29.
The Last Tale
It was strange, walking through her forest in the snow. It always took awhile before Alanki could get used to the cold crunch under her paws. Her white pelt melted into the background until she was invisible to all but the most careful eye. The only problem was the shallow tracks that her paws left behind.
Before Alanki went into battle, there was one thing she had to do. The deer. She had to pay them one last visit. There was no telling whether or not she would be there to greet them next spring, when they returned. Today, the day of the first snowfall, was the day the herd left for the land beyond the forest, beyond even the rocky wasteland they called The Sharps. Most years, they made their trail by following the river.
Alanki could hear the sluggish trickle of almost-frozen water echoing in the white silence. She heard another sound, too: the soft, rhythmic crunch, crunch, crunch of traveling hooves.
She came to a halt, and peered through a wall of brambles, sending snow cascading down onto her muzzle. Sure enough, the herd was plodding alongside the frozen banks of the river, their heads bent, their nut-brown pelts flecked with snow. They paid no notice to Alanki as she slipped through the brambles and walked alongside them, falling into step with their tramping hooves.
She scanned the herd, searching for a familiar face. It was not long before she spotted the weary figure of Delphinium near the back, surrounded by a crowd of jumpy fawns. Their voices were raised in chatter, bickering over which story the old doe should tell first.
“The wolf fawn! The wolf fawn!” they all shouted as Alanki padded up to them. A few sought protection by hiding behind Delphinium. The doe looked up.
“Alankhi,” she said in surprise, coming to a halt. “Why have you come?”
“I came to say goodbye.”
“Ah. Goodbye I say to you, too. But you know well that we will return with the spring.”
Alanki swallowed. “I know. But I may not be here when you do.”
Delphinium froze. She said nothing more, lowering her head and proceeding to plod forward. Alanki fell into step beside her. She could feel the fear and sorrow emanating from her foster-mother.
“A battle is coming,” Alanki said, looking at the white ground as she walked. “In this forest.”
“I know,” whispered Delphinium. “And Eyebright, I am sure, has known for a long time. We have all seen the bloodfire moon, and we fear greatly.”
“But whatever ‘tis that happens,” Alanki said. “You don’t need to worry any more. When you return, there will no longer be any wolves to hunt and kill you. I shall make sure of that, whatever I do.”
“You take your debt too seriously, Alankhi. You have already repaid it ten times over to us.”
“So? Shall I just lie down and bare my throat, then?”
“What I am meaning is this: you do not have to fight this day. You do not have to fight at all.”
Alanki gave her a sidelong glance. She said nothing.
“Come with us,” Delphinium said. Her dark eyes were pleading. “Do not go on with this any longer. Leave when you can, Alankhi, and return with the herd in the spring. You do not need to fight.”
Alanki looked at the doe. “I promised the other pack’s alpha that I would. Even you know that I cannot back out now. They need my help, and ‘tis my own fault they must fight at all.”
Delphinium shook her head.
“No, Alankhi,” she said. “I know you too well, and I know that ‘tis not the true reason why you fight. You wish for revenge on the other pack, still. You want the pleasure of fighting against them. ‘Tis why.”
“I intend to kill their alpha.”
“Then my luck to you. I see that I cannot hold you back.” She turned and gave Alanki a warning glance. “But do be careful. You plan has worked thus far. No plan ever works exactly the way it should. Be careful, River Daughter—you are my daughter, too.”
Alanki nodded, fighting back the emotion rising in her throat. “I will.”
Several minutes passed in silence but for the steady crunching of paw and hoof in the crisp snow. The fawns, who had been walking along in respectful silence for the past few minutes while Alanki and Delphinium spoke, piped up again.
“Tell us a story, Delphinium,” one of them demanded. Delphinium gave a patient smile.
“Yes, Galingale, because you were all waiting so quietly while I was having my conversation,” she said. “What story do you wish to hear? The story of Eklo and the Clouds? Or, perhaps, the Songs in the Sky?”
