Wolves of the Beyond 02 - Shadow Wolf

opinion, lad.”
    “I don’t think it’s that good, my lord. He carves too deep for one thing, and every line is the same—the same depth, the same width.”
    “Hmmm” was all the old chieftain said. He sighed and then commenced a racking cough. Cathmor came up to him and began licking his muzzle and lightly stroking his fur with her paw.
    “What am I supposed to do with you, lad?” the chieftain whispered hoarsely.
    “I don’t know, my lord. I am not a very good gnaw wolf.”
    “No! No! That’s not the problem at all. You’re a frinking good gnaw wolf.” Faolan was not sure exactly what “frinking” meant, but he thought it was one of the minor curse words that was shared with the owls, for Gwynneth had used it several times. “But you’re a pathetic pack wolf. You don’t understand, do you? This whole pack, clan business.”
    “I guess not, my lord.”
    “Guess not? I know not. There is no guessing about it.”
    “So I must leave.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I’m not a good pack wolf. I guess I’m just a lone wolf.”
    “That’s not your privilege. I do the saying around here!” Duncan MacDuncan roared. It was as if a current went through the cave, and every filament of fur on every wolf’s hackles suddenly stood straight up.
    In a low, hoarse whisper, Duncan asked Faolan, “Do you know what a gaddergnaw is?”
    Faolan shook his head.
    “We have not had one in several years. It’s a contest to select a gnaw wolf—the best gnaw wolf—for the Watch at the Ring of Sacred Volcanoes. It will be a hard contest, lad. They choose one wolf, and on rare occasions two, and never two from the same clan. So it makes the competition all the harder for you. And for Heep.” He paused. “You have it in you, Faolan.”
    Duncan studied Faolan carefully as if he were looking for the wolf that might lurk inside, as if in the bright green light of this young wolf’s eyes he might see the reflection of a traveling wolf from another time. “Youcould be selected. You have fine teeth for carving and you have strength. However, you have no sense. But the gaddergnaw , Faolan—this could be your chance!”
    MacDuncan now staggered to his feet and, lifting his tail painfully, wagged it once, twice, then a third time to summon the other wolves closer.
    “The gnaw-bone has been read. There is clear evidence that the gnaw wolf Faolan is guilty of a most serious infraction of the gaddernock code as it is applied to the byrrgis . He has challenged the order. He has admitted his guilt as well as his profound regret. From my private conversation with him, I can say that he knows deep in his marrow that he can do better, that he can become a clan wolf.”
    What private conversation was this? When did I ever say that? Faolan wondered.
    “And so,” the chieftain continued, “from the time of the Ice March, I invoke the privilege of the Sayer. I say that this gnaw wolf shall stay in the clan. He shall resume his lowly position as gnaw wolf in the Pack of the Eastern Scree. He shall be required to visit every outflanker of every pack of the MacDuncan clan, present this bone gnawed by Heep, and perform the third-degree submission and veneration rituals, as dictated by section thirty-two ofthe byrrgnock code of the gaddernock . Following the contrition rituals, he shall gnaw a bone of contrition to be left with the pack outflankers. Thus shall he gain absolution.”
    Duncan paused now, his legs trembling with fatigue from standing, his chest heaving from speaking. His mate, Cathmor, touched his flank. “Please, dear, rest.”
    He growled, “Rest! There is eternity for resting! I have one more announcement I have to make—an important one. I have received a message from Finbar Fengo of the Watch. We have agreed that another gaddergnaw must be held.”
    A murmur of excitement swept through the wolves. Tails began to wag. It had been years since the last gaddergnaw .
    “All the clans shall gather here in the Moon of the Singing Grass. This is what I, Duncan MacDuncan, chieftain of the clan of the MacDuncans, say.”
    And let us hope, Duncan thought to himself, that indeed the grass will be singing and not still locked under frozen ground . His eyes were more filmy than before, and a terrible rattling wheeze shook his frail body. He sank onto the pelts, weak from his efforts.
    A hush filled the cave. It was very rare that a chieftain invoked the privilege of the Sayer. But DuncanMacDuncan just had, and the word of a