The Rise of the Fire Moon

  ***

  “Tir, this is Nerasa.”

  Nerasa was a large, powerfully-built black she-wolf. She had yellow eyes and a long scar running down the length of her right forepaw. Tir recognized her voice as that of the wolf who had visited Palva days before, while he was doing his best to feign sleep. She seemed to recognize him, too, because her eyes widened.

  “Look at that!” she said in a loud voice, making a few wolves in the redoubt turn around. “You’re that wolf who got crisped! You’re that mad, diseased stranger! Oh, I should be frightened, shouldn’t I? The things Captain’s been saying about you—”

  “Don’t believe everything you hear, Nerasa,” Palva said, making a swift motion to quiet her. “And don’t speak in such a loud voice, either.”

  Nerasa laughed, a hoarse barking sound that sounded more like she was choking. “Oh, of course, I forgot. You aren’t on best terms with Captain, are you? Shock—neither am I. Anyway, I didn’t really believe he was mad. I mean, just look at him—poor little guy, he doesn’t even look like he’s foaming.”

  Palva made a strange, strangled sound somewhere between a laugh and a cough, and gave Nerasa a sharp nudge.

  “Liyra says you are to be his guide,” she said, and Nerasa, who was inspecting Tir’s mouth for signs of rabidity, whirled around in surprise.

  “And see that you do it right,” Palva said in a low voice. “He needs to know everything before his Placement.”

  “Everything?”

  “Everything.”

  “EVERYTHING?”

  “Stop it.”

  Nerasa turned to look at Tir again, and he took a few steps back. Those eyes were beginning to bother him.

  “I guess you wouldn’t know anything,” she said. “You spent all your time running away, didn’t you?”

  “I know things,” Tir said. “I know how to hunt, I know how to scout, I know how to…” But his voice trailed away under Nerasa’s yellow-eyed stare.

  She laughed again. “He’s weird,” she said to Palva, as though Tir weren’t there. “But I like him.”

  She turned back around to Tir, who was beginning to be sure that he knew of wolves weirder than himself but decided this wasn’t the time to say so. “Don’t worry, though,” she said consolingly. “I mean, Kesol’s weird, but everyone likes him. It’s okay to be weird. You shouldn’t let it bother you, so long as you don’t put yourself in any life-threatening situations.”

  Tir, unsure of what to make of this, decided it was best to remain silent.

  “So,” Palva said from behind them. “I must go find some chamomile somewhere, so I’ll just leave you two. Nerasa, he’s been up all night. So when you’re finished showing him around, just let him pick himself a den and sleep the rest of the day. He’s got a patrol tomorrow.” She was beginning to walk away, talking over her shoulder. “be sure to do a good job, Nerasa. Remember, everything. Good luck, Tir.”

  Tir watched her go, wishing that Palva could be his guide instead of Nerasa. Nerasa seemed to notice this, but did not appear bothered at all.

  “Palva’s always so busy,” she said. “And so are we, now.” She sighed. “Honestly, everything. Moon in a hole, Alpha doesn’t ask for much, does she?”

  She looked down at Tir, as though expecting an answer. Tir shuffled his paws in the dirt, not having any idea what he was supposed to say.

  “Well, c’mon then,” Nerasa said, prodding Tir to his feet with her scarred paw. “Hunters’ dens, first on the list. Let’s get moving, before they all come back—they can be scary when they’re in a group, see.”

  She sprinted away across the redoubt, and Tir had no choice but to follow. Wolves milling about the redoubt stopped and turned around in surprise as they shot past, and Tir was beginning to wonder why Nerasa was in such a hurry when they came to an abrupt halt in the shadow of the cliff. Tir stretched his neck back, following the path of the stone to the top—where a thin haze of smoke still drifted, as though searching for him.

  “These are the Hunters’ dens,” Nerasa whispered, as if they were in a tomb. “This is where all the Hunters sleep. I’m not a Hunter, so I’m not allowed around here, most times.”

  “Why?”

  Nerasa shrugged. “The Hunters weren’t in my pack. They were Liyra’s before—Liyra joined our packs together when we had to escape the thundersticks, see. But my alphas died on the way, and so did Liyra’s mate. No problem. Liyra’s my alpha now. Nice enough. But they still don’t always get along with us—me, we were all Sentinels; we can beat them in any fight—but they’re fantastic at killing rabbits and things, I’ll grant them that. Guess why we call them Hunters?”

