Wolves of the Beyond 02 - Shadow Wolf

do that—stand up like a grizzly? It struck him that even Thunderheart might have been appalled by his behavior; she might have thought he had misused what she taught him. The very idea was intolerable. How many wolves could offend not one but two species of animals? he thought. He had never felt so disgraced in his life.
    When Dain had finished reading, a silence followed that would have seemed awkward had it not beeninterrupted by a very young pup who burst out, “Mum, why did the wolf carve the word ‘humble’ so many times?” This earned the poor pup a solid thwack, and he took off squealing.
    “Here, here!” Dain snarled. “We are assembled to witness the rituals of contrition, to right the wrongs given to outflankers.” He turned his glare on Faolan. “Continue, gnaw wolf.”
    Faolan arched his back as high as possible, tucked his tail between his legs, then advanced toward the two outflankers. When this was completed, he sank to his knees and flattened his belly to the ground, then twisted his neck. Finally, he rolled on his back and presented his belly to the two outflankers. While in this position, he began to confess his error.
    “I, Faolan, gnaw wolf of the Pack of the Eastern Scree, am guilty of the actions gnawed on the bone of shame by Heep. I swear by my marrow that the truth has been carved, and I am prepared to make amends by carving this bone presented to me by the estimable Lachlana and Tamsen, distinguished outflankers of the Pack of the Blue Rock.”
    Adair had explained to Faolan that he must carve his contrition bone with the Great Chain, and, at theprecise point where his conduct had offended the order, make his mark—that of the spiraling lines of his footpad.
    Faolan had been carving the Great Chain from the very first day he had joined the wolves of the Beyond. At first, gnaw wolves were expected to render a simple version of the Great Chain, but as they advanced, they learned that the chain was much more intricate, with myriads of links between classes. Because of his proficiency in gnawing, Faolan had been told to do more complicated versions of the Great Chain. He wondered if these wolves knew he was already up to the fourth order. If not, he could do the simplified version that would make for easier and quicker work.
    But just at that moment, he heard the first note of a howl, a perfect note that swooped up into the night. He turned his head and was amazed to see that the sound had issued from the twisted throat of the Whistler. It rose in the darkness like a beautiful night-blooming flower. The others joined in, for they had spotted the mist of Duncan MacDuncan, and this could be the last night they would be able to see it before the Moon of the First Snow arrived and the constellation of the Great Wolf slipped away until spring.
    Faolan turned his head from the bone. The old chieftain had reached the top of the star ladder. His twisted beard was neatly braided once more and he seemed to be peering right down at Faolan. I must carve the whole chain as I know it, he thought.
    There would be no shortcuts. He studied the antler, licked it several times to become familiar with its surface, and then began to inscribe the Great Chain.
    “Look at the sun he carves,” someone whispered. “You almost feel the heat!”
    “It’s frightening—too real,” said another.
    Faolan tried to close his ears, but he could not help but hear a third wolf say in a quavering voice, “Could he be from the Dim World?”
    Faolan had meant only to carve the bone as best he could. But it seemed that no matter how hard he tried, he never got things right. But he wouldn’t stop trying; he couldn’t. He would leave for the Pack of the Fire Grass at dawn.

 
CHAPTER NINE
T HE M IST OF M AC D UNCAN
    BY NOW, FAOLAN KNEW THE RITUALS of contrition flawlessly. It didn’t bother him anymore to hear the story that Heep had carved recited aloud. In a short course of time, he had left behind three bones of contrition, carved so exquisitely that many wolves began to fear he was an agent from the Dim World. But it ceased to bother Faolan. Let them think what they would, for no matter what they said or how they looked at his bones, he was determined to carve as well as he could. The wolves of the Watch were said to be the finest carvers in the Beyond. And it was them he wanted to impress. If they were true artists, they would not view his work with superstition.
    Faolan could not get out of his mind the