Chapter 38

"Helpfulness"

Sumar clenched the stone arms of the throne as a fit of pain racked him. The flesh of his belly flinched around the ragged broken scales serrating the edges of several scratches that marked the locations of his vital organs. The wounds were long and deep with the weight of a prehistoric sized paw that tried to climb its way up to the dragon's jugular. His neck remained intact, but the gills scratched out of the sides had him swimming in blood not long ago. The iron rusted quickly. It caked and dusted the grooves of his scales. The splattering around Sumar's mouth regained its shine whenever his tongue ran along his lips. The stinging nicks often reopened to match the cracks in his gums where the flames had dried them out.

It made for a bloody smile as I once again entered the Lost Fortress and walked into its great hall. Having knocked off most of the back and some of the side to make room for his wings and tail, Sumar sagged into one side of the throne. He could not move his wings too much. The scabs pinpointing the places where the Prince of Cats punctured his shoulders were just starting to congeal. The deep confined nature of the bites allowed more blood to pool so it was easier to clot. Trying to rip off a dragon's wings at the joint proved a much more difficult task than the prince imagined.

Given the limp bend to Sumar's wings, flying was not an option. Neither was moving. Maybe existing entirely. Sumar had to bathe himself in fire just to cauterize all of his wounds and stop the bleeding. It was likely an agonizing experience, yet the pain was not crippling. Sumar perked the moment he saw me, too drunk with victory to notice that he squatted outside of death's front door. Killing the Prince of Cats had such an effect, but the dragon was tired. Tail sluggish. Flame low and pale. The blood he lost was enough to endanger his life just as much as the fight itself, but at least he was happy.

"Modir," Sumar greeted, voice dryly scraping his throat like cinders on ashy wood.

His words were still warm. They filled this broken old tomb with life although he did not have much to spare. Luckily, the sunset made up for the rest. Strong rays of golden light found new ways to the bottom of the hall through the fresh holes peppering the ceiling and walls. I walked along a carpet of light now that the original was reduced to charcoal dust. The other four dragons accompanied Sumar at the back of the hall much like the bear clans did their prince. Most of them nursed their own wounds with flame, searing their flesh with the Berserker's euphoria, a state achieved only through pain and sweat and sweet, sweet victory. Their trophies were nowhere near as glorious as Sumar's, but they were not without their worth. Bear slashes. Cat swipes and bites. Missing scales and bruising, bleeding skin.

Each told a story and would be treasured and admired by all Fire Lizards for ages to come. There was only one dragon who's continuous and highly effective long range attacks left his scales smooth and unmarred. His wings were the greatest of them all yet he looked at the others with envy. Jealousy even. For they would return with glorious accolades and honors. Scars validated a dragon's strength and endurance and durability when earned. Their scales would become thicker and more resilient with every shedding. The more they battled and the heavier the damage, the more protection they would accumulate. The color of Sumar's entire body had changed with the bruises and contusions and beatings he suffered under the paw of perhaps the biggest cat in the land.

My poor Little Fire Eater. Always hungry for the hottest flames.

I made my way lightly through the rubble, hopping over loose stones that littered the path. I came to the bottom of the platform and looked up. Sumar had his head to the side, admiring the stone running underneath his claws.

"I like this throne," he told me, seeing more than just the minerals. "The dragon laid claim here before."

"You intend to stay?" I interpreted, noting the way his eyes looked around the fortress.

Like the way I knew of the Mighty Hena in the Great Cave, he could sense his own kind in this fortress. I wondered what the flames of battle revealed in these walls. What ancient tales did their fiery passion reignite?

"Those unmarked still burn for battle," Sumar explained without a hiccup of smoke.

The words of Hena were much easier for his burned throat to manage. The fact that he could not travel played no role in the decision.

"There are many that escaped. We will stay to make sure they do not return."

I remembered several creatures from the council, the two stripped cats that made the Spirit within me uneasy in particular. They remained absent from the hunt the past few days and nights. It was good the dragons remain. Coming across those two would surely result in a chance for more scars. Even a seat at death's door next to Sumar.

