The storm in the wolf dream was a changeable thing. Perrin spent hours prowling the Borderlands, visiting packs of wolves as he ran down dry riverbeds and across broken hills.
Gaul had learned quickly. He wouldn’t stand for a moment against Slayer, of course, but at least he had learned to keep his clothing from changing—though his veil did still snap up to cover his face when he was startled.
The two of them bounded through Kandor, leaving blurs in the air as they moved from hilltop to hilltop. The storm was sometimes strong, sometimes weak. At the moment, Kandor was hauntingly still. The grassy highland landscape was strewn with all kinds of debris. Tents, roofing tiles, the sail of a large ship, even a blacksmith’s anvil, deposited point-first into a muddy hillside.
The dangerously powerful storm could arise anywhere in the wolf dream and rip apart cities or forests. He’d found Tairen hats blown all the way to Shienar.
Perrin came to rest on a hilltop, Gaul streaking into place beside him. How long had they been searching for Slayer? A few hours, it seemed on one hand. On the other… how much ground had they crossed? They had returned to their food stores now three times to eat. Did that mean a day had passed?
“Gaul,” Perrin said. “How long have we been at this?”
“I cannot say, Perrin Aybara,” Gaul replied. He checked for the sun, though there was none. “A long while. Will we need to stop and sleep?”
That was a good question. Perrin’s stomach suddenly growled, and he made them a meal of dried meat and a hunk of bread. He gave some to Gaul. Would summoned bread sustain them in the wolf dream, or would it merely vanish once they consumed it?
The latter. The food vanished even as Perrin ate it. They would need to rely upon their supplies, perhaps getting more from Rand’s Asha’man during the daily opening of that portal. For now, he shifted back to their packs and dug out some dried meat, then rejoined Gaul in the north. As they settled down on the hillside to eat again, he found himself dwelling on the dreamspike. He carried it with him, turned to its slumbering position, as Lanfear had taught him. It made no dome now, but he could make one when he wished.
Lanfear had all but given it to him. What did that mean? Why did she taunt him?
He ripped at a hunk of dried meat. Was Faile safe? If the Shadow discovered what she was doing… Well, he wished he could at least check on her.
He took a long drink from his waterskin, then searched outward for the wolves. There were hundreds of them up here, in the Borderlands. Perhaps thousands. He gave those nearby a greeting, sending his scent mixed with his image. The dozen replies that came were not words, but his mind understood them as such.
Young Bull! This from a wolf named White Eyes. The Last Hunt is here. Will you lead us?
Many asked this, lately, and Perrin couldn’t figure out how to interpret it. Why do you need me to lead you?
It will be by your call, White Eyes replied. By your howl.
I don’t understand what you mean, Perrin sent. Can you not hunt on your own?
Not this prey, Young Bull.
Perrin shook his head. A response like others he’d received. White Eyes, he sent. Have you seen Slayer? The killer of wolves? Has he stalked you here?
Perrin sent it out broadly, and some of the other wolves replied. They knew of Slayer. His image and scent had been passed among many wolves, much as had Perrin’s own. None had seen him recently, but time was an odd thing to wolves; Perrin wasn’t certain how recent their “recently” really was.
Perrin took a bite of dried meat, and caught himself growling softly. He stifled that. He had come to a peace with the wolf inside of him, but that didn’t mean he intended to let it start tracking mud into the house.
Young Bull, another wolf sent. Turn Bow, an aged female pack leader. Moonhunter walks the dreams again. She seeks you.
Thank you, he sent back. I know this. I will avoid her.
Avoid the moon? Turn Bow sent back. A difficult thing, Young Bull. Difficult.
She had the right of that.
I saw Heartseeker just now, sent Steps, a black-furred youth. She wears a new scent, but it is her.
Other wolves sent agreement. Heartseeker was in the wolf dream. Some had seen her to the east, but others said that she had been seen to the south.
But what of Slayer? Where was the man, if not hunting wolves? Perrin caught himself growling again.
Heartseeker. That must be one of the Forsaken, though he didn’t recognize the images they sent of her. She was ancient, and so were the memories of wolves, but often the things they remembered were fragments of fragments that their ancestors had seen.
“Any news?” Gaul said.
“Another one of the Forsaken is here,” Perrin said with a grunt. “Doing something to the east.”