Chapter 1:

Carantar's tail twitched in amusement as the human pup tumbled with Rochanar and Amonthel. The pup had grown well; she was a little on the scrawny side, but the village the pack had left her in was not very well to do, from what Carantar understood. Whenever the pack was nearby they would try to leave a kill near the human home where they had left the child eight summers ago, and by what the pup had indicated it was very much appreciated. The human pair that had taken her in had had two other pups a few years later, and sometimes they had trouble getting enough food.

Carantar's breath left him in a rush when Amonthel fell on top of him after a strong kick from the human's hind legs sent her flying. He sat up and snapped warningly at the young she-wolf's hindquarters, ignoring Nimril's amused yip from beside him.

The pup hurried back over to her playmates, ears and tail slightly lowered in embarrassment. The human and Rochanar also had their heads lowered, slightly sheepish. The alpha directed an annoyed look at the two-legged pup, who slunk forward on all fours, belly close to the ground. When she reached him she gave a low whine and bumped her nose against his chin in apology.

Knowing no harm had been intended, Carantar gave a reassuring huff and proceeded to wash the pup's face. The pup made a happy sound and relaxed, obligingly turning her head when he'd finished with an area.

"Irideth!"

The pup lifted her head and looked in the direction of the voice. Carantar, meanwhile, continued his wash along the now-exposed skin of her neck and most of her shoulders.

The source of the voice crested the rise on which the pack was resting. It was a human man, fairly large, with short, lanky brown hair and a beard of the same color. He wore leather boot that were worn through in several places. His clothes, though fairly clean, were also very well worn; his brown pants were practically covered in mended tears.

The pup, after turning and quickly bumping her head against Carantar's chin in farewell, stood and ran over to the man with a happy cry. Laughing, the man reached down and swept her up in his arms, swinging her around in a circle as the child squealed and laughed with delight.

"I do believe Master Wolf is right, child," the man said as he brought the girl close to his chest and got the chance to observe her dirt-smeared face. Actually, it was more like dirt-smeared everything. "Your mama is going to insist that you take a bath before dinner."

The girl pouted. "I'm not that dirty!"

The man laughed again. "Good luck convincing your mother of that!"

Carantar huffed at Edwenor, his Beta. The light grey male wagged his tail once. The pack's gift of a deer haunch had been delivered.

The man- if Carantar wasn't mistaken his name was Seldor- bowed in his direction, grinning. "Thank you, Master Wolf, for watching my daughter today and for your lovely gift. My family and I wish you well, and we hope to see you and yours here again soon."

Carantar tipped his head slightly as he stood; it was mid-autumn now, and though the weather was still mild it would be turning cold quickly in a few weeks. The pack would soon be heading further south, where there was enough pretty to feed them through the winter. The trip over the mountains was long, and they would need to leave in the next few days before the passes were covered with snow.

Nimril had trotted over to the humans, looking up at the girl. The man obligingly knelt so the she-wolf could be at eye-level with the child.

"Mind yourself now, little one," Nimril said, giving the child's cheeks a farewell lick. The girl buried her face in Nimril's cheek for a moment before pulling away.

"Be careful, Nana," the girl said.

The rest of the pack came forward one by one to say their goodbyes. The pups took a bit longer than the others, as did Mithlas and Celephinnel; they had been the pup's main caretakers during her brief stay with the pack.

Then, as one, the pack turned and vanished into the shadows of the Firien Wood. Man and child, meanwhile, made their way back down the hill, talking and laughing the whole way.


"Irideth, my word, were you rolling in the dust?"

That essentially summed up Irideth's mother's reaction to her eldest daughter's state of uncleanliness. Her younger brother Cevin had been helping in their father's workshop and had come in minutes before covered head to toe in sawdust. Two dust-covered urchins was apparently more than Dea Evjen was willing to deal with and she'd quickly hustled the guilty parties upstairs to the bath, to many half-hearted protests from the elder siblings and happy giggling from five-year-old Adina at her family's antics.

Sitting in the small brass bathing tub in her room, Irideth leaned back in the warm water with a happy sigh. Dinner wouldn't be ready for a while yet; she had time to lounge in her bath for once.

A knock on the door had her sitting up and facing it. "Irideth? May I come in?"

"Yes, Mama."

The door opened to admit her adoptive mother, still in her apron with her nut-brown hair tied back in the bun she kept it in while working over the cooking fire.

"Did you leave Papa in charge of the kitchen again?" Irideth asked in astonishment. Her mother rolled her eyes.

"I'm certain he can go a few minutes without setting fire to the hearth rug. Or dropping the roast."

Irideth giggled. "Isn't that what you said last time?"

Mama gave a mock-horrified gasp, slapping the water and splashing Irideth in the process. "Oh, no! Don't tempt Fate, little one! Knock on wood! Knock on wood!" She cried, continuing to splash the water at her child as Irideth squealed and laughed in delight, occasionally managing to splash back. Eventually Irideth relented, leaning over the edge of the tub to rap both knuckles against the wooden flooring while her mother laughed breathlessly above her.

"By the Valar, child, you never seem to run out of energy," Mama said, reaching for the little bar of soap lying on the stool next to the tub. Irideth deflated a bit as she lathered up her hands, but she relaxed immediately as her mother began massaging the suds into her scalp. In about a minute the child's eyes began to drift closed.

"You've been having the nightmares again, haven't you?" Mama said quietly.

"No," Irideth answered, a little too quickly.

"Mm-hmm,'' Mama said, in that disbelieving way only a mother could.

Irideth bit her lip, staring down at her reflection in the water. Bright green eyes in a worried face stared back.

"Irideth, I've told you to tell me when the dreams start getting bad."

"It makes you upset," Irideth muttered as her mother scooped some water up in her hands and pured over Irideth's soapy head.

"Of course it does. I'm a mother, I get upset when my babies are hurt."

"I'm not a baby!" Irideth protested indignantly.

"You're my baby," Mama said, wrapping her arms around Irideth from behind and apparently uncaring of the water that soaked the sleeves of her dress. "By blood or no, you are my baby, and nothing and no one will ever change that."

Irideth found it hard to swallow past the lump in her throat. She had no idea where she was from or who her birth parents were. She knew her birth mother was dead; Carantar had told her the story of how she'd come to live with the pack just this spring. She'd peppered the alpha with questions afterward, but he could provide very few answers. The pack, too, had no idea where she was from, or who her father was, or where she might find him.

In truth, Irideth didn't think she would care to. Turning so she could press herself close to her mother's chest, the girl could not imagine having parents other than Seldor and Dea. She couldn't imagine not having a sister like Adina. I might not even be able to live without Cevin, annoying though he usually is.

After about a minute Irideth slid out of her mother's embrace and began cupping water in her hands, pouring it over her hair to get the soap out. Mama helped by rubbing the water deeper into her scalp to make certain no suds were left.

"What was the dream about this time, dear?" Mama asked quietly.

"Same as it always is," Irideth answered in a monotone.

Mama wisely let the matter be at that.