The dragon turned his eyes away from the past and jumped straight to the future now that it was rapidly approaching.

"You intend to leave?" he echoed, glancing beyond me at the front of the hall where the other Mighty Hena began to creep in. They would not come closer with the dragons present. Nerves were warranted amidst such intimidating company, but the fact they came in together showed much progress.

"I must go back," I told Sumar.

"To your pack?" he questioned, confused now that the others were within sight.

"To the grasslands," I amended.

Despite the heavy lean of his eyelids, Sumar looked at me intently. Dragons and their way with the Spirit, as explosively powerful as it was, could not understand the complexities of the pack. He could not see more than what he already knew of it, but that was enough for him. Without the hot Berserker fire to drive him, he might have liked to share stories of battle and perhaps learn a few lessons as he recovered. Maybe even exchange the secrets of howls and flaming tongues, but I spent too much time in the north already. Winter was not as cold as it used to be. Slowly, the days were becoming brighter. The sun rose a little higher in the sky every day. The eve of spring would soon be upon us and there were still many battles to be won in the south.

I must go back.

"You have fulfilled more than your debt," I exclaimed, releasing Sumar from whatever obligation he was compelled to fulfill.

"You are Drache," Sumar quickly corrected. "We have long since burned our debts and joined in blood."

The sudden surge of honor took more from the dragon than intended and he sagged back into the throne, doing well not to grimace when his muscles shuddered. His battle euphoria was finally starting to wear off. In the growing dark of sunset, death had a cold unsettling touch, especially when coming from behind. So I ascended the steps just as quietly from the front, tail gently waving, and laid my head on his belly. I looked up so that our eyes met. He saw death looming after his battle, but it was not here to stay. I would take that shadow with me and lock the door behind him.

To encourage his healing, I rested, easing the raw touch of his burned flesh. He need not feel ashamed because neither he nor the other dragons would know of my help in this way. It would slip right into his nightly sleep. Sumar's eyes grew heavier. A well-deserved sigh smoked from his nostrils. Then, just as we had met, he did the strangest thing. That dragon raised his clawed hand and gently stroked my head.

And for some reason, I let him.

"Sleep well my Little Fire Eater," I whispered.

I then made sure he did so by taking his Spirit and Walking with it into the deepest parts of the dream world where his body and mind would experience the most restorative sleep. When it was done, I opened my eyes and pulled my head away, letting his hand fall onto his stomach where my body heat remained. The rest of the dragons settled down in similar ways. Their tail flames were much brighter now that the shadows started to race up the walls and ceiling with the receding sun. The dragons would stay together all night to ensure their heat kept the cold away. I shouldered my cloak for the same purpose and trotted down the platform, across the hall to where the pack was waiting.

We reunited silently and left the fortress in the same way we came. The night fell quickly underneath the snowy canopy. The powder at our paws softened our steps, making for an undetected journey across the mountains toward the valley. Having successfully chased off the enemy, we met no resistance. Okatie, the Hena with the long marks on his face, took the lead. Like the others, he originally had no name. The naming ceremony was a privilege for the pack. But I could not continue to call him the same as the others. He showed too much promise to remain unranked. But he was not Blessed, so I had no foundation. Inspired by the dragons which brought us together, I named him Okatie for the way the Spirit provided for orphans isolated from the pack during times of conflict and destruction.

We kept all travel to the night as custom of our species despite my fondness for the light. It took some time to get to the valley. In the day, we slept, but I never found any rest. Every snapping twig and puff of snow that slipped from the trees felt like the stalking prowl of an enemy. I continued to teach, especially now that the fighting was done. All the while, my eyes kept falling behind. Sometimes darting ahead. Despite this new found peace, the occasional frozen corpse reminded us that this was still a war zone. More and more appeared the closer we got to the valley. I recognized two or three Hena from the Pack of the Forests.

Just how many more bodies would we find come spring?

