Redtail Rise It is better to yield than to come to misfortune through stubbornness

Carrion spoke in riddles at times.  But for Wealda, to whom most words were useless excess, these were no more oddities than the small talk of strangers.  The heart of the meaning was all she cared about, and she struggled to find this when her sister spoke no more than any other packmate.  Carrion was familiar to her.

At first she did not know.  Haelend was gone and would be no teacher.  No others in the pack knew this either.  Caru was different, and neither former nor present held the knowledge that Carrion sought.  So Masquerade would be no help either.

In a few short days, perhaps a week, the answer would come.  And Wealda would tell Carrion of the deal with the wolves of Queya River.  Right now she knew no sure path.

It must be found.  This was the only answer she had, and there was an understanding in her look that what she asked might be impossible.  A raccoon was born with its rings, a wolf with the joy of the hunt and a knowing of that which it needed to survive.  Perhaps she would touch this knowing in herself, perhaps there was more.  Redd was not Haelend.  She could not say.