Blackfeather Woods and yet i am, and live—like vapours tossed

The white priestess gave Maegi too much credit, for the girl saw the marks drawn and had nothing--no intuition, no sight--with which to interpret them.

But the Blackfeather babe was too bold--too arrogant, even--to let on any sort of ignorance. She asked her teachers questions, true, but to admit shortcomings to a woman that had been a stranger a moment before? Inconceivable!

"Okay," she said, with a short nod. She had drawn her own conclusions, anyway. The scent of the dark woods clung thick and heavy to the woman's white pelt, which gave the child the impression she had been here quite awhile. And if she had, she certainly had to know her parents: Potema, before her birth, had been someone of importance, and Cicero was an ever-present shadow in the Woods.

As for her third question, it likely had something to do with the fact the woman couldn't speak. Perhaps she'd ask Kove later for clarification. Nevertheless, she seemed friendly enough, and Maegi felt at-ease in her presence--something she rarely felt around wolves she barely knew.

"So, the rock," Maegi continued, glancing toward the stone. "Can you tell me. . .what it's for?" She hesitated mid-sentence, knowing the woman had no voice. But there were other modes of communication outside of speech. The pups had talked to each other since birth, in various, subtle ways.