Free Lone Wolf by Kathryn Lasky

have I entered?

CHAPTER TWELVE
    ***
    OUTCLANNERS

    GUT-HEAVY, THE RUSSET WOLF made his way through a tangled web of scents. He was driven now by a dull sense of fear. He had never seen anything like the silver wolf with the splayed paw. It was not simply that the wolf was large, but he was strong. His chest was broad and the splayed paw, although not especially big, looked powerful. It was lucky that the gray wolf had been on top of him. If not, it would have been his back that snapped. He was frightened now to be alone. He had to find a rout of wolves and travel with them for a bit.
    The wolves of the Outermost were unlike any wolves in the entire world. They defied all the common notions of wolf behavior; they were not simply abnormal, but an outrageous insult to the values and traditions that other wolves cherished. Lawless, abiding by none of the  elaborate codes of conduct that governed clans and packs, these wolves were known as outclanners.
    Notions of honor and loyalty, which were central to the wolves of the Beyond, didn't exist for outclanners. Viciousness and greed were the motivating forces of their lives. Survival was their only instinct. Dulled by generations of savagery, they could never conceive of the intricate strategies that clan wolves had evolved for hunting or living together in the pack spirit of hwlyn, nurturing harmony.
    The one-eyed wolf known as Morb was no exception. He had swum across the river to rid himself of the gray wolf's blood, for if he attempted to join a rout with the smell of wolf blood all over him, the other wolves might become suspicious. Perhaps if they did smell it, he could claim to have picked up the blood scent in a craw, or a fight to the death between two animals. Most times, the combat was between two animals of different species, perhaps a marmot and a wolverine, trapped in a circle formed by the rout, but occasionally the combat was between two wolves. It was peculiar that the only time the wolves of a rout worked cooperatively was not for hunting purposes, but for sadistic amusement. The wolf who won a wolf-to-wolf contest enjoyed a bit of notoriety for a while, but not  for long. It was difficult for the outclanners to hold much in their minds for any length of time.
    As Morb made his way through the tangle of scents of the dense evergreen forest, he had almost forgotten the scent of Faolan. When the wind shifted suddenly, he did not even realize that the scent he detected was that of the silver wolf he feared. The smell mingled with some others, and Morb thought perhaps there was a rout nearby. Soon he heard some random barks and howls.
    It was a crawl And a good one at that! A musk ox and an old sick female moose, a cow.
    ***
    Faolan was a silent moving shadow, his paws soft as moss. He watched transfixed as the wolves pressed in around the musk ox and the moose, one or another darting out to nip at their legs and encourage the big animals to step forward and charge again. One of the musk ox's horns had been broken and was dangling in front of its face, obscuring its vision. This seemed to delight the wolves. The moose was limping and had begun to crouch down. Faolan could see plainly that she was ready to die. But a large, skinny she-wolf with vicious fangs was on her in a minute, goading her to get up. It was a horror that Faolan  could have never imagined, even after watching the one-eyed wolf devour his companion.
    Faolan stood in the shadows, shivering although it was not cold, his fur rising on his body. Had any of the outclanner wolves glimpsed him, they would have been shocked. Shocked by his size. Shocked by the ferocity in the brilliant green eyes and frightened by a light beneath the ferocity that they could never have named -- intelligence.
    Faolan considered charging in and busting up the craw in hopes that he might afford the moose a peaceful death. But he knew that, in addition to risking his own life, sooner rather than later this rout of vicious