“No, no!” said another fawn, a buck. “We want a story we haven’t heard before. A new story.”
Delphinium sighed and shook her head. “Ay, little ones, I am drained of new stories, I am sorry. I have told all I can.”
The fawns voiced their disappointment with a clamor of whines. Delphinium smiled rather sadly at Alanki from over their heads, but Alanki said nothing.
“I wonder,” Delphinium said over the fawns’ noise. They all silenced. “I wonder if the wolf fawn has a tale to tell. Alankhi?”
Alanki stared, at a loss for words. “I—I…”
“Tell us a story, Alankhi,” Delphinium said. She nudged Alanki, and Alanki looked at the fawns, who were gaping with a mixture of silent fascination and respectful fear.
“Yes,” she said slowly, knowing what was expected of her. “Yes, if that’s what you want, then, I shall tell you a story.”
The fawns exchanged excited glances. “What about?” one of them demanded. “What’s the story about? ‘Tis new, right?”
“Very new,” Alanki assured her, after taking a deep breath. “‘Tis about the wolf fawn. What happens after she left the herd.”
The fawns shivered with anticipation and inched closer to Alanki to hear what she would say.
“The wolf fawn lived alone in peace for many seasons,” Alanki began. “But then, one night, she had a dream.”
Alanki proceeded to tell them her story, describing every detail of her frightening nightmares that had told her what was to come. She told the fawns of catching the green-eyed wolf in her forest and learning from him that there was a new pack living in the fields. She told them of returning to the herd to speak with Eyebright and Eryngo, learning of their prophecy and promising to help, and the fawns shivered with fear as she recounted the onset of the pack’s deer hunts. She told them of how she had gone into their settlement and shouted at their hard-headed alpha, and she told them of her rage when the alpha paid her no mind. She told them of how she fought against the pack, attacking their patrols and killing two of their wolves. And she told them of the long, desperate pursuit through her dark forest, running with the entire pack snapping and howling at her heels.
Alanki was quivering herself when she got to the part about discovering Misari’s pack on her territory, the past year’s memories rising up before her eyes like so many ragged clouds of vapor. She described her plan to the fawns, and told them of how it had worked—and how it had woken an agony in her like the sting of a wasp. She had lost herself, she told them. She had lost her mind and her heart, growing bloody and cold in the chase. She told them of how she had repented, as best as she could, and allied herself with the new pack. And now she was preparing to meet the other pack in battle.
“And then,” she concluded. “The wolf fawn returned to her deer herd one last time. To say goodbye.”
The fawns stood in silence when Alanki finished, gazing up at her with the same admiration they had for Delphinium.
“That was a lovely story,” one of them breathed, her eyes shining. “We haven’t heard that one before, never! The wolf fawn’s stories are so exciting.”
The way she said it, Alanki wondered if the fawn had forgotten that the wolf fawn was walking right alongside her. But perhaps she was right—perhaps the wolf fawn was just some long-gone hero from a tale, and Alanki was different creature altogether. Alanki certainly didn’t feel like any sort of prophetic hero. She wasn’t sure that she wan
ted to be one, either. How much happier she would be now if she wasn’t.
But surely something good had to come of it all?
“No, you didn’t finish,” another fawn spoke up, his brow furrowed with confusion.
Alanki was taken aback. “What do you mean?”
“You didn’t tell us the ending,” he said. “You didn’t finish the story.”
“No!” another fawn said, as this fact dawned on her as well. “You just told us about when the wolf fawn was about to go into battle. That’s not fair!”
Alanki waited for the fawns to quiet down, for they were all talking amongst themselves about the story they had just heard which had been so unfairly ended. Alanki was staring at them, a slow pulse of fear spreading through her veins like the icy water of the River.
“Well?” demanded a tiny doe, her eyes huge and eager. “What happened then? How does the story end?”
Alanki swallowed. “I don’t know.”