WOLF DAWN: Science Fiction Thriller/ Romance (Forsaken Worlds) (21 page)

The creature paused, wondering if it should be afraid.

After a moment’s hesitation, with the certainty of experience, it thought once more: “Berries … berries are for eating.” But then it was once again aware of the unnatural gray-white heat from the berries. Red … red … is … the … color … of … the wolves!” Fear. Then it thought: “Red means wolves, wolves mean death. Terror. Red berries! Quick! Run! They are going to eat me!” And with that the Twill had sped off as fast as its two legs could carry it.

Ash gave a low chuckle, and shook his head. Those poor twills. Hopelessly moronic and not even able to fly. It was lucky that they were able to multiply so rapidly, because they were forever being eaten.

Then there were the whitehawks, with wingspans twice as long as he was tall. Wonderful, cunning birds, whitehawks lived only on freshly killed meat. Flying or hunting with them was the most incredible experience. Their vision, again far superior to human, was sharp from unbelievable distances and from their point of view everything they saw belonged to them. He sighed. After mind-touch with a whitehawk it was always difficult to come back to his heavy, wingless form.

When not engaged in mind-touch, hunting, or finding a meal, Ash spent time learning Opan Basic on Icom. It was spoken with a unique accent, and he was trying to duplicate it so that he would fit in.

The wolves of Opan were living in a World Park area, in theory safe from humankind. There was a small settlement, a town nearby across Deep River. From what he could tell, commerce was flourishing. There were fringe dwellers near the town, commonly called Ferals. These people were “off the grid.” Few if any had had Icom and for various reasons they did not subscribe to the more normal lifestyle. Ash had seen them from afar and had touched some briefly.

Ash was entirely dependent on his adopted wolf family for survival. With the mountain temperature warmer, hunting had not been difficult for the wolves. He planned to visit the fringe and see if he could trade animal pelts for clothes, solar light and heating, and numerous other items he needed.

He was making a mental Icom list of things he might be able to trade, when he finally fell asleep.

It was warm in the den as the wolf family woke to another day. Seeta waged her tail with pleasure, thumping the earth, while Long Fang sat on his haunches, complacently waiting. Ash dressed and gathered his stave.

“Hello, girl,”
Ash said to Seeta.
“And hello to you, Long Fang,”
he added with a polite bow. Long Fang remained motionless, his cool reserve apparent.

Ash’s adopted parents did not reply. Ash knew that they had little patience for his incessant chatter. Wolves were far more aware of subtle changes in physical stance and expression. To a wolf an entire tapestry of information could be transmitted with one tiny shift of an eye: “There, did you notice that bush rat? It is high to the left. You circle, and together we shall flush it out and eat it.” A wolf didn’t need to say these things. Wolves just knew what was meant from a thousand different minute bodily shifts.

To the wolves, Ash’s constant communication was tactless, childish and gauche. It was as if he was of a lower, uneducated social class but they tolerated him anyway. Ash giggled. He was probably the only one in the entire Freeworlds who knew and appreciated how funny the wolves’ attitude toward humanity was.

Silently, the three left the den, moving out into the crisp, still morning air. It was early, yet the sky was clear and green, showing the promise of warmth for a summer day on Opan.

L
ong Fang studied the cub as they moved off into the forest to hunt. The man-cub was thriving, but was proving useless in the hunt. It had qualities that were at once unfamiliar and yet still had the stamp of Pack. He understood why Seeta wanted the pup. There was a “rightness” there. But what was it? Long Fang sensed the strange blue stones that the cub had on his thigh. They gave off blue light and they were alive yet at the same time dead. Long Fang felt no ill will toward the Delian talisman. There was a “rightness” to those stones, too — but this was not the rightness he felt when he considered the cub.

Long Fang loped far ahead, and sat down on a rocky outcrop. The man-cub followed, lumbering after him, careless and loud. It was stupid. Could it even be trained? He continued his scrutiny, seeking an answer to the unknown. His senses twitched and the hair of his ruff rose. Yes, there was something there, something not human: something
animal.
Still, Long Fang could not free himself of the thought that this cub was a threat. The man-cub seemed to know what he was thinking. Was the cub aware of his secrets? The idea unsettled him.

