The Rise of the Fire Moon

  ***

  The wind was sharp and cold, biting Tir’s face and paws and making his eyes water. It cut through his thick fur, penetrating to strike the cold within his very bones. Grey grass whipped around Tir’s numb paws and lashed, whip-like, at his ankles. The sun, however, was buttery yellow and warm, and it helped to take the edge of the icy wind. Tir shivered with a prickly sort of pleasure. He was cold, but he had not felt so alive in a long time.

  It was not a satisfactory day for hunting—and Tir knew this. The wind had picked up since yesterday’s fighting lesson (from which he still was sore and bruised), and the air had grown colder and thinner. Nonetheless, he had been sent on a hunt. A hunt with Seilo.

  Seilo was trembling in the cold wind. The pup was hunched low to the ground and peeping over the tips of the grass. Ever since he and Tir had left the redoubt, Seilo had not taken his eyes off of him. Tir knew that the young wolf was still afraid of him, but his fear seemed to have been dampened by a strange sort of terrified fascination. Seilo had said nothing since he and Tir had set out, but his eyes were wide with a mixture of fear and wonder. Tir had no idea why.

  “Well, then,” Tir started a bit awkwardly, trying to sound cheerful. “What shall we do now?”

  Seilo pressed his body closer to the ground, his soft, tawny fur fluffed up against the wind. For awhile, he was silent, and Tir was afraid he wasn’t going to speak at all.

  “Palva said to hunt,” he whispered finally. “Just hunt.”

  Tir’s ears pricked. The whole time since he and Seilo had left the busy redoubt, he had been wondering. Why had Palva sent them on a hunt? That was either Simetra or Captain Leron’s job. But Palva had called to them from the mouth of her tunnel, only he and Seilo. Tir remembered—her pale eyes had been gleaming with an unreadable expression—which he had now come to recognize as the expression she wore when she was scheming—and her tail had been twitching on the ground. She had said something under her breath, after sending him and Seilo, confused, out to hunt, but Tir hadn’t made out the words.

  “We’re supposed to hunt,” Seilo said in a louder voice, under the impression that Tir had not heard him. “Palva—”

  “I know, I know,” Tir said. Seilo flinched as though he had reprimanded him. “Where shall we start?”

  “Sorry,” Seilo squeaked.

  “Sorry what?”

  “I—I dunno.”

  “You don’t know where we should start?”

  “No, I just—I dunno how.”

  “How what?” Tir was confused.

  Seilo looked up at the sky, shivered, and then looked down at his paws.

  “I don’t know how to hunt,” he said in a small voice.

  “Oh!” Tir said, understanding. “Is that all?”

  “No one taught me!” Seilo said, looking very forlorn. “I was too little—But Palva said you’re supposed to teach me. That’s what she said to tell you.”

  “To teach you to hunt?”

  “I—I suppose. She said, ‘Tell him to teach you, teach you everything.’”

  That sounded like a strange way to put it, but Palva put everything strangely, and Tir guessed it made sense. After all, Seilo was a bit too young to know how to hunt. Someone had to teach him. He would be old enough to be Placed by next summer, after all.

  “All right then,” Tir said, doing his best to sound encouraging. “Hunting isn’t the most difficult thing to learn.”

  Seilo was a very good student. He listened as Tir told him different hunting tactics, his ears pricked and eyes sharp and determined to learn. Tir himself had never been taught to hunt, exactly—it had come naturally to him—but he found that it was quite easy to put the process into words. Seilo watched as Tir did his best to demonstrate the proper hunting stalk, pounce, and kill.

  “Don’t ever play with your prey,” he explained, after attacking and “killing” a nearby pebble. “It is a gift from The Spirits—at least, that’s what they told me. Never let it suffer, but dispose of it quickly.”

  Tir was surprised when Seilo copied his movements exactly, creeping without a sound over the grass to pounce on the pebble. The pup was a natural hunter. Even Simetra would have been proud.

