from the others because he had only one eye, and a scar running
across it from his ear to his muzzle. “I hear that your mother has sent us a new recruit.”
“For a year,” said Blanchefleur. “Try not to get him killed.”
“I make no promises,” said the wolf. “What is his name?”
“Ivan,” said Blanchefleur.
“Come here, recruit.” Ivan walked to the boulder and stood in
front of the wolf, as still as he could. He did not want Blanchefleur to see that he was afraid. “You shall call me Captain, and I shall call you Private, and as long as you do exactly what you are told, all shall be well between us. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” said Ivan.
The wolf bared his teeth and growled.
“Yes, Captain,” said Ivan.
“Good. This is your Company, although we like to think of
ourselves as a pack. You are a member of the Wolf Guard, and should be prepared to die for your brothers and sisters of the pack, as they are prepared to die for you. Now come inside.”
Ivan wondered where inside might be, but the Captain loped
toward the cliff face and vanished behind an outcropping. One by
one, the wolves followed him, some stopping to give Ivan a brief
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sniff. Ivan followed them and realized the cliff was not sheer after all.
Behind a protruding rock was a narrow opening, just large enough
for a wolf. He crawled through it and emerged in a large cave.
Scattered around the cave, wolves were sitting or lying in groups,
speaking together in low voices. They looked up when he entered,
but were too polite or uninterested to stare and went back to their conversations, which seemed to be about troll raiding parties they
had encountered, wounds they had sustained, and the weather.
“Have you ever fought?” the Captain asked him.
“No, sir,” said Ivan.
“That is bad,” said the Captian. “Can you move through the forest
silently? Can you tell your direction from the sun in the day and the stars at night? Can you sound like an owl to give warning without divulging your presence?”
“Yes, Captain,” said Ivan, fairly certain that he could still do those things. And to prove it to himself, he hooted, first like a Eagle Owl, then like a Barn Owl, and finally like one of the Little Owls that used to nest in his father’s mill.
“Well, that’s something, at least. You can be one of our scouts.
Have you eaten?”
“No, sir,” said Ivan.
“At the back of the cave are the rabbits we caught this morning,”
said the Captain. “You may have one of those.”
“He is human,” said Blanchefleur. “He must cook his food.”
“A nuisance, but you may build a small fire, although you will have to collect wood. These caverns extend into the mountain for several miles. Make certain the smoke goes back into the mountain, and not
through the entrance.”
Skinning a rabbit was messy work, but Ivan butchered it, giving
a leg to Blanchefleur and roasting the rest for himself on a stick he sharpened with his knife. It was better than he had expected. That night, he slept beneath his coat on the floor of the cave, surrounded by wolves. He was grateful to have Blanchefleur curled up next to his chest.
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? Blanchefleur ?
The next morning, he began his life in the Wolf Guard.
As a scout, his duty was not to engage the trolls, but to look for
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