Long Fang recalled his first cub. The cub had been born weak and ill. It would not have lived and its drawn out death had caused Seeta pain. There was only one thing to do. While Seeta was out, Long Fang had gone into the den and had lain on it, until it could breathe no more. The sick cub had been too weak to put up an extended fight.

Long Fang had never told Seeta. He had acted correctly. Was it not causing his mate distress? Would it not die anyway? Yes and yes. The cub was better dead sooner than later. But now this man-cub had come. What was it about him? The way the pup looked at him … as if he knew.

Long Fang rose to all fours, his mind made up. The man-cub was dangerous. Seeta had recovered. She would get over the cub’s death without the distress she suffered before. They would have another cub.

He moved ahead, nose to the ground, searching for scent. The cub followed, clumsy and slow on his pathetic two legs. Nearby, Seeta called to him.

“All right, I’m coming,” Ash replied. “I’ll catch up.”

Long Fang had difficulty concealing his irritation from his sharp-eyed mate. The cub held them back and always would. He was slow and weak, even with the scent of animal upon him.

Long Fang knew that the life a wolf leads would kill the man-cub. This interloper would perish through his own weakness, his inability to survive. The time would come and he, Long Fang, would be ready when it did. Soon. Soon now the cub would die. Resolved, Long Fang trotted off to begin the hunt.

They traveled for some hours, stopping at a stream to drink, resting often and moving slowly, at a pace that Ash could manage. Long Fang’s nostrils quivered. Ah, a snout. Perhaps now was the time. The snout was a dangerous foe. This one was hidden down in a nearby thicket. Long Fang stopped. “
Seeta,”
he said, touching noses.
“There’s a snout in that gully.”
He nodded in the opposite direction to the thicket. “
You and I will kill it. We will leave the cub here.”

“I thought I scented the snout over near the thicket. Could there be two?”

“No,”
Long Fang snapped, displaying his teeth.
“Come.”
He trotted off.

Seeta gave Ash a long look communicating
, “Stay.”
Then she obediently trailed behind her mate.

A
sh stood near some blue-leafed trees and bushes. A soft breeze tickled his long black hair across his face, so he pushed it back behind his ear. He would have to cut it soon. A few white clouds billowed across the light green Opan skies. Blue, green and white. Opan was not unlike Delian, except on Delian the sky was blue and the trees were green. He didn’t even want to think about the reds of winter. The air was crisp and fresh, but he felt warm in the last of the clothes he had taken with him in a pack from
Assurance
. That was another thing he would need to get, more clothes. Particularly as he was rapidly outgrowing these.

The wolves had evidently scented something, and they wanted him to stay here. Their physical communications were tremendously subtle, but he was catching on. Ash had been jogging steadily for some time and he was happy to rest. Hunting had built up his muscles, but no matter how strong he became, he was never able to keep up. With winter over, the pack had disbanded, returning to their family groups. Today it was just Ash, Seeta, and Long Fang on the search for fresh meat.

With nothing to occupy himself, Ash did what he often did with his free time. He moved to the purple trunk of a tree and, rested against it. Then he shut his eyes and began to search for some animal to mind-touch.

Ash smiled, fleetingly contacting Seeta. She was excited and looking forward to a meal of snout. From the pictures in her mind it looked like boar. Good. It would be a change from an old stringy twill bird, yellow rat or pig-dog. Would it taste like Delian swine?

Ash recoiled in surprise — he had touched something different, but what was it? With reaching mental fingers, he took hold.

Contact.

His hands gripped the tree convulsively. Ash felt huge, strong and powerful, the master of his territory. Had he mind-touched the snout? It was certainly an animal, and it was mad. Disoriented, Ash focused, attempting to see though the eyes of the animal he inhabited.

The animal thought:
“Something is in my territory. Small and weak, it may make good eating. It stands there unmoving. Why?”
A burning fury consumed him, starting within his chest and spreading throughout his flesh, down to each of his four limbs. Ash swelled and tingled with anger.
“It stands still: it is taunting me. I’ll show it who the Master of the forest is.”

Ash swayed with the effort to maintain contact. The boar’s rage was so fierce! Fighting for control, he finally saw through the animal’s eyes. The animal was staring
… at him.
It was going to charge!

