunting. The smell of the fresh meat mingled with the juices from Thunderheart’s mouth and gut rushed back to him.
“You’re thinking about Thunderheart, aren’t you, Faolan?” Edme asked.
“Yes.” There was a small hitch in his voice. “I wish we could go down and meet these wolves.”
“We can’t, Faolan. The Fengo said we must go to that place, the Hot Gates, to be met and properly led into the Ring of Sacred Volcanoes.”
“I wonder how we’ll even know what the Hot Gates look like. Such a strange name.”
“I don’t know. Maybe they’re little volcanoes that lead into the Ring,” Edme replied. “Look, Faolan, there’s an outcropping down below and downwind from the bears. We could watch the wolves from there. They’d never know.”
Faolan hesitated, but the idea was irresistible. It was as if his marrow were straining to be near that mother bear and her cubs. He could catch reassuring smells on the breezes when she regurgitated meat for her cubs. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to watch just a bit longer from a safe distance downwind.
By the time Faolan and Edme reached the outcrop, the wolves had left the moose carcass. The grizzly mom and her two cubs had stayed on the banks of the river.
“Her den must be near here. Bears like to have summer dens near a river. Good for fishing,” Faolan said.
“Those cubs are so cute. Just little fur balls! Look how playful they are.”
It took Faolan back. How much fun he had had with Thunderheart. He could picture himself so clearly, riding atop her shoulders or scampering after her when they hunted for roots in the early spring. How he had hated the bitter roots they dug at first. Now he would give anything to be out digging roots with his second Milk Giver.
The mother bear had a full belly and had stretched out to bask in the midday sun for a quick nap. It was odd, but Faolan himself had begun to feel sleepy. It was almost as if he had eaten all that meat and could hardly keep his eyes open to watch the cubs playing.
“I suppose, now that the wolves are gone and the mother bear seems full, we could help ourselves to what’s left of the moose, couldn’t we?” Edme said.
“I suppose so.” Faolan yawned. “But I’m really not that hungry.” He felt satiated though he had eaten nothing.
He soon fell into a dreamless sleep.
Faolan would never be quite sure what it was that awakened him or how long he had slept. But he was immediately alert. Something was not right. He laid back his ears, raised his muzzle, and slitted his eyes. No! It can’t be! He’d resisted his own yearning to go closer to the mother grizzly — and now Edme was there playing with the cubs! Thankfully, the mother grizzly was still slumbering. If the mother bear woke up, Edme would be dead before he could warn her off. He rose up trembling. His guard hairs erect, he began walking stiff-legged as quietly as he could toward Edme and the frolicking cubs. He glanced at the mother. She was sleeping deeply. As he got closer, the cubs spotted him. He growled low at Edme.
Edme turned. There was shock in her eyes. “Faolan, whatever is the matter with you?”
“Get away from those cubs! Get away. She’ll kill you if she wakes up!”
The cubs looked up, startled. Edme read the horror in Faolan’s eyes and immediately backed away.
“Follow me!” he ordered and immediately began to run at press-paw speed. He looked over his shoulder. One of the cubs had tried to run after them but stopped when he realized he couldn’t keep up. He had a forlorn look in his eyes. By my marrow, he’s about to cry, Faolan thought, but he ran on.
When they had put a good distance between themselves and the grizzly, Faolan stopped. He glared at Edme.
“What is wrong with you, Faolan? You … you don’t seem yourself at all. You really scared me!” she said.
“I’m sorry, but I was scared. If that mother grizzly woke up, we would both be dead. You can never, ever touch or even come near a grizzly’s cubs like that. They go crazy, cag mag — cag maglosc.”
Edme blinked. Faolan was speaking Old Wolf again. And she could have sworn she’d heard him muttering strange phrases in his sleep that sounded like Old Wolf.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” Edme said.
“You know how she-wolves are about their pups. It’s a thousand times worse with grizzlies. We’re used to aunties and other wolves around. But grizzlies aren’t very social. They lead solitary lives.”
