Spirit Wolf by Kathryn Lasky Page B

He pointed to the sky, using all the correct owl names for the constellations. “You’ll find it. Remember, two points off the port hind paw and the first claw of the Golden Talons — paw to claw.”
    â€œYes, I’ll find it. But …”
    â€œBut what?” Faolan asked.
    â€œHow do you know the owl names so well, Faolan?”
    â€œIt’s a long, long story, Gwynneth.”
    Faolan tipped his head and looked at his old friend Gwynneth, his first friend in the Beyond, as she took flight.
    Myrr wagged his tail. “Is it a memory, Faolan, or just a story?”
    â€œIs there a difference?” Faolan asked, then ruffed up the pup’s pelt and rolled him. “Come now, you need some play. Everything might be a wreck, but when was the last time any of us played tag? Let’s stay right here for a while. The fog isn’t bad at all and we can see the ice is solid.”
    â€œI’m it!” Edme said and began to scamper about.
    â€œBe careful,” Faolan called. “Don’t move outside this area.”
    But there was a small explosion of snow and Edme vanished. A frightening howl curled into the air and began to dwindle, as if the sound were being swallowed by the earth as the one-eyed wolf plummeted down a deep gouge in the fangs of the glacier.

THE CAVE WHERE THE WHISTLER had camped had not been as destroyed as he had first thought. He had gone out and scouted for other wolves and, as far as he could ascertain, not a single Blood Watch wolf had survived the earthquake. What the earth hadn’t swallowed or crushed, the glacier had. He had seen it approach, slowing by the hour. It was frightening, but it possessed a terrible beauty, an appalling splendor.
    Now another sound threaded through the shambles of the Cave, just scratching noises and then something else.
    â€œWhere is that coming from?” the Whistler said aloud. He was still unaccustomed to his new voice. The sound he heard was a terrible plangent keening, as if the very earth were crying in some awful glaffling . TheWhistler blinked. Nearby, under the debris of the quake, was a singing rock, and he was certain that it was transmitting the mournful sound.
    The singing rocks were composed of minerals of a peculiar structure that resonated sound across long distances. This sound had a low, darkly rich tone that he recognized. His fur bristled. He knew that voice. It was Edme! He tore around the area to try to find a clear path so he could press himself against the singing rock. Finally, he found it. The rock had been dislodged and a small crater was left where it had been anchored. But it had not rolled far and, once he scraped off the dirt and ice, the sound was crisp.
    He heard the voices of other wolves as well. Faolan, Dearlea, Mhairie, and one other — a pup! They were all there and it was clear that Edme was in some kind of unspeakable danger, trapped, possibly injured. He pressed his ear closer to the rock.

    Edme was perched on a ledge of ice just above a deep crevasse, but of all the animals, she was the calmest. Faolan was nearly hysterical. She had never seen him in such a state.
    Somehow she had landed on a small ledge and escaped injury. She had not fallen too far — she couldn’t even see the very bottom. For the crevasse was not simply a straight vertical slot into the earth, but appeared to undulate. The ice walls were wavery structures with bends she couldn’t see around.
    She managed to scramble herself upward a bit and was clinging to another ledge slightly higher than the first, but unfortunately a lot narrower. What frightened her the most was the peculiar blue light that suffused the air. She had looked below just once and seen that the light deepened to a darker and darker blue until it was nearly black. It chilled Edme to her marrow. This was a dead black, not like the night chinked with stars. It was the black of everlasting nothingness.
    â€œWe’ll