A dog traveling alone can cover a great deal more ground each day than if she is hampered by a plodding human. Twilight never could understand why they insisted on balancing on their hind legs like that, but humans were strange in a lot of ways. It seemed so precarious, and it was definitely slow. But their forepaws were quite clever. Maybe they were sensitive, like her nose. Ooh! Deer poop! She swerved to a stop and buried her nose in the leaves to sniff.
Despite olfactory distractions, and the aching hunger that was never quite assuaged by the berries and mice she caught, her meandering path trended steadily towards a village at the southern edge of the Redcliffe arling (although of course she didn't think of it in those geographic terms). When she began to pass stretches of scorched and blighted fields, she knew she was getting close. Once, a blight wolf howled in the distance, and she huddled, trembling, under a log and listened until she heard him howl again and could be sure he was moving away from her. Also under the log were a number of very juicy worms, which she ate.
Moving out from under the log was hard. She was tired; she wasn't very good at time and wasn't sure how many days she had been traveling, but she was sure that it had been a long journey, at least by puppy standards. She considered staying there under the log, but then what would she do? Better to keep going. Off she went.
When she found her village, she almost went around it without stopping. It looked nothing like what she remembered. The walls were all broken down, everything made of wood had been burned, and the place stank of blight and dried-out carrion instead of milk and dogs. Nothing moved inside it except for a few crows, whose ragged feathers and glazed eyes showed her that they were sick and soon would die. But the windmill was still upright, the vanes turning sluggishly even though their canvas hung in scorched tatters, and when its moving shadow startled her, she recognized it.
The dog turned and climbed the hill to the base of the windmill where she could hide in its shadow and see the lay of the land. She plopped down on her haunches and looked around, her ears drooping in dismay. This was not right. Where was the food? The safe shelter and companionship? No wonder her pack had fled; this den was destroyed.
Whining, she stretched out her forelegs and laid her chin upon them. For a while she just lay there and felt sad. Then she heard a sound and jumped up, her ears pricked forward, short tail quivering, one paw raised.
Creaking wheels, horseshoes clopping against hard-packed earth.
"...worse than I expected." Male. Mature.
"Then it's good we came to see it." Male. Sad. She saw movement, dust rising in the still air down by the north gate of the village, but the people were hidden from her view behind houses.
"I could have told you both that it was bad... sers. We didn't need to waste time coming all the way down here. Latitia must be almost at Denerim by now." Also male, but younger. Anxious.
The first voice said, "I know, Alistair, but the more witnesses, the better. And this borough lies within Redcliffe. It's my duty to see firsthand what my landholders have suffered."
"Alistair has a point, though, brother," came the second voice. "We should not stay here a moment longer than necessary. If we turn northeast now, we can be out of the wasteland in time for supper."
Supper! Twilight made an eager sound and her tail began to wag hopefully.
"After I've seen you safe to the highway, I have to take my leave of you," the second voice continued. "Redcliffe Village is in desperate need of leadership, and with you gone, it falls to me to offer it."
"Thank you, Teagan."
"Great, let's go – hey!" The youngest voice cut off, startled. "Where are you going? There's no rabbits out here, silly dog!"
And then, the most magnificent male mabari came loping around a house and stopped to sniff the air. His scarred nose caught her scent and he bounded straight up the hill towards Twilight. Battle marks showed through his light brown fur, especially a fearsome old wound over his spine and long claw marks along his flanks, and his body rippled with hard muscle, mute evidence that this was a dog not to be taken lightly. Overcome with awe, Twilight sank to the ground, flattening her ears to her neck to make herself small, squinting her eyes and pulling her lips away from her front teeth in abject submission.
The impressive mabari came to stand over her with stiff legs and proud upraised head, and she licked her nose and rolled onto her side to offer her belly. He bent to sniff her hindquarters, then graciously stepped back to let her up. Ecstatic, Twilight rolled to her feet and snuffled and licked his mouth like a pup should, patting the ground with her dancing feet and wiggling her short tail hard enough to make her whole body writhe.
He put a stop to her silliness by pressing his heavy muzzle down on her neck,making her go still except for her wiggling tail; his forehead wrinkled when he felt her thin shoulders and bones through her fur and he let out a huff of disapproval. He whirled and set off purposefully down the hill, and Twilight scurried along behind him at a polite distance, trying to emulate his massive grace and failing utterly.
They rounded a house and entered the village square, and Twilight followed the mabari up to a carriage with two horses hitched in front and three men standing around near it. Quickly she evaluated the men. Two of them were showing deference to the one with gray fur and hard gray eyes, so she judged him their alpha. His approval would be necessary. But, the other men looked like easier targets. The one with blond fur and shiny armor especially looked like he could be counted upon to melt immediately under the warmth of her cuteness.
"Rocky, what did you find now?" the armored one said. "A lost dog?"