  “You see,” he explained to Seilo, who was looking rather pleased with himself. “Hunting is not something that would take anyone long to learn—some are good, some simply are not. There are a few certain helpful strategies to know, of course; but mostly it’s just an instinct. I remember my father didn’t teach me anything at first—he just said, ‘Go out there and see what you find.’ And would you know what? I came back with a mouse.”

  Seilo laughed, a timid little sound. Tir was feeling pleased. Misari had trained him well, and for a moment, Tir felt a bit sad as he remembered that he would never see the wise raven-black wolf again.

  “Oh, yes, and I forgot—” he said to Seilo, remembering something. “You must be careful to know which way the wind is blowing. If the wind is blowing in your face, then you should be fine. But if the wind is blowing away from you, then your prey will be able to scent you coming. You won’t catch anything that way at all.”

  “It’s windy today,” Seilo remarked, sniffing the air with his tiny black nose. “Does that do anything?”

  “Yes,” Tir said, once again surprised. “Yes, it does; well done. It makes it harder to scent prey, and when you do, it’s hard to tell where they are. Today really isn’t such a good day for hunting.” He frowned. “I don’t know why Palva sent us out here.”

  Seilo shrugged, still sniffing the wind. Tir padded over to him, looking out at the windswept fields.

  “Can you scent anything?” he asked. “Maybe we can catch something today after all.”

  As a matter of fact, Tir could detect a faint trace of rabbit on the bitter wind at that very moment. His paws began to twitch and his instincts longed to chase after it, but he decided to wait and see if Seilo could scent it first.

  Seilo’s tiny nose was quivering. He tipped his head to and fro, squinting his eyes against the wind and wrinkling his face with effort. Slowly, his limp tail began to rise up from the ground, his eyes widening and ears pricking forward.

  “Is that it?” Seilo whispered. “Is that a rabbit? Do you smell it?”

  The pup sniffed the air again, as though to make sure.

  Tir nodded and nudged the pup forward.

  “Let’s see if you can catch it.”

  Seilo gave him a doubtful glance, but he lowered himself into the whipping grass, ears sticking up over the swaying stalks, and crept away without a sound.

  Tir doubted that the tawny pup would be able to catch the rabbit, at least not under such windy hunting conditions. But he said nothing, watching as Seilo’s ears moved through the field; halting every now and then to be sure he was going in the right direction. Tir urged him on silently.

  For a moment, the wind seemed to pause. It was as though time was standing still, and Tir knew that Seilo was preparing to pounce. Squinting, he could see Seilo’s hindquarters sticking out from the grass a good distance away, swaying back and forth as he braced himself for the kill. The breath caught in Tir’s throat as he watched.

  There was a sudden screech. Tir leapt into the air, fur on end, alarmed. Was it Seilo or the rabbit? It was an unnatural sound he had heard only once before—when Simetra had been being mauled by the furious stag. It was fraught with terror, as if made by a dying animal.

  Seilo was dashing towards him over the grass, ears flat and eyes wild with fear. Tir ran forward to meet him, his mind racing with horrible thoughts. Was something chasing Seilo?

  Seilo dashed past Tir and cowered behind his legs.

  “There!” he screamed. “Up there!”

  Tir followed his horrified gaze up to the clear sky, almost expecting to see fire raining down on the fields. But he almost laughed with relief when he saw what Seilo was gazing at with such paralyzing terror.

  “It’s only a hawk, Seilo!” he said. “It’s just a bird
.”

  Indeed, a lone hawk was gliding in wide circles above them, a black silhouette against the crystal blue sky.

  “It’s not a bird!” Seilo wailed, shrinking to the ground. “It’s a wolf—a bad wolf with wings! It has claws and fangs—”

  “Seilo!” Tir was confused. What was he talking about? “It isn’t going to hurt you; you’re too big to be its prey. It’s probably going to get our rabbit right now—you needn’t be so afraid.”

  “No, No. It’s looking for me. They’re always looking for me. They found me once, a long time ago. And it—it was bad, so bad.”

  With a jolt, Tir remembered Palva’s story about how Seilo had come to her pack.

