13.
The Deer
They came back into the redoubt at dawn, triumphant. They shoved their way through the surrounding wall of grass, dragging the dusty and bleeding carcass of a young doe.
Palva watched them from the mouth of her tunnel, silent and hidden amongst the arching fronds of grass. They did not notice her. The hunting patrol, led by Captain Leron, had left the previous night after Tir’s Placement. There were four wolves who had gone—Yielsa, Simetra, Mluma, and Leron himself. All four had returned safely, albeit bruised and scratched. Mluma was bleeding through her mouth, trickling a dark path down her neck fur. The rest of them were in a similar ragged condition. Palva had been correct; the deer had put up a good fight. But in the end, however out of practice they may have been, the predators had won. It was as it should be.
The patrol’s condition was not the reason for the cold unease that was rising in Palva’s head as she watched, hidden, from her tunnel. Her pale eyes gleamed in the darkness, and she sat in stiff composure, so as to hide the combination of anger and terror that itched in her paws like fire ants. She couldn’t take her eyes from the dead deer’s torn figure—now lying where they had deposited it in the center of the redoubt main like a sack of dirt, so graceful and beautiful in a terrible sort of way. The sight of it sent a prickle of fear down Palva’s spine.
Palva left the shelter of her tunnel and slipped into the clearing. It was the deer’s eyes that caught her attention as she passed its sprawled figure—large, dark inkblots of pupils that were soured by terror. The fragment of light that remained was fading, but Palva froze when she saw it. There seemed to be a flash of blood, the cry of a dying animal—wolf or deer? She couldn’t tell, but it froze the marrow in her bones and raised the hairs along her back. She turned, stiffly, and almost ran to catch up with the patrol.
The hunters were moving away towards Liyra’s den, and did not notice her as she fell in step behind them. They mounted the pile of rocks, each in silence. But Palva knew they were pleased; she knew they were proud of their success—she could feel it in the air around them. But they were wrong, so very wrong. They had set something terrible in motion, and she didn’t know quite what.
Liyra was sitting in the shadow of her cave, awake. She looked peaceful and serene in the misty glow of a fading moon, but when the patrol came into sight she jumped up with anticipation.
“Back, are you? Sit down! Please tell me what happened—did you manage to catch one?” Her voice sounded rushed and excited.
The others moved into the dark den, and Palva followed.
“Oh!” Liyra said in surprise, noticing her for the first time. “Palva, you here too? Very well, then. You must be eager to hear their report as well. Come in!”
Palva didn’t look at the alpha as she slipped into the den and found a place beside Mluma. The other wolves looked surprised to see her as well; they had not noticed her following them, too swathed they were with the stench of prey-blood and death to scent her behind them. But Palva ignored their curious glances and remained standing, her legs stiff and eyes hard.
Liyra came back into the den. “I just saw it,” she breathed. “I can see the deer from here. My! You did well, all of you! That one will feed half of us for sure. Perhaps we should organize another hunt, so that we will not have to hunt at all today.”
Simetra grunted something in reply, but it was Captain Leron who took charge.
“It went very well, of course,” he said, dipping his head to Liyra in respect. He looked about at the others, as though searching for agreement. “True, the deer put up a fight. I will admit that we allowed more injuries than we should—we are out of practice; it has been long since we have hunted deer. Of course, I had forgotten how strange it is to hunt herd creatures—they seemed unwilling to allow us to separate the doe we chose. Almost as if they were trying to protect it!”
He laughed softly at this idea, and Palva’s blood ran cold as she examined the damp and shining cave walls.
“But of course,” he was continuing, his voice growing smooth. “We won in the end. The doe we took had a slight limp, and she couldn’t fight very well.”
Palva looked up, her pale eyes glaring in the thin light of the moon outside.
“So I suppose you came by your bruises and cuts on the way back?” she said.
Leron tilted his head, assuming an expression of polite puzzlement. “Of course, it fought us. All living things must put up a struggle, Gatherer. But it doesn’t matter; none of us were killed. You may dismiss your fear of the beasts, Gatherer.”
“Afraid? I am not afraid—not of the deer, at least. But something is wrong.”
Liyra smiled at her, evidently under the impression she was concerned about the welfare of the patrol.
“Don’t worry, Palva,” she said. “We shall simply bring more Sentinels next time. The Hunters may do the separating and stalking, and the Sentinels may do the fighting. Everything has worked out.”
Palva growled in her throat, and looked back at the wall. Leron smiled, his fangs glinting in the dim light.
“Yes, don’t worry, Gatherer. Everything will be perfectly fine.”
Palva ignored him, but was beginning to burn under her fur. He didn’t care at all. He sat there, so pleased with himself and what he had done. Oh, if only she could—Palva froze as her thoughts strayed back to the yew berries. Soft, blood-red flesh formed a protective hood around the seed. The seed that brought night to whoever swallowed it.
