enough to hear the wolves-we know that. But she doesn't seem to care."

"What do you want me to do? I've talked to her. I've urged her. I've begged and pleaded with her to live. By the gods, I've cursed her. I've even had Tehena curse her-and you know the kind of vitriol that scrawny woman can spout. I've brought nearly every friend Dion has to the house to try to force her to wake. By all the moons that ride the sky, I can barely stand to see her as she is." He gestured impotently at the house. "That... apathetic body in there-that's not my mate. That's not the Dion who climbs and runs and breathes the wilderness. That's not the woman who stood with me before the council, who Called the wolves, who fought with me to protect her right to ran her own trails. That body in there-that's not the Gray Wolf of Randonnen. Dion-my Dion-is the one who conned me into camping out in a stinkweed patch-remember that? She's the one who put fireweed

in my extractor bag. Who danced with me on Dawnbreak Cliffs. That in there-that's not my mate. That's what's left of someone when the person is gone. It's nothing more than a shell."

"She'll heal, Aranur-"

Aranur cut his uncle off with a gesture. "It's not just her body, Gamon. It's her center-her heart. Can't you see it? It's no longer the heart of a wolf.

It's broken-shattered like glass. And I'm not enough to mend it. Me, Olarun, Tomi, the wolves-we're not enough to help her."

Now Gamon sounded angry. "So when Danton died, so did she? She's

gone, and you're just going to accept that?"

"Dammit, that's not what I'm saying. It's just... She's just... " He half raised his fists to pound on the porch, then let them fall helplessly. For a moment that seemed to hang between them forever, he stared into Gray Yoshi's eyes. Something old flickered deep in the yellow gaze; some gray- bound grief released. Aranur's breath caught like ice in his throat. When he

could finally breathe again, when he turned back to the house, Gamon followed in silence.

The eyes of the wolves turned after them. Deep in the pack-song, a thread

of gray shifted, twisted, curled around another thought. An older grief, brought by slitted eyes, washed through the memories. Longing swept back and forth in the packsong while the fire of the fevers burned away at their griefs, leaving only graves behind. The wolves howled, and Gray Yoshi stirred. He gathered those threads together. His yellow eyes gleamed as he blended the song and sent it to Hishn's mind.

At Dion's bedside, the gray wolf rose and placed her head on the bed next

to the wolfwalker's arm. Softly, Hishn whuffed. Her whine was so low that it was more mental than physical, and somehow it reached the wolfwalker. Dion didn't stir, didn't open her eyes, but a single tear formed at the edge of her eyelashes. It hung for a moment, like hope before it falls. Then it slid down her face to her hair.

VIII.

Demon within Doesn't hide in your heart- He is meshed with your Self From which you can't part.

When you feel Demon's touch He is goading you on; When you feel Demon move He is guarding his own; When you hear Demon shriek He has taken his hold- Not of your heart- But your soul.

-The Tiwar, in Wrestling the Moons Previous Top Next Dion stuffed an extra tunic into her saddlebag, then strapped the bag closed.

Her other saddlebag was packed; her weapons were oiled and sharpened; her herb pouches were full; her dnu was eager to go. Gray Hishn waited for her at the edge of the forest, where the narrow road led from their clump of houses down toward the town. There were wolves in the mountains- she could hear them like a thunder in her head. As though her illness had made her more sensitive, their voices called her strongly.

She looked at her hands on the leather. She was thin, she realized. Her fingers had been scarred before with living, but now they were gaunt- more bone than flesh. She ought to eat more, she told herself absently, knowing even as she did so that she had no taste for food. The healing the wolves had promoted in her for the past three months had sapped her as much as it had made her whole. Her lips twisted bitterly. Whole... If she hadn't been a wolfwalker, she'd still be tender from the wounds she'd sustained. As it was, with the ridges of flesh missing along her shoulders and back, with the muscles of her legs as seamed as a patchwork quilt, she was as whole as she was ever going to be. As whole as one could be when one had a void in one's heart. As whole as one was who was no longer a mother. As whole as one who was lost. She wondered what that ringrunner's storyteller would call it, then lost her expression completely.