"Poor thing," said the second man, the one with brown fur and a kind smile. "It's so young. It must be starving."
The mabari, who must be called Rocky, sat in front of the armored one and woofed. Twilight recognized her cue and turned on the cuteness. Her tail wagged so hard it flapped against her rump with each stroke as she wriggled and twined around the armored man's legs, licking his hands. Then she leaned on his knee and gazed up at him with huge, liquid eyes.
"Awwwwww," he said, helpless against the puppy eyes. "Look at her, Teagan. She's so cute." He knelt and stroked her head and back. "Maker's breath, you're so skinny! You must be so hungry! Do you want some cheese?"
YES! YES! CHEESE! Twilight's mouth filled with saliva and she stared hard at him, willing him to produce the food.
"Um, Alistair," the brown-furred man said, a warning in his voice. He was looking closely at her, a line appearing between his eyebrows. "Maybe you shouldn't."
"What are you talking about? Of course I should!" Alistair's hand was already moving towards the pouch at his waist. Twilight swallowed hard and stared at the hand. Rocky barked agreement.
Teagan came closer and ran his hand along her spine, then cupped his palm under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "She's a mule. A mabari mix."
"So?"
"So, they're illegal." Teagan released her head, biting his lip with worry. "They're supposed to be culled at birth. The law says she should be put down so she doesn't breed."
"No!" Alistair gasped and hugged her to his chest. The movement startled her until Rocky lunged forward to crouch between them and Teagan, snarling. Then she realized they were protecting her. This Teagan seemed perfectly nice to her, but clearly the other males thought he was terribly dangerous. Suddenly fearful, she squirmed in Alistair's arms, climbing all the way up into his lap.
"I don't like the idea either. I'm not proposing we do it," Teagan said quickly. "But if you feed her, she'll just keep following you. Eventually someone will notice when you take her into the city and insist on enforcing the law."
"Why can't we just spay her, then?" Alistair protested.
"The law was put into place before that procedure was well known," the gray-eyed alpha said in quiet, neutral tones. "It was never changed because, unlike with males, there's no way to prove that a bitch has definitely been spayed."
"Well, that is absolute nonsense," Alistair said. "I'm conscripting this dog into the Gray Wardens. She's a Gray Warden dog now. Nothing you can do about it."
"I'm not sure the right of conscription applies to dogs," the alpha said.
"She's Gray Warden property and therefore no longer under the jurisdiction of Ferelden law," Alistair said firmly.
"That's good enough for me," Teagan said with a sidelong look to his older brother.
"Fine," the alpha said. "But, Teagan, you have to keep her with you. The last thing we need is for people to start accusing Alistair and myself of behaving in flagrantly anti-Ferelden ways."
"Killing an innocent puppy is a lot more anti-Ferelden if you ask me," Alistair muttered. "But, you're right. She shouldn't come with us to Denerim."
Rocky whined as he looked from Twilight to Teagan.
"Aw, I know you want to keep her," Alistair said to him. "But if you take her with us, she's going to have to fight darkspawn."
Rocky woofed a vehement disagreement.
"I know she's too young, that's my point," Alistair said.
Rocky's head drooped as he acquiesced to his person's wishes.
"But first, little girl," Alistair turned to Twilight, "we need to get you some cheese. And meat, too, I've got some jerky around somewhere..."
Firetooth killed three more genlocks after they tromped noisily past his hiding spot just before dawn. That brought the night's total to sixteen, a personal best. He celebrated by eating the liver of the deer the genlocks had been bringing back to their horde. Most of the time, the liver and other desirable offal would be presented to the alpha's mate in the hopes that it would help her bear more pups; devouring the whole thing himself felt like a huge indulgence for almost five minutes before he started wishing he had his mate to share it with.
Such thoughts plagued him when he had nothing to do. It was fortunate, then, that he was thoroughly occupied during most of his waking hours with the biggest hunt of his life.
Tracking the archdemon was, of course, simplicity itself. The challenge lay in dealing with its absurdly large pack. There were simply too many of them to be believed. He spent a great deal of his time thinking about how best to sneak or fight his way through to reach his prey. When he had the opportunity, he practiced killing darkspawn. He was getting pretty good at it; they were admirably fierce, but very stupid, and they had no ability to imagine new ways to do things. When confronted with the unexpected, they tended to fall back on the same basic moves, and Firetooth ensured that would prove fatal.
He still hadn't figured out exactly how he should actually kill the archdemon, once he was able to reach it. It had to die, of course. But the practical considerations were baffling. For example, cutting the hamstrings had always been his preferred way to deal with foes much larger than himself. It crippled them and leveled the playing field. But did a dragon even have hamstrings? If it did, they would have to be at least as big around as his arm, and it would take him a good five minutes to saw through one with his daggers.
He resolved to look for a larger weapon as soon as the horde passed within a range of a settlement. Perhaps a handaxe, something small enough to carry on his back until the moment came to use it.
