“Black-Snout Hill-Chaser heeeeeere! Men under torchlight in the stone-man-mountain gatheeeeeer. Many horses they riiiiiide. Hunters the hills waaaaaalk.”
“All this for a goat?” Highway asked.
“No,” Auron said. “I suspect it is me. They mean to track me down. As you said, dragons are rare around here. I hope they don’t become rarer.”
“We are near the mountains. There are no man-roads there,” Feybright said. “What do you mean to do there?”
“Cross them. I’ve seen the east side of the mountains. It looks over flat, empty lands. There are beasts to hunt. Not as much water, but I can get by.”
“Can you get over them?” Blackhard asked.
Auron sniffed the ground, a gesture he picked up from the wolves to show indecision. “I climb better than I run. There are roads under as well as over, of which you people of the Upper World are unaware. One way or another, I’ll find my way through.”
Blackhard took his howling position and acknowledged the calls of the foothill wolves. He stared at the moonlit march of mountains ahead. “We will travel with you one more day. I want to see you clear of these men. Then the Dawn Roarers turn for home.”
“Thank you, Blackhard,” Auron said.
“Just doing as a lead wolf would for one of his good wolves. So those are high mountains. They look a poor sort of place for wolves.”
“Wolves don’t have wings. Dragons do.”
Blackhard wagged his tail. “That they do. When you have yours, you fly back to the forest. My great-grandkits will be on the lookout for you, Firelong.”
“As a good wolf, I will.”
The next day they climbed an endless slope until trees gave way to green meadows in clearings left by winter avalanches. When Auron saw Blackhard looking west into the forests stretched out under them, and the two females panting and crossing back and forth behind him, he knew it was time to say good-bye.
“Are you thinking of your home?” Auron asked.
Blackhard sniffed Auron, and he gave the drake’s nose a playful nip. “No. I’m worried about you. The wind carries the sound of hooves. They are hunting you.”
Auron couldn’t hear anything but the wind, but he took the wolf’s word for it. “They’re too late, unless they’re planning on tracking me with mountain goats.”
“We’ve left a trail. Those sheep we took—”
“They must have been wild,” Auron said. “There wasn’t so much as a barn to be seen for hours.”
“Then it is time to say good hunting. Highway, Feybright, say your farewells to your pack mate.”
The females sniffed and licked at Auron. “Good hunting, Firelong. May your new pack run far,” Feybright said, giving the traditional farewell to males off to seek new horizons.
“This story will be howled for generations,” Highway said. “Starting with our cubs.”
“Dragons don’t have packs, Feybright. The Dawn Roarers will be my only pack. I’ll miss you.”
“A strange act of fate, our meeting,” Blackhard said. “Somehow I think your name will come up more than mine generations hence, but I’ll be a wolf in the howled tales for many summers. I’m the leader of the pack and a well-traveled wolf, thanks to you.”
“I got to the mountains alive, thanks to you,” Auron said. “Our days as a pack will go into my song, and it’ll be taught to my hatchlings, if I ever take a mate. I’ll pass along my memories. You’ll be a wolf renowned among dragons and wolves, Hard-Legs Black-Bristle, leader of the Dawn Roarers.”
The females exchanged proud glances. “Our pack in a dragon’s howls. Imagine that!” Highway said.
Blackhard smiled and wagged his tail. “That is many tomorrows away. Be careful until you are well away, Auron. I don’t like the idea of men hunting you.”
“All the more reason for me to go. Good hunting, Blackhard.”
“Good hunting, Firelong.”
Auron couldn’t watch the wolves leave. He already missed the nightly sound of wolves calling each other across the hills. A return to the solitude of a wandering young drake. He turned for the mountains, and walked away without looking back.