It was a terrible thought, but a part of her wished Leron could know of the dreadful power she wielded. Then he would be afraid.
“…it is a good thing, really that this herd of deer is here,” Leron was saying, as though Palva had never interrupted. “Those creatures will feed us well in the thin months. This land is much better than our old home. Simetra, perhaps we should organize another hunt. As the alpha said, then we would not have to hunt for the rest of today. And it would also be a fine opportunity to try a new technique. Perhaps, we should go for the throat right away, don’t give the beast any time to use its hooves.”
Palva looked away, seething. From here, she could still see the carcass in the redoubt below. Already, a large crowd of curious and excited wolves had gathered around. Palva could see that chunks of the carcass had been torn away and a few wolves were eating it in their dens. The crowd of wolves around the mangled body was snarling and scuffling, fighting over the few fragments that were left—they bared their fangs and swiped to snatch ragged bits of bloody flesh out of each other’s mouths. She was seized with the sudden urge to fly down into the redoubt and tear the flesh from their mouths, to send them fleeing to their dens where they would hide, protected from the results of the hunt and the blood on the ground. There was time yet to save them, to keep them all from becoming a part of this before it was wolf flesh clasped in their snarling jaws, wolf blood making the grass slippery beneath their scuffling paws—Palva blinked, and looked away.
It made no sense. The deer ate grass, like all prey. They had dull teeth, like all prey. There is no wrong in killing prey. But this was not the same. She had seen deer before, and this doe looked no different—larger, perhaps, but nothing unusual. However, she could feel something hanging over the deer, including the herd she had not yet seen—something dark, angry, and fiercely protective.
What could it mean? She knew there were no humans and thunder-sticks here, in the new land. They were not stealing livestock. What danger could be lurking out in the fields for them, danger that could be associated with this herd of deer? Palva growled, and ground her teeth with frustration. Nothing made sense. She knew that this doe’s carcass had carried danger into the redoubt like some sort of plague; she knew something was coming. But she didn’t know what.
“…and of course we’ll be needing to refine our initial approach,” Leron was saying, as Simetra and the others licked their wounds and listened with half an ear. “We attempted to surround the herd, this time, which was a mistake as some of us
ended up being upwind from the herd. Perhaps tomorrow—”
“No,” Palva cut in, her voice like ice. “That’s enough. There won’t be another hunt.”
Her words were greeted by a brief moment of stunned silence. It wasn’t long, however, before Leron gave a nervous laugh from the corner where he was standing. “And what makes you say that, Gatherer? What authority have you been given to deliver such an order?” He blinked. “I don’t remember you defeating me in an honest challenge for such a privilege, Gatherer.”
He was half-mocking her; he was trying to lessen her authority in the eyes of the rest of the Council. She stared at him with cold eyes, and then appealed to the others.
“Listen to me,” she said. “We cannot hunt the deer. I don’t know why, but I do know that it is not something of which Rya would approve. There will be consequences.”
The others were staring at her in silence. Leron laughed again.
“Really?” he said. “And I suppose your moon-mother came and told you personally?”
“Please,” Palva said to Liyra, ignoring him. “You must listen to me. I am your Gatherer, I should know; and I know that nothing good will come of this.”
Liyra was staring at her as though she were insane.
“Not hunt the deer?” she said. “Palva, do you understand? The deer could be the survival of this pack. They are easy prey for us—”
“No they’re not,” Simetra said from the corner. Liyra, surprised, silenced at her sudden, harsh voice. “They’re not. They put up a great fight; it was not very much different from a battle. Perhaps we needed more wolves, but we are a small pack as it is, and we have been lessened by the harsh journey. Easy prey? I wouldn’t say so.”
Leron whirled on her, laughing even louder. Palva could see he was trying to keep his rising temper under control. “You are afraid of them as well?” he said, shaking his head in disappointment. “How sad that you think that way. They are soft, and we won in the end. They are prey! They are born to be killed by us, the predators. Perhaps the Hunters have been weakened by the journey, but I and the others are not afraid.”
Simetra flew to her feet, bristling. “AFRAID?” she roared, shedding clumps of bloodied red fur as she made a snarling lunge for him. “YOU DARE TO SUGGEST!”
Liyra forced her way in between the two, shoving them apart. “Stop this immediately! If either of you—”
“Was that a challenge, Hunter?” hissed Leron, struggling to get past Liyra and leap at Simetra.
“A challenge? It was provocation!” Simetra spat at him with equal fury. “But I’ll fight you, I will. I’m no coward. I’ll fight you, I’ll win, and I’ll kill you—”
“ENOUGH!” Liyra bellowed, louder than either of them. “Fighting amongst the Council? What have we been reduced to?”