  “Well, his back was covered with gouges, like talon-marks. Our best guess was that an eagle or a hawk had snatched him up from somewhere….”

  His heart began to race. Of course. Seilo did remember fragments of his past—one of them being the hawk. Could he remember more? Could it possibly be that his memories were just buried, waiting to be uncovered in the right situation? The pup remembered hazy things, of course; faces and voices. But he had been too young to remember specific names.

  And all of a sudden, Tir realized—this was why Palva had sent them out on a hunt today. To distract Seilo from the fear that had begun hanging like mist close about the redoubt, but also to remind Tir, just as Seilo needed reminding. Tir shuddered, and looked up to the distant cliff-top, where the spiky branches of burnt trees clutched like black spider-webs at the watery white sky. Why did Palva want to remind him? Hadn’t she been happy to have him forget?

  “Seilo,” he asked, his voice shaking. He turned his head away from the desolate forest in the sky, fighting back his own fear. “Do you, er—do you remember where you were when the hawk caught you?”

  Seilo cried and made little scuffling motions with his paws, as though trying to dig a hole to hide in.

  “Seilo!”

  “I—I was standing. Standing…standing…somewhere. On a cliff, in a puddle, under water, up a tree—”

  Tir’s fur prickled, but he tried his best to remain calm, so as not to frighten the pup further.

  “But do you know why you were there?”

  Seilo looked up, his round eyes reflecting the blue sky where the black shape of the hawk was still circling.

  “They told me,” he said. “They told me the fire was coming.”

  Red, evil flames reared up before Tir’s eyes once again and he gasped, almost tasting the lethal smoke curling around his lungs. But he shook these memories away, trying not to let Seilo see his fear.

  “Who told you?” he pressed, unable to keep the tremble out of his voice. “Who told you about the fire?”

  Seilo shook his head, pressing his paws into his eyes.

  “I don’t know! I don’t know! They said— they said… Oh, I don’t know! Stop it!”

  “You can’t remember? Do you remember anything about them?”

  “So big—they were big, and brown, and the sticks on their heads—”

  “Deer told you? But how could you have spoken to deer?”

  “I didn’t! They didn’t! It came, claws and teeth and screams and wings. And they killed me, but I came back, and— No! Go away! Leave me alone!”

  Tir watched with a mixture of dismay and shock as Seilo curled up into a tiny knot on the cold ground, quivering and sobbing to himself.

  “Seilo,” he asked gently. “Do you remember Arwena?”

  There was no reply.

  “Arwena, Seilo!” Tir pressed, his heart pounding. “Don’t you remember Arwena? An old brown she-wolf with green eyes?”

  Seilo raised his head. His lips were curled, tiny teeth bared in a terrified puppy-snarl, and his ears were flat against his head.

  “No. I don’t. Leave me alone.”

  Tir sat down on the ground with a thump, his head rushing with frustration and sorrow. So close. He had been so close. Tir was sure that Seilo somehow remembered, and he could make Seilo remember. Making Seilo remember would be like carrying his old home with him and having a piece that he could keep, to have all the old faces with him and to stave off the nightmares when they came again. But how?

  Seilo whimpered something unintelligible into the grass.

  “Tir! Tir! Tir!”

  Tir’s head shot up. Nerasa was racing towards him and Seilo, her ears flat against her head. She reached them, panting, halting, grass spraying up at her paws.

  “Where have you been?” Tir examined her matted fur, scores of tiny cuts, and bleeding paws. Her yellow eyes were glassy with shock, and every one of her hairs was standing on end.

  “It was just—just awful,” she panted, spitting on the ground. “I wish, I wish, I never… Of course, I have to. We all have to—”

  “Nerasa,” Tir interrupted, feeling uneasy. “What are you talking about?”

  Nerasa looked at him, and then at Seilo, who was still curled in a trembling knot on the ground.

  “Hunting for the renegade,” she said in an undertone. “I tell you, that was the worst.”

  “What happened?”

