Dialogue and the Stars

A man with the build of a soldier and the height of an average woman stands at the top of the hill, ignoring the trickster wind's determined attempts to yank his hair from its neat ponytail. The salt-and-peppered strands whip and lash at his face, yet he doesn't so much as blink. Staring fixedly upward, into the dark sky, he sighs deeply, a faintly perceptible frown tugging at his habitual poker face.1

Statuesque, he remains stiffly perched in place even as the brush rustles softly near the base of the hill, permitting a large, ruddy Mexican wolf to emerge. Head down, holding her ears back but not flattened, tail in a low, friendly arc, the shaggy bitch pads to the man's side, pressing her muzzle into the palm of his right hand. Her tongue flicks out, giving his soft primate skin a few shy submissive licks, and finally he 'deigns' to glance down, acknowledging her submission with a glance and a gentle scratch behind the ears.2

"'lo, Leaves," the blond man says in a voiceless whisper, heedful of the snickering wind-spirits. 3

The bitch shakes herself a bit, the brilliant red delta marking over her shoulders dulled to rust in the wan moonlight. Looking up at her packmate, Red-Leaves-Fall inclines her head to the left a touch, eyes widening almost imperceptibly. 4

Irritably, or perhaps nervously, Twelve Claws turns his left-hand knife over and over in his hand, and allows the frown to deepen. 5

"The stars," he replies to the bitch's wolf-language query. "I'm looking for the stars." 6

The bitch at his feet frowns some in turn, then inclines her head the other way before leaning forward in a deep bowing stretch. Thirty seconds later Red-Leaves-Fall has risen to her hind legs, and a human woman stands beside the man. She stands easily three or four inches taller and is equally powerful in build, but her body language remains both submissive and strongly lupine. She crouches some, so as not to tower over her ranking packmate, and leans her head back. 7

The breeze picks up, twisting through her autumnal auburn mane, and she runs her fingers through it awkwardly in an ineffectual attempt to stop its tumbling and rolling.8

"Stars," she enunciates carefully, squinting upward with her overlong hair clenched in both hands. 9

After a long moment of following his gaze, the bitch-turned-beauty releases her grip on her hair with one hand to point carefully at the sky beyond the waning gibbous moon.10

Here in the Deep Wylderness, far from the Glass Walkers' domain, every distant lamp shone with fabulous intensity, their icy hues making a glittering jewelbox of velvet-black midnight. 11

"There they are," Red-Leaves-Fall informs her packmate in a helpful tone. 12

The wolf-woman's almost childlike 'solution' to his problem wrings a reluctant but genuinely amused chuckle from the man. Shaking his head a little, he rests his free hand on her arm to signal her to lower it. 13

"I see them, Redsko," the Fenrir chuckles, deciding against telling her he wasn't looking for those stars... the Elder had been very clear about the terms of his mission. A No Moon born like himself, called Rotagar by his tribe, must be able to operate alone -- without the aid of the pack -- in an emergency; this quest was intended to train him. He must be able to aid his pack in the way of his moon without their help. 14

And even then, there was another reason, another reason that even the Elders were not privy to, one he privately felt was a weakness but still could not divest himself of. A small part of him felt the Red Talon might understand ... but he is a Fenrir. All weakness is forbidden, and to admit its existence is also to admit defeat by it, he feels. 15

So, quickly, he sought another way to explain, something that wasn't entirely a lie but which wouldn't break his vow. 16

"I wasn't being literal, hon."
"Literal means... sidewalk?" 17

English was Leaves' first human language, but having learnt it as an adult of three and a half winters, her grasp of its abstractions and inconsistencies was limited, to say the least. After about thirty seconds, the Fenrir figures out what Leaves meant and chuckles again, shaking his head. 18

"It means ... concrete, yes, but not in the sense of a sidewalk," the blond man tries to explain, now scowling as he tries to come up with a way to explain the abstract concept to the wolf-born woman staring so quizzically at him. 19

She wasn't stupid, not by any means -- in fact, 12 privately suspected she was smarter than most homids, and certainly him -- but English in particular didn't come easily to the lupus, with its homonyms and its arbitrariness; concrete and abstract concepts in particular caused a lot of translation issues. 20

Gesturing vaguely with the sacred fang-ivory knife, he starts to explain, but grunts and dismisses the attempt with an irate deep-throated growl a human throat should not have been able to produce.21

"Ask Chevron what it means," the No-Moon finally grunts, giving up. Chevron might be a mule, and Fiann to boot, but he was pack, and moreover, he had a much better grasp of both English and how to teach it to a lupus than did average-brained, human-born Twelve Claws. 22

