own amber eyes was growing dim, and yet there was a flicker of recognition. It was as if a coded message passed between them: I give you permission to take my life. May my meat sustain you.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
***
A SAVAGE WORLD
FAOLAN HAD BEGUN TO RIP INTO the flank of the dead cougar when he heard a rustling in the brush. He raised his head, but no longer in expectation of seeing Thunderheart. As soon as he had looked into the eyes of the dying cougar, he had realized that he was mistaken to think that killing the cougar would avenge Thunderheart's cub.
Two wolves stepped out of the brush, the first wolves Faolan had ever seen other than the reflection of his own face in the water. He was stunned. They are like me, but so different. He was bigger, much bigger than they were, although they looked older. And they were disreputable, raggedy and unkempt, their coats bearing furless patches that revealed old scars. Both were males, one a dark gray and the other russet. The russet one was missing an eye.
His face was nearly bald on the side with the missing eye, and Faolan knew that the claw marks on it had been made by another wolf. What animal attacked its own kind?
Saliva in long silvery threads dripped from the dark edges of the wolf pair's mouths. They edged closer to where Faolan stood snarling over the carcass. Several things became apparent to Faolan as the trio eyed one another. The two wolves were trying to edge each other out as they moved toward the cougar. Although they had tracked him together, the two were not working as a team. They were not cooperating, maneuvering as he and Thunderheart had in the defile, combining Faolan's swiftness and the grizzly's might to bring down the caribou. They had no strategy.
But Faolan did. The strategy came to him in a quick little burst of insight that flashed in his mind: They want my meat, but I am not going to let them have it. They will have to fight me, but they don't know how to fight together. Greed means I can distract them.
Faolan tore out a chunk of cougar meat and tossed it into the air. The two wolves scrambled to pounce on it and fell together in a snarling, tumbling mass. Faolan jumped straight into the air and crashed down on top of them. There was a loud popping sound, then a scream. The dark gray wolf appeared to break in the middle, his lower half skewing to one side and a jagged bone pushing through his pelt. The impact had snapped his spine.
The russet wolf growled and retreated, swinging his head to see with his single eye, which was now darting frantically from the gray wolf to Faolan to the chunk of meat.
Faolan's hackles were raised, his head held high, his ears upright and forward. He took a step toward the russet wolf. The wolf cowered, peeling back his lips in a grimace of fear. But still his one eye kept darting between the chunk of meat and the dead wolf. Faolan was growing impatient and tensed himself to spring, but much to his surprise, the russet wolf ran at the dead wolf and dragged the body into the brush.
Faolan knew he had nothing to fear from the one-eyed wolf, but at the same time he was mystified by his behavior. Why would the wolf drag the body of his friend away? He pricked his ears forward as he heard the rip of flesh. It can't be! He walked quietly toward the thicket of brush and peered through the tangled thorny branches.
The russet wolf's head was buried up to its single eye in the ripped belly of the dead wolf. So busy was he consuming the entrails that he wasn't even aware of Faolan's presence for some time. When finally he looked up, his face drenched in the blood and slime of the guts, Faolan saw only greed in that single eye. Laying his ears flat, the russet wolf stepped back, not in shame for his act, but in fear. He thinks I want his meat!
Faolan turned away and walked back to the cougar with one thought: I must eat to get fat. To get stronger. He would need his strength more than ever. What kind of savage world
CHAPTER ELEVEN
***
A SAVAGE WORLD
FAOLAN HAD BEGUN TO RIP INTO the flank of the dead cougar when he heard a rustling in the brush. He raised his head, but no longer in expectation of seeing Thunderheart. As soon as he had looked into the eyes of the dying cougar, he had realized that he was mistaken to think that killing the cougar would avenge Thunderheart's cub.
Two wolves stepped out of the brush, the first wolves Faolan had ever seen other than the reflection of his own face in the water. He was stunned. They are like me, but so different. He was bigger, much bigger than they were, although they looked older. And they were disreputable, raggedy and unkempt, their coats bearing furless patches that revealed old scars. Both were males, one a dark gray and the other russet. The russet one was missing an eye.
His face was nearly bald on the side with the missing eye, and Faolan knew that the claw marks on it had been made by another wolf. What animal attacked its own kind?
Saliva in long silvery threads dripped from the dark edges of the wolf pair's mouths. They edged closer to where Faolan stood snarling over the carcass. Several things became apparent to Faolan as the trio eyed one another. The two wolves were trying to edge each other out as they moved toward the cougar. Although they had tracked him together, the two were not working as a team. They were not cooperating, maneuvering as he and Thunderheart had in the defile, combining Faolan's swiftness and the grizzly's might to bring down the caribou. They had no strategy.
But Faolan did. The strategy came to him in a quick little burst of insight that flashed in his mind: They want my meat, but I am not going to let them have it. They will have to fight me, but they don't know how to fight together. Greed means I can distract them.
Faolan tore out a chunk of cougar meat and tossed it into the air. The two wolves scrambled to pounce on it and fell together in a snarling, tumbling mass. Faolan jumped straight into the air and crashed down on top of them. There was a loud popping sound, then a scream. The dark gray wolf appeared to break in the middle, his lower half skewing to one side and a jagged bone pushing through his pelt. The impact had snapped his spine.
The russet wolf growled and retreated, swinging his head to see with his single eye, which was now darting frantically from the gray wolf to Faolan to the chunk of meat.
Faolan's hackles were raised, his head held high, his ears upright and forward. He took a step toward the russet wolf. The wolf cowered, peeling back his lips in a grimace of fear. But still his one eye kept darting between the chunk of meat and the dead wolf. Faolan was growing impatient and tensed himself to spring, but much to his surprise, the russet wolf ran at the dead wolf and dragged the body into the brush.
Faolan knew he had nothing to fear from the one-eyed wolf, but at the same time he was mystified by his behavior. Why would the wolf drag the body of his friend away? He pricked his ears forward as he heard the rip of flesh. It can't be! He walked quietly toward the thicket of brush and peered through the tangled thorny branches.
The russet wolf's head was buried up to its single eye in the ripped belly of the dead wolf. So busy was he consuming the entrails that he wasn't even aware of Faolan's presence for some time. When finally he looked up, his face drenched in the blood and slime of the guts, Faolan saw only greed in that single eye. Laying his ears flat, the russet wolf stepped back, not in shame for his act, but in fear. He thinks I want his meat!
Faolan turned away and walked back to the cougar with one thought: I must eat to get fat. To get stronger. He would need his strength more than ever. What kind of savage world
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