dear fellow,” the Whistler began. “You are standing next to a ringing rock — or a whispering rock, as they call them now. And I have just picked up a communication.”
“You mean a whisper?”
“Indeed. And I have determined its source.”
“How did you ever do that?” Faolan looked with wonder at the Whistler.
“I believe it is essentially the same way owls do it.”
Faolan nearly jumped with excitement. “I know all about it from Gwynneth. She’s a Masked Owl, which is part of the Barn Owl family. She does this all the time. They tip their ear slit this way and that way and home in on a source.”
“Well, now I’ve done it. Maybe I’m part owl!”
Faolan felt a shiver run through his marrow. He shook his head slightly and the guard hairs on his ruff stood rigid.
“
Lochin
crossed your bones again?” the Whistler asked.
“No, nothing. Nothing at all. But this is really valuable!”
“Do you think we should go have a look?” the Whistler asked.
Faolan hesitated a minute. He had not told the Whistler what he and Edme suspected — that the paw prints in the dance circles they had found were not exclusively outclanner wolves. “Yes, I think we should. But first we have to continue toward the Blood Watch.”
The Whistler seemed to hesitate.
“What is it?” Faolan asked.
“The source is coming from close to the Blood Watch.”
“What?”
“Not exactly right from it, but it’s in the direction we would travel.”
“Then we have to be careful because … Well, obviously from the circle we have seen so far, these tracks are outclanners — remember. Outclanners who must have slipped through the Blood Watch.”
“All of the tracks, Faolan?” the Whistler asked.
Faolan looked into those intelligent green eyes. So the Whistler knew about the clan wolf tracks as well.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
R ABBIT- E AR M OSS
SHE SHOULD TAKE IT AS A SIGN, Gwynneth thought, an indication that she was doing the right thing. The sign was a thermal — a draft of warm air that made flying effortless. Without having to stir a feather, she could soar on the billowing air. She shut her eyes and felt herself lift almost magically. Good Glaux, it was great to be a bird! Not just a bird but an owl! She couldn’t remember the last time there had been such a draft. The only thermals to be found generally were over the Ring of Sacred Volcanoes. But Gwynneth was nowhere near the Ring now.
The winds were definitely favoring Gwynneth’s search for the place where her father had died, the place with a hero mark. Her father, Gwyndor, had always been close to the wolves. He had understood them as no otherowl did, and he had passed his passion for the wolves and their traditions on to her. In terms of the sparse company she kept, Gwynneth, like her father, preferred that of wolves to owls. And she realized that if she was going to find her father’s helmet and visor, it was a wolf’s sniffer that she needed. Not just any sniffer — but the renowned nose of the Sark of the Slough.
The Sark was Gwynneth’s closest friend in the Beyond. Gwynneth had often wondered how the old she-wolf was faring since the herds had vanished. It was so much easier for owls. They required less sustenance and the prey that owls sought was small — rodents, and the occasional snake. Small creatures that did not migrate or demand such immense expenditures of energy to hunt as the big ones of the meat trails. One could always depend on finding a vole or two in the burrows beneath nut trees, and there were myriads of such trees, from chestnut to walnut, in Silverveil. So, although Gwynneth usually brought the Sark coals in her coal bucket, this time she had layered wet moss over the coals and then wrapped three voles from her stash in more moss to carry them west toward the Slough and the Sark’s encampment.
There was a thick cloud cover over the Slough, but she was pleased when she plunged through it to see atendril of smoke coming up
“You mean a whisper?”
“Indeed. And I have determined its source.”
“How did you ever do that?” Faolan looked with wonder at the Whistler.
“I believe it is essentially the same way owls do it.”
Faolan nearly jumped with excitement. “I know all about it from Gwynneth. She’s a Masked Owl, which is part of the Barn Owl family. She does this all the time. They tip their ear slit this way and that way and home in on a source.”
“Well, now I’ve done it. Maybe I’m part owl!”
Faolan felt a shiver run through his marrow. He shook his head slightly and the guard hairs on his ruff stood rigid.
“
Lochin
crossed your bones again?” the Whistler asked.
“No, nothing. Nothing at all. But this is really valuable!”
“Do you think we should go have a look?” the Whistler asked.
Faolan hesitated a minute. He had not told the Whistler what he and Edme suspected — that the paw prints in the dance circles they had found were not exclusively outclanner wolves. “Yes, I think we should. But first we have to continue toward the Blood Watch.”
The Whistler seemed to hesitate.
“What is it?” Faolan asked.
“The source is coming from close to the Blood Watch.”
“What?”
“Not exactly right from it, but it’s in the direction we would travel.”
“Then we have to be careful because … Well, obviously from the circle we have seen so far, these tracks are outclanners — remember. Outclanners who must have slipped through the Blood Watch.”
“All of the tracks, Faolan?” the Whistler asked.
Faolan looked into those intelligent green eyes. So the Whistler knew about the clan wolf tracks as well.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
R ABBIT- E AR M OSS
SHE SHOULD TAKE IT AS A SIGN, Gwynneth thought, an indication that she was doing the right thing. The sign was a thermal — a draft of warm air that made flying effortless. Without having to stir a feather, she could soar on the billowing air. She shut her eyes and felt herself lift almost magically. Good Glaux, it was great to be a bird! Not just a bird but an owl! She couldn’t remember the last time there had been such a draft. The only thermals to be found generally were over the Ring of Sacred Volcanoes. But Gwynneth was nowhere near the Ring now.
The winds were definitely favoring Gwynneth’s search for the place where her father had died, the place with a hero mark. Her father, Gwyndor, had always been close to the wolves. He had understood them as no otherowl did, and he had passed his passion for the wolves and their traditions on to her. In terms of the sparse company she kept, Gwynneth, like her father, preferred that of wolves to owls. And she realized that if she was going to find her father’s helmet and visor, it was a wolf’s sniffer that she needed. Not just any sniffer — but the renowned nose of the Sark of the Slough.
The Sark was Gwynneth’s closest friend in the Beyond. Gwynneth had often wondered how the old she-wolf was faring since the herds had vanished. It was so much easier for owls. They required less sustenance and the prey that owls sought was small — rodents, and the occasional snake. Small creatures that did not migrate or demand such immense expenditures of energy to hunt as the big ones of the meat trails. One could always depend on finding a vole or two in the burrows beneath nut trees, and there were myriads of such trees, from chestnut to walnut, in Silverveil. So, although Gwynneth usually brought the Sark coals in her coal bucket, this time she had layered wet moss over the coals and then wrapped three voles from her stash in more moss to carry them west toward the Slough and the Sark’s encampment.
There was a thick cloud cover over the Slough, but she was pleased when she plunged through it to see atendril of smoke coming up
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