War-Maker.

30. Songs.

'What of Kaluli?' the wind sighed. 'Amitz has found that which he was not seeking, yet Sephtis was.' The soft autumn breeze whispered around the rock tors. 'Kaluli, Kaluli. Whither Kaluli? And whither the Curse-lifter?' It rustled in the little white everlastings, swaying the blossoms on their slender stalks; rustled and sighed.

For Kulali, it was his time to grow; time to listen to the whispering breeze; time to learn that neither life nor death is a matter only of bones, of blood, and of flesh. It was time to race with the wind across the mountains; a time to seek and a time to be sought.

The strange tales were still drifting around the mountains, and there were voices in the wind singing. Many had heard the songs the birds - of day and night - had sung of the Wolf-woman's survival of the harsh winter. All, from the utmost mountain peaks to the bottom of the ranges had heard the sparrowhawk cry, and knew of the seekers' journey, including The Chaser. The villages near the castle ruins of the north were full of stories told by bards and tellers alike, of the cursed one that ran alongside the evil spirits of the forest.

He sat next to a roaring fire, his door firmly shut against the night, and his people as he stared into the dancing, mesmerizing flames. The king - Merikh -  knew all the legends about the wolves that roamed the mountains. Had, alongside all the others learnt these tales from a very young age, had, in fact, learnt them alongside the Wolf-woman herself. All these tales he had learnt. He had listened to the bards songs of her escape, listened to them tell of her survival, he had heard the tellers and the voices in his dreams, and he was afraid.

The wolves were the inheritors, the only inheritors of the two outstanding strains of beings in the mountain world. It was knowledge that only Kings, and the Kings of Kings were ever gifted, the real truth behind the Fae's hate of the beasts, for the wolves were neither animal, or man. If they were ever allowed, ever fully released to re-inherit all their magnificent qualities, and if guided, they would, when fully developed, be sought after by many, be the envy of all other beings, and possibly become the most powerful creatures in his world, and he, Merikh, would become nothing, he would be reduced to an insignificant speck, and that idea outraged him the most.

---

I watched the silver wolf as I lay against Amitz's side. He had returned to his black wolf form, and was warming my back with his thick, course fur and I could feel his heart beat against my spine. Kulali was now the odd one out, and he must not be allowed to break up our strange, little pack; he had to stay with Amitz and I; I could not lose another kinsman.

Perhaps we could return to the summer den in the north; perhaps we should even return to the castle ruins, where Kavah's old den had been. I sighed, looking out with infinite longing to where the white night bird lived. I had never thought past this point, everything had been about getting to where we were now, south, not once had I thought what to do once we had reached the end of our journey, and the lack of knowledge on what to do next scared me a bit. So we stayed close to the great rock tor for the passing of a moon, before wandering down the long pine rimed glades that led to the purple gray canyon, the very same place where the white fire had struck down Shamar.

In the beginning, Kulali was not difficult to keep close as he too, seemed unsure what to do; yet as the days wore on he became restless and would often wander off a ways before returning to walk at our sides as the days continued to lengthen. It seemed that the high lands of the granite tors was weaving a spell over him, and at last one evening, he did not return to us. I was greatly worried, and explained my fears to Amitz as we walked hand in hand threw the growing gloom of night. Would our brother ever become whole?

No wise Kavah was there to teach him the wisdom, and harmony of the bush like he had been for me and Amitz, or to commune with him that he who travels alone travels the furthest, that the unpossessing is the unpossessed. Even myself, who was still barely two handfuls of summers knew these truths. I had tried to hold him. Though this time, Kulali had gone.

The silver wolf really had meant to return to the girl, and the wolf, yet not wolf Amitz, or maybe return to his birthplace to the north, but instead he went a little way down into a shrub filled valley. He found some rocks in which to shelter, a singing stream, and grasses filled with the field-mouse, and decided to stay there till morning.