Sephtis

31. A game.

I wait with the cubs, and when Zahar has finished greeting Kavah he comes over to the them and lets them leap all over him and nip him. They are merciless in their affection, attacking any part of him they can sink their jaws into. He is so patient with them, so tolerant. The cubs are still fat and fuzzy, but are a good deal bigger than when I first saw them.

While Kavah's cubs greet him, Shamar arrives. I smell the dust of the wheat-fields on her, and yellow grains and straws are entangled in her fur. She nuzzles Kavah, her head bent low beneath his, then she turns to me. Amitz has retreated into the den and I am glad, for it means Shamar and I can have some time without his jealous eyes on us. She leaps up on me, her paws on my shoulders, heavy she is, and she knocks me to the earth. Her tongue is all over my face and then she takes my head in her jaws and holds it against the dirt and I lie still. It is Shamar's way of saying she is the older sister, and higher ranked than me and I must remember that. Kavah does this too sometimes, when I greet him, as he does to other wolves, to say he is the wolf father, the wolf king. In the yielding the subdued wolf accepts Kavah's authority. It is a vital rite.

The wolves lives are filled with rituals; the ritual of a howling song before a hunt; the ritual of taking turns to eat, with the king wolf eating first; the guarding and grooming of the cubs; and many others I have seen, and others I am yet to learn. All are signs of their unity, their allegiance and obedience to their king. The rituals signify their communion, their soul.

After awhile Shamar releases me, and we roll together in the dust, my arms about her furry neck. Then she too, goes to the den, and I see that Kavah has regurgitated part of his meal for the cubs. While they feed, Kavah comes to greet me. He presses his nose against my face, and sniffs my hair and neck, and allows me to embrace him, bending my head beneath his snout as I do so. I wish he would greet me like Shamar does, rolling and tumbling with me in the dirt, but I understand that such a thing is beneath him, or perhaps he just keeps his most devoted caresses for Zahar. Whatever his reasons, his gentle salutations are enough.

Then he lies down with Zahar on the great stone slab and they are fond together. She and I will feed soon, down at the stream on the edge of our territory, where the fish are fat and slow in the warm shallows and the water is sweet.

I stand in this shining place, with the wolves at ease about me, and feel so blessed that I raise my arms to the sky and sing a praising song. Akar and Orbah howl to accompany me, their coal black noses raised and glistening in the sun, their little faces frowning with the concentration of their wails. Amitz's throaty voice joins in, and I turn to see him sitting at the mouth of the den, nose pointed to the sky, but his eyes slanted and watching me, always watching me.

Kavah opens one eye, and watches us solemnly, as if he doesn't approve of our tuneless caterwauling. I laugh in abandonment and fall upon the cubs, hugging them close to me. In a breath they are on their feet, daring for a game, and I race ahead of them to play tag in the fallen stones and crumbling ruins of the castle. At last, exhausted, they return to the den to sleep, and Amitz is beside me, his jaws opening and closing as he lowers his great chest to the earth, daring me to play the game with him.  His teeth are flashing in the sun, some much sharper then the cubs, and the memory of those other wolves flashes in my mind.  I walk away from the tattered black wolf, and sit down at the foot the the stone slab, Kavah's presence comforting me in my moment of weakness.