Sorceress of Darshiva

the previously listless animal had turned playful. His mother, too, Garion noted, had begun to fill out again, and her fur was glossy and less matted. "An excellent den," she observed. "Will we hunt from here?"
    "No, little sister," Polgara replied, stirring the small pot of simmering herbs on the fire. "We have things that must be done in another place. Let me have a look at your hurt."
    Obediently, the wolf lay down by the fire and extended her injured paw. Polgara gently unwrapped it and examined ttye ulcers. "Much better," she said. "It's nearly healed. Does it still cause you pain?"
    "Pain is to be endured," the wolf replied indifferently. "It is of no moment."
    "The amount of pain, however, tells us how much longer it will be until the hurt is gone."
    "That is true," the wolf admitted. "I have observed the same thing myself in times past. The pain is less now. The hurt is going away, I think."
    Polgara bathed the injured paw in the pungent juice from her pot, then mixed the pulped herbs with soap and sugar again, packed it over the wound, and replaced the bandage. "We will not have to do this again, little sister," she told her patient. "The hurt is nearly gone."
    "I am grateful," the wolf said simply. "Will I be able to walk when it grows light again? The thing which runs on round feet is most uncomfortable to sit in, and the she who makes it run talks much."
    "Sit in it one more time while it is light," Polgara advised. "Give the hurt that much more time to go away."
    The wolf sighed and laid her chin on her paws.
    They carried water from a nearby spring, and Polgara cooked supper. After they had eaten, Belgarath rose to his feet. "Let's have a look around," he said to Garion. "I want to get an idea of what we're dealing with."
    Garion nodded and stood up. The two of them went outside the cave, carrying Silk's supper out to him. The little man had volunteered, enthusiastically, Garion thought, to stand watch. "Where are you going?" he asked, sitting down on a rock to eat.
    "We're going to nose around a bit," Belgarath replied.
    "Good idea. You want me to come along?"
    "No. You'd better stay here and keep your eyes open. Warn the others if anybody comes up the ridge." Then the old man led Garion a few hundred feet up the ridge line, and the two of them made the change into their other forms. Garion had changed back and forth so many times in the past few months that at times the distinction between the two shapes had begun to blur and, oftentimes, even when he was in his human form, he found himself thinking in the language of wolves. He loped along behind the great silver wolf, considering this peculiar loss of identity.
    Belgarath stopped. "Keep your mind on what we're doing," he said. "Your ears and nose won't be much good to us if you're wool-gathering."
    "Yes, revered pack-leader," Garion replied, feeling very embarrassed. Wolves seldom needed reprimanding and they were covered with shame when it happened. When they reached the spot where the side of the ridge had been sheared away by the earthquake, they stopped. The foothills that sloped down toward the plain were dark. Urvon's army was obviously under orders to build no fires. Out on the plain itself, however, the watch fires twinkled in profusion like small orange stars.
    "Zandramas has a big army," Garion sent his thought quietly to his grandfather.
    "Yes," the old man agreed. "That battle tomorrow morning might take quite a while. Even Nahaz's demons are going to need a lot of time to kill that many people."
    "The longer the better. They can take all week, if they want to. We could be halfway to Kell by then."
    Belgarath looked around. "Let's go on up the ridge a ways and have a look."
    "All right."
    Despite Beldin's warning that there might be scouts from the two armies here in the higher foothills, the two wolves encountered no one. "They probably went back to report," Garion heard Belgarath's voice speaking in his mind. "They'll be out again first thing in the morning, most likely. Let's go on back to the cave and get some sleep."
    They rose early the following morning, long before first light. They were all subdued as they ate breakfast. Although the two armies facing each other below them were composed entirely of enemies, none of them took any particular pleasure in the prospect of the bloodshed the day would bring. After breakfast, they carried out the packs and their saddles and, last of all, they led out the horses.
    "You're quiet this