Chapter 14

"Cavalry"

I must close my eyes and concentrate because the voice was so far and so weak that it was hard to hear even in quietness. If it wasn't for the Spirit, I may have never heard it at all. The others did not. Not at first. But when it came again, their ears pricked. Every head lifted and turned in the direction from whence it came. I was not sure they actually heard it, but they felt it. If only because the Spirit about me had changed so drastically. The tension had pulled so tight that even the pups remained still, waiting for whatever it was the adults had sensed.

Then, from beyond, it came a third time, breaking the silence that had frozen us all.

"Who is it? Who calls?" Alpha asked of us because the voice was still soft yet.

Had Wind Talker been here, she might have been able to tell. Only a Blessed could make do with so little. One of the others may have heard it better, but none of us could answer. Not in the way we expected. One of the pups, the same one who had been called by the Spirit at council, began to cry and whine. Alpha looked at the pup and realized he had let our higher purpose blind us. The answer was simple. When a Mighty Hena howled, the pack howled back.

Alpha raised his voice to the sky in a note so powerful, it shook our souls. It was a call meant to reach all four corners of the earth so that, no matter where the howl had come from, they would hear our answer. Our power. Our might. They would hear and know that we were coming. So when Alpha howled again, we joined him, summoning the Spirit of the pack to draw whoever it was to us, but that alone was not enough.

"To me!" Alpha commanded of us, throwing out his Spirit like a tide, rushing out to all the pack and pulling us in to him.

We padded closer. Those of us farther out hurried to join the huddle. In a few moments, all of us had gathered. We stood around Alpha, waiting for orders. Our fatigue had vanished with our new purpose. Alpha looked at me, but he did not need me to speak.

"The call comes from the direction of the riverlands and the grasslands will answer," he said, looking at all of us in turn. "We will find this lost Mighty Hena and bring them home."

He then looked at the Blessed, those of which he could entrust such a task.

"Find the trail. Bring it back and all shall follow. Until then, the pack will travel behind. Listen and follow our echo. Do not stray far."

The agreement was unanimous. Hunter, Scout, and Keen Eye would split into three separate parties, leaving Alpha, Omega, Prima, the pups, and I as the remainder of the pack. We would be slowest moving with the pups, but we would also be the center. The point from which all others would be able to locate because it would be Alpha's voice and my Spirit that kept them attuned to our location. They would search ahead in slightly different directions, always calling to let us know where they were. And we would call back, telling them to press forward or come back depending on how the others moved. Should one go too far, Alpha or Prima would bring them back.

We did not have long to find the trail. Soon, the sun would be too high and even the Mighty Hena would have to rest. But I would not. I could not. Not when I knew what it was we were rushing toward. As the day came upon us, the trail was not found. We had yet to hear the call again and I feared the worst. There was no telling if we would ever hear it again. Other creatures may have heard it and capitalized on the opportunity. The one who called might have taken their last breath doing so. They might have already moved too far away. But if there was a chance that they were still out there, even if they could not speak, they still might be listening.

So I stayed awake, a stark black mark against the sun, calling whenever the Spirit compelled me to. Luckily, I was not alone. Tired Eye came to relieve me. His voice was soft, so he brought Gruff Growl with him, a Mighty Hena who could not speak words, but could manipulate his voice in ways others could not. Tired Eye watched and Gruff Growl called until Phantom Back came to give them rest. His howl was such a sad one that he could make them few and far between.

It was enough.

As the sun finally fell below the horizon, the call came again, stronger than before. Our songs had kept the day away from the Mighty Hena's slumber and it was now ready to travel again. All of the grasslands would be in an uproar from our intrusion in the day, but at least the creatures would know to give us a wide berth. This time, the pack ran as one towards the call. The pups flew at top speed, and even managed to keep up with a grown Mighty Hena's trot, but their shorter legs were no match for Blessed on a mission. Their youthfulness could not outlast years of conditioned endurance. With Prima and Maw Mouth as our guard, we brought up the rear of the pack as we came upon the one who called.

