Page 72 of Blacktail

“How can that be? The beasts I saw were all fat as…as berries.” When he spoke the last two words, his tone grew soft and confused.

“Are you all right?” Slighen asked. “You sounded strange for a moment.”

“Something…I can’t quite remember. For a moment I—” Blacktail cut himself off and shook his head. “It is of no consequence,” he said, his voice growing strong again. “Continue.”

The owl and the opossum exchanged a glance, but they let it go. “She leaves food, not just for Milo and his lot, but the deer and the birds and the squirrels. Some of them even feed from her hand,” said Asah. “All beasts of this land, cat and dog, hawk and sparrow, rabbit and deer and doe.”

“Everyone?”

Slighen shrugged. “Not me, not Asah, not a few others. But most. Almost all.”

Blacktail considered this for a long time. “This is another blasphemy, then.”

“Yes, lord,” said Slighen. “It is.”

“Then I shall find Mercy and eat it, and it will defile the will of the Forest God no more.”

“Lord?” asked Asah. “You seek to end the cult of Mercy?”

“Before the sun rises.”

Asah and Slighen shared a look. “Perhaps, lord, you should not take such a burden upon yourself.”

“Eh? Why not?”

“Lord, the house of Mercy is not without defenses. The ones who spoke to you were fat and weak, true enough. But not all who dwell there chose to speak.”

“I’m listening.”

“I’m told there is a dog—I’ve not seen him myself, but some who I trust have—running with that pack. They call him a—what was the term?”

“A ‘hair missile.’ ”

“Right. That was it. He is their champion. This one is not fat and weak, but still remembers the old ways. Though he is enslaved to the two-legs, they cultivated him for the great hunts raised among the packs of men. He served in a great desert war with what he calls ‘the pack of green.’ ”

“Do dogs come in green?”

“Not that I know of. Not around here, at any rate. I think it’s just a saying. Either way, this one has tasted the flesh of men and liked it. They call him Sarge.”

“Perhaps he can be reasoned with,” Blacktail said.

“No, lord, with respect—he cannot. Mercy is his sun and his moon. He will die for her. Any of them will. But unlike most, this one will not die easily.”

“I fear no dog,” Blacktail said.

“He would be no match for you,” Slighen agreed. “Not alone. But he will not be alone. The cult of Mercy is a many-of-manys, and this dog will lead the hunt against you. He will lead it well.”

Blacktail said nothing to this.

“Sarge, yes,” said Asah. “He has fury and teeth, perhaps to match your own. But fury and teeth are not the real danger.”

“What, then?”

“One of the cats,” said Slighen. “The one called Larkspur. She is a witch.”

“Is she of the coven of the Old Kitty Mother?” Blacktail asked. “She and I get on well enough.”

“Larkspur? She was once, yes,” said Slighen. “But the Old Kitty Mother banished her when she fell in with Mercy.”