It felt good to have a plan. He settled back into the crook of the tree, nestling into the soft fallen leaves. Hunger gnawed at him again, unexpectedly, and he in turn gnawed at the deer. Then he pulled up his pant leg to examine his left calf. All his cuts had been healed neatly by the elfroot poultice, except for this one, where a dark, bruise-like mark remained. It felt slightly feverish to the touch.
Was this blight sickness? If so, it wasn't so bad. Really, he didn't know why people made such a fuss over it. Perhaps the flower stuff Dane had given him was keeping it at bay. Even so, he thought, he had better make sure to kill the archdemon as soon as possible. It wouldn't do to fail in his task just because he'd died of blight before he could finish it.
Sundancer was supervising her female packmates in the grinding of willow bark and cloves into a fine paste (an excellent pain reliever, she had been told) when Mayor Murdock leaned his head through the infirmary door. The sun was shining in through the narrow windows, the ladies were gathered in happy chattering groups, and the Mayor's habitual scowl lightened noticeably at the sight.
"Hello, ladies," he said, touching his forelock.
"Hello, Mayor Murdock," chorused the women, turning bright smiles towards him.
Murdock's mouth actually turned up at the corners, just a little bit, before he got down to business. "I've received word that Ser Perth is returning with the rest of your, uh, menfolk. They're bringing a goodly number of the wounded and sick with them and we're definitely going to need your facility."
Sundancer paled; beside her, Blossom's hands tightening on her pestle. "Wounded?"
"Not your wounded," he hastened to assure her. "Farmers and villagers and the like."
"Oh!" Sundancer's back felt suddenly weak with relief and her shoulders slumped. "All right. Thank you, ser. We'll get ready."
He nodded politely and left. As soon as he did, Clearwater asked, "Do you think the alpha will award mates after this mission?"
Her question was met with excited twittering mixed with a certain amount of trepidation. Sundancer thought about it. "I don't know. He might. Someone might have done something impressive. Maybe he'll finally convince Gatekeeper to take a mate. Or maybe he will appoint a new Striker."
The prospect of being given to Gatekeeper was an appealing one, to judge by the murmurs that went through the room. But then again, as Ambereyes pointed out, if anyone was to be the new Striker, it would probably be Bonecrusher. Nobody wanted to belong to Bonecrusher.
"I don't see why anyone should want to be mated," Ambereyes said with a toss of her head. "It's like being a slave."
"It has its benefits," Sundancer said. Already her belly warmed with the thought of being reunited with Swiftrunner, while her eyes went to the crib a few steps away with its sleeping occupants.
Ambereyes snorted. "Yes, if you get to be alpha bitch as a result. The rest of us don't. We just end up losing what little freedom we have. At least Swiftrunner mostly leaves us alone to do as we like. Sex can't possibly be good enough to make up for being subject to the whim of a man."
"It is if you get the right man," Blossom said, a trifle smugly.
"Stop it, you," Ambereyes leaned over and swatted her knee. "Bad enough we have to listen to you at night without you bragging during the day. And not everyone is so lucky, I mean, it could go wrong and we could end up like – er, we might not get along. It's better not to take that chance, in my opinion. If Swiftrunner tries to give me away, I think I'll say no."
Sundancer looked quickly to Nightsong. She had sat silently grinding herbs throughout the conversation, her gaze locked on her task. She gave no sign that she had heard Ambereyes' careless use of her as an argument against the entire institution of mating, but it had to have hurt. Sundancer cleared her throat. "That's enough, ladies. Swiftrunner isn't going to give you to anyone you don't like. And... things are changing. When everything has settled down a little more, we're going to have to take a fresh look at pack law. In the meantime, we have other things to keep us busy."
"Do you think the men will be back in time to have dinner with us?" Blossom asked, glancing out at the afternoon sunlight.
"Maybe," Sundancer said. "But I'm more concerned about whether there will be an infirmary's worth of wounded and sick people having dinner with us. Blossom, why don't you go and ask the cooks to make up some soup just in case?"
"Sure!"
Blossom got up quickly enough to spark a giggle from Clearwater, who said, "Maybe I should go with you to make sure you don't eat it all yourself."
Blossom flushed. "I can't help it, I'm hungry all the time." Her hand went unconsciously to the carved pendant around her neck. It had been a gift from the strange little dwarf, Sandal, and was a cause of much envy from the women who hadn't received any jewelry of their own yet.
Sundancer's eyes narrowed speculatively. "Don't make fun of her, Clearwater. I said that's enough silliness. We have work to do."
"And you want to have time for a bath before Swiftrunner comes home," Nightsong whispered teasingly. In reply, Sundancer reached out and pulled the dark-haired woman's kerchief down over her face.
Thank you all for reading, favoriting, alerting and especially reviewing – your generosity makes my whole week :) Special thanks to mille libri and Crewell Lye for beta duty!
Happy New Year!