It was Guardian, a Mighty Hena well-rounded in all skills, smart with the placement of the stars and unafraid of crossing the wild alone because of his unwavering commitment to the welfare of the pack. The others had gone off to secure the area, but I could tell our rest would not last long. Guardian's coat was ragged and misshapen. Nose wet, eyes cloudy and distant. Mud caked his legs and belly. He had the smell of blood about him, but it was old and polluted with many things. He lifted when he saw me, but it was with an energy that often accompanied a far-flung hope amidst bad news. It was filled with adrenaline and fear and importance. His desire for my intercession was so strong that I knew something terrible had happened. But to see me and fill with such hope also told me that the Spirit was with him and that was what mattered most.

"Exile has attacked the riverlands," Alpha explained, looking to me from Guardian's side.

He emptied himself as I knew Omega to do when speaking for another.

"He killed their Mother and Alpha among others. Father survived, but is not the same."

The words struck me like a blow and yet I knew it was not the worst of it. Alpha then looked at Guardian to continue so that I could hear his words myself. The hard part was over.

"He brought with him the pack that was promised," Guardian picked up, voice still rough and raw from calling mile after mile in search of us. "Snakes and bats and bugs. Mountain cats and others. I have never seen so many creatures for the same cause before."

The only cause being the destruction of the Mighty Hena.

"We prepared and we fought. Alpha of the Rivers did not believe we could lose, but we did not expect them to have such power together. The way they fought was unlike anything we have ever seen before."

Memories of the battle flashed in Guardian's eyes and a forgotten urgency filled him.

"Those that could escaped and headed towards the grasslands, but they pursue us even now."

Undoubtedly to finish them off. Exile would settle for nothing less than total annihilation.

"I ran ahead to find you, but we must go back. We must help them!"

Guardian began to shudder and cough, far beyond his limit, torn between panic and grief. What he had seen weighed on him so heavily that his head dropped to the ground. Just how long had he run without rest? Cried without answer? Pushed ahead with only the hope that he might find us before the enemy found those he was forced to leave behind. How many souls had followed him this far, whispering and crying in his ear?

I knew there was more, but we would get no more out of him until he had rested and he would not rest until we found the others. I walked over to Guardian and licked his face. I then rested my head over his shoulder and onto his back so that he could bring his heart down to the beat of my own. But my eyes were on Alpha and the look on my face far louder than words.

"I have sent some of the others ahead," Alpha reassured me. "We will find them."

"We must," I replied, because the fate of the Mighty Hena depended on it.

We continued the hunt for what remained of the Rivers pack as soon as we were able. The trail was easy to follow thanks to Guardian's state. The blood he had shed did not go to waste. We eventually found the pack limping, overheated, and weak with hunger outside of a tree grove where the breeze could reach them. This close to the riverlands, trees began to grow even in the flatlands. My heart ached to see so few still covered with the throngs of battle although it had been many days since the fight. I looked around and realized that Wind Talker was not there. When I asked of her, those of the riverlands folded their ears and tucked their tails between their legs. It was Diving Dog, Blessed of the Rivers for her ability to dive and swim, who told me Wind Talker was no more. She had been one of the first to fight. Had it not been for her warnings, many more would have perished. Perhaps all of them.

Never again would I hear about the sounds of water.

I also learned that Prima of the Rivers had perished from her wounds during the exodus. Two of the riverland pups survived because of her sacrifice. If it weren't for our own pups, my heart would have broken like it did so many years ago when war had ravaged the land. When the pups met and comforted and played without disparity or distinction, the vitality they shred rejuvenated us all. It was no longer the rivers or the grasses, but two packs assimilating into one under the same Spirit. We immediately took to washing their wounds and grooming out the soils of battle. They rested and we lightly hunted, obtaining food from the unlucky scavengers that trailed too closely to what they thought was an eventual meal. Our presence alone brought the pack great comfort. When their basic needs were settled, Prima took Omega to tell the pups and young ones a story in my place while the leaders came together to share their accounts of what happened.

