Book 1: Youth of Delarn

Chapter 1 Lyalltines

Jophera was a cat. A dirty, patchy cat with scruffy grey and brown fur and a bent tail. He only had one eye, the other scratched up and milky, and a sharp and cruel sense of humor. Delarn absolutely adored him. He would often act annoyed, but more often would ignore her. Not much else would bother him as long as he had a wolf around, even if that wolf was sometimes a human girl. Jophera knew everything there was to know about navigating the town of Fennerey, so he would show her all sorts of secret passages. In exchange, she would bring him things such as old blankets, feathers, and food.

On that day, he was dozing in the attic of an abandoned house, just enough sunlight coming through the dusty window to warm his fur. Delarn had been very careful to come unseen because she knew her friends would give her a hard time if they saw her carrying the saucer of cream. When she found him, she placed the dish down and scooted it closer. He ignored her at first, but after a moment made a show of stretching and grumbling before lapping it up. She sat nearby and watched him, her knees pulled in, knowing he was more likely to ignore her if she interrupted now.

He said, "You're a naughty kitten, making me wait like this." His voice was rough and growly, but he spoke in a dialect that a wolf—or canines—could understand. She knew cats had their own language separate from hers, and so it was a sign of favor even if he wouldn't admit it. She changed into wolf not because it made it easier to understand him, but because it felt comfortable up here out of sight from the rest of the world. It felt like the highest place in the world to her. "I almost don't think I should tell you a story today."

"Come on, Jophera," she replied, creeping closer. He placed his paw on her nose as she continued, "You were so far up that it was hard to get it to you, but I got it all here without spilling it."

His tail flicked as he said, "I'm still annoyed about waiting. Here's something I can tell you. There are wolves pocketed all over this land. There are wolves in the deep forests, those that live along the seas, those high on the mountains and even some in the deserts, but you don't see any wolves that live in the cities."

"Well, we're here," Delarn replied, looking confused.

Jophera sneezed and replied, "But your sire told you you're not meant to be here, didn't he? He said you came from the far west. There's nothing important in the far west, or we cats would know about it."

"I've never met a cat that cares where a wolf is found," Delarn replied, and he hissed at her. She grew quiet as he continued.

"Well, wolves aren't too important, but we know where they're from and where they're found," he replied. "There are wolves all over this land, but not a single god that claims them as their own, none known to man."

Delarn wanted to argue that there wasn't a god for cats either but thought there might be, and already knew Jophera would have told her every cat was a god from the moment they were born, so they didn't need a single god to represent them all. Cats had nine lives, so they practically lived as long as gods.

"Do you know what that means? There aren't wolves in the cities, and there aren't wolves in the prayer books, so that must mean man doesn't care for them. That means that one day there will be a reckoning, and wolves that pretend to be humans are the first on the list. If humans hate anything, it's beings that claim to have the same intelligence as them they consider beneath them," Jophera told her, and she suddenly felt cold.

"No, that's not right," she replied. "My father helps people. They wouldn't just turn on him like that."

"They don't keep people they don't like, especially if they're useless to them," he replied.

"He's not useless! He works, and he helps around the town," she replied. "Everyone knows him! If they know what he is one day, then he'll just be more useful to them. He can do things humans can't."