Watch Wolf

stopped.
    “What? She what?”
    “Something is wrong with her.”
    “Not the foaming-mouth disease. Her paw mark is straight,” Airmead said quickly. A splayed paw print was the sign of the disease.
    “No, no, it’s not splayed at all. And the scent is not MacHeath. I want to backtrack a bit and look at the prints more closely. You can wait here. I’m not going far,” Katria said.
    Airmead settled down on a soft clump of rabbit-ear moss. She knew that the owls sometimes used this moss to line their nests. She looked at Katria as she quickly loped down the trail, her gait easy and efficient. The MacHeaths would miss her as an outflanker. Katria was not given to much talk, but she was obviously still grieving for her daughter, Kyran. That would pass. Perhaps shewould find a new mate in the MacNamara clan and have a new litter. How lovely to raise pups free from the brutality and terror of the MacHeaths. She herself could have no such dreams, of course, for she was barren.
    It wasn’t long before Katria returned. “I think she’s blind.”
    “Who’s blind?”
    “The outflanker. She’s being led.”
    “I can understand how you can tell that she is being led. I mean, there are other wolf’s prints up ahead. But how can you tell she’s blind?”
    “It’s hard to explain. There’s a certain hesitation before she puts down her lead paw, and she plants it too hard. As if … as if … she thinks the earth might slip out from under her.”
    Airmead nodded. “Let’s get on our way.”
    “Yes, we might catch up with them.”
    It was nearing noon when they spotted the two wolves. As they rounded a bend, a wolf with a pelt the color of cooling flames stepped out from a thin stand of trees.
    Airmead and Katria immediately began the submission postures.
    The red wolf blinked.
MacHeath she-wolves,
he thought. No other wolves would begin submission postures so far in advance. They were now crawling ontheir bellies toward him. One of them had powerful shoulders, and he could tell she had been an outflanker. He trotted up togreet them.
    “Please, please, rise up. No need for such observances here.” He spoke in a kind, respectful voice.
    Airmead and Katria stole glances at each other. They were not used to such greetings. Slowly they rose to their knees but kept their tails low and their ears pressed back demurely.
    “I am Brangwen, out of the MacDonegal clan.”
    “Oh, my,” Katria said. “You have come a long way.”
    “Yes. My mate …” He tossed his head in the direction of the stand of trees. “You see she is not well.” He hesitated, then said in a trembling voice that nearly broke Airmead’s and Katria’s hearts, “She … she’s blind.”
    “And she was an outflanker,” Katria said softly.
    “Yes.” Brangwen nodded, lifting his eyes to Katria. “You could tell, couldn’t you? Because you’re one as well.”
    “Yes.”
    “I thought so. Your shoulders.” Katria said nothing.“My wife, Morag, had a lot of good years left in her untilthe blindness came to her. We had to leave. There’s no place for an outflanker who can’t … can’t …”
    “I understand,” Katria said. “You seek the MacNamaras. They make room for such females.”
    “Yes, and you two seek the MacNamaras and don’t need to explain why, either.” He paused, then said in a more buoyant voice, “Come, let me introduce you to Morag. She’ll enjoy meeting a fellow outflanker and her friend.” He nodded at Airmead.
    Airmead was struck by this wolf’s gentle manners. How kind of him to include her — she who was no use at all to anyone. She was an Obea, and most wolves, MacHeaths or otherwise, looked skittishly at barren females. Especially other she-wolves. She was thankful that Brangwen’s mate, Morag, was blind and might not sense her barren state. But then again, it was said that blind animals’ awareness of smell was sharper than creatures who could see.
    Airmead didn’t need to worry. Morag seemed only happy to meet the two MacHeath she-wolves. She betrayed no sign of sensing that Airmead had been an Obea. There was not the slightest twitch of her nostrilsto indicate that she’d picked up a whiff of Airmead’s sterility.
    “Well,” Morag said. “A clan can always use anotheroutflanker. I’m not sure what they’ll do with me.” She spoke in an almost cheerful manner.
    “Now, my dear, you can’t see,” Brangwen offered, “but you’ll be a good auntie.” Aunting behavior was common among