Chapter 7

"Justice"

"Your heir is dead," I said, because it was the truth. "My pack killed him."

I stood in front of Ezekiel, the oldest Doom Seer to live upon the mountain. Time had sucked the muscle from his bones and his long gnarled horns twisted into points at the ends. I had known him most of my life, yet I still knew very little about him other than what I could see and smell and feel whenever we came together like this. And it wasn't pleasant.

Every day, Ezekiel bathed in the black tar of the red Fire Lizards in order to hide the blanched color of his fur. The smell of it made me want to wrinkle my nose and bare my teeth. Such putrid vomit was meant for the fiery bowels of the mountain, not the skin of Hena. It also did nothing to hide the other stresses of time that reshaped his body. The bones on his back were almost indistinguishable from the ones jutting out of his skin. His legs shook when he stood for too long and his heart grew harder the longer he lived. Not that it was ever soft or compassionate to begin with. He once arbitrated our council meetings until his gifts as a Seer became, as he claimed, too great for the common mind.

We stared at one another now because I had nothing to give him of his heir. There had been nothing left after the hunt. My explanation alone would have to suffice.

"Damon Doom Seer betrayed the Mighty Hena."

"And so his sentence is death?" Ezekiel immediately chided.

His voice was surprisingly smooth for such a dry and shriveled throat.

"My grand-hound deserved to die because he did not submit to the demands of howling, rabid, bloodthirsty dogs?"

Even after living so many years, Ezekiel Doom Seer still did not understand the importance of virtue. It was his pride, not his heart that was slighted.

"If the law of the wild was so forthright, it would size to be itself," he continued. "What is survival but the betrayal of one against another? Take what can be taken, be it the best bitch for breeding, the last string of sinew from a carcass, or the deepest and best fortified dens. Do we not fight for every last scrap we have because our lives depend on it?"

I cared not for his ideological debate. My coming here was not a curtesy, but an announcement of the end of the Mighty Hena's alliance with the Doom Seers. But Ezekiel was far too old and his eyes far too foggy to see what was in front of him. Seers only cared about the future and the past.

"If your judgement is so swift and clear," he went on, because the only way to silence a Doom Seer was to clamp one's jaws around its neck. "Then why is it that a banished one, an exile of your own kind, was the cause of my heir's betrayal? Shouldn't he be the one dead and rotting on the ground rather than my own flesh and blood?"

I did not expect him to recognize the power of cowardice. Not when he so valiantly ran away from death by covering himself in another creature's filth. He would never find the light when hiding in darker and darker shadows every night. I also did not want his all-seeing eyes peering into my past and seducing falsehoods from my memories. So I continued to stare at him without expression. Ezekiel's own eyes flashed with rage, proving that there was light within him. Hell fire to be exact.

"The end is drawing near," he announced, holding himself higher so that he could smite me from where he stood. "And it will find you sooner than you think!"

All words I heard before.

"Your home will burn. Your pack will abandon you and there is nothing you can do to stop it."

"Maybe," I coolly answered, causing his words to sizzle back into silence. "But the pack will survive."

And that's all that mattered.

A great wave of satisfaction came over the Seer as he interpreted my words as validation of his prophecy. Ezekiel always did his best not to move during our meetings, least his legs give out beneath him, so I knew he was full of himself when he stepped forward.

"Your time has finally come, Matriarch," he shouted, as if increasing his volume would increase the truth of his predictions. "A new age dawns!"

Ezekiel's weight shifted to his rear legs as he rocked back from his own declaration. I turned away to leave.

"Are you not curious of the end?" he tempted.

"You hounds will never understand," I told him, glancing back. "My life was never my own."

I started to trot away, and if the Seer was right, it was toward my own destruction.

Ezekiel's eyes widened when he realized he might never see me again. After all, his gifts never disappointed him, even when they were wrong. More importantly, they grew stronger when those filled with the Spirit were nearby.

"Are you not afraid?" he tried again.

His voice lowered, wavering.

I was not. Not of him or his words that could not break my bones or my skin.

"Has the Mighty Hena finally accepted its place at the foot of the hound?"

He was begging for my attention now. I let my steps answer him. Ezekiel scoffed because he could not appreciate silence. Especially not mine.

"I don't know why I bother wasting my breath," he thought aloud. "I should find no offense, or agitation, or surprise at these exchanges of ours. After all, a hound that calls itself mighty must no doubt lack that which is truly grand. You cannot understand the knowledge, articulation, and poise that comes with language. What do Chariot Hounds do but fill their mouths with blood, and flesh, and fur? What do you know of words? Your savagery mutes your tongues."

He tried to lift himself again, but his back legs started to give out.

"I can see it now," he cried. "You will come crawling back up this mountain and beg for my insight just as your ancestors did when these lands were first named. If not, you and your kin will perish. There will be suffering and death and the Crowned Hounds will dance upon your graves!"

In his words, I saw the Bone Takers dancing around their fires, smoking and cursing and killing all that was good. My paws slowed to a stop. I felt Ezekiel staring at me, using his sight to validate his final predictions, but my back was too dark to see anything. The shadow too rich. But I would not abandon him to the darkness. A Mother's guidance was not limited to her own pack. It was only right that I help him navigate the black veil hanging in front of us all.

"The last Doom Seer to see into my future found the death he was looking for," I said, not bothering to look back.

My eyes glowed red, lighting the way as I continued through the wood.

"Heed that message, prophet."