“I’ll never do it again. I promise.” Edme paused. “But you have to admit they were about the cutest things ever.”
“Yes, they were,” he said, almost longingly. Deep within him he felt a pang — a pang of regret? A pang of loss? He wasn’t sure.
CHAPTER NINE
THE HOT GATES
AS THE TWO WOLVES TRAVELED, the cones of the volcanoes became clearer and clearer, and they could see that at least three of the five volcanoes were erupting. More and more owls scored the sky. The rims of the craters loomed in the distance like ragged crowns, and from them, towering flames leaped up, raking the pale lavender of the twilight sky.
Faolan and Edme could just make out the cairns of bones on which the wolves of the Watch perched, vigilant against intruders.
“Can you believe it, Faolan?” Edme said as they drew close enough to see the wolves leaping into the air, sometimes twisting and flipping themselves about in ways they had never seen wolves move before. “Can you believe that we shall soon be there?” Edme paused. “And we’re not malcadhs anymore! We’re true gnaw wolves of the Watch!” Her voice was filled with wonder.
Faolan felt a shiver deep in his marrow. Members. The very word seemed to glow with a noble luster. They were to serve, no longer objects of scorn but as vital sentinels of the Watch. It was their job to guard the Ember of Hoole, the very center of this universe of wolves and owls. For the Beyond to run smoothly, the ember must be kept safe where it lay in one of the five volcanoes at the Sacred Ring.
“The volcanoes have such odd names, don’t they?” Faolan said.
“H’rathghar, Kiel — I think those are owl names from the northern kingdoms,” Edme replied. “H’rathghar,” she repeated.
“Not H’rath … it’s more of a growl at the back of your throat,” Faolan said, correcting Edme’s pronunciation. He tipped his head back and emitted a throaty hrrr sound.
“How do you know all this?” Edme said. When Faolan growled, the volcano’s name sounded awfully authentic — not that she knew exactly what owl speech of the northern kingdoms sounded like.
Faolan shrugged. “I’m not sure.” He was truly confounded and could not figure out where these wisps of knowledge came from. It was as if they were borne on a maverick river that coursed through his mind. Thunderheart had even told him that she had named him Faolan because “fao” was the word for both “wolf” and “river,” and “lan” was the word for “gift.” In this river that was his mind, Faolan sensed two currents — one from what he thought of as The Now and the other as The Then. The Now was easy to understand. It was The Then that perplexed him. Did all wolves have two currents in their minds?
“Let’s see … then there are three others — Dunmore, Morgan, and Stormfast. I’m glad there are just five to learn,” Edme said.
“Some of the names sound like wolf names,” Faolan offered.
“Yes, Morgan doe
s, and so does Dunmore, but I’ve never met a wolf named Stormfast.” She paused. “Well, I guess we’re about to meet a volcano called Stormfast.”
A wind out of the east began to blow and both wolves stopped suddenly. Their hackles rose as they tipped their noses into the breeze.
“That’s it, isn’t it? The smell of the volcanoes,” Faolan said.
“Not exactly pleasant. Reminds me of some rotten duck eggs I once met up with,” Edme said.
“Rotten duck eggs?” Faolan repeated and then murmured, “Tine smyorfin.”
“There, you said it again!” Edme blurted.
“Said what?”
“That Old Wolf thing you said back by the river.”
“I didn’t say any Old Wolf thing. I just muttered, ‘by my marrow.’”
Edme tipped her head to one side and regarded her friend. How odd, she thought. Faolan really doesn’t know when he’s saying these things. His mouth speaks in something that sounds like Old Wolf, but his ears hear it another way.
“Well, never mind. Let’s go,” she replied, trotting on.
As they drew nearer to the Ring, they began to see strange rock formations that rose writhing like solid smoke. These formations were called yondos, and two immense ones towered above the others.
“The Hot Gates!” they both exclaimed at once.
