Brother to Dragons, Companion to Owls - Jane Lindskold [11]
“I’ll speak to Head Wolf as soon as the Hunters have left tomorrow evening. Do you want me to?”
My heart is in my throat, but I manage, “Yes.”
ABALONE HAS BEEN IN HEAD WOLF’S TENT FOR A LONG while. I try hard not to wonder why.
Betwixt and Between can tell that I am worried, so to distract me they tell me what has happened while I was sleeping.
Betwixt starts. “Chocolate came running in here wearing this lovely leather biker’s jacket. He was just starting to strut it around when what do you think happened?”
Between answers him. “What?”
“Shut up, stupid. I’m asking Sarah.”
Lest the dragons start sulking, I politely meet the ruby eyes and look interested.
Satisfied, Betwixt continues, “We hear police whistles and sirens from the way Chocolate had come.”
“The idiot not only propositioned a cop,” Between snickers, “but stole his jacket.”
“You can bet that Head Wolf wasn’t pleased,” Betwixt says. “He had the Jungle sealed and members of the Four on each doorway. Everyone who was awake had to keep silent.”
“The cops never found any of the entrances,” Between adds with a wondering shake of his head. “And when they were gone, Head Wolf beat Chocolate until the kid looked like the worst side of a sadist’s fantasy.”
I barely hear the end of the story. Below, the flap of the tent is moving and Abalone emerges. She waves for me to come down and I scramble with lines and pulleys.
In my month and more in the Jungle, I have gotten beyond sore muscles and fear of falling to where I move through the Web as easily as the long-term residents. I am at her feet practically before she has lowered her hand.
“Head Wolf was—receptive—to my suggestion.”
She nervously licks her lips. I realize that she must have done this frequently in the last hour, for the blue eyeliner with which she paints them is nearly worn away in some places. I scan her for bruises or teeth marks and find none.
She continues. “He wants to speak with you alone and make certain that you really want to do this. It’s up to you to prove to him how much you want it.”
I nod, my options thinning into one line. My heart beats wildly, as I know what I must do.
“Go on.” Again Abalone gives me the strange look she had in the Park. “Head Wolf wants you.”
I hardly hear the snickers from the few Pack members still lounging around the camp stoves. With a hand I hope is steady I scratch the tent door as I have seen others do. The painted surface looks smooth, but is ridged and uneven to the touch.
“Who is there?”
“Sarah.”
“Enter, Sarah.”
Lifting the flap, I duck and enter. Once in, I kneel on the cushioned softness and wait.
“Make yourself comfortable, Sarah. I only have a few questions for you.”
I look up and move to sit on the cushion he has indicated. The dark eyes seek for and hold mine. I can only bear to hold their gaze for a moment and am grateful that Abalone has taught me that a Cub must never hold the gaze of a senior Wolf, nor any Wolf the gaze of Head Wolf. But when I look away, it is not from courtesy, but from a sense that if I look too long, I will be swallowed.
“Abalone tells me that you are learning well, but that you have much to learn. Did you always live in places like the Home before you came here?”
I nod.
“So you cannot read or drive or even work a simple terminal?”
I blush and shake my head, ashamed.
He quizzes me further about what I can and cannot do, always thoughtfully phrasing his questions so that a “yes” or “no” will do and so that I will not need to struggle for an answer. His kindness relaxes me and I find that I can look at him as we talk.
Finally, he says, “I can see the reason for what Abalone has suggested. With your current assets, however, you could still do very well as one of the Tail Wolves. Surely, you do not scorn that way of hunting.”
I do, but I shake my head, knowing that the Tail Wolves are the most reliable providers in the Jungle.
“Sometimes I think that Abalone does,” he continues. “I hope she has not passed that attitude on to you.”
His eyes say more than his words and my heart knows it is time. Words swim