Lone Wolf

word. He perched atop it and began to howl at the dawn. The rising sun broke on the horizon, fracturing the surface of the river into shards of light -- rose, burnt orange, blood red. The river glittered fiercely as Faolan sang his wild song -- a song of farewell.

PART THREE THE BEYOND

CHAPTER NINETEEN
    ***
    THE SKULL IN THE WOODS

    FAOLAN HAD HOWLED HIS FAREWELL to the spirit of the caribou. He was certain the spirit had found its way to the shelter just beyond the starry tips of the constellation's antlers. He did not leave the drumlyn immediately but lingered for several days, gnawing new designs in the empty spaces on a thigh bone or a shoulder or rib. He had learned how to use his shearing teeth delicately, so that only the finest lines were inscribed. Had he heard the howling of other wolves he would have moved on to join them. But he heard none. However, he felt certain that he must have crossed over the border of the Outermost into the Beyond, and the wolves here would be like the ones he had heard when he was at the winter den with Thunderheart. But he never heard any. He had meticulously scent marked the surrounding territory of  the drumlyn so no animals would trespass. But certainly if there had been wolves in the vicinity he would have heard them.
    In addition to the absence of wolves, there were very few other animals. This spot where he had erected the drumlyn and where he had passed much of the summer seemed quite isolated. When he went to hunt he had to travel a fair distance if he wanted large animals like caribou. And he had gone hunting, adding the bones of his prey to the original ones of the cow. So now the drumlyn rose to a fairly respectable height.
    It was hard to leave this peaceful place that had become the earthly point of departure for the caribou, but as the summer waned and the earth tilted farther away from the sun, the caribou constellation slid farther down in the western sky until finally one night, only the tips of the antlers rose above the horizon. Faolan knew that by the next evening the constellation would disappear completely. It was time to go. The days were shortening. Autumn was coming. He needed to find a winter den.
    No, he thought. I need to find a pack of wolves. He recalled vividly the paintings on the walls of the Cave Before Time. He so wanted to be part of something larger and something better than those routs of outclanner wolves.
    In the Cave Before Time, he had seen two constellations of wolves. One was the starry one on the rock ceiling. The other "constellation" was not stars but the hunting and traveling formation of wolves running together. In that formation he had sensed a common feeling, a spirit of fellowship. It made him feel all the more lonely. He had wanted to run with those wolves, to be part of that "constellation," ever since he had first seen the picture. But what if he was rejected?
    At the same time he wanted to find Thunderheart. Could he live in both worlds -- that of his beloved grizzly and that of the wolves? he wondered. The thought of Thunderheart dying was unimaginable to him. He could not even permit himself to think such a thing. For this reason, when he had scanned the skies for the constellation of the caribou each summer night he would not let his eyes rest on the Great Bear. He knew his instincts were selfish. But as much as he missed Thunderheart's presence beside him in a den or out hunting or fishing, it was quite another thing to imagine her not sharing this earth with him. The distance between here and Ursulana was simply too great. Thunderheart had called Ursulana "heaven," but for Faolan, it felt like the dim world.
    Faolan knew that he must leave this place now, before  the horizon swallowed the last star tips of the caribou antlers. So he began walking away in the direction from which the river flowed. He looked back one last time at the mound of bones burnished by the moon's light.
    He traveled around a big bend in the river. The bend was one he did not remember at all, but he soon found a good place to cross. Upon climbing up the steep bank on the other side, he smelled a familiar scent in the breath of the river. He began to run. He recognized this odor and saw the water boiling with the silvery bodies of fish leaping in the morning sun. It was the salmon spawning run and just ahead were the same rapids where he and Thunderheart had stood catching fish after fish. He cringed now when he saw another grizzly in the