“The Fengo said stop at them.” The two wolves looked at each other, perplexed. A simple word such as “at” could have different interpretations. Edme, who had a very practical streak, cocked her head and regarded the two towering formations. “Well, he didn’t say ‘between’ them, and he didn’t say ‘beside’ them. So I would think we should just go right up to the base of one and stop there.”
Just then, two howls peeled off the tops of the Hot Gates and two wolves began to scramble down them. Faolan and Edme were transfixed. The Hot Gates were so steep, they had no idea how the wolves could make such a spectacular descent without falling to their deaths.
“Great Lupus, will you look at that!” Edme cried as the two wolves took the last twenty-five feet in two dazzling leaps. They might as well have had wings. As they landed, they appeared to bounce gently for a few feet, then began trotting toward Faolan and Edme.
They have sent wolves to greet us that are our twins! The thought streamed through both Faolan’s and Edme’s mind. For as the two wolves from the Watch came closer, Faolan recognized one as the wolf missing an eye whom he had seen at the gaddergnaw competition, and the other as the wolf with his front paw twisted backward.
Faolan and Edme sank to their knees and began the sequence of submission postures.
“Up! Up! Quickly,” the flip-pawed one urged. He was a brindled wolf with swirling patches of dark brown and tawny fur. “Much to learn!”
When they rose, the she-wolf spoke. “I am Winks, and this is my fellow taiga, Twist.”
“More properly Twistling, but Twist will do. I believe my paw speaks for my name.” The brindled wolf raised his flip paw into the air and waved it about.
Winks now continued, “We don’t indulge in excessive formality here. It takes up too much time and there’s so much for you to learn.”
“But don’t let that fool you,” Twist said. “If you thought your life was tough as gnaw wolves, it will be tougher now.”
“Don’t frighten them, Twist,” Winks said.
“I don’t think these young’uns are easily frightened, Winks.” He turned to Faolan and Edme. “Follow us and we’ll escort you to the Ring.”
The ring of volcanoes was smaller in circumference than Faolan and Edme had expected, although at press-paw speed, it would take almost half a day to complete the circle. They entered through the Dunmore-H’rathghar quadrant, named for the two volcanoes that dominated this section of the Ring. Between the two volcanoes were four large drumlyns of gnawed bones that rose to an impressive height. Atop each one, a gnaw wolf was perched, now and then shooting high into the air to perform jumps as spectacular as those they had witnessed from Twist and Winks. Faolan was known for his impressive leaps, which he had learned while attempting to walk on his hind legs like Thunderheart. These wolves, however, executed fantastic somersaults, twists, and turns in the air. Were they just showing off or was there some purpose to their staggering feats of agility? No sooner did the question come to Faolan’s mind than Twist answered it.
“I imagine you’re wondering about the aerial tumbling you see. The wolves are not showing off — although that’s not beyond them. They’re monitoring the plumes of ash and observing the cool glow of the embers.”
“Cool glow?” Edme said.
“It’s a term, one of many that you shall learn, that helps us understand the behavior of the volcanoes, their stages of eruption and so forth,” Winks replied. “Come along now.”
“It’s the new gnaw wolves!” one wolf cried out midair as he swung into a high arc, then tucked his hind legs in tightly and came down in a loop. “Welcome to the Ring!” he cried. A chorus of hullos rang out.
It was all so different from what Faolan and Edme had expected. In the Beyond, the wolves of the Watch were thought of as austere in their ways, aloof and not at all social with those outside their clans. But Edme and Faolan were being welcomed with great enthusiasm and in the most cheerful manner.
CHAPTER TEN
THE BONE OF BONES
AS THE TWO YOUNG WOLVES entered the gadderheal of the Watch, the Fengo rose from a bed of pelts to greet them.
