Lupus Rex Read Online Free Page B

this the badger held his response. “As far as being your guide, you need only to follow the trail. Cotur Mono knows it as well as I.”
    “I will go,” said Ysil, and none disagreed.
    So it was decided that the three would go in search of the young ones. Harlequin wanted to go as well and insisted that it was her responsibility to watch after the chicks, feeling it her lack of attention that had allowed them to escape notice during their departure. Certainly, Monroth and Ysil both would have enjoyed her company, even if it was just to look upon her, but alas, her joining them was denied by Cotur Mono, who insisted no more of the group be disbanded.
    Harlequin looked to the two younger sojourners. “Be careful, you two. I will miss you both.”
    A lump came into Ysil’s throat and he stumbled for something to say in return. Before he could manage a word, Monroth quipped, “Don’t worry, little one. I will be fine, of course. And not to worry a bit about these other two. I will be taking care of them.”
    Ysil nearly spat up the clover he had half digested.
    So as the majority of animals set off for the Vulture Field, three quail returned down the woodland trail and back toward their home in search of the irresponsible small ones.
    Within the darkness of the thick brush surrounding, there were four eyes watching the scene with intense interest. And when the three were a good distance from their separated, there was a slight rustling of limbs and leaf, and two sleek, furry shapes carefully and silently pursued the smaller group.
     
     
    T HE WIND ALWAYS whistles to a quail’s ear. The sounds of the forest are always beneath the ever-present harmony of whistles. When the wind dies, the birdsong and animal sounds become no more apparent and no louder to the quail, as the wind does not stifle the forest’s noise but enhances it. Nature’s sounds are much like music to the quail, with the wind being the rhythm. In this way, quail need not speak of the sound of an approaching storm or the approach of a predator, or for that matter the arrival of a crow. These things are like a new voice or instrument being added to a song. And though quail are careful and cautious, they often offer their song to the music of nature.
    As they set upon their way, the three joined in song. Perhaps to a man’s ear the song would have seemed an unharmonious chirping with the occasional shrill note added in randomly. But to the quail it was the song of their lives.
    They sang:
     
    When winter’s rain is hardened cold
    By winds from north and high
    We will not hunger days untold
    Nor weep for bleeding sky
     
    We’ll eat the finest golden grain
    Among the sanctified
    In that field beyond the darkened door
    Past life’s fast burned light.
     
    Around our mother’s welc’ming nest
    We’ll gather safe and warm
    Beneath her gentle wings we’ll rest
    Forever free from harm
     
    In that field beyond the darkened door
    With no future and no past
    In that field beyond the darkened door
    We’ll know the truth at last.
     
    And though the words of the song were sad, Ysil felt happy as he sang. He couldn’t remember a time when he did not know the words and melody. It was sung in small gatherings and when the covey held full council. It was the Quailsong, and all quail knew it. It was the song of travel and it was the song of home. It was sacred to them, and for another animal to sing it would hold no purpose. The other animals had their own songs.
    But that day as the song died within the beaks there was only a moment of silence. Then there came a mocking murmur from the surrounding brush, and the melody that joined in with the wind was a whispered and vile voice. It was a voice Cotur Ada had heard before and one Monroth knew well (though he did not yet speak such), but Ysil did not. The melody was the same as the Quailsong, but the words were changed, and the harmony it brought was one broken and without amity. The birds, poised for flight,