Call of the Wild
Chapter 21
Gerroo followed Oowah back to the Circle. Though the white-whiskered old crone was stiff in the legs, and blind, she knew every nook and dip of the ground, every jutting piece of rock, every gnarled root twisting underfoot. She saw without seeing, they said. She walked in the Dreaming, and did not need her eyes. Gerroo accepted the truth of these sayings because they had been handed down in Song for generations. Before Oowah there had been another shaman of the Circle- another even older and whiter than Oowah. And when Oowah joined the Ancestors, then another would take her place. The Dreaming always called one to this place, to this wisdom.
They encountered the cloud-pup first, for he was sitting on his haunches a short distance otside the Circle itself, his eyes closed. Oowah turned blind, blue-grey ghostly eyes upon Gerroo, questioning.
The younger of the strangers, Gerroo explained. Descended from the sky. He is the thunder lizard-slayer; skyfire is his claw. He dreams while waking and commands things to rise off the earth without touching. He also makes fire and creates sorcery in the mud with a stick. But I think he is of the Way.
Oowah approached the pup slowly, and waited for him to open his eyes. When he did, she nudged at his face softly, making him sneeze again. Then he raised two hands, and laid them against Oowah's face. They stood thus, touching and staring at each other for a long time, while Gerroo grew more and more impatient. She sat, and licked her jaws, wondering if perhaps they shared a Dreaming, some silent communion which was hidden from her.
Finally Oowah turned back to Gerroo. He is of the Way, she decided in a hoarse growl.
Is he a cloud? Gerroo wondered.
No, the wise one laughed. Not a cloud. Something else. He does not know the Law; and yet he follows the Way. He comes from a strange place, far away, beyond the clouds even. His pack has hunting fields which extend through the stars. His people are protectors of the Way. You need not fear them- yet he tells me that enemies are following, enemies also from above the clouds, seeking to kill this one and his alpha.
Gerroo's hackles stood. She recalled the horrible traps in the eastern plain and the poisoned watering hole. More like them? Wielders of skyfire?
Oowah's ears flattened. No. Serpent people, ones who disdain the Way and seek to kill without eating. They have come to hunt these strangers who run with your pack; and they will slay you all if they must.
Are they sorcerers? Geroo inquired, a thrum of warning building deep in her chest. Though she felt tenderness toward Lodestone, Raoo would never agree to have part in a sorcerer's battle, a war between breakers of the Law.
But Oowah shook her shaggy head vigorously. No. The serpent people are lowborn blaspheming earth-crawlers, nothing more. And these two… she paused, and glanced sideways at the cloud-pup again, thoughtfully…I think they are shamans.
There is something else I do not understand, Gerroo added, running her tongue nervously over her jaws again. His alpha was injured in the hunting of the great beast. But Lodestone here will not accept this judgment. He asks for arts and practices I do not know.
At this, Oowah turned once again to the young stranger. Again he touched his soft paws to her snout, and there was a lengthy silence. When at last Oowah spoke again, her voice was a soft growl. The other is his sire, I think. He howls for this one in the Dreaming, where you cannot hear it. But I must see this older one for myself. Take me to him.
Lodestone stood, then, and casting his fierce blue gaze ahead into the shadowed Circle, he led the way, Geroo and the ancient shaman padding behind. They threaded their way up the hard slope and through the Door. As Oowah passed within the ring of stones, clan members dipped their head to her or hastily scuttled out of the way. Some respected Oowah, others feared her. The pups watched her pass with wide eyes and their infant manes fluffed in terror. Raoo observed her passionlessly, his dark watchful eyes noting her presence, but showing neither fear nor respect. The pack alpha did not know the Dreaming; but he obeyed the Law, and tolerated her presence among his people.
Obi Wan knelt. "Master. Master, here. Ghe-Ru brought… someone you should meet." He scolded himself, noting that his hands shook slightly as he levered Qui Gon upright, propped the tall man's broad back against his chest. The Jedi master's skin was hot to the touch, slick with perspiration.
A hand brushed against his. "I'm fine."
He snorted, knowing this was far from true, knowing that the statement was not even remotely intended to deceive. Control. He tightened his mental shields, as though he could hide his alarm from Qui Gon, as though his façade would fool anyone here, except maybe Ghe-Ru.
The shaman called Oowah stepped forward, thrust her white nose against Qui Gon's face. The Jedi did not draw back. He allowed the ancient one to snuffle at his hair, his face, his flesh. She licked at the place beneath his ribs where ugly scarlet and black bruising spread like slow poison, and he flinched a little. Obi Wan flinched, too. He couldn't help it.
"She can feel the Force, master."
"I sense it. What do they call her?"
"Ooh-wan, I think," the Padawan supplied. "Or something like that. It's a title, though – an honorific. I can't be sure."
The blind wolf nudged forward further, until she and the two Jedi stood as close together as the leaning Stones of Time and Trial, a conspiracy of Dreamers, a pack formed of bonds more primordial than bloodline. Gerroo waited outside this Circle, tail dragging fretfully behind her, tongue tracing over her jaws.
Obi Wan stirred first. "Master," he half whispered in Qui Gon's ear. "She knows a place, in the hills here. Can you see the image? There is a grass. I think it's naricillin. She has eaten it when ill, and it healed her. But it's high in the rocks. I'll have to go alone; it's too hard a climb for these people, and I'll be faster anyway."
Qui Gon sighed painfully. "The bounty hunters?"
"They aren't near yet. I'll be back soon. I'm going to do this, master."
Oowah withdrew a pace, blind eyes staring at them somberly.
"What if I forbid you to go?"
The young Jedi tightened his hold, lowering his forehead to rest against Qui Gon's filthy shoulder. I'll go anyway, without your permission if I must. In this place of vergence, where the Force overflowed the bounds of time and place, he borrowed the strength and conviction of some future self. "You would not command me to break my Padawans' oath," he murmured.
Qui Gon's chuckle was a dry flutter of breath. Stubborn brat. "Be cautious," he rasped.