. . . sure I will be.’
‘Not as strong as me, though.’
‘Of course not.’
‘I’m very strong, you know. Once, I even killed a boar on my own. It was back when—’
The stream whispered quietly around them, no other sound to distract Gariath from hearing the pup. Every word echoed in his mind, every word felt like a claw dug into his chest that he couldn’t dislodge. He could hear himself in the pup’s voice, he could hear his own shrill bark, his own boasts, his own proclamations that he had made to his father when he was so young.
The proclamations his sons had made to him.
They were so boastful, he thought, smiling at the pup, they talked so much . . . they never stopped talking until . . .
‘Grahta,’ he interrupted softly, ‘why aren’t you with your family?’
‘I . . . I’m not sure,’ Grahta replied, scratching his head. ‘I think . . . I think Grandfather asked me to wait. He asked me to stay awake.’
‘For what?’
‘For you,’ Grahta said, looking up at the older Rhega intently.
‘I’m here now.’
‘And you’re not going anywhere, right?’
‘Right.’
‘Okay, good.’ The pup scratched his head. ‘Grandfather ... Grandfather said . . . uh, he wanted me to tell you something. ’
‘What?’
‘He told me to tell you . . . not to follow me.’
Gariath felt his heart stop, his eyes go wide. ‘Whwhat? ’
‘He said you can’t come where he went, where I’m supposed to go, not yet.’
Something welled inside Gariath’s throat, lodging itself there. ‘But . . . why not?’
‘I don’t know,’ Grahta replied, shrugging. ‘But why would you want to go? I’m right here. We can play!’
No, Gariath told himself, we can’t play. You have to go, Grahta. You can go, now. You can fall asleep. I’ve heard the message. You can go.
Gariath looked at the pup, eyes wide, teeth so small in his smile. Tangahr smiled like that. Grahta’s eyes were so bright.
No . . . NO! he roared inside his own head. Tell him. Tell him he can go! Tell him he can sleep! He’s been awake for so long!
Grahta fell to all fours, tail upright as he barked a challenge at the older Rhega. Tangahr always barked like that. Grahta didn’t like to fight . . . Tangahr teased him. What . . . what Rhega doesn’t like to fight?
Tell him . . . TELL HIM! YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO HIM!
‘Grahta,’ Gariath whispered, ‘how long have you been awake?’
‘A . . . a long time, I guess,’ the pup replied, sitting back down. He yawned, a shrill, whining sound accompanied by exposed rows of stubby white teeth. ‘I’m very tired now, since you said it.’
Good, Gariath told himself, inhaling sharply, he can rest. He deserves to rest. He deserves to . . .
Gariath watched the pup walk in a circle, then curl up, folding his tail towards his snout. His eyes went wide.
Tangahr . . . Grahta . . . used to sleep like that.
‘Grahta,’ he whispered. Upon hearing no reply, he said loudly. ‘Grahta!’
‘What?’ the pup asked, opening one bright eye.
‘Don’t fall asleep yet!’
‘But I’m so . . .’ the pup paused to yawn, ‘so tired. I’ve been up for so long.’
‘I know, but stay up a little longer.’ There was no reply from the younger Rhega. ‘Please.’
‘I’ll be back, Gariath. I just want to sleep a little.’
‘No, Grahta, don’t fall asleep. Please don’t fall asleep.’ Gariath was up on his knees now, standing over the pup. ‘Don’t leave me alone, Grahta. I . . . I’ve been alone for a long time now. Please, Grahta . . . please.’
‘Maybe you should . . . should go and see Grandfather,’ Grahta suggested, yawning. ‘He said you should go and see him.’
‘Where? Where did he say he would be, Grahta?’
‘Somewhere . . . north? I don’t know what that means.’
‘Then how am I supposed to find him?’
‘You’re . . . you’re Wisest, aren’t you?’
‘I’m not very smart, Grahta. I need you to stay up and give me directions. Please, Grahta, stay up a little longer. Stay awake, Grahta.’
‘I . . . I’m sorry,’ the pup said, almost snoring. ‘I just . . . I’m so tired.’
‘Not yet, Grahta. Talk to me for a little longer. Tell me ... tell me about your mother.’
‘Oh, my mother . . .’ The pup smiled wistfully, even as his red eyelids drooped. ‘My mother . . . her name was Toaghari . . . it means . . .’ He opened his