“You will join my pack, and we will see to your hurt. We will bring you such meat as you require. Where are your young? I can smell them on your fur.”
Garion gave a startled little whine.
“There is but one remaining,” the she-wolf replied, “and he is very weak.”
“Take us to him. We will make him strong again.”
“As you decide, revered leader,” she said with automatic obedience.
“Pol,” Belgarath sent out his thought. “Come here. Take your mother’s form.” The note of command in his voice was incisive and far more wolflike than human.
There was a startled silence. “Yes, father,” Polgara replied. When she arrived a few moments later, Garion recognized her from the characteristic white streak above her left brow. “What is it, father?” she asked.
“Our little sister here is hurt,” he replied. “It’s her left front paw. Can you fix it?”
She approached the she-wolf and sniffed at the paw. “It’s ulcerated,” she said with her thought. “Nothing seems to be broken. Several days with a poultice ought to do it.”
“Fix it, then. She also has a puppy. We’ll need to find him as well.”
She looked at him, a question in her golden eyes.
“She and her puppy are joining our pack. They’ll be going with us.” Then he sent his thought to her. “It’s Garion’s idea, actually. He refuses to leave her behind.”
“It’s very noble, but is it practical?”
“Probably not, but it’s his decision. He thinks it’s the right thing to do, and I more or less agree with him. You’re going to have to explain some things to her, though. She doesn’t have much reason to trust man, and I don’t want her to go into a panic when the others catch up with us.” He turned to the she-wolf. “Everything will be well again, little sister,” he told her. “Now, let us go find your young one.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The half-grown pup was so emaciated that it could not stand, so Polgara resorted to the simple expedient of picking it up by the scruff of its neck between her jaws and carrying it out of the den.
“Go meet the others,” she instructed Garion. “Don’t let them get too close until I’ve had time to talk with our little sister here. Bring back food, though. Put as much as you can carry in a sack and come right back.”
“Yes, Aunt Pol.” He loped back toward the road, changed into his own form, and waited for his friends.
“We’ve got a little bit of a problem,” he told them when they arrived. “We’ve found an injured female just up ahead in those woods. She’s starving, and she has a young one as well.”
“A baby?” Ce’Nedra exclaimed.
“Not exactly,” he said, going to one of the food packs and beginning to load a stout canvas bag with meat and cheese.
“But you just said—”
“It’s a puppy, Ce’Nedra. The female is a she-wolf.”
“What?”
“It’s a wolf. She got her paw caught in a trap. She can’t run, so she can’t hunt. She’ll be coming with us—at least until her paw heals.”
“But-”
“No buts. She’s coming with us. Durnik, can you work out some way we can carry her without having the horses go wild?”
“I’ll think of something,” the smith replied.
“Under the circumstances, don’t you think this altruism might be misplaced?” Sadi asked mildly.
“No,” Garion said, tying the top of the sack shut, “I don’t. There’s a hill in the middle of those woods. Stay on this side of it until we can persuade her that we don’t mean to harm her. There’s water there, but it’s too close to her den. We’ll have to wait a bit before we can water the horses.”
“What’s got you so angry?” Silk asked him.
“If I had the time, I’d look up the man who set that trap and break his leg—in several places. I’ve got to go back now. She and the puppy are very hungry.” He slung the sack over his shoulder and stalked off. His anger was, he knew, irrational, and there had not really been any excuse for being surly with Ce’Nedra and the others, but he could not have helped himself. The wolfs calm acceptance of death and her mourning for her lost mate had torn at his heart, and anger kept the tears out of his eyes.
The sack was awkward to carry, once he had changed form, and it kept throwing him off balance, but he stumbled on with his head high to keep his burden from dragging on the ground.
Polgara and Belgarath were talking with the she-wolf when he reached the den again. The injured wolf had a skeptical expression in her eyes as she listened.
“She can’t accept it,” Polgara said.
“Does she think you’re lying?” Garion asked, dropping the sack.
“Wolves don’t understand the meaning of that word. She thinks we’re mistaken. We’re going to have to show her. She met you first, so she might trust you a little more. Change back. You’ll need your hands to untie the knot in that sack, anyway.”
“All right.” He drew his own image in his imagination and changed.
“How remarkable,” the she-wolf said in amazement.
Belgarath looked at her sharply. “Why did you say that?” he asked her.
“Did you not find it so?”
“I am accustomed to it. Why did you choose those particular words?”
“They came to me. I am no pack-leader, and I have no need to choose my word with care in order to protect my dignity.”
Garion had opened the sack and he laid meat and cheese on the ground in front of her. She began to eat ravenously. He knelt beside the starving pup and began to feed him, being careful to keep his fingers away from the needle-sharp teeth.
“A little bit at a time,” Polgara cautioned. “Don’t make him sick.”
When the she-wolf had eaten her fill, she limped to the spring which came bubbling out from between two rocks and drank. Garion picked up the puppy and carried him to the spring so that he could also drink.
“You are not like the other man-things,” the she-wolf observed.
“No,” he agreed. “Not entirely.”
“Are you mated?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“To a wolf or to one of the shes of the man-things?”
“To one of the shes of this kind.” He tapped his own chest.
“Ah. And does she hunt with you?”
“Our shes do not usually hunt.”
“What useless things they must be.” The wolf sniffed disdainfully.
“Not altogether.”
“Durnik and the others are coming,” Polgara said. Then she looked at the she-wolf. “The others of our pack are coming to this place, little sister,” she said. “They are the man-things of which I spoke. Do not be afraid of them, for they are like this one.” She pointed her nose at Garion. “Our leader here and I will now also change our forms. The presence of wolves alarms the beasts we have with us, and they must drink from your water. If it please you, will you go with this one who fed you, so that our beasts may drink?”
“It shall be as you say,” the she-wolf replied.
Garion led the limping wolf away from the spring, carrying the now drowsy puppy in his arms. The puppy raised his muzzle, licked Canon’s face once, and then fell asleep.
Durnik and Toth set up their camp near the spring, while Eriond and Silk watered the horses and then took them back to picket them in the woods.
After a while, Garion led the now wary she-wolf toward the fire. “It is time for you to meet the other members of our pack,” he told her, “for they are now your pack-mates as well.”
“This is not a natural thing,” she said nervously as she limped along at his side.
“They will not harm you,” he assured her. Then he spoke to the others. “Please stand very still,” he told them. “She’ll want to smell each of you so that she can recognize you later. Don’t try to touch her and, when you speak, do it quietly. She’s very nervous right now.” He led the wolf around the fire, allowing her to sniff at each of his companions.
“What’s her name?” Ce’Nedra asked as the she-wolf sniffed at her little hand.
“Wolves don’t need names.”
“We have to call her something, Garion. May I hold the puppy?”
“I think she’d rather you didn’t just yet. Let her get used to you first.”
“This one is your mate,” the she-wolf said. “I can smell your scent on her.”
“Yes,” Garion agreed.
“She’s very small. I see now why she can’t hunt. Is she fully grown?”
“Yes, she is.”
“Has she had her first litter yet?”
“Yes.”
“How many puppies?”
“One.”
“One only?” The wolf sniffed. “I have had as many as six. You should have chosen a larger mate. I’m sure she was the runt of her litter.”