It was no wonder why every manner of creature stayed away and out of sight. We entered a dead zone. A land neither side was willing to enter without great risk. The silence was different here. So were the scents. I took my nose to the air as the river that split the valley came into sight. The forest thinned and ended on both sides of the river, leaving openness between the tree line and the water. The river itself was frozen for the most part, but the sound of water warned that it still rushed by underneath.

"Cross here. It is your best chance," Okatie whispered as we crouched down together and scouted the tree line across from us.

It was much too dark to see into, especially from within the cover of our own trees.

"Once you cross, you enter their territory."

And by theirs, he meant the Pack of the Forests. The enemy. A concept that was becoming more and more muddled. A turn of the ear signaled our retreat back into the woods where the rest of the pack was waiting. The others were nervous so close to the river. When we were out of sight of it, they revealed themselves, albeit hesitantly. Ashamed, heads down. Tails low.

Rebellion at last.

"We cannot go with you," Okatie said. "If we cross, we die."

Alpha of the Forests would never tolerate the presence of Mighty Hena from this side of the valley. I stepped forward. Okatie tensed, but did not move. Finally, another had spoken. I nuzzled him at the mouth, head below his, submitting to his decision as Alpha. How long he would remain so was up to the pack, but at least, for now, they had a start.

I could nurse them no more. My War Pups.

I howled and bestowed the blessing of the Mighty Hena upon them. Tails shot up. Red eyes shined. The others looked at me one last time before leaving to find a new hunt. Okatie was the last to look away, but his marks allowed an easy dive back into the darkness. I watched them leave, lingering longer than I realized.

Enough for others to also hear my voice and find me.

A Brown Owl soared through the trees. It lowered below the canopy and wheeled around to circle me. I did not recognize its marks. The bird landed on a nearby branch so that it could look at me while it judged, spinning its head almost all the way around in a series of hoots that sounded more insulting than welcoming.

"Mother!" she cried, coming to a conclusion even a Mighty Hena without sight could figure out better than she did. "Dead, you are!"

"Alive, I am," I quipped back, remembering just how annoying it was to deal with them.

The bird stopped spinning her head. I hoped to leave the bird behind, but she took off in the same direction as I did. She raced ahead and crossed the river in the blink of an eye. I made my way back to the hiding spot and surveyed the crossing again. Aside from the owl's fading hoots, the area remained undisturbed. I kept to the shadows regardless and crept to the very edge of the tree line. The moment I stepped out into the open, my black mane would give me away against the snow, especially when I transferred onto the dusty white ice. There was no way of knowing how thick it was. Only that nothing had fallen through recently because of the light coating of snow on top. The river ran for miles down the range, I had no choice but to cross it.

No matter how treacherous.

I stepped out from the trees and made my way to the bank. Rocks hidden under the snow made for slow steps. One paw out of place and I might lose my ability to cross at all. A break in a pile of boulders opened the way to the icy bridge. The sounds of water grew louder. The crossing was deeper and wider than expected. I searched the bank a little more, moving side to side in a somewhat anxious fashion to make sure I did not miss a better access point. Rivers did not freeze like this in the grasslands. I could only trust in Okatie and hope my small frame was light enough to go unnoticed.

One paw touched the ice. Then two. The slippery shield between me and a hypothermic end remained sturdy. Three paws. Finally, all four. A couple steps. My traction slipped. I held my legs stiffly together until I slid to a stop. More shuffle than walk, I made my way across the river, eyes downcast and ears perked for crackling. Halfway across, my heart stopped with a series of squeaks. Air bubbles raced below my legs. I had to keep moving. I did not survive this long to be swept away under the ice and trapped between some unseen rocks at the bottom of a dark whirlpool. To drown in an icy pitfall so far from home would shame my experience.

Then again, that sounded exactly like something the wild would do as its own private lesson in humility.

