The Rise of the Fire Moon

Palva frowned. Her garlic supply was dwindling—little more than a few worn, withered stalks remained, scattered pathetically across the face of her herb-boulder. What with the renegade cutting wolves open right left and center and Tir coming back to the redoubt every morning with fresh fighting injuries, her supply almost spent. It was time to go out to the fields to search for more herbs before her stock was gone.

  It was now midday; the sun was weak and grey from behind a thick screen of clouds. The wind was blowing harder than ever, whipping through the redoubt and lashing through fur like claws. The wolves from the renegade hunt had returned only a few hours ago, with brambles in their fur and fear still flashing in their eyes—not to mention the dull sense of failure. The renegade was still running free, and Palva, though she would never tell any other wolf, was relieved. There was something not quite right about that renegade, and Palva hoped that she would at least stay alive long enough for her to puzzle out exactly what.

  Lost in thought, Palva ambled up her tunnel, a bit awkwardly on her three legs. She was making her way towards the redoubt entrance when she passed the mound of boulders that was the Sentinels’ dens.

  “Excellent idea, Xelind. I must say, I am impressed.”

  Palva froze at the sound of Captain Leron’s voice leaking out through a crack in the stone wall of a nearby den. She knew that she should not eavesdrop—a filthy, low trick of Nerasa’s specialty—but there was something eager in his tone that prickled at the corners of her mind. Nothing that made Captain Leron happy could be any good. She flattened her ears and crept closer, pressing herself against the boulder’s cold surface.

  “But it was not my idea, Captain sir, he came to me himself.”

  Xelind. Palva’s heart began to pound. What were they talking about? She flattened herself closer to the little crack, listening hard.

  Leron was laughing.

  “Oh, don’t bother kidding with me, Xelind.” he said. “It is just the kind of thing you’d come up with. My only surprise is that he agreed to it, though the poor outsider never struck me as being a great mind.”

  “Yes, sir. True, sir.”

  Palva’s eyes widened. They were talking about Tir.

  “It’s very clever, what you have set up,” said Leron, his voice smoothing into a comfortable, pleasant tone. “Fighting lessons, of course he would need it—yes, yes, we’ve already discussed that. I’ll be truthful and say that I haven’t been entirely pleased with you lately, but I see you are working to make up for that. I appreciate your initiative; you are my best, Xelind, don’t you know? Being in good status with me will reap great rewards when I am alpha again. Remember that.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you want rewards?”

  “Of course I do, sir.”

  Leron paused for a moment. Palva, her heart thudding, could almost see him surveying Xelind with his steely grey eyes.

  “Then why did you not accept it when it was offered to you?” he said, his voice soft. “A strange reaction, driving the stag back. It…why Xelind, it almost makes me doubt you.”

  “Oh, no, sir—”

  “You should have seen the opportunity there, Xelind. What have I taught you? It was a very simple plan and, frankly, it angers me that you spoiled it.”

  “I am sorry, sir,” Xelind said, cool as ever. “But it seemed too obvious to me, had I done nothing to save the chief Hunter. The pack dynamic has changed since we left the marsh. They would have suspected, and they are inclined to blame me as it is.”

  “We have been through this before, Xelind. Would they have suspected all the others as well? No one else did anything to drive off the stag. Shock, I expect. No one would have suspected you.”

  “Yes, sir, but still—I am not a Hunter; the position would not have fallen to me. Otherwise I’m sure I would have foreseen—”

  “Did you think I had not planned for that? Alpha Liyra is easily persuaded. You know that. I am disappointed in you.”

  “I am sorry, sir,” Xelind said. “I made a mistake. I will not repeat it.”

  “See to it that you do,” Leron said. “Because I already have a brief task for you, one that will make up for your past blunders.”

  “A task, sir?”

  “Oh, yes. Very simple. You’re going out to the fields with the outsider today, yes? For your fighting lessons?”

  “I am, sir.”

  “Then kill him,” Leron said. “As soon as you reach beyond earshot of the redoubt. Be quick about it, too—no need to play with him, just finish it mercifully. I am tired of his presence among us and, to be frank, I suspect that he isn’t being entirely honest with the rest of the pack. There’s something about him, Xelind, him and the renegade—I don’t trust him. I have been watching, ever since he came to this pack. Liyra has not listened to me on this matter, however, so I have been forced to take things for myself.”

  “Sir.”

  “You impress me, Xelind, I must admit. Even when you were a yearling you showed potential.”

  Xelind was silent.

  “The outsider will be a simple matter. Not a problem for you, I am sure?” Leron said. Palva could hear him smiling. “He wouldn’t be so quick as to run away again, would he? You know what you owe me, Xelind, and I won’t be playing around on this matter any longer. If the outsider by some mystery escapes again, then I’m afraid I will have no more use for you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ll have you know, Sirle begged me for the task, but I decided you would appreciate an opportunity to mend past wrongs and to change my mind. Don’t ever tell me I do not reward my old friends well.”

  “But, sir, why not do it yourself? I have disappointed you, I don’t deserve—”

  “Don’t be foolish. You have the best opportunity, and besides, you have certain advantages.”

  “Advantages?”

  “You fur is the same white as the renegade. Kill the outsider, and then bring him back to the redoubt. Say that you met the renegade on the fields and she attacked you both, killing the weaker one, of course. If there are any doubters, the fur around his fangs shall be white. Your fur, of course, but all others, Alpha Liyra in particular, shall think it is that of the renegade.”

  “Very orderly, sir.”

  Leron laughed. “Go then,” he said. “And be back soon. The quicker we are rid of this outsider, the sooner we may put our efforts towards eliminating the renegade. Go on, get out!”

  There was a scuffling as Xelind darted out of the den. Palva flattened herself against the boulder, but he did not look in her direction. His eyes were blank and fixed on the entrance of the redoubt, where Tir was waiting to leave for the day’s fighting lesson.

  Palva’s heart was pounding at what she had just heard. She had been right—Xelind was not to be trusted, not ever. Something had to be done, or else Tir would be murdered and the blame would fall on the renegade, who, for once, was innocent. But Palva could not care about the renegade anymore; the renegade could take care of herself. Tir would never stand a chance.

  But what could she, Palva the Gatherer do?

  Palva turned and dashed back down to her tunnel as fast as she could.