He strode down the middle of the village, his long wolfskin heavy about his shoulders. He laughed as he came, a cruel, derisive laugh, right in the face of his Eldest. The Panther Master stood like a rock, and I saw the spark of fire in his eyes. I knew, however, that he would not dare strike the High Priest. Even the Eldest may not strike a holy man, especially not one so favored by the Beast.
Wolf Tongue stood before his Eldest, still laughing. When at last he spoke, his voice was low, but silence held the village in such a grip that I knew we all heard every word he said.
“Do not think you can thwart the will of the Beast,” he said. “I’ve seen it happen before. So have you. Have you forgotten the days of your grandfather already? Have you forgotten his fate when he too thought to keep from the Beast his due?”
He turned suddenly to the village, his arms outspread. The wolfskin fell back to reveal his naked torso beneath, scarred from many battles. He was a big man, muscular and awful in his history of bloodshed during the many long years he had served his god. I realized then, for the first time, how old Wolf Tongue must be. For he had always been the Beast’s High Priest, as long as anyone could remember. Yet his body was that of a warrior in his prime, and his face was both young and old. What an unnatural life he must lead in his close communion with the hideous divine.
“Do not forget!” he cried out to all of us. His voice, like the awful sounds we had heard that morning, seemed to shake the village to its foundations. “Do not forget the horror loosed upon your grandsires when they failed to heed my warning! They called your servant a liar and refused to satisfy the Beast’s demands. They refused to give him the woman he required of them. But she belonged, by rights, to your god! Who among you remembers the screams? Who among you remembers the slaughter? I remember as though it were yesterday. I remember mothers wailing, children lying in pools of blood, warriors choking on their own gore. I remember your elder slain, mauled beyond recognition! You remember, do you not, Panther Master?”
He turned once more to my father, and the proud Panther Master shrank under his gaze. Wolf Tongue’s words were painting that dark night of long ago across his memory.
“You were there,” said Wolf Tongue. “You were a small child, and you saw the death of your grandfather. You remember.”
He did. I could see how my father crumpled beneath those memories, melting from the powerful warrior into that small, frightened child witnessing things innocent eyes should never be made to see.
“Give the Beast what he asks!” Wolf Tongue’s gaze swept out across the village. “Give the Beast what he asks!”
“Yes,” muttered one man. “Give him what he asks.” Then another took up the sound. Soon the men were shouting, and even the women raised fists in the air in agreement. “Give the Beast what he asks!” all cried.
My father was as silent as a woman before them.
Wolf Tongue turned suddenly, and his gaze fixed upon me where I hid. I realized he had known where I was all along. I gasped and drew back into the shadows of the outer buildings, but he was striding toward me in an instant. Frostbite yelped and fled before me up the hill. Though I tried to follow, I could not make my feet move. The High Priest’s hand came down upon my shoulder.
The next thing I knew, he had taken Fairbird. I fell to my knees as she was pulled from my arms, and watched as Wolf Tongue flung my sister across his shoulder and strode back to the crowd. Her eyes and mouth were wide with terror, and her tiny hands reached back for me. She seemed so far away, miles and miles beyond my help.
Oh, Fairbird!
Holding her in his arms, Wolf Tongue strode to the middle of the crowd. He raised one hand, and instant silence fell. Then he spoke, this time in a voice so soft, so gentle, I would have thought he soothed his own children. It was like pure honey in its sweetness, and for a moment, even my heart calmed.
“My only thought,” he said, “is to protect you. Helpless as you are before the wrath of the Beast, I long to stand between you, to give you shelter from the storm of his fury. But how can I?” he persisted. “How can I, if you resist me so? The Beast has made his will known. If you will not give him the blood he requires, he will take it from you in other ways! Today, livestock. Tomorrow, your children!”
Women gasped and clutched their little ones. Men brandished spears and stone knives, shouting battle cries. But those who had seen the carnage in the field knew there could be no fighting this enemy. The cry was taken up again, “Give the Beast what he asks!”
“The Eldest has two daughters!” cried the High Priest. “One belongs to the Beast by law!” He raised my sister, struggling uselessly in his grasp, high above his head. And the Eldest, standing behind Wolf Tongue, hid his face in his hand.
In that moment, I thought I hated my father.