I glared at the river like any Mother would a rebellious mischievous pup. The squeaking stopped. With a huff, I relaxed and kept going. The Brown Owl returned. I swore to take her with me if she landed on me and we fell through the ice. Luckily, she kept to the bank. In fact, she had her own shadow to land on. A Mighty Hena a little smaller than myself with an extra-long bushy tail capable of becoming a second mane boldly came out from the tree line across from me.

"Grandmother?" it asked, and at once I recognized her as the young one from Castle Rock who asked me what stories I would tell.

She looked older. War aged her quickly, but only in the most beautiful of ways. It carved out the strongest hope, steadfast determination, and unwavering resilience capable of surviving such terrible times. Lakota Long Tail was her name and she was my Great Star in this dark land.

"Grandmother!" she confirmed, probably from my awkward stance on such unstable terrain.

None from the mountains would ever suffer such humiliation as an adult. Either that, or she heard and recognized my earlier howl and came running. I liked to think it was the latter.

"It is you!"

She began to approach the bank with her owl circling about. Then, her eyes suddenly darted behind me. They widened. Her mane bristled.

"Watch out!"

I wanted to shout the same thing because my eyes mirrored hers. As she saw an enemy come up behind me, I saw one come up behind her. It was a Mountain Cat much larger than either of us with stripes that camouflaged it just as well as our own marks. It was the same cat I saw at the Lost Fortress. Which meant it's pair was probably the one approaching from behind. It was an ambush.

Curse these cats and their nasty plots.

I snarled out a warning, but it was my Spirit that blasted out instead of my voice. It cracked louder than a lightning strike, bouncing off of the mountains around us to magnify the effect. The accelerating vibrations struck everything around us, including the ground. The ice groaned in a painful cascading effect down the entirety of the river. More squeaking and air bubbles raced beneath me.

But that was not the end of it.

The warning turned attack caused Lakota and the cat to flinch away from each other. It gave the owl enough space to come between them. She instantly echoed my voice with her own to amplify her own attack with three times its usual power. The following screech sent the cat reeling. I flattened my ears in a wince. Ice chips popped out from the surface of the river as cracks sprang up as far as the eye could see down both sides of the river. Instantly, it became an intricate network of frozen puzzle pieces. The only thing holding it together was the imperfections of the lines.

The owl's call was meant for more than just damage. Lakota took off. She was a scout then. Well trained to evade threats much too powerful to face alone. The Pack of the Forests now knew they were under attack. They would likely respond with swift recourse to the invasive assault, but both cats and I knew there was more than enough time for them to finish the fight before reinforcements arrived. I shifted my paws. A great creaking sound snapped the deafness out of our ears. The ice moved beneath me ever so slightly. I dared not look down.

This far away, the cats did not know how precarious my situation truly was and I would not give them any clues. The cat in front of me shook its head. Blood dribbled from its ears. Given the cat's size and frame, it was a female. She snarled at Lakota and her retreating owl before turning her eyes back to me. With the pesky small game gone, she sauntered up to the bank and stood a little ways from the hardened water. Then, she glanced down at the river, back up at me, and smiled. The ice that threatened to swallow me whole was now the only safeguard between me and the enemy. I stole a glance at the cat behind me. It was a little bigger and heavier. A male. Her mate.

These mountains sure had a fondness for balance.

The male cat mimicked his lover and stopped at the edge of the river on the opposite side. They both took time to relish in the moment. Their prey walked right into their claws as planned. I was so focused on the pack that I forgot my own identity, that I was not only a target, but a prize worthy of great merit. These cats laid quite the clever trap, waiting for me in the only place they knew I would inevitably appear to go back to where I belonged. Cats always looked much farther ahead than the Mighty Hena. I was careful not to move. One twitch might set off the rest of their plan. It did not help that the ice was slowly starting to push and grind against itself. The flowing water underneath encouraged it to break away from the river bank. The cold cohesion of ice was the only thing keeping me afloat.

"My, my, lost your swagger already?" the cat in front of me provoked.

I tossed my attention to her, silently straining every muscle when a series of cracks jumped away from my paws.

"That was quite the show you put on at council. I must admit, out of all the creatures to hide in your shadow, I did not expect there to be dragons."

