Free Silent Hall by NS Dolkart Page B

directed at her, but she couldn’t be sure. She left it a piece of the dried meat that the others had bought for their journey. Even if it wasn’t mad at her personally, she could at least be courteous.
    The abbey, when they reached it, was a very large den with one of her kind’s stone gardens to one side. A man came out of it to greet them as they arrived, blessing them in the name of his God. Bandu did not know much of the Gods, though she remembered a big man who had once prayed for guidance. Was it her father? He had been crying, but the next day his expression was hard as stone. Bandu did not like the Gods.
    Phaedra spoke to the abbey man, and Narky told him about Four-foot. The man looked concerned. He came closer, reaching out his hand for the wolf to smell. Four-foot seemed to like him. Bandu relaxed.
    â€œI am Brother Gedrel,” the man said. “May I look at his wound?”
    Four-foot licked Brother Gedrel’s hand, and Bandu nodded. While he inspected Four-foot’s side, Narky spoke. “You’re not dressed like any priest I’ve ever seen.”
    Brother Gedrel only smiled and said, “I am not a priest. Priests are leaders, those who can pray and give sacrifices on behalf of others. A friar is but a man who has renounced worldly pleasures and dedicated his own life to the service of his God. I pray and sacrifice as any other man would, and command no greater authority.”
    â€œWhat good is that, then?” Narky asked.
    Gedrel laughed. “I do not know. What more can a man hope to gain, besides the favor of his God?”
    â€œI don’t know, how about a wife and children, and power and respect, and some money to wash it down?”
    The friar did not reply to this. Phaedra looked as if she could have punched Narky.
    â€œHe means no harm,” Hunter said, putting a warning hand on Narky’s shoulder.
    Narky shrugged the hand off. “Don’t tell me what I mean.” But he was quiet after that.
    Brother Gedrel finished inspecting Four-foot’s side and stood up. “We can do our best, but I’m afraid it doesn’t look good. To burn a wound is not enough: one must keep it clean after cautery. Perhaps even more than before it.”
    Bandu looked at Four-foot and began to cry. “He will die?”
    â€œI can’t know for sure,” Brother Gedrel said, “but, like I said, it doesn’t look good. We’ll do our best.”
    Phaedra put her arms around Bandu, and Criton came too, more timidly. Bandu knelt and cried into Four-foot’s fur, while the new members of her pack closed around her.
    â€œPlease live,” she whispered to him, and he whined at her distress. “My kind are not enough.”
    They stayed with the friars for many days, while the weather grew hotter and Four-foot grew weaker. His cut turned black, and its bad color grew outward. He was in pain, she knew, but she could not end his life, much though the others urged her to. The friars had a drink that they made from flowers to take the pain away, and when Four-foot could no longer lap it up on his own, Bandu sat with his head in her lap and gently poured it down his throat.
    He died with his eyes open. Bandu’s pack mourned with her, even though they had been afraid of him at first. She was grateful for their company. The friars offered to bury Four-foot in their stone garden, but that was not the way of his kind. Instead, Bandu left him out for the angry crows and the other animals to feast on. The others in her pack were shocked, but they let her have her way. Narky said it was too hot to dig holes anyway.
    Phaedra asked how she had met Four-foot, but she could not remember. That made her cry again. It felt as if, with Four-foot gone, Two-foot’s memories were slipping away too. She did like the name Bandu though, and she was glad she had chosen it. It meant that she would carry Four-foot’s heartbeat with her forever, which