  “It was just—I mean, we couldn’t see anything. There were shadows everywhere; it was all black. Moon in a hole, I swear, that forest is probably full of bones. And—and every now and then, she’d just appear, leaping out from thin air and attacking one of us. It was awful. Raatri almost got killed—”

  “But no one did get killed, right?”

  “’Course not,” Nerasa said, sounding a bit more like her old self. “There were three of us and one of her. But mind you, we had to stick together or she’d have just picked us off, one by one. And it was hard; we could barely see each other. That forest is so awful, so dark and scary—I don’t know how she can stand to live there.”

  Tir nodded. He remembered the horror of the renegade’s forest all too well. It was dark; even the trees seemed hostile. He shivered. He hoped he never had to go in there again.

  Nerasa was still talking, her voice ragged and patchy.

  “All black, all shadows—and suddenly, she’d just be there, like some awful ghost. I’m telling you, that crazy renegade is no normal wolf—I don’t think she even is a wolf, no wolf fights with their claws, only wildcats do, and you know how crazy they are. Moon on fire! She jumped on me once, but Captain forced her off. It was impossible to see her at all; she’d just disappear like that,” Nerasa stomped on the ground. “I tell you,” she continued, talking very fast. “She wasn’t kidding when she said we’d never find her. I don’t know what we’re gonna do, but I guess we have to get her at some point. I just hope she doesn’t get one of us first. Raatri—”

  Nerasa stopped, and looked at Seilo. She then leaned forward to whisper in Tir’s ear so the pup couldn’t hear.

  “Raatri says he won’t go anymore. He refuses to go in that forest one more time. You should’ve seen him when we got back—he was in an awful state, all shivering and jumpy. I think he was about to cry he was so scared. He kept gibbering about blood and white shadows, and then he marched up to Alpha and said he would have nothing more to do with the renegade. I kinda understand him, you know—he did see Yielsa get killed—that must’ve been for anyone to handle.”

  “Did Alpha Liyra listen to him?” Tir asked, growing more and more apprehensive as Nerasa went on.

  “Oh, sure. She didn’t want to at first, but then he started to get all crazy again, like he did that one night. Right away, Alpha told him he didn’t have to go anymore. I guess she just didn’t want him to go insane and start shouting about blood and entrails again.”

  Tir shivered, for what felt about the millionth time that day. He felt sorry for poor Raatri; he wouldn’t have wanted to go galloping through a dark forest in the dead of night to chase a bloodthirsty renegade. It sounded like the perfect description of a nightmare to him.

  “At any rate,” Nerasa was saying, flopping down onto the cold grass. “The next hunt is later today, can you believe it? I guess Alpha just wants
to wear the renegade down to nothing, get this thing over with as soon as possible, before everyone’s morale goes to dirt. At least that hunt’ll be during the daytime. I’d hate to go at night again.”

  She shuddered, licking at a long cut on her left flank. Tir watched her for a few moments, thinking to himself.

  “Are you going on the hunt today?” he asked.

  “Guidelights, no! Not on my life. And mind you, it might cost me that next time. Maybe I’ll go like Raatri and just refuse—no, Captain would cuff me if I did. Palva would, too.”

  She paused and glanced up at him, mustard-yellow eyes gleaming. “Palva’s starting to scare me a little, see,” she said, lowering her voice. “She’s been in a real snappy mood lately, apparently because Alpha isn’t listening to her anymore. Can’t imagine why Alpha wouldn’t, though—I mean, Palva knew what was going to happen with the deer hunting, didn’t she? Bad choice on Alpha’s part, if you ask me.”

  Tir shifted. “Should you talk about Alpha Liyra like that? In my old pack, you could get in trouble.”

  “Trouble?” Nerasa snorted. “What more trouble than we’re already in? Anyway, I heard that Palva also didn’t want to kill the renegade, and I think we should listen to her. It’s almost like she knows what’s going on, more than Alpha or maybe even the renegade—I mean, really knows.”

  Tir shot a sideways glance at Seilo, who was still quivering. “She’d be the only one, then,” he muttered.

  19.

  Yew