None expected such light from darkness, but that was my specialty since birth.

"I bet you think you've got friends in high places," she went on as most cats do, for as much as they hated Hena, cats were remarkably similar to Doom Seers in their self-importance. "Do you truly believe you have the power to put us on the run?"

So far, it seemed to be working, but since they were one of the first to flee, they wouldn't know that.

The male behind me chuckled. He exchanged a look with the other and the two shared a giggle. The female then looked at me with feigned surprise as if she forgot I was present. She must have spent quite some time with the Prince of Cats.

"You'll have to forgive the smiles on our faces," she picked up, making it a point to tell me how her partner was just as confident and conceited as she was, "but you won't know what power is until we are done. Who knows, we may even be so generous as to make you our acolyte if you begged for your life like the dog you are."

Cats. One little ambush out in the open and they thought themselves unbeatable and entitled to a monologue. I wonder what they would think if I told them the dragons intended to stick around long enough to skin them both alive. Their hides would look nice draped on the walls of the fortress next to the Prince of Cats.

Reading my expression, the female's smile bunched up in a sneer.

"You're playing in the big leagues now," she tried again, this time, to intimidate me.

I wondered if she truly realized the magnitude of this war or if she just thought so highly of herself because she learned a few new special abilities as a witch doctor.

"Your foolish mission is over."

My mission would never end because I carried the Spirit of the pack. My will was just one part of a living body that would continue to function without me because every single rank in the hierarchy could be, and would be, replaced. I was no different. I just happened to live longer and learn more lessons than most.

Many howls suddenly sprang up from the trees. They bounced off of the valley slopes, making it seem as if they came from both sides of the river. The cats whirled around, trying to sort out which direction the pack was coming from, but the howls continued to echo and build upon themselves until finally manifesting themselves in the most glorious of ways. Not only did the Pack of the Forest burst through the trees onto the bank ahead of me, but the owl's warning also summoned Okatie and My War Pups. They crashed through the tree cover behind me. Both packs raced for the enemy. There was no time for words now. The cats saved their breath for sprinting as they fled along the bank. A league of shadows chased them up river, dodging, bounding, and diving over the rocks and debris with the ease of a flat and clear grasslands. With eyes and ears and noses locked on, the hunt was renewed. Cats and their egos. It would always lead to their down fall.

As for me, it seemed the mountains would have me after all.

Before I could think of moving, the ice beneath me gave way and I went under. Clear shards dipped down with me in a storm of bubbles. Everything shifted and the surface of the river began to flow just as ferociously as the currents below. They were faster than expected. The river whisked away the broken sheets so fast they bumped and buckled. The water was dark. So cold it was suffocating. It spun me around. My paws dragged through the heavy nothingness. I could not find the surface. The ice sheets were still too thick and close together. Just when I thought I could hold my breath no longer, the sheets slammed together and broke apart enough to create a gap between them.

I popped up in a gasp, back legs kicking to try and get my hips up and in line with my shoulders so I could float, but the current was too quick and powerful beneath. My mane and tail were too heavy under the water to hold up on my own. I needed to pull myself up. I slapped my paws on to the nearest sheet, but the ice was slippery now that the water had rushed over and smoothed its face. My claws gouged out a better hold. It gave me time to catch a glimpse of Lakota running down the bank alongside me. She was probably the only one who knew I had been stranded on the ice.

Her eyes desperately tried to keep up with me, but neither of us could hold our grip on one another. The river dragged me down again, deeper than before. I skid along the bumpy bottom. Kicking off of it, I burst through an icy slush, but the river was in full motion now. Large chunks of ice further up the river, sped along much faster than I did. I dove under as they flew above me, colliding in ways that could cleave me in half if caught in between. The darkness was just as dangerous. A bent up tree trunk hidden in the rocky bed clawed me as I passed by. The painful shock woke my body from the growing numbness I did not realize was taking over.

