Chapter 1 – Tyleet

It had been many years since Tyleet had been a cub, growing up in the Wolfriders' Holt, with her dear friend and closest age-mate Venka. It had been many years since there had been elfin cubs in the holt – some eights of years ago Krim had given birth to a boy cub, Cheipar, but he had lived a very short life, dying not long after his birth. Now, there were no more elfin children in the Wolfriders' Holt – Tyleet had heard tales of long-ago holts in faraway lands, where the Wolfriders and their wolf kin had been hunted and killed by humans – to be replaced, in time, with elfin young. But now, the Wolfriders were not hunted and killed in this land, for the humans did not even know that they existed. Tyleet had grown up in a time of peace and prosperity. She knew the stories of the past animosity and war between elves and humans, of course – but such stories were far removed from her actual experience. Leave the humans alone, Chief Cutter had insisted of his Tribe – 'In the trees, as you please; on the ground, not a sound.' The humans left them alone, and the elves responded in kind. For the humans, the elves were neither friend, nor enemy, they simply did not exist, or, at least, were nothing more than myths and legends.

And so, Tyleet was as quiet as any wolf, as she searched for capnuts this day, as the rain soaked the ground below her feet. Usually, she slept during the day, as did all of her Tribe – the night was the time of the Wolfriders, when they lived and loved and hunted. The day was for sleeping – but, this day, unusually, she did not feel in the least bit sleepy. Best to do something valuable, she had reasoned with herself, rather than stare up at the roof of her tree-den, waiting for sleep that refused to come.

Besides, she really liked capnuts – they were her favourite type of nut – and the stores were getting low. There was no harm in keeping the store-holes full. Nature could be unpredictable and amoral – there was no guarantee that she would get an opportunity to hunt for nuts again in the near future.

There was a wailing sound. Sharp, pointed elfin ears pricked up upon hearing this. Tyleet listened for a few moments, wondering what was causing the sound. Perhaps it was a fox caught in a human's snare – she had seen that happen before. Still, curiosity was welling up inside her. She decided to investigate.

It was easy enough to follow the sound of the cries – they were very loud, and getting louder every moment as she approached. She made a number of guesses as to what might be causing all of the wailing. All of them turned out to be wrong.

There was a human cub – a very young, male human cub, his life cord still throbbing and uneaten. It could not have been long since the infant had been born. He was screaming, laying in the roots of a tree.

It was a mystery. Still, Tyleet sniffed the cub uncertainly. He smelled healthy enough, although he was still screaming. There was clearly nothing wrong with his lungs, at least. But, why would he be left here? Humans could certainly be strange and unpredictable creatures at times. And even animals abandoned their weak and ill – but this child, this newborn, was clearly healthy.

Tyleet frowned to herself – this was all too puzzling. And Cutter's words were echoing in her mind – don't get involved in the affairs of humans – and Tyleet had always taken the instruction seriously. Still, it could not hurt, surely, to return this newborn to his parents? Could it?

She gently picked up the child – he screamed some more, but quietened as Tyleet gently rocked him. She sniffed him once more, just to be certain that she had the right scent. Find the scent of his parents, she told herself, return their cub to where he belongs. Then leave – do all this, without once being seen – her Tribe could hardly object to that. Then the human cub could be comforted by his parents, and become a part of his Tribe once more. Everything would be fine, and everything would return to the way that it had been, before this unfortunate incident. This had to be an accident, after all – it was clear that this was a simple mistake.

Tyleet repeated this over and over in her mind. Yet, she still could not help herself from thinking that something would go wrong, that her actions would cause more harm. So, she decided that she would watch from her hiding place, just to make sure.

She went down past her father's thorn wall, past where the tree trunks narrowed, and where much wood had been cut down, to an open place where a human tribe lived, surrounded by a wall of piled stones.

Tyleet squeezed between the spikes on top of the stone wall. She sniffed the infant once more, and, satisfied, matched his scent to that of his parents, then fixed the hungry cub to the thatch of their dwelling. Then, without making a sound, she fled from there, without a backwards glance.

A moment later, some humans came and found the cub. Tyleet allowed herself a sigh of relief – good, now his mother's warm breast will comfort him, she thought.

She left as silently as she had arrived. She carried on gathering capnuts for a while, telling herself that she would soon return to the Holt. But, as dawn was just beginning to glimmer through the leaves, she heard the familiar wailing sound once more. Uncertain, but very curious, Tyleet silently made her way towards the screams.

There were two adult humans there, and the infant was tied to a tree. One of the adults was the child's mother – she was weeping, but was also holding a stone knife – it was clear that she was going to harm the child, perhaps kill him.

Tyleet watched in horror. The humans' actions confused and worried her, but, in the end, the humans were unable to deliver the blow. Yet, by this point, the infant was nearly dead from misuse. Tyleet waited until the adult humans had gone, and then inched carefully to the place where the child was tied, carefully untied him, and picked him up once more. Sometimes, she realised, you have to make a choice, a decision, even if others might not approve of this choice.

She stared, for a moment, at the infant's birthmark – but she was quite convinced that this was no indication of illness or weakness. Admittedly, he had now stopped crying – but that was probably just because his lungs were weak from all of his earlier wailing. She examined him critically – he had clearly been born fit and healthy – but he would not regain his strength, unless he received parental care.

What Tyleet did next was not done lightly – she knew that she was going against the requirements of her Tribe. But the child was so young, and he needed care and attention – and, right at this moment, she was the only one who could give him what he needed. She carried the child in her arms, and made her way back to the Wolfriders' Holt. She rocked him in a comforting embrace, soothing him gently – and his worried expression turned into a smile, his quiet grizzling into laughter.

It was still day when Tyleet returned to the Holt. Absent-mindedly, the child still in her arms, she filled the store-holes with capnuts. Then she stared down at the child for a long moment, and he stared back, his small, smiling eyes showing no fear. But Tyleet knew that her Tribe would be – understandably – wary of her bringing a human cub into their secret domain.

And evening was fast approaching – that meant, soon, the rest of the Tribe would be waking up. Her own parents, Redlance and Nightfall, might well understand why she had saved the cub – they had, after all, longed for a cub of their own, and it had only been with the help of Leetah in the Palace of the High Ones that their desire had finally been fulfilled by Tyleet herself. But the rest of the Tribe – especially the older members, who still remembered the animosity and persecution that they had experienced at the hands of humans – were less likely to be so understanding.