Free Promise Of The Wolves by Dorothy Hearst

her legs were long and strong, her bones light. She ran with an easy lope beside me. I was panting hard, but she was not. I had the feeling she could pass me up if she wanted to. Gasping for breath, I grinned at her.
    “Let’s show those curl-tails,” I said to her, and increased my speed, overtaking Borlla and gaining on Werrna’s gray behind. I knew the adults could run faster if they wanted to—our heads still came only to their hips, after all—but I didn’t care. We ran, faster than we ever had before. The scents of the forest whipped into my nose, the dry summer dirt lifting in a dust storm under my paws. I stumbled briefly, rolling over in a somersault, and Marra circled around me as I got to my feet. I was faintly aware of Ázzuen trying to keep up with us, his breath rasping in his throat. I knew I should wait for him, that it would be the kind thing to do, but I was having too much fun.
    I was so excited at being out of the clearing, at being strong and fast, and at the overwhelming scents and sounds all around me, that I did not catch the aroma of meat or the pungent scent of unknown creature at the edge of the woods. Rissa put her head down sharply to stop my headlong run. Marra smacked into me from behind.
    “It’s good to be fleet, pups,” Rissa said, laughing quietly, “but not without control. You do not want to run into that. ” The woods had ended abruptly, and a sharp slope led to a dry, grassy field. Late summer wildflowers dotted the tall grass, most of which had turned a golden brown. The adult wolves had halted at the edge of the trees. Rissa pointed her muzzle toward the plain, where a huge brown beast ripped at a horse carcass. The pungent scent came from it, mingled with the overpowering aroma of meat. Far across the field, stout horses grazed watchfully.
    “How can they just stand there when one of their family is being eaten?” Marra asked. She was not even breathing hard from our run. Ázzuen stumbled up to us, gasping, and looked at me reproachfully.
    “The horses are not like us,” Minn answered contemptuously. “They are prey and do not mourn the same way we do. Their herds are large and not close, like wolf families. Death does not grieve them much.”
    “I am not so sure, Minn,” old Trevegg said. “How can we know what they feel? I have seen a dam stand over her fallen colt for two full days, keeping us away from a meal. And I once heard of an elkryn who refused to eat after his mother was killed, and died in the spot where she lay.” His voice was thoughtful. “We must kill if we are to live, but do not make light of the life we take. We must thank the moon for each creature we are given, and to do so must respect the creatures that we kill. Each one is part of the Balance.”
    Minn bowed his head in acknowledgment before his restless eyes returned to the plain. An impatient growl rose in his throat.
    “Quiet!” Ruuqo and Rissa hissed together.
    “You must learn to be restrained, Minn, or you will never lead a hunt,” Rissa chided. Minn lowered his ears in apology.
    “Pups,” Ruuqo ordered, “stay hidden. Do not follow until we tell you it is safe, or I will chew your ears off and stick them to your behinds with pine sap. Minn, Yllin,” he said to the yearlings, “do not lose your heads. I know you think you are grown wolves, but follow Werrna’s orders.”
    “It’s not a very big bear,” Minn muttered. When Ruuqo glared at him, he lowered his head again. “I’ll follow, leaderwolf,” he said meekly. Yllin just narrowed her eyes, watching the bear intently.
    The bear looked big enough to me. She hunched over the dead horse, but when she stood to look uneasily over the plain, she stood nearly as tall as four wolves. I couldn’t believe Ruuqo and Rissa were thinking of challenging her.
    Rissa led the attack. She lowered herself to the ground and crept forward to the very edge of the trees, followed by the rest of the adults. “Werrna,” she whispered to