The cold squeezed every bit of air from my lungs. I could not stay under. Every moment felt like an eternity. I had to breathe. My internal balance righted me and guided me back to the surface, but I was growing dizzy. Fatigued. Fighting such a cold current for so long sucked away my strength far faster than I could replenish it. Even my panic could not keep up. All I could think about was how heavy every hair had become. How hard it was just to break the surface again and choke down a gulp of air as cold as the water around me. I had no energy to begin with. There was no time to recover from the battle on the altar. I used up all my reserves chasing down the council.

There was nothing left to spare. No Spirit to protect me. No fat to warm me. The river was killing me, yet it might also help me. I spun around, no longer fighting the current, and let it take me where it will. Eventually, it would have to slow. I caught another glimpse of the bank. I could not remember what side, but the shadow of a Mighty Hena was still there, sprinting alongside the river and trying to keep up with me. Its face was too dark and tail too short to be Lakota. It was Okatie. His eyes darted back and forth from his path to the air above me. The Brown Owl must be marking me from above. Okatie glanced at the water. We caught eyes for a moment.

He was desperate not to lose me in the water and rapids and dark, but even I lost myself as a chunk of ice slammed into the back of my head. Everything went black. Blacker than the bottom of the riverbed. The icy water shocked me awake as it filled my lungs. My body moved on its own, thrashing with the sensation of drowning. I struck a rock. It smashed the water from my lungs and pushed me up. I broke the surface, gagging and coughing. The ice was in small pieces now, allowing me space, but I could no longer keep myself up. My paws splashed without coordination. My body was too weak. The river too strong.

I started to sink. This time, without any reason but my own fatigue. The shadow on the bank disappeared. There was a muffled splash as water slipped down into my ears. Okatie powered through the river towards me, but I went under before he could reach me. The water sounded much quieter this time. The river was beginning to resemble the void. Was I Walking? No, I couldn't be because Okatie was still there. Using his long black marks to guide him, he ducked under the surface and swam to me. He grabbed me by the neck with a full bit almost from spine to jugular.

It was strong enough to hold me exactly where he wanted even against the river's pull. A bite only Mighty Hena were capable of. He pulled me back to the surface and held me above it. Okatie then tried to push me to the bank, but he had very little room to paddle when pressed up against me sideways. That's when the second force of Spirit arrived. It rammed into us, accidentally pushing me under, but Okatie brought me up again. Lakota puffed heavily through her nostrils as she directed us toward the bank, steering with her long tail. I reoriented myself, weakly paddling although it made no difference. I was at the mercy of my saviors.

They swam as hard as they could, clenching their teeth through the cold and biting down on their shivering with the heat of their adrenaline. Okatie shouldered most of the burden, quite literally when he thrust his body into mine when it began to fall too far into the water. Lakota pushed as much as Okatie, nipping at me when I lost focus or my paws stopped paddling. They said nothing, yet all I heard were their Spirits screaming at me to keep going. To live. That we were almost there.

Our paws hit the smooth rocks. They clacked and clattered to make room. Much younger and stronger and better bred for the dangers of the mountains, Lakota and Okatie released their hold when they felt me get a grasp on the rocks. They ran out of the river and shook out their coats. Some of the finer droplets froze and floated in the air like misty snow. The two then looked at one another, immediately realizing their relations.

"You from across the river!" their bristling Spirits shouted.

I was beginning to fear I was from another world entirely. Or at least, on my way to one. I sagged out of the water and dropped onto the bank, unable to hold my own weight. The river rushed over my back half and pulled my tail, hoping I'd slip back in. Afraid of just that, both Okatie and Lakota abandoned their differences and raced back over to me. Okatie bit me around the neck again and tried to pull me up, but out of the water, my cold stiffening legs would not respond. Under my full weight, his teeth pierced my skin and I yelped, albeit weakly. Lakota came up under him in a fit of snarls and flashing, clapping teeth. He immediately let go and slapped muzzles with her before backing away.

Lakota did not chase him. It was not the point. The moment he released me and learned his lesson, she took his place and pushed up against me. Bites were much too dangerous now.