  Tir looked up. Dozens of stony shelves jutted out from the face of the cliff, balanced here and there by a honeycomb of cracks and caves. Some of them were placed so far up that Tir imagined the Hunter would have to climb to reach his den. A wolf was sleeping on one now—he had chosen an open-aired ledge—dangling long, skinny legs over the edge of the stone shelf like a tawny-furred spider.

  “Kesol!” Nerasa called, squinting up at the wolf. “What’re you doing in here? You’re supposed to be on Simetra’s dawn hunt!”

  “Cancelled,” the bundle of fur mumbled. “Wind’s blowing in my direction this morning.”

  Nerasa laughed, and Tir flinched at the sound. The wolf on the ledge, it seemed, didn’t like the hoarse noise either, because he yelped and fell to the ground.

  “Must you laugh at this hour?” Kesol said as he clambered to his feet, glaring at Nerasa through bleary, unfocused eyes. “The mice were telling me a story.”

  “Wake up, you yellow spider. Looky here, see what I’ve brought you!”

  Kesol’s eyes widened, and he appeared to instantly awaken at the sight of Tir. “Oho!” he said with a kind of impish triumph. “But it wouldn’t be the Honorable Firepelt!”

  “This is Kesol, Tir,” Nerasa said, ignoring him.

  Tir surveyed Kesol with some apprehension. He had never seen the wolf before in his life, but the way Kesol spoke and the way he regarded him with a sort of lunatic joy gave off the impression that he considered this a long-awaited reunion. Tir took a slow step backwards.

  “The Most Honorable Firepelt has been brought to life,” Kesol announced to no one in particular, but Nerasa nodded in understanding. “Oh, Firepelt, would you believe that when I last saw you, you were dead?”

  “Dead and burned and shoved in a heap,” Nerasa said happily. “Moon up a tree, I wouldn’t be surprised to find that most others see Captain’s side of things—you didn’t set a good first impression, Tir.”

  “I was unconscious,” Tir said, an uncomfortable prickle running down his spine as he realized what they were talking about. “How was I supposed to set any impression at all? And…and why were you watching me sleep?”

  “Too polite to wake you up,” Nerasa said, but Kesol did not answer. The yellow wolf was circling him, examining him from all sides.

  “But I see you aren’t ashy anymore, Honorable Firepelt” he said, frowning. “I wonder, did the rain cloud go away? Or did it rain on you?”

  Tir eyed him, still wary. “I took a bath.”

  “Yes, yes, yes, a bath, yes.” Kesol nodded sagely. “Baths. Yes, baths are good. The hunting patrol brought one back just last night, very good it was, too.”

  “A bath, Kesol,” Nerasa growled. “You know, cleaning the filth from your fur? We can’t all roll around in the dirt like you.”

  Kesol glared at her. “No one asked your opinion, Laugher. I don’t want it. Take it back and—oh, sorry, it seems I’ve damaged it.”

  Tir wished that Palva was the one to guide him.

  Once she had finished arguing with Kesol, Nerasa took him to the dens of the Sentinels, which were nestled amongst the pile of boulders. These dens were closer to the ground and without the precarious, open-aired ledges.

  “This is my den,” she said with pride, showing him a small, sandy area in the crevice between two mossy boulde
rs. “If you’re gonna be a Sentinel, you got to find your own. But don’t worry, there are lots. None are as good as mine, though. Believe me when I say I had to fight everyone for it.”

  Tir’s eyes traveled up to a fresh scar over her left eye. He believed her.

  None of the Sentinels were in the dens, so Nerasa proceeded to guide him around the rest of the redoubt, introducing him to wolves as they passed.

  “Mluma, Raatri, Salka,” Nerasa rattled off names as they padded past a small knot of wolves. “Don’t bother remembering their names; they don’t even know you, yet. Oh, and the last one there’s Yielsa.”

  Nerasa kept walking at a brisk pace, but Tir’s eyes remained on the wolf named Yielsa, who had a golden pelt that was almost glowing in the sun. She caught his eye and smiled. Swallowing, Tir turned back around to catch up to Nerasa—but as he did so, he almost ran into a skinny white wolf who was walking by. For one wild moment, Tir jumped, thinking it was the renegade, but he calmed at the sight of the wolf’s empty blue eyes.

  “Wait!” Tir said, whipping around. The wolf had already begun to walk away, and at the sound of Tir’s voice, he stopped but did not turn around. Tir ran up to him.

  “I know you,” Tir said. “You were the one that was guarding me the other night. You let me go, remember?”

  The wolf said nothing.

