Page 48 of Blacktail

Blacktail raised his head and snarled at it, too weak even to growl.

“You came,” the man said. It spoke to him in the language of the hunt. Its accent was thick, but not incomprehensible. “The little ones—the mices—they said you would come.”

Blacktail tilted his head quizzically, then passed out.

iii

He woke to the smell of water. The stream he had yearned toward for so long flowed deep and clean a few inches from his nose. He stretched out his neck and drank for a long time, lapping the sweet water. It cooled his throat in a way that reminded him of his mother’s kiss. When his thirst was slaked, he looked around him. It was night now. He was deep in the stony desert. He smelled a Car not far away, but its fumes were cool. It had been asleep for a long time. The lights of men were only a dim glow on the horizon. The sounds of the road were only a distant murmur, barely audible over the gurgling stream. Stars and the moon shone down over red sandstone boulders, agave and juniper, tumbleweeds.

How the hell did I get all the way out—

“My Lord Hunter is better now,” said a voice from behind him. Blacktail whipped around, suddenly enough that his broken bones ground together. He winced, but again the pain was distant. The strangeness of that struck him, but he had more pressing concerns.

“You,” he said to the man. He blinked. “You can talk?”

The two-legs shrugged. “Sometimes. When the hunt rises in me. Not always. Other times I forget. How do you say? You know how there are times when you sleep and chase the rabbit that isn’t there, but when you wake you forget the rabbit, and forget that you chased it? Is like that.”

“A dream?”

The man wagged his head up and down. “Yes! That word! Dream! When I not on the hunt, times like now is like a dream.” He paused. “But even when I talk the true talk, I maybe not do it so good.”

“You do well enough,” Blacktail said. “My leg—”

“Is not hurting, yes?”

Blacktail wagged agreement. “How did you…?”

The two-legs frowned. “There are no words. Magic. Men have magic. That is how I do it.”

“Are you a wizard, then?”

“No. Not me. In some places, places of men, there are…” Again, he struggled to find the words. “Special acorns whose magic is to fix hurt things. Some take pain away. Some fix the blood curses. When I bring you here, I see you very hurting, very sick. I go to the place of the magic-that-heals and bring for you these things.”

“As easy as that?”

“No. Not easy,” the man said. “They not want to give to me. But I make them give.”

“Thank—”

“No! Not thank. I am of the faith. All faithful know of Lord Hunter’s search. All pray for him. Not thank. Is my honor to do this thing.” He paused. “May I come closer? I bringed food.” He pointed at a crumpled body laying a little ways away. It was human. “I bring?”

Blacktail’s stomach rumbled. “Yes,” he said. “Come.”

Though himself fairly slight, the man picked up the body with little apparent effort. Its head flopped back. Blacktail saw that the throat had been torn out, not with some metal thing, but with teeth. The wounds were more tears than bites because, of course, the beast that killed it had no fangs. Well, Blacktail thought, looking at the man with a new regard, I suppose he can hardly help that. “You said ‘faithful.’ You are of the hunt, then?”

The man smiled back at him, but sadly. “I want to be,” he said. “I try. But Lord Hunter find me too slow to be of his pack, I think.” With a grunt, he lay the body before Blacktail.

“You seem to do well enough,” Blacktail said. He scented the body on the ground. The groin was so badly mutilated that it was impossible to tell whether it had been male or female. The meat was fresh, though.

“Yes,” the two-legs agreed. “How is it you say? ‘My teeth are sharp’?”

“That’s what we say,” Blacktail agreed, his stomach rumbling. “And they are sharp.” Blacktail ripped a chunk out of the dead beast’s haunch. Still warm, he noted with approval. “This one is a big meal.”

This presented a question of etiquette. To wolves, eating the flesh of your own kind was an abomination. With men…who could tell? Anything seemed possible. Also, he thought, it’s his kill. It would be rude not to at least ask. “Care to join me?”

“I am thanking you,” the man said. He settled in across from Blacktail and tore off a piece.

They ate in silence for a long time. When Blacktail was full, he looked up at the man and licked his chops. He wagged his tail once, grudgingly. “You have given me much aid, two-legs.”