My brother? I reached for Nighteyes.
I am here. I am always here.
Tell me of that night.
What night?
The night you guided the people from the Keep to Heart of the Pack.
Ah. I sensed him struggling. His ways were a wolf’s ways. A thing done was a thing done. He planned no further ahead than the next kill, recalled almost nothing of events that happened a month or a year ago, unless they touched most directly on his own survival. Thus he recalled the cage I had taken him from, but where he had hunted four nights ago was lost to him. General things he recalled: a well-used rabbit trail, a spring that did not freeze over, but specific details of how many rabbits he had killed three days ago were lost forever. I held my breath, hoping he could give me hope.
I took them all to Heart of the Pack. I wish you were here. I’ve a porcupine quill in my lip. I can’t paw it loose. It hurts.
And how did you get that? In the midst of all else, I still had to smile. He knew better but had not been able to resist the fat waddling creature.
It isn’t funny.
I know. Truly, it was not funny. A quill was a nasty barbed thing that would only work deeper, festering all the way. It could get bad enough to keep him from hunting. I turned my attention to his problem. Until I had solved it for him, he would be able to focus on nothing else. Heart of the Pack would get it out for you, if you asked him nicely. You can trust him.
He pushed me when I spoke to him. But then he spoke to me.
Did he?
A slow working through of thought. That night. When I guided them to him. He said to me, “Bring them here to me, not to the dog fox place. “