“Welcome to the Ring,” Finbar the Fengo said. “We wolves of the Watch serve as the highest governing wolf body in the Beyond. We decide territorial boundaries, settle clan disputes, and are the Supreme Raghnaid, the final court for amending and creating new laws. But our most important task is to guard the Ember of Hoole, which lies buried in one of the five volcanoes. If this powerful ember comes into the talons of a graymalkin owl, there is mortal danger for all species, from the wolves, owls, and caribou, down to the smallest rodent.”
The Fengo’s green eyes slitted as he looked at the two young wolves. “Now the time has come for you to think in a new way. You must learn to think like a wolf of the Watch.”
Edme shifted nervously on her feet and looked down. But am I truly a wolf of the Watch if I was not born a malcadh? She had felt so brave when she told the MacHeaths she would join the Watch as a free runner. Now she was too frightened to say anything.
The Fengo continued, “In protecting the ember from your posts on the drumlyns, it is important to realize that it’s not how high you jump that matters, but what you learn when you are jumping. What you see. What you feel. What you smell. Our focus is the five volcanoes. You shall learn their natural history — their temperaments.” He took a step closer to the two wolves. “We exist in a close relationship with the owls of Ga’Hoole. The connection goes back to the very beginnings of our time here in the Beyond. When the good King Hoole first discovered the ember, he made a pact with the wolves that we guard it until an appointed king appeared to retrieve it.” He paused again. “There is much to learn, is there not?”
Faolan and Edme both nodded.
“Our late Fengo, Hamish, has set much of our history down on the Bone of Bones. I now present you with it.” He turned to another Watch wolf, a silver wolf with no ears who brought out the bone tucked under her chin and dropped it at their feet.
“Here, young’uns,” she said softly. The bone gleamed with Hamish’s careful incising, exquisitely elegant yet bold.
“B-b-but … b-but,” Edme stammered. “How do we know a graymalkin? Does it tell on the Bone of Bones?”
The Fengo and the silver wolf, who was named Colleen, both shook their heads. “There is much you can learn from the Bone of Bones, but mostly you’ll learn through experience,” the Fengo said. “The Bone does not tell you how to recognize a graymalkin. It is an instinct that you will develop, a sense that an owl is not merely looking for coals. Graymalkins spend a lot of their time flying low around the edges of the craters, makin
g false passes over the ember beds that spill down the slopes.”
“But how can you tell the difference between a false pass and a true one?” Faolan asked.
“Your taigas will school you in this. They are your greatest resource.” He nodded at Twist and Winks.
But do I deserve a taiga? thought Edme. How will they treat me if they know the truth? I have to tell them. I have to!
The Fengo continued, “Twist and Winks here are ready to answer your questions. You shall begin your service at the cairns of their present assignments. You will be shown to your den now. A busy time is coming. Do you have any questions?”
Edme gave Faolan a nervous glance. He nodded just slightly. She knew that the time had come for her to tell the Fengo the truth — how she was not a true malcadh but was made one by the depravity of the MacHeath clan. She took a step forward, holding her head high and squinting with her single eye so she could better keep the Fengo in focus. She did not want to appear to be cowering in fear or shame. She would be honest and dignified as she told the horrible truth.
“Honorable Fengo, I learned much on my Slaan Leat. As you told us when we set out, it was a journey toward truth. In the course of my journey, I discovered a terrible secret.”
The Fengo cocked his head; his eyes remained unblinking. Edme felt their penetrating gaze. “Go on,” he said. A new severity had crept into his voice.
“I am not a true malcadh.”
There was a sharp inhalation of breath. “What are you saying?” the Fengo asked.
“I was born normal and then was disfigured. My eye was torn out.” She wanted to tell the Fengo so much more. She wanted to tell him that the scar Dunbar MacHeath bore, that ragged line raking across his face, was caused by her mother, Akira. She wanted to tell him about Ingliss and Kyran. But she knew she must get to the point. “I come here not as a representative of the MacHeath clan, but as a free runner. I represent no one except myself.” Edme looked down at her front paws. She could not bear to meet the Fengo’s eyes.