Red-Leaves-Fall snorts, shaking her mane a bit. "You-mens have strange tongues," she shrugs, and, losing interest, returns her gaze to the sky with some fascination. "and stranger eyes. Why do you search for stars that are plain to see, Twelve Claws Rolls-in-Blood?"23

Krrsheh, Leaves, 12 sighs inwardly. I can't even explain what 'literally' means to you. How can I explain this?24

Sudden guilt at his attempt to deceive his packmate floods through the Rotagar. Tribal law or no tribal law, he feels suddenly, this should not get between packmates. Great Father Fenris demands strength, but he also demands forthrightness and honor from his cubs ... Am I acting like Uli Brightjaws, before he became the Scar-Heart?25

A long, contemplative silence stretches out, in which Red-Leaves-Fall and Twelve Claws stare upward side by side as if neither could possibly have anywhere else to be.26

As is often true, 12's capacity for this kind of hard thinking runs out before Leaves' patience does. Somehow, the lithe red bitch always managed to see through him. Even though he is almost thirty years old and she is barely ten, she reads him like he would read a book. 27

Growing tired and annoyed with himself, 12 grunts, almost resentfully, "I was looking for Gaia in the stars."28

Without another word, he drops to all fours, slipping instantly into the shape of a grizzled, black-pointed Northlands wolf with the hard musculature and criss-crossing scars borne by all who engage in serious combat every day of their lives. 29

Head down, tail even with his spine but upturned at the tip, Twelve Claws stalks down the hill and disappears into the forest without another word, in English or wolf-speak.30

Surprised and confused by her packmate's strange behavior, Red-Leaves-Fall remains in human form for a minute or two, staring after him. Then she wrinkles her nose wolfishly and, as she's seen their alpha Truth-Be-Told do, shrugs to herself. 31

The man-born are so strange, she sighs to herself, feeling as if she should have understood her packmate's problem but still completely clueless about the matter.32

As usual, Red-Leaves-Fall could not understand what 12 was looking for in the stars. From his body language, his scent, and the tone of his voice, he was seeking ... rest? Reassurance? Peace? 33

He said he was seeking Mother Gaia. Red-Leaves-Fall supposes the stars are as good a place as any to look; did She not place them there, as She did everything else? She could also tell he felt weak, annoyed, tired ... But about what? 34

Great Fenris knows, surely. Old Wolf of the Woods knows everything in the hearts of the wolves, even man-born wolves. But Red-Leaves-Fall does not.35

Sighing, she settles back on her haunches, reverting back to her birth-skin. The sensory mesh consisting of the scents and sounds of the forest immediately slides back into being, soothing her. Her view of the stars did not fade, however, as her spirit exerts itself to prevent her optic organs from changing with the rest of her body.36

As false dawn begins to break the tableau of perfect contemplative night-time stillness, still a wolf with human eyes stares up into the promise of day, obeying the irresistible instinct to Learn, to Understand, but first and foremost seeking answers for her packmate as a Crescent Moon must. Diplomatically, but with all the authority due her as a Theurge, she stretches her inner self, reaching out to distant shining things far beyond Earthly knowledge. 37

A perfect exchange, black and still in twinkling lights and the aeon-spanning howl of a wolf's heart. Knowledge is offered and received in a silent dialogue with eternal distant brights.38

The stars know many things. A few have urgent news to share from the realm of Meros Path-Knower, outrider of this particular Gaian base in the universe. 39

If they know what her packmate sought, they do not reveal it.40

When the young Red Talon curls up beside her wolf-bodied packmates beneath the gilded shards of dawn as they pierce the dying night, eyes sliding closed, the most important messages handed down by the constellations flash through her mind again. She shivers, snugging closer to her packmates. 41

She knows that to prophecy is her purpose under the Moon, by Mother Gaia's will. She does not find that information very reassuring, knowing that the Mother will have very little to do with what's to come.42

Still, the time for human-mind is over, and her wolf-heart whispers, rest.43

The pack sleeps.44

They dream of tiny points of light, red and blue, yellow and white, burning cold in the distance, far from the reach of their Mother Goddess. Twitching ears and soft whines echo the basso wail of a demon chained somewhere amongst those luminous lamps, shrieking its maddened rage to the world as it writhes and strains at the bars of its cage.45

The others' dreams quickly revert to normal, quiet rabbit-filled graynesses, but a red wolf shivers, turning over in her sleep, dreaming of a warning from the stars.