Wolves of the Beyond 02 - Shadow Wolf

accelerated from what was known as press-paw speed to attack speed. It was as if a wave passed through the byrrgis at themoment of acceleration. The nearly three dozen wolves worked as one, their minds, their spirits, and their muscles merged. They didn’t need to think, they didn’t need to bark, for they belonged together, pressed between earth and sky like streaking clouds racing low on the horizon.
    Faolan blinked as he saw the young tawny she-wolf flash out from behind an outflanker. Until prey came into closing range, the outflankers hung back. Once the point wolf thought the prey was beginning to tire, the outflankers streaked out to run.
    How Faolan envied the young wolf from the Carreg Gaer. He could almost feel her muscles as her tawny body stretched. Her neck seemed endlessly long. Threads of saliva spun from her mouth as she ran, and yet it appeared so effortless. Faolan wanted to be a part of this. He could do this. He knew he could. He had picked off a caribou from a herd by himself just moons before.
    Faolan saw Heep scurrying ahead. He must have found some droppings or perhaps a pool of urine. Well, let him have the “honor” of reporting to the sublieutenant.
    The image of those streaking wolves spurred Faolan to charge ahead. He kicked up a whirlwind of dust with his hind legs as he sprang forward. The entire eastern flank had contracted into one tight unit that suddenly increased its speed. Faolan was not sure exactly why theywere doing this, but he wanted to be a part of it. No one would notice if he sped up and packed in with them.
    Seconds later, some sort of signal passed, and he felt the pressure of the wolves compacting around him. He was becoming one of them! He felt it in his marrow. Like metal in the heat of the forge, he was changing. His pace melded with theirs, his muscle became part of a larger one, his heart pumped, joining the single rhythm of all the hearts of all these wolves. He was a member of the byrrgis ! A deep thrill coursed through him.
    But what is happening now? he wondered as he sensed a change in direction. The bull moose was turning sharply to the north. This could not be right, for it seemed as if they might be driving the moose into rocky terrain that held a maze of gullies through which he could escape. Faolan put on a new burst of speed. The time might be coming, he thought with overwhelming excitement, for him to rise up on his hind legs. He could stop this bull in seconds! He cut out from the press of wolves and blasted forward so he could get ahead of the moose.
    At the moment Faolan decided to break out, Heep noticed a whirlwind of rising dust. What in the name of Lupus? he thought, and purposely lagged just a bit behind in his position so he could edge over for a better view of the eastern flank. He blinked. He simply could not believewhat he was seeing. Obviously, Faolan had no idea that the byrrgis was executing a crimping maneuver, designed to turn the moose. With his silvery tail floating out behind him like a plume, Faolan was streaking ahead and actually crimping the crimpers. This was an unimaginable violation of the byrrgnock laws—a first-degree offense.
    A deep thrill coursed through the yellow wolf. By the Moon of the Singing Grass, this wolf would be out of the pack, out of the clan, and heading for the Dim World! The yellow wolf did not have to utter a word. Didn’t have to do a thing. The gnaw wolf Faolan was stripping his own bones!
    Faolan was running full throttle. He stretched out, feeling the wind through his fur and the ground so light beneath his feet. He knew that this was what he was made for—to catch the wind, to bite the sun that was dropping behind the horizon. The tawny haunches of the young female were drawing into view. It surprised him that he had devoured so much distance so fast. He felt the power in his muscles.
    As Faolan closed in on the front-runners, he began to pick up signals that were flying back and forth between the corporals and the captains. Subtle motions, gestures—a flick of an ear, a sudden up-tip of a tail. He saw the signals but did not know their meaning. So whenFaolan streaked out ahead of the pack, ahead of the outflankers, ahead of the point wolves, he did not hear the muffled dissonance as the pace was broken, nor the baffled, low growls of the two packs behind him. He was thinking of what was ahead—the huge bull moose he was going to stop. Faolan pulled ahead of the moose, out far enough in