"I do not believe it," Alpha said, standing on the rim of the circle we had formed with what little remained of the Rivers, their Father and a scattering of Blessed which were outnumbered by our own. "We took care of this long ago."

He spoke of the Mighty Hena and the wars we raged against the Bone Takers generations ago. The battles I fought and won. It was why all eyes suddenly turned to me, my face now bathed in silver moonlight instead of daylight. Gray and old and much like the ghosts we spoke of.

"We destroyed the Bone Takers. Their graveyards are no more. Yet you speak of Shamen?"

He was not acting as Alpha, but Mato. It was a tantrum. Denial. All because I was his true Mother. I was still Kateri Moonborn to him and he did not believe I could make such a mistake. He did not think I could face such shame. That what Father and I, and all the Mighty Hena who lost their lives in that battle, had sacrificed was for nothing.

"And yet I found a growing rite in our own land," I softly rebuked, reminding him that we made no mistake.

Balance was always at odds with wicked forces. It could not exist without them.

"Graveyards are easily rebuilt."

Alpha quieted then. He need no further explanation than to look around the circle.

"Exile has fallen out of balance. It should be no surprise that he has allied himself with cursed ones," I went on. "His strength of Spirit has given them strength and it is natural for them to feed off of one another like cannibals."

Guilt weighed heavily on Alpha's shoulders for Exile was once a part of our pack and it was under his leadership that Exile escaped. But none of it was his fault. Exile would have always been wicked and the Bone Takers would never have wasted such opportunity. Exile's banishment was the moment they had been waiting for to return to glory and strength. With Exile's knowledge, they would have learned of Father's defeat. Father, their greatest enemy. It was he who led the hunt of the Bone Takers in the grasslands all those years ago. He crushed their skulls under his paws and their clubs in his jaws. Together with our pack, we hunted down every last one until there were none left in our territory.

The mere scent of Father's coming, the feel of his Spirit, and the sight of his shadow was enough to keep the Bone Takers from returning. Now, they knew he was gone and they were so desperate to take back what they believed was theirs that they were willing to become like their most hated rival and join a pack led by a Mighty Hena to get it. But they forgot of Mother. I was still here. And they would not return as I lived and breathed. The sacrifice of the Mighty Hena that died for the sake of peace would not go to waste.

"We must believe their tale," I said and that was the end of it.

There was no other explanation for such violence.

"Then we will," Alpha said, accepting his mistake and better yet, learning from it.

No one blamed him for his disbelief. Alpha was not one to be superstitious and before the strangeness came upon us, there was no reason to believe that the Bone Takers would return. I found it hard to accept myself, but the emptiness and fear in the eyes of those of the riverlands told me it was true.

"If Exile and his pack follow your trail, we cannot wait for them to find us," I cautioned, for it would take many of us to defeat the shaman alone with certainty and without casualty.

"We will find them before they realize the grasslands have come to the aid of the Rivers," Alpha picked up, returning to his self. "We will hunt them first and strike before they can prepare."

Exile would only continue to gather strength and allies. He would see his victory over the Rivers to its end. His pride and greed would have it no other way.

"But what of the Rivers?" Father interjected.

The concern for his kin was clear in his tightly drawn features. Their wounds were fresh. Their pain, crippling. They could not fight another battle so soon. They needed protection and rest. Not more discord and destruction. They could not afford to lose anymore.

"You will return to the heart of the grasslands with some of our own," Alpha said.

The preservation of their Spirit was paramount. We had numbers and strength to spare. It was as if the Spirit had given us many blessings exactly for this moment. The pack had not been idle in our peace.

"The rest of us will continue the hunt and take measure of the battle to come."

Father of the Rivers bowed his head, fully committing his pack to our authority. It may not have been wise to divide our strength on the brink of war, but it was right and good. Even if it meant breaking our pack apart.