  “Well,” Tir said with hesitation, discouraged by the lack of response. “Well, I just wanted to thank you. You—you didn’t have to do it, but you did, and I’m glad you were willing to listen to me, so—”

  “No, you listen to me, outsider,” the wolf said, turning to face him. His eyes were scalding. “I did not release you for any reasons of your concern, much less that I may have felt any sort of pity for you. If you think that I care about you and your welfare, then I am afraid you are mistaken. The only reason I did not tear out your throat the moment you began begging for escape is because you are an outsider, and outsiders do not belong in this pack. There is good reason to be rid of them all, as none can be trusted. Frankly, you were lucky to not have been driven out. Why you chose to come running back is beyond my understanding.”

  Tir stared, taking a step back. “But you said—”

  “Be quiet!” the wolf hissed, his eyes darting around. “I only wanted to get rid of you—is that clear? Never speak to me again, outsider. I don’t want to be seen in your company. He wouldn’t like it.”

  He whipped around and stalked away, leaving Tir gaping at his departing back in shock over the fact that anyone could be so rude.

  “Hey! What’re you doing?” Nerasa had come up behind him. She followed his gaze across the redoubt, where the white wolf was stalking towards the Sentinels’ dens. “What’re you looking at?”

  “Nothing,” Tir muttered. “I just—who is that, anyway?”

  “Who?” Nerasa squinted. “Oh, you mean him? That’s Xelind. You don’t want to know him.”

  “Why not?”

  Nerasa sighed. “He’s…well, Palva’d be mad if I told you, but he belongs to Captain, really. Came from Captain’s old pack, sort of; I don’t know if they could properly be called a pack. But he’s not well-liked; you don’t want to talk to him. Him and Sirle, those nasty little weasels.” She paused to scuff at the ground in disgust. “Why do you want to know?”

  “No reason.” Tir watched the wolf’s retreating back. He was thinner, strangely-arranged—built in a way that was noticeably different from the other packwolves, when compared side-by side. And his eyes were such a strange color. What was that? “Where did he come from? He doesn’t look like—”

  “A wolf? That’s because he isn’t.” Nerasa had followed his stare, and squinted, yellow eyes narrowed to slits. “We don’t know what he is, actually. Captain says he found him and his mother lost in the woods. I’m told his mother was a human’s dog.” She laughed. “Tell him that, though, and he’ll take out your eyes.”

  “Oh.” Tir noticed a gaping, red gash in Xelind’s side. It looked as though someone had bitten him. Had Alpha Liyra attacked him when she learned what he had done? Nerasa, following his gaze, made a soft, appreciative sound.

  “Oh, wow,” she said. “Looks like he found the wrong side of somebody. Mind you, I wish I could’ve done it.” She shook her head and glanced sideways at Tir. “Now, Palva said I’m supposed to tell you everything, so I guess I have to tell you that there’s a wolf to avoid.” She glanced around as though to make sure they weren’t being overheard and then leaned in to whisper in Tir’s ear. “He’s killed things,” she said.

  Tir stared. “What?”

  “He killed his sister,” Nerasa went on, her voice rising in a sort of horrified excitement. “She was a runt. It’d be hard to pull off, normally, but lots of awful things happened in the marsh, and no one bothered much to investigate. So when his mother died, he killed her. Right after that was when he started following Captain.”

  “When? I thought—”

  “Oh, yes, he joined up with us all right. Just a harmless little yearling and his sickly sister.” She gave a surprisingly-harsh laugh. “But he grew up. He wanted Leron’s respect; he wanted authority. Figured the best way to do that was get rid of his sister, first.”

  Tir swallowed, glancing over his shoulder at the skinny white Sentinel again. “Why?”

  “Because she was in his way. His mother made him promise he’d take care of her when she was gone, see, and that’s what he had to do. He couldn’t get any status in the pack with a little runt trailing after him, though. So he took her out into the forest and killed her. We found her body buried under the leaves, surrounded by wolf footprints. He told everyone a fox did it. Not that it mattered. Those days, wolves were dying twice in a night, and no one bothered to look into things.”

  Tir shivered, remembering Xelind’s vacant, dead-fish blue eyes and stony face. He looked like a creature capable of murder. The way Nerasa had told him about it, in such a direct, blunt way, Tir was able to tell that this must be a common story amongst the wolves of the pack. After meeting Kesol, Nerasa, and now Xelind, Tir was beginning to wonder if there were any normal wolves in this pack.

  “Oh! Look!” Nerasa said, whipping around. “The patrol’s back!”