Leron backed away, still bristling but lowering his tail in acceptance of Liyra’s dominance. Simetra, too, flattened herself against the cave wall, her eyes blazing. Palva seized this opportunity to bring back her appeal.
“What have we been reduced to?” she said. “Am I the only one to feel it? Hunting these deer will bring nothing but evil—what kind, I cannot say, but this must stop. It may already be too late, but perhaps we can begin to reverse what we’ve—”
“Palva!” Liyra interrupted, exasperated. “What are you saying? We have returned from a successful hunt, and no member of the patrol was hurt. Evil? There is no need to exaggerate, Palva. You are making no sense. Are you all right?”
“Of course I am!” Palva snapped. “Why won’t you listen to me?”
“How do you know this, Palva?” Liyra asked, with a weary patience. “Did you have a vision? A dream? A sign?”
“Well—no,” Palva admitted. “But sometimes all a Gatherer has to work with are her own instincts. And my instincts are different from yours and others’. I know. Don’t ask me how, but I know. We must not hunt these deer.”
“So you can’t tell us why? I’m sorry, Palva, but if you have no reason, no proof—”
“I believe her,” Simetra interjected, still glaring at Leron. “She’s the Gatherer, isn’t she? It’s her job to know things like this, and it’s our job to listen.”
Liyra looked almost ashamed. “Of course, I know,” she said. “But sometimes—well, Simetra, you’re the chief Hunter! Surely you can understand what an asset to the pack these deer are?”
Simetra considered this for a moment. “I would,” she said. “But as I mentioned earlier, they are too much trouble. It would be simpler and less dangerous to hunt rabbits, as we have always done before. We’re out of practice. We haven’t hunted deer in a long time—many of the younger wolves have never even seen one before. And if Palva thinks the deer are a bad sign, then I believe her. As I said, she’d know, wouldn’t she? Gatherers know things.”
Palva glanced at her gratefully, feeling more confident.
“You see, Liyra?” she said. “There are practical and solid reasons to stay away from this herd, if my own word is not enough. It is dangerous, what we have begun.”
Leron snorted. He had lost some of his composure in his spat with Simetra, and now he was still bristling, grey eyes gleaming like cold glass in the darkness. “Danger?” he said. “What danger, if I may ask? They’re prey; they are no danger to us. You are raving, Gatherer. You are—”
Liyra gave him a warning glance, and he fell silent. She turned to Palva and shook her head.
“I still do not understand. You say that you have no reason to believe this? Then how could you come here and demand that we stop? You cannot tell us why.”
Palva raised her head, taking care to keep her voice level and reasonable. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Leron had begun pacing along the cave wall. “I don’t know. It’s only a feeling, Liyra, I’m sorry—but wars have been declared on even less, with previous Gatherers. And this feeling has been building. I could feel it in the grass beneath my paws when we first came to this land and now…now it’s right in front of me.”
She paused. The others were staring at her blankly, with the exception of Simetra, who was glowering and giving sharp nods at everything she said. From his corner, Leron was smiling again. Palva felt a sudden surge of frustration.
“Fine, then,” she said. “You’re all looking at me as though you think I’m mad. But you,” she spat, whirling to face Liyra. Liyra took a step backwards, startled. “You know what I’m talking about. You know what’s at stake!”
“Palva! Palva, of course I understand. But this can’t apply to the—why, this is survival, hunting, a simple thing.”
“I’ve seen simpler things grow teeth.”
“Then what would you suggest, Palva?” Liyra’s voice had gained an impatient edge. “Shall we consult Rya before taking water from the lake? Take omens before we go to sleep each night? The fact remains that we must survive, Palva, and until you can show me a real reason why the pack should not hunt these deer, I’m afraid it would not be fair to deprive them of such a valuable source.”
Palva stared at her.
“You are too caught up in the excitement of this new territory to see what I am shoving under your nose,” she said. “This will mean nothing well for the pack, you can be sure of it. I feel they’ll soon be deprived of more than prey, before long.”
Liyra had at last grown angry. “Are you trying to frighten us into it now?” she said, with a warning growl in her voice. “Is that a threat?”
Palva bared her teeth and said nothing.
“Go back to your hollow, Palva,” Liyra said, tossing her head and turning back to the rest of the Council. “It is clear that you need rest. And do not come back to the Council again with foolish and unfounded warnings. Go.”
Bristling, Palva padded out of the den without complaint. She stumbled down the pile of boulders, feeling the eyes of the other Council members following her as she departed.
In the redoubt main, the deer carcass had been stripped clean of flesh, and the scent of blo
od had risen up from the torn hide and gleaming bones. It had risen up over the grass of the fields and into the sky, like the smoke from a signaling fire.