Free Outcast by Michelle Paver Page A

slammed into a boulder above them. Between boulder and boat, Torak glimpsed a hand. It wasn't moving. Maybe Aki was unconscious and drowning. Maybe he was already dead. Torak couldn't bring himself to care.
     
Drawing his knife, he cut a switch from an elder tree and trimmed it to make a breathing tube. Then he jammed it in his belt and started upstream, leaving Aki to his fate.
    There was something wrong with Tall Tailless.
Wolf had sensed this in his pack-brother for a while. Tall Tailless no longer listened to Wolf, or even to the Forest, and he was beginning to do bad things. It was getting worse. A badness was gnawing him on the inside, like the badness that had gnawed the tip of
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Wolf's tail in the Great Gold.
Anxiously Wolf followed his pack-brother, staying out of sight because Tall Tailless had told him to go away, but watching nevertheless.
Wolf kept level with him now as they followed the Fast Wet toward the Mountains. As he wove between the trees, Wolf smelled otter and beaver, and a whiff of the Otherness that hid its true scent. He didn't know what to do about that, so he chewed a juniper branch, which made him feel better.
    Suddenly he smelled wolf.
The scent drove all else from his mind. Yes, fresh wolf scat, and the strong, sweet scent-markings of the lead wolf.
His heart gave a bound. He knew this scent! The Mountain pack!
Wild with joy, Wolf gave two short barks: Where are you?
The wind carried an answering howl--and Wolf flew toward it. Now he could be among wolves again, and help Tall Tailless! This was what Tall Tailless needed: to be among his own kind, to be among wolves!
     
It didn't take long to find them, because they'd paused to wash the blood from their muzzles at a little Fast Wet. As Wolf sped toward them, he took in everything in a snap. The hunt had been good: he smelled deer blood on their fur, saw their bellies
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sagging with meat they were carrying back to the Den.
The lead pair were the same, but there had been changes, as there always are in a wolf pack. The old wolf was gone, and the one who loved digging for mice was lame and had become underwolf, while the cubs who'd played with Wolf on the Mountain were young full-growns like himself, although smaller. One of these was a beautiful, dark-furred female who'd been extremely good at hunt-the-lemming. She caught Wolf's scent and gave an excited twitch of her tail--but she didn't come to greet him, because it was up to the leaders to decide if he was allowed back.
    Skittering to a halt, Wolf approached the lead male in the proper way for a young full-grown to greet his elder. Sleeking back his ears, Wolf belly-crawled toward him, apologizing for being gone so long. The leader looked proudly away. With fearsome speed, he grabbed Wolf's muzzle in his jaws, threw him onto his back, and stood over him, growling. Wolf thumped his tail and whined. The pack watched.
The leader released Wolf and raised his head, narrowing his eyes. Wolf took the hint and licked the leader's muzzle, whining respectfully and waggling his' hindquarters to thank him for being allowed back.
    Now the lead female shouldered her mate aside to
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get her share of the greeting, and after that, everyone followed in a frenzy of nibble-greeting and rubbing of flanks.
    Darkfur playfully pawed Wolf's shoulder but was body-slammed away by a male with a black ear: the leader of the young full-growns. Blackear tried to muzzle-grab Wolf, but Wolf wriggled out of Blackear's grip, muzzle-grabbed him back, and flipped him onto his flank, straddling him and growling till Blackear thumped his tail in apology. Wolf released him and licked his nose to show that this was accepted. So. Now I am above you in the pack. And that was decided.
At the same time, Wolf was breathing in the wonderful, sweet smell of cubs on everyone's fur. The fierce love of wolf cubs flared in his chest. Oh, to race to the Den and meet them! To snuffle them and let them clamber over him!
    Why did you leave?