  Tir turned around as well, taking his gaze off the angry white wolf to see a small group that was coming through the grass around the redoubt, some carrying prey in their jaws. Nerasa dashed off towards them, and with a sigh of defeat (he was beginning to see Nerasa’s methods of changing the subject), Tir followed.

  He recognized the large, reddish-brown she-wolf at the head of the group as the chief Hunter, Simetra. She nodded at him as he and Nerasa approached, and dropped the large rabbit in her jaws.

  “I see you came back,” she said to him. She had a brisk, commanding voice, but didn’t sound unfriendly. She even smiled at him. “Alpha Liyra tells me you are to be Placed soon, yes?”

  Tir nodded, uncomfortably aware of the large wolf behind her watching him with a level, curious gaze.

  Simetra flicked her tail and looked him over, as though sizing him up.

  “Well,” she said. “We could always use another good Hunter around here. We’ll see what happens.”

  She snatched up her rabbit and padded over to the group of wolves he and Nerasa had just passed. Another wolf followed after her, a silvery-grey male who ignored Tir and Nerasa. But the other wolf behind Simetra stayed, a hulking dark brown male with sharp grey eyes.

  “That’s Captain,” Nerasa whispered in his ear. “Captain Leron. He’s second in command from Alpha.”

  Captain Leron dropped his rabbit, which was smaller than Simetra’s, and padded up to Tir. He walked with a careful grace, placing one massive paw before the other in deliberate, smooth movements. Tir felt a prickle of unease—it was as though the wolf wanted to drag out his approach, to give Tir enough time to grow nervous.

  “And you would be that outsider the Gatherer brought in, am I correct?” Leron said at last, giving a surprisingl
y-welcoming smile . Tir, unable to help himself, recoiled, feeling the piercing, calculating stare of the wolf’s steel-grey eyes—as though he was probing his mind, drawing out bits of information that may prove useful. “I must say, it has been long since we’ve had an outsider in the pack. Then again,” he added with a laugh. “We are a pack of outsiders. A loosely-bound group of renegades, yes?”

  “Palva rescued me,” Tir muttered, looking at the ground. He did not know what else to say—his head was fogged and confused by the wolf’s violent eyes.

  “Oh, she dragged you in like a piece of rancid meat, she did!” Leron said, and then laughed to show that it was a joke. “It’s quite amazing, the authority a wolf like your Gatherer can earn with a leg like that—you should’ve seen the way she fought for you! Words against teeth! But you’re here now, aren’t you? And off to a wonderful start, as I hear—already in the Alpha’s good eye! Why, I’d better watch my step!”

  He laughed again, and Tir managed a weak smile. Leron’s presence seemed to drain him of energy—he imagined the Captain feeding off the vitality of others, drawing in energy through those probing grey eyes. Tir did not like the way Leron spoke to him. He was trying to be friendly, but his voice contained strains of the fatherly condescension that he loathed. In Misari’s pack, wolves had spoken to him and Arwena that same way.

  “Please don’t bother,” Tir said. “I don’t really want to join, anyway.”

  He glanced up and locked eyes, though Leron’s cut into him almost painfully. The moment he did so Leron expanded in a rush of bristling brown fur and, in one swift movement, struck Tir over the head with a massive paw. Tir gasped, stumbling, as pain exploded in his head.

  “Now, pay attention, outsider,” Leron was saying kindly, as Tir collapsed, sputtering, into a heap. He spoke lower, slower, almost sadly as though he had done something he hadn’t wanted to do. “We must make a valuable lesson of this. You must learn, if you’re to be in the pack, yes? Never make eye contact with the Captain—not the Alpha, either. I will let you off this time, because you didn’t know better, but next time, I—”

  “Hey!” said Nerasa, who seemed to have just realized what had happened. “You didn’t need to hit him!”

  “You must learn, if you’re to be in the pack, yes?” Leron went on, ignoring her. Tir began to stumble back to his feet, his head throbbing with anger and pain. “Now, that is the first lesson pups learn. And you should be careful; others won’t let you off so easily as I have!” He paused, grey eyes keen, and leaned closer to hiss into Tir’s ear. “Where have you come from, outsider? Who are you?”

  White spots were still dancing before Tir’s eyes. “No one you know,” he said, glaring at the ground. “No one you need to know.”

  There was silence for awhile.

  “Well, that is a shame,” Leron said, straightening back up. He was smiling again. “I would have liked to know; perhaps you will make a fine Sentinel one day? You will address me as ‘sir’ from now on. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, sir.” Tir had meant for it to sound mocking, but it came out as little more than a mumble.

