A/N: Sorry about long update time- I think chapters will come quicker now- I made a layout. Shoulda done that like a year ago. Wow... has this story really been going that long? Kudos to all you people who have stuck in with this story that long!
The next few days with Henri were much the same: get up, eat, fight, eat, work, eat, sleep. On Faolan's forth day at the werewolf encampment, Henri woke her and Toril to tell them they were assigned to work in Kemp's group during training, and they should report to him after breakfast out in the practice field. He would give them their daily training, work assignments, and any other training they might need, until their skills were assessed and they were assigned into an active group.
As Faolan hurried over to get in line for breakfast, she saw the first werewolves in wolf form. A group of five of them were moving quickly through the tents, looked tired and worn. Their coats were streaked with sweat and their tongues hung out. Faolan watched them until they disappeared and wondered why she didn't see more of them changing than at the village. She suspected it was the amount of clothing they had to wear in human form. It was summer, so being naked as a human wasn't so bad but she supposed it was enough to make one just want to stick to one form until necessary to switch.
The day was setting out to be a hot one, already the sun boiled over the horizon, making Faolan sweat under her clothing and chain mail. She fidgeted impatiently while waiting for breakfast, eager to get started and eager to not be just standing in the heat. She wondered how anyone fought in this weather without fainting from heat exhaustion. She imagined winter was the bloodier time of the war, with more people getting hurt from exposure. Werewolves had an advantage in winter- they had fur. She grinned, though right now she wouldn't want a coat of fur for anything.
After a hurried cold breakfast, she reported to Kemp, where they did their first practice in werewolf form. There were fifteen werewolves all told, and Fao felt an eagerness to be a wolf in such a pack. She was also curious to see what their werewolf forms looked like. As she stripped her clothes and started to call on her fur, she noticed Roscoe watching her. When she caught his gaze, he only winked, and looked off, leaving Faolan with an uneasy feeling in her stomach as she dropped to all fours.
Kemp stayed in human form, and once they were all Changed Fao was not given time to dwell on what Roscoe was thinking about. Most of the others were bigger than her, and none others had the particularly reddish hue to their coat. The grizzled weapons instructor set them to fighting in pairs, and so Fao spent a hot morning facing off first Toril, then Roscoe, and then finally Kemp, as a human, in her fur. It was fun- wolves were made to spar each other, and by the time Kemp told them to change back, it was well past noon, and Faolan was exhausted, but also exhilarated. Being a werewolf, that was something so new, so wonderful, her past lives just couldn't relate with.
They were dispersed to clean themselves up and get a quick lunch, afterwards which they were required to meet at the fire of their section of the camp. At this time of the year, only the central fire was kept burning, and that not usually very big- because smoke was a signal that any novice Scout could easily read. The Group A fire was just a pile of ashes and blackened old logs, with larger logs scattered around the edge for seating. The ground was entirely dirt- Fao figured they must have been here at least half a year in order to get such a destruction of grass. She wondered how long they intended to stay here- or would they stay until they were found? The idea of a few scores of Valdemaren soldiers creeping in at night, into their tents, gave her shivers. There was never such a threat of death in the werewolf village…
I thought I was a spy before, Faolan thought as she sat down on a log, dragging the toe of one boot through the dirt to make a line. Kemp was hunched across the fire from her, polishing an already gleaming sword, But that was nothing…
She sighed, missing Skylar's good natured humor and gentleness. This place was all hard. Kemp coughed, and Faolan looked up at him curiously. His eyes met hers from under a pair of bushy eyebrows.
"Ye'll do all right," he assured her. Fao stared at him, slightly surprised- what was it about her that made people always want to reassure her?
"Yeah," Fao answered, when it seemed he wanted something in response.
"War is a hard thing," he added on a few moments later, "But it's something everyone has to go through. Ye'll do all right."
"Yeah," Faolan agreed again, staring at the ground again. She supposed she was young to be there, but she felt so much older. Being in this camp again, it was just like Carry all over again- well, not quite, but it was very similar. It was odd how familiar the whole scenario was, and odd how it was so strange to her at the very same time. She supposed that was a result of having past lives. A paradox of emotion.
A few other werewolves returned and Kemp stood up, sheathing the sword at his waist. He pulled a long piece of thin slate from a pack at his feet, and peered up and down at it. Then he turned to Faolan, and asked, "You like to run?"
"Sure," Faolan answered, wondering what kind of assignment that involved.
"All right then," he said, "Report to the messenger's tent- it's near the Command tent, and has a red flag outside it. They've got a short run for a greenie- they're all out today. It's low priority too- that's why we're landed with it. You may go now."
Faolan nodded, and stood up quickly, nodding to Roscoe as she passed him coming in on her way out. He gave her a half smile, and then they were past. Faolan hurried through the rows of tents, making her way towards the center. She didn't once get lost- three days was plenty enough to learn her way around camp- she'd been doing it for years, after all, as Carry Rolf. At the specified tent she stopped, and knocked gently on the tent flap.
