Wolf-speaker by Tamora Pierce

castle lords and Tristan, I
am
a wolf telling an eagle how to hunt.”
    Did you
try
? inquired Russet. Did you say they are driving off game and killing fish?
    â€œYes. They don’t care. They say they can use the valley as they please.”
    I didn’t think you would be much help, Frostfur said tartly. What are you good for, except to talk to?
    That stung. Daine glared at Brokefang’s mate. “I’d like to see you do any better, Mistress Know-it-all.”
    Frostfur bit a flea that was nibbling her backside and did not answer.
    â€œThe king will help,” Daine said to Brokefang, wanting him to believe and wait for aid, not try something on his own. “The two-leggers are up tosomething bad here, and he will set it right.”
    I do not know of kings, the wolf replied. To me they are just two-leggers.
    Exactly, Fleetfoot said. We have yet to see two-leggers fix the harm they do. To Daine she added, You are not a two-legger to me—you are People.
    Longwind sighed. Brokefang’s uncle, he was the oldest of the pack, with gray hairs in the black fur of his muzzle. You were right to act, Brokefang. I questioned you, until you made me submit. I was wrong. At least now we have made a beginning.
    Daine sat up, suddenly wary. “What d’you mean, you’ve made a beginning?”
    It was fun. That was Russet, whose eyes shone with delight. You should have been with us. Can I show her? he asked Brokefang. Please?
    Short Snout yipped agreement; Longwind stirred the dust with his tail. Frostfur sat up, watching Daine with an odd, smug look in her amber eyes.
    Very well, Brokefang consented.
    Russet yapped gleefully and trotted into the reeds. He returned dragging something that looked like a big stick.
    Do not worry, Brokefang told Daine as Russet approached her bedroll. We did the same thing as with the sheep we ate, the tricks to hide our trail.
    Reaching Daine, Russet dropped the “stick” on the ground, tail waving. His trophy was an ax—oneof the big ones used by woodsmen to cut down trees. Daine touched the handle, just to confirm it was real. “How—” she croaked, her throat dry. Grabbing the water bag, she drank, then put it aside. “How many of these do you have? Just this?”
    Oh, no, Battle replied. We took all the ones we could find in the tree cutters’ camp.
    It was safe, Fleetfoot assured the girl. Having traveled with Daine and Numair, she knew the odd things these friends insisted be done in the name of safety. The humans don’t den where they cut trees. They den with other two-leggers, by the lake. Only the forest People saw us—they wouldn’t interfere.
    Daine lurched to her feet. “Where’s the rest?”
    Russet led her to the spot in the reeds. The girl counted, not believing her eyes. Since Numair and she had gone to the castle, the wolves had stolen fourteen big axes, and five two-man saws.
    â€œGoddess bless,” she squeaked, and sat down hard. In all the years she had associated with animals, before and after she got control of her wild magic, she had never seen an animal do something like this. This was thinking about the future. This was knowing tools were separate from the men who wielded them.
    We stopped the cutting, Brokefang said. Without these, humans won’t destroy more trees. They won’t make the noise that frightens deer and elk.
    â€œYou don’t understand. They’ll come after you, just as they did back home.”
    Only the hunter, the one with the dog pack, can track wolves, Longwind said.
    â€œTait,” mumbled Daine. “His name is Tait.”
    None of the others can track us, Longwind went on. And Brokefang has a plan for Tait.
    Short Snout grinned. I
like
the plan, he said.
    Suddenly the night caught up with Daine. It was dawn; she was exhausted. Getting to her feet, she dusted her bottom and went to her bedroll. “Don’t do
anything
until I wake,”