Free Wolf Hunting by Jane Lindskold

exactly when its light—faint and diffuse as it was—would touch the mirror. They would have plenty of time to try their various experiments, and then, if none of them worked, well, the moon would be nearly as full on the next night. They could try again.
    Plik held the lenses that he and Powerful Tenderness hoped would help with the repeated channeling of the light. The mirror Powerful Tenderness held was an artifact taken from the Tower of Magic before it had fallen. As far as any had been able to tell, there was nothing magical about it, but they had all thought it was best to use something once dedicated to Magic for this task.
    “All” was perhaps not the best way to think of it. He and Powerful Tenderness had agreed that this was the best course of action. Through messages relayed by the now weary-winged Bitter and Lovable, they had the concurrence of the majority of the beast-souled as well. None of them were happy about the need to work with magic, but it seemed necessary.
    Firekeeper and Blind Seer had refused to offer any contribution to the process, stating that they knew little about magic. Plik thought the two Royal Beasts were being stubborn and deliberately obstructionist. The lore and traditions that governed magic might have been all but destroyed in their homeland, but he had gathered they had learned something of magical lore in New Kelvin.
    However, although Plik had worked day after day beside Firekeeper, he could not say he understood her. He would find himself chatting comfortably with her and Powerful Tenderness, then his tongue would dry as he found himself groping for some idea or concept to bridge the gap between her youth and his age, her wolfish outlook and his own shaped by a life spent as both part of a community and yet ever a little apart.
    Blind Seer paced nervously through a narrow route that kept him within his assigned duty station. His hackles were slightly raised, his head up, every line of his greyfurred body alert with tension. Firekeeper was more still, but she too showed tense alertness. Even Rascal, normally mischievous as most young things are when they start feeling their strength, was unduly quiet. The awareness that he was the only thing between the darkness and some unnamed horror had clearly weighed the young wolf down as nothing else had managed to do.
    “Here comes Lady Moon,” Powerful Tenderness said softly.
    He looked at Plik, who replied with a faint nod. They had both agreed that reciting aloud any of the litanies to the Moon, or to Magic, the Child of Water, granddaughter of the Creator Deities, would only make their foreign allies edgy, but they had privately agreed to recite them in their hearts. Prayer could only help appease Magic’s darker mood.
    Earlier, Powerful Tenderness had drawn aside young Rascal and asked the wolf if he would do the same. The Wise Beasts, unlike their Royal counterparts, shared the religion that was practiced by Beasts and humans alike in this region. Rascal had agreed, and doubtless some of his nervousness was due to this dual role demanded of him. Wolves were interesting, and made good allies and worse enemies, but they were not terribly complex.
    Now Powerful Tenderness stretched to catch the moonlight in the mirror. Plik felt a flicker of hope. Against all reason, the moonlight did seem to reflect back, but hope died almost as soon as it had arisen. That pale reflection was not sufficient to touch the silver door, much less be repeatedly relayed.
    “We have failed,” he said, lowering his own useless tools.
    Reassurance came from an unlikely quarter. Firekeeper’s husky voice broke the silence.
    “Try again. The moon is higher now. Listen. The island’s pack is singing to her. Perhaps she will hear us if we join them.”
    In example, Firekeeper raised her head and howled, a clear sound whose rise and fall made the hairs on Plik’s body rise. Blind Seer and Rascal made a chorus of that single howl, and after a slight