"Come in," a woman's voice said, and Faolan entered, ducking under into shadowy heat. A rough desk was positioned in there, and paper and quills were everywhere- as well as a pile of odd, collar like objects. Fao let her gaze linger on them for a moment before looking at the woman who had told her come in- the one sitting at the desk.
She was middle aged, not quite young but not getting old. Faolan wondered if she had true control- probably, if they had her in such an out of combat position. The woman smiled in greetings and stood up.
"Are you from Kemp?" she inquired, looking Faolan up and down.
Fao nodded, wondering what exactly she was being measured for, but keeping her respectful silence. In a place like this, it didn't do to ask questions. The woman seemed satisfied, for she produced a roll of parchment, then reached down and picked up one of the collars. Attached was a leather barrel, and into this slid the rolled parchment- and it clicked in Fao's head. Werewolves rode no horses- messenger duty was not done on hooves, but on paws- and wolves had no pockets or saddlebags.
Then the woman slid a map out from under other pieces of parchment on the desk, and spread it out in front of Faolan. Fao stared at it- and realized it was a map of the mountains they were in. Once she picked out a few landmarks, she was able to quickly locate their own encampment on it. It was marked by a red flag.
"That's us," she said, pointing, "Right?"
When she looked up, the woman werewolf had a keen smile on her face as she answered, "That is correct. I see Kemp made a good choice when he sent you to me. Got an eye for maps, then?"
Fao nodded with a slight blush- it had been Carry Rolf speaking there. Scouting and mapping went hand in hand. She looked back at the map, and noticed a series of other red flags scattered through the mountains- and to the north, blue flags. She felt a shiver run down her spine as she realized what she was staring at. It was a map of all the werewolves' encampments- and the ones they supposed of Valdemar.
"You're going here," the woman said, pointing at a red flag about twenty miles from the encampment Faolan was in. It was steep- over a series of tall mountains, but in wolf form Faolan figured she could do it in a day.
Faolan nodded, and looked up at the woman, waiting for further instructions, and they soon came, "Bring this message to the corresponding messenger tent. It doesn't need to go directly to the Commander- Fellay will take care of it. Don't dawdle on the way, or on the way back, but if you need a rest in between, Fellay will take care of you. Your number one priority is to get this message delivered. If you see any of the enemy- go the other way, though there hasn't been any enemy activity in this pass for weeks. Good luck."
Faolan nodded and looked up as the woman folded up the map and gave Faolan an encouraging smile. She then picked up the collar again and clapped Fao on the shoulder, "You'll be doing it in wolf form, of course. After you Change, I'll fasten this about your neck."
Fao nodded again and stripped off her clothing quickly, folding it up- the woman motioned to a corner where Faolan could leave it until she returned. Then she called upon her wolf self and donned it like a jacket, sliding in like a well worn glove. When she was done, she looked up with eyes that had yellowed over the years from her puppy blue, at the woman in charge of this camp's message relay system.
The woman leaned down and tied the thick leather collar around Faolan's neck, just tight enough to be secure, but not tight enough to be restricting. Faolan shook her head and shoulders a bit until it settled into a comfortable position, and laughed inwardly as she recalled Skylar's comment when she first changed before him about her being a dog.
"I'm Dagny, by the way," the woman added, once she was done, "Good running!"
Faolan gave her a quick nod and then leapt out from the warm tent into the open air outside, taking in a strong gulp of air. She paused, getting her bearings, then ran west through the tents, moving at a quick trot until she passed through the sentry line. Once out in the woods she burst into a strong run, working the soreness out of her muscles as she weaved through trees and over rocks, placing each paw carefully and gracefully.
She did not see an Valdemarens, as predicted, on her twenty mile jog- but she did see some deer, which quickly bounded off at the scent of her, and a couple of hawks, soaring above on the thermals of this warm day. It didn't take long until sweat was streaking down her sides and her mouth was in a lather, but Faolan didn't care. Running in wolf form was wonderful for its own sake.
The werewolf was one of the more dangerous of the changelings from the Pelagirs, but, Faolan decided, it was also the most wonderful, once control and unification of the werewolf and human spirit occurred. How terrifying it must have been, she thought, for those first werewolves, forced to become a monster every full moon- the very worst of themselves, and having no way to stop or any idea of how to control it.
The werewolf was not born of this world, she thought as she ran, We are mutations, twistings of the world's true workings. Is that why it is so hard to be a werewolf? So hard to live in a working society, so hard to gain true control? Because we weren't designed for this world? If so- then let it be a gift, let everyone take it as a gift. For few get to experience the joy of being a wolf, the joy of true freedom.
Faolan reached the top of a ridge and paused on a rock outcropping, peering out at the land stretching out around her. To the south, she knew, was all Karsite lands, and to the north, it was all Valdemar. But to her eyes, to an animal's eyes, it was all the same. It was just land, and for a werewolf, borders were not the end of freedom. She couldn't resist a little howl.
Please review this chapter and tell me what you think about it!
Thanks to...
mugglepirate- to whom I am very glad is still enjoying the story,
Stormy Phoenix- to whom I owe a lot of my inspiration,
Ban Capall- to whom I am happy liked the previous chapter!