No good, no lesson, no truth could come of this. No storyteller could put a better face on what she felt right now.

Aranur covered her hand with his. His grip was not gentle, and she looked up. "Don't start," she said softly, looking up.

"You can't run away."

"And you can't protect me from my memories."

His gray eyes were like flint. "When I told you to make yourself less available to everyone, I didn't mean this."

Dion stared at him. Her expression was suddenly stricken, and Aranur's

grip tightened. "Dion?"

She tried to speak.

"Dion?" he asked more sharply "If I... What you said, Aranur. Don't you realize? If I had answered the

healing summons, we would not have gone to Still Meadow. The boys would have stayed in Sharbrere. We would never have been caught by the lepa."

He crushed her hand in his. "Don't do this, Dion."

"How can I help it? That message ring Vlado brought from the elders... If I had agreed to do my job, our son-my little wolf-would still be alive."

"You can't know that-"

She cut him off, her voice harsh. "I know that the one time I reject my

responsibility, I lose the life of our son."

"You didn't reject your responsibility; you were supposed to be off duty.

And the boys had been promised a trip to Still Meadow. Their escorts could

still have taken them out-everyone does it. Then both of them-and their escorts-would be dead. At least you saved Olarun."

"Did I? I was uneasy about the lepa from the start, but I didn't listen to

myself. I was so determined to be with the boys... Oh, moons, Aranur, but what if I was so desperate for this break from work that I sacrificed our

son?"

Aranur was shocked at how haggard she looked. He didn't remember grabbing her, but he was suddenly shaking her, shortly, viciously. He couldn't help it, even when she cried out at his grip. "Don't say that," he

snarled. "Don't think it. Don't let a single word of that cross your lips again. I'll be damned if I let guilt kill you after all that you've survived."

She stared back at him. "And what have I survived?" she repeated harshly,

finally. "My son-your son-is dead because I took him to Still Meadow when the lepa were flocking. My other son won't speak to me because I killed his brother and left him to face the lepa alone. Even the wolves reject me because of Sobovi's death on my hands."

"Everyone goes to Still Meadow this time of year. And the lepa were late in migration. You had no way to know they would flock. The spring diggers had gone there at dawn that day, and they saw no sign of flocking." His grip was hard enough to bruise her, but neither one of them noticed. "And Gray Yoshi may resent you, Dion, but he doesn't reject you, and you know it. It was he, not Hishn, who led the pack to bring you home. Even I felt it. He is as much a part of you through Gray Hishn as you are part of the pack."

"You speak of meadows and lepa and diggers and wolves, but do not speak

of our sons."

His expression grew bleak. "Damn you," he whispered. He dropped his grip, and she closed her eyes. Finally, she turned away.

"Damn you," he snarled louder. He grabbed her arm, forcing her to face him again. "Don't you dare run away from me now. You've survived worlags and plague and raiders and wolves. You've survived me, for

moons' sake. Even if you can't look at me now, I'm still here. You still have me. You have Tomi. You have Gamon and Rhom and the rest of your family. You have friends, Dion, who care about you-"

"Words. Words." She shook him off.

"What you need is here, Dion, not out in the wilderness."

"What I need is here? By the light of the moons, have you no sense? All

that I have here are ghosts, Aranur. Every time I turn around, I see my son."

She grabbed the fence post beside her. 'This is the post he used to climb.

That is the tree he fell out of last fall. Over there is the hole he buried his boots in to keep me from seeing the way he'd cut them up-"

"Don't you think it's the same for me?" Aranur's voice was quiet as stone.

Her tone matched his. "Yes, I believe it is the same for you. And I wish I could ache for the way you feel, for your grief, for the emptiness in your

eyes when you look for him in the morning. But I can't. I can't feel anything but that which now consumes me."

"We feel the same thing, Dion-"

"No," she cut in sharply. "We don't. It is not you who carries the blame for

Danton's death. It is I."

Aranur didn't answer.

"My love," she said, "I can't see myself anymore."