Ash broke contact with the boar instantly.

“Seeta!”
he projected,
“Save me!”

Ash swung around and saw the snout bearing down on him. The Opan swine was enormous, over twice the size of Long Fang. It was a light blue color with muscles that bunched under its smooth coat. Four gigantic pinkish tusks pointed straight toward him, long enough to run him through. Powerfully built, it was moving with incredible speed for its size, like a full-grav freightship during re-entry.

Shocked into stillness, Ash knew there was nothing he could do.

Seeta appeared in his peripheral vision. Far ahead of her mate, she was going to attack the snout on her own. It would kill her.

“No!”
Ash thought, screamed, projected:
“Stop.”

Trueborn! Inhuman!

The snout obeyed. Bewildered, it slid to a halt as if felled with an axe.

Reacting instinctively, Ash raised his knife high above him and plunged it into the creature with all his strength. It went into the snout’s head, between its long pink tusks, directly between its small, maddened eyes.

The animal collapsed.

Seeta arrived then, her powerful jaws ripping into its jugular. Long Fang charged in to help his mate, but he was too late. The boar was dead.

Ash fell to his knees, still holding the knife. What had he done? His hands shook from that commanding spike of adrenaline. They trembled but couldn’t release the dagger, that small bit of metal that had made the difference between life and death. He had caused the snout to stop. Residual waves of heat filled him. Somehow he had used his power. Could he project commands to animals? He was too disturbed to dwell on it now.

Finally able to relinquish his knife, Ash hugged Seeta.
“Thank you, girl, for coming to my rescue. You would have saved me, even at the expense of your own life.”
Seeta licked him, completely in the present. Any concern for his certain death had already vanished. She wagged her tail furiously. Her mind was full of pleasure: they would have enough to eat for days.

Ash carved the meat, cutting out what he felt able to carry to the den. He’d make a fire and roast it there.

Long Fang sat near the dead boar and Ash wondered why he made no attempt to assert his superiority by having first choice of meat at the kill. Perhaps because Ash had killed it? Or maybe it was because he had saved Seeta’s life. Ash smiled. Maybe Long Fang would have a bit more respect for him now.

Seeta and Long Fang ate, as usual, exactly where the animal had fallen.

Ash took an hour carrying his meat back to the den. He started a fire and whittled a stick, roasting thin strips. He savored the smell. It
was
like Delian swine and he took his time and cooked it all. After eating his fill, he wrapped the remaining portion in yellow vine leaves, and set it aside for later. Then he lay back contentedly, with his jacket for a pillow, and enjoyed the warmth of the fire. He had no explanation for how he had stopped the boar, and he supposed he could figure that out later.

What he must decide was what was he to do now? He was well and Seeta was also healed. Should he return to civilization? He was the Prince of Delian after all. He frowned. Ash was not yet even fourteen years old. It was against the law for him to be unsupervised at his age, and he was illegally on Opan. Besides, he didn’t trust the authorities. His mother had been running from something. Perhaps someone could adopt him until he was older? Rather unlikely. He could also be forced to sign an Indentureship. He shifted, uncomfortable at the idea.

The UW Government had made it impossible to falsify one’s age. Everyone was registered, even fringe dwellers. Hand and eye prints were taken as well as blood and cell samples, all recorded from birth. Otherwise criminals could change names and start again on another world.

He checked Opan news daily, but there was never anything about his world. How could he get passage to Delian? Off-world travel was almost impossible. But why should he return to civilization at all? The idea hit like an electric jolt, filling him with delight. He hated being a prince. It would be even worse to be king, he was sure. The thought of living without people for a number of years didn’t disturb him. He had the wolves for company and he could continue his education using Icom. Little would change in some respects.

Meanwhile he would continue to search for
Assurance,
which had to be somewhere nearby. It was a needle-class warship, not as big as standard but certainly big enough. Why couldn’t he find it? Of course he didn’t even have any sense of which direction it was in. Due to injury and illness, not to mention being unconscious most of the way here, he had a dim memory of his journey to the den. Ash frowned with exasperation. The wolves would not tell him. Pleading ignorance, they had successfully thrust any thought of
Assurance
from their minds.