Lupus Rex Read Online Free

and though the young bird loved to hear his grandfather speak, the elder was often with little to say.
    Ysil was fascinated with his grandfather. He thought of the scar on Cotur Ada’s side, the missing toe on his right foot. How had these things happened? Ysil had not yet summoned the nerve to ask these questions. Would he ever?
    “You know, when I was a young bird, we would not venture far unless there were many birds in distinct form. Now, I am sure you and your friends walk fearlessly, even far into the woods. But you should be wary, ever cautious. Everything that eats meat eats quail, and man certainly hunts with his booming stick.” The elder quail submitted these careful suggestions often. Ysil took heed, certainly, but he had heard this same speech the week before, when he and Gomor had gone to see the mice in their harvest dance. The crazy little things still danced every year, though it had been rumored that Strix—with his sharp talons and giant eyes—had been ranging near again. But it was hard to tell whether the field mice were losing numbers as their memories were so short. It seemed they remembered only the good things—where the food was, for instance, and, of course, when the summer moon’s dance should occur.
    “Grandfather, tell me of when the hawk still nested in the great fir.” This was, in fact, one of the questions Ysil had wished to ask Cotur Ada for a long time, and his sudden audacity had come with the ensuing excitement of travel. Had the circumstance not been as it was, and he was simply living another day in search of food and milling about the nest, he most certainly would have never asked this. But there it was: the question. He always felt it strange that the quail had nested so near the hawk, but he knew it was because of the ‘order’ and the rule of crows. He also knew that the rule of crows would not govern the hawk, nor the vulture for that matter, but still neither birds of prey nor carrion ruled the crows. No one did; only their order governed. Even King Crow succumbed to it.
    The old bird looked at him with trepidation and a barely disguised annoyance. But then Cotur Ada smiled and touched his wing to Ysil’s. “The hawk was vicious and proud. She was strong, but in the end, foolish. We all feared her, and many, old and young, were lost. Few mourned her passing.” The old quail looked forward, and Ysil could tell he did not intend to go any further with his recollection.
    But the young bird would not be put off. “But she was a mother hawk. I heard Incanta say that once. Not just female, but a mother. What happened to her young? Where are they? The young vultures stay with their family, as do the crows and robins. Don’t hawks?”
    “No, they do not,” said Ada. “Once the hawks learn to fly, they are gone. They range until they claim a territory, then they nest for life.”
    “Did Elera have chicks that flew before she died?” Ysil was getting brave in his questioning. He noticed that Cormo was staying close and listening. Monroth was staying to the outside of the circle, but he looked at them occasionally. He seemed to be listening also.
    Cotur Ada thought for a moment then, smiling, he responded. “No,” he said and was quiet for a brief moment. “None flew before she died. Now, I would rather you not mention her name, if you wish to please me.”
    Ysil walked along, his mind racing. He held his tongue as long as he could. Finally he had to ask. “Well, where is the nearest occupied hawk’s nest?”
    Ada looked down at Ysil. He was quiet for a bit, and Ysil thought he might not respond. “Toward the rising sun, past the lines and through the forest, past the Belasyvis Hills and dangerously near the Sugar Valley of men, beyond shadowy stands of hemlocks where the toothworts and rock brakes grow thick. Then down a steep trail. The journey is less than two days walking, and perhaps less than a day if you fly. At the end of the trail there is a wide river. On