  “Aren’t you awfully busy today, Captain sir?” Nerasa prompted, before Leron could reply. “Too busy, sir? No time to talk, sir? Right, sir?”

  “Oh, yes, of course,” Leron said, not sparing her a glance. He was still examining Tir as though searching for something. “I’m very busy indeed.” Leron frowned, for a moment, and then seemed to make up his mind. He shook his head again, offering Tir a small, regretful smile. “And you, outsider, take care to watch your step from now on! There are toes that oughtn’t be trod on, yes? Choose the wrong wolves to offend, and you may find yourself without any sort of pack at all. It is not fun, being a renegade. But don’t worry, I’ll watch out for you—I was once an outsider myself. The best thing to do is be very, very careful.”

  Another awkward silence followed. Tir had bent his head; he did not look up, but he could still feel the Captain’s questioning grey stare like needles probing his skull. After a moment, however, Leron sighed and padded away, leaving the air crackling with his last words—which, Tir thought, could only be a threat.

  “You forgot your rabbit!” Nerasa shouted, throwing it after him.

  “He can’t really have me exiled, can he?” Tir was asking as he and Nerasa headed over towards the boulder where the Sentinels made their dens. He was still feeling a bit light-headed from the captain’s vicious blow.

  “Picked up that much, did you?” Nerasa said, but she was not smiling now. Her yellow eyes had darkened. “Well, yes, he can. He’s in the Council. Maybe he can’t shake Palva, but Sirle is a bug under his paw. And if he tried hard enough, I’m sure he could convince Simetra you’re a danger.”

  Tir shuddered and glanced across the redoubt clearing where Leron was now, deep in discussion with Alpha Liyra.

  “I don’t like him,” he said.

  “That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all day.”

  “What’s the Council?” he asked, looking back at Nerasa.

  “It’s made up of the Alpha, the Gatherer, the Captain, and the chief Hunter and Sentinel,” she replied. “They have meetings every now and then, and they won’t tell anyone what they’re talking about. Boring important stuff, you know.” She paused, and then laughed. “But call him “sir”? Ha! That’s a new one! No one calls Captain sir—well, except for me, maybe, but he doesn’t know I’m making fun of him. Sir! Ha!”

  “Why did he get so angry with me all of a sudden?” Tir asked. “I didn’t do any—”

  “Oh, yes you did,” Nerasa said, her voice with a sudden serious edge. “You stared at him, locked eyes with him. He doesn’t like that—he thinks it’s a challenge or something. Got to be careful about that around here—especially since we left, and had to join up with these two other packs. Used to be really picky about authority issues—well, put four alphas together and that’ll happen. They’re all dead now, except for Captain and our Alpha—she beat him down, see, and that’s why he’s not. He still whimpers about it in his sleep. Understand?”

  “Palva didn’t care.”

  “No, Palva doesn’t care about much. Her head’s too full of stars to care about what’s a challenge to her and what’s not. She’s the only one who can be Gatherer, see—probably’d just laugh at you if you challenged her, really. Honest, though—who’d want to be in her place?”

  She sighed, and stopped in front of a small space in the crevice of two boulders. “This’ll do as your nest for tonight, I s’pose.”

  Tir padded into the den, and then back out.

  “So they had a meeting when they decided whether or not to keep me?” he asked, not sure whether he liked the idea.

  “Guess so. Not that I’d know, ‘course,” she paused and eyed him keenly. “But it still stings, doesn’t it?”

  Tir looked away. His anger with Liyra for holding him prisoner was still a bitter presence inside him, but it was softening. As much as he would rather not admit it, it felt good to be among wolves again. It felt good to have something like companionship, to distract him from the fact that he was alone. He would just have to forgive the alpha for what she had done. But if only he just knew why she did it.

  Nerasa shoved him into the small den. “Right then,” she said. “Palva said you’re to sleep now, and you’d better. I’d bet my den Captain is gonna run you to the bone tomorrow on that patrol, if ever-so-politely, so you’d better be alert enough.

  Tir did not protest, curling up into a knot on the den’s soft, mossy ground. Nerasa stood in the mouth of the den, chewing her lip as if deep in thought.

  “I do hope I did a good job as a guide,” she muttered. “Palva’s gonna cuff me if I messed it up.”

  She sighed, and then looked down at Tir curled up on the floor. “So it all comes down to this. The most important stuff you need to remember if you want to keep your place here. One, never get in the way of Captain—you know that now, of course. Two, do your best
to get on the good side of Alpha. And three, never listen to anything Kesol tells you. Now go to sleep.”

  Tir yawned and obeyed without argument.