"Get up, Grandmother. You must shake," her eyes and my experience told me.

Okatie hurried around to the other side, watching what Lakota did, and came up against me to do the same. Lakota managed to position all four legs underneath me. Okatie pushed me into a standing position.

"You must shake or you will freeze," Lakota steadily pressed despite her worsening fears. "You cannot die here!"

I wish I could make such a promise. But her words did not matter. I could not hear them anyway. The sounds of the rushing river still pounded through my ears and into my head. Yet her Spirit was so clear and bright and demanding, I had no choice but to listen. To keep fighting.

The pack was calling.

The stones on the bank felt a little sharper. My heart beat a little harder in my chest. Using that which Lakota and Okatie pressed so hard upon me, I took the Spirit created between us and stepped to shoulder some of my weight. Once everything balanced, I shook. It was a pathetic flick that sent me stumbling. Okatie lowered and caught me. Lakota immediately took to licking and nibbling my face.

"Good. Very good. Again. Once more!"

Her Spirit was so hopeful that I dared not disobey. The thought of letting her down bothered me more than the frozen shards of blood scratching the inside of my veins. I stood up again, wobbling once before I shook. This time, flinging a proper spray. Lakota and Okatie came in when I finished so that I swayed only a little before they righted me again. I felt their warmth when they pressed up against me, yet I could not stop shaking.

"She is too cold," Okatie said. "She will freeze if we stay like this."

My breath no longer frosted as strongly as theirs. Little by little, it took more and more to keep me standing. These young ones could not save me with body heat alone. Of all the lessons I learned, it was My Man who taught me the most valuable for this moment. When unable to sustain your own heat, use that from another source.

"F-fr-f," I struggled to say, but my lips were so numb I could not speak properly. "F-f-fire."

Okatie stared at me with paralyzing confusion. He did not understand. But Lakota always listened. She loved my stories at Castle Rock as if she were my own pup.

"Hootie Hoot," Lakota called, looking up.

She must be calling for the owl. Jumper used the same name for his. It made me smile. Okatie began to whine, distressed at my change. Lakota kept her eyes to the sky as her avian companion came closer. Her voice was heightened, but calm, despite her racing heart.

"Bring fire!" she demanded of it.

The owl rudely hooted back, admonishing the request. She then squawked as another unexpectedly answered the request. I felt them more than I saw them because my head hung much too low to the ground, but I did manage to raise an eye as the hounds who attended the foxes of sun and moon suddenly materialized out of the shadows better than a ghost from the underworld. Eyes glowing purple, I knew the foxes to be in control and annoyed at that.

"This is not the destination of our gate." "Who dares summon us without permission?" they demanded, glancing haughtily down at us.

I looked up at them, instantly regretting I ever entertained the thought of asking for their help. Maybe I should ask Okatie to drop me back in the river.
"What is this?" "What happened?" they accelerated upon seeing me.

It was the most alarm they showed yet. I would have been honored if I was not exhausted to the point of near unconsciousness. The hounds came closer. Lakota growled, but quickly stopped and turned an eye to me as I stroked her Spirit, so very proud of her composure through this entire ordeal, but now it was my turn to lead things. I glanced at the hounds again. My marks led their eyes up my face, over my head, and down my back to the shadow that lay there. My cloak. I told them I was OK with dying now that I was out of the river and surrounded by the Spirit of the pack created between us.

All four of these mighty and prophesizing Hena had saved my life at least once. Death would not allow them a second attempt. Not from any of them. Even the High Spirit of the fox had no say. Still, they tried.

"We must take her to the altar!" the Doom Seers echoed, very much hounds.

I smiled again. This time, closing my eyes.

"I will never make the jump," I rasped, barely more than a whisper of a sigh.

I had no more breath for words. Luckily, there was another Hena who could not get enough of them.

"Then, the altar will come to you," a familiar smoky voice chimed in from the dark.

The words rang with such clarity that they had to be true, no matter how impossible. Such were the words of a prophetess.