inscription.
PATH
First of Dogs
we walked together
“First of Dogs?” she asked. “But isn’t that you?”
Glint began, “He was my ….” Faltering, he cleared his throat and started again. “Path is … was …. I am not sure how to …?”
Radiance, who stood beside Snow, said, “Path was the first Starmark Kith.”
Lilya had noticed that members of the dog clans were indistinguishable from wolves when in truest form. However, Kith of the wolf clans always looked like wolves, while the dog clans seemed to represent all kinds of dog breeds.
“Who …?” But Lilya stopped. Because it wasn’t hard to guess.
This was one of those secrets that adults didn’t seem to think children understood. But Ever was terrible at keeping secrets.
Looking to Moon, whose arm was draped around Snow’s neck, she revisited an earlier insight. “You are like Laud to Quen. Like Quen to Ever.” Beloved foster parent.
“That is the way of things,” he agreed, sharing a smile with Radiance.
Stepping closer so Glint would have to look her in the eye, she asked, “Ever’s Da loves all his sons. Was Path your Rise?”
Glint’s mouth trembled, and he sank to his knees and pulled her into his arms. “So you know about such things?”
“Rise is Ever’s big brother. We all love him.” She wanted to tell him not to be sad, but that would be like telling him to stop caring about a member of his family. “I’m not supposed to know about Kith-sire. But I’ve overheard some things. And Ever explained some other things.”
“Path was both my son and my companion. A packmate and a pactmate. He shared every part of my life, and I miss him more than I can express.”
“Let me,” said Moon. “I will speak for all here.”
“Please, friend,” begged Glint.
“And then I will sing,” murmured Lapis, who stood to one side, cradling Rifflet close.
“You’re a dear,” pronounced Radiance, who was smiling even though her cheeks were wet with tears.
From within the circle of Glint’s arms, Lilya watched Moon step to one side and transform into a large white wolf. He nuzzled Snow, licked her forehead, then settled back on his haunches, lifted his muzzle to the sky, and howled.
Ginkgo was trying not to gawk at his surroundings while Hannick Alpenglow looked between him and Salali. The horse clansman’s manner was patient and ponderous. As if he hadn’t decided how to react to the sudden arrival of guests.
“Salali,” he sighed. “What have you done?”
The squirrel beamed unhelpfully.
In an effort to break the ice, Ginkgo gave his ears a little wiggle, but Hannick’s mellow gaze didn’t stray. Which was kind of impressive.
He flicked them again, just to be coy.
“Burr in your ear?” Hannick inquired mildly. “I can gather a light and forceps.”
“Bid for attention,” Ginkgo admitted.
“You have mine.”
He let his ears droop and adopted a more respectful posture. “I usually impress people.”
“I usually do not.” Hannick faced Salali and immediately looked fondly beleaguered. “Salali, why is this gentleman here?”
“My new apprentice would be more comfortable with a neutral party looking after his interests. Be his advocate.”
“But why bring him here?”
Ginkgo stole another glance at their surroundings. His gardener’s heart was going pitty-pat. He wanted to explore everything from the flower borders to the herb beds. Not to mention several varieties of trees that had to be both ancient and affectionate.
“He has the ear of Argent Mettlebright,” Salali was saying.
Ginkgo fluttered his anew. “Both ears, actually. Family resemblance.”
Salali went on. “And his enclave will be receiving a Scattering in the months ahead.”
“And …?” demanded the stallion.
Ginkgo’s ears pricked. They were getting down to it, now. Real reasons.
With a stubborn posture, Salali said, “Linlu’s lyrics mention a person between.”
Unimpressed, the stallion pointed out, “Every reaver is a Betweener.”
“A reaver stands between two cultures. A crosser brings them together.”
Hannick gazed off into the sky, then nodded. “I can appreciate that kind of balance. And … he is the stuff of songs.”
“And you’re too polite to enjoy such novelties?” Salali gave Ginkgo a little push forward.
Ginkgo braced himself for the usual formalities, but the stallion kept it simple. “I’m Hannick. A healer.”
Finally, finally, his gaze drifted to the top of Ginkgo’s head.
This was familiar territory. “Am I your first crosser?”
“Strictly speaking.” Fingers twitched, and Hannick gave in to the inevitable. “May I make a brief examination?”
Ginkgo grinned. “I was hoping you’d ask.”
The stallion’s expression lapsed into gentle wonderment as he carefully tugged and scratched Ginkgo’s ear. He eased closer and angled his head, making a display of his trust while they chatted about the mares at