“So you know what the youngling finally did? He got so fed up that he yelled, ‘Stop, nuteater!’ And just like that, the nuteater stopped. Froze in place, halfway up the tree. Stiff as if it’d been dead for a moondance.
“Well, the youngling was pretty pleased with himself. He jumped up, grabbed the nuteater, and started throwing it to the ground and pouncing on it. Took him no time at all to get bored with the game, and after he threw the dead nuteater aside, I decided to pick it up and skin it. Know what I found?”
“Let me guess. Blue grit. ”
“Yep. ”
Maverick turned away from her and looked out over the edge of the balcony, nodding profoundly. “Yes, that makes perfect sense. Stone nuteaters in stone trees, and all obedient to the will of the kin. Even the smallest WalkingStones serve SilverSides’s purpose. ”
“What?”WhiteTail’s ears sprang erect, and she pushed herself right in Maverick’s smugly smiling face. “Look here, Mister First Believer, I have to listen to this kind of spoor when it comes from my father, but I don’t have to put up with it from you. ”
“Oh, hard is the heart of the unbeliever,” Maverick said with a sigh.
“And don’t think for a minute that you’re fooling me with your pious lines. ”
“So young, so pretty, and yet so cynical,” Maverick lamented. “Is it really impossible for you to believe that it’s true?” He made a sweeping gesture with his head to take in the cityscape below them. “Even with SilverSides’s wondrous works all around you?”
WhiteTail’s ears flattened against the sides of her head, and her lips curled into the barest hint of a snarl. “Funny, isn’t it? We’ve been here for the better part of a ten-day now, and your precious SilverSides has yet to show herself. “
“One need not see the sharpfang to recognize the signs of its passing. ”
WhiteTail let out a little sneeze of disgust. “Mavvy, you used to be a kin with some sense. What happened to you? Don’t answer, I know: You met the scouts from the GodBeings, pack and saw the lightning of their anger. But what really happened in that box canyon?”
Maverick shrugged. “That is what happened. I’m sorry if my poor tongue cannot describe it better. ”
“Did they actually say that they came from SilverSides? How can you be so sure that this is really the blessing of the OldMother and not a trick of the FirstBeast?”
He blinked at her as if the question were almost beyond comprehension. “WhiteTail, all you have to do is look. Clean, warm dens for everyone. Moving paths to carry you wherever you want to go. Unlimited food. How could life be better?”
WhiteTail sneezed again and then leaned out over the edge of the balcony and pointed her muzzle at a group of converts in the street below. The six of them lay in a semicircle, prostrate before an automat, barking in rhythm. The automat responded with a flash of light, a clap of thunder, and an enormous mound of cooked meat.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “My father used to have a saying, before he went daft. He’d say, ‘The kin live for the Hunt. ’ Not for hunting; for the Hunt. He meant the old, formal word for the fighting pack. ”
WhiteTail edged back from the railing and dropped down to all fours. Cocking her head a little, she whined as if deeply disturbed. “Mavvy, everything in our lives is centered on the pack, and the pack is based on the Hunt. If we no longer need to hunt, what happens to the pack?” She turned and poked a paw at the slidewalk endlessly rolling past the edge of the platform they stood on. “How much riding on that thing will it take before we’re too soft and weak to do anything except live here?”
Maverick dropped down to all fours and joined her, but when he tried to wrap a comforting tail around her shoulders, she shrugged it off and sidled away. “Mavvy,” she said, a desperate light in her eyes, “I saw a fatyoungling this morning. Can you imagine that?” She shook her head, returned to the railing, and looked out at the city. “Surely too much Heaven is just as damning as life in Hell. ”
Maverick rejoined her at the railing. “You really should talk to your father about this,” he said softly. “You’re asking questions that are out of my depth. All I can tell you is that I believe-I’m as mystified as you are, but I believe-and that’s enough for me. ”
WhiteTail looked him straight in the eyes. “What do you believe?”
“Why, I believe that SilverSides kept her promise. I believe that this was given to us, to free us from the pain and drudgery of our old lives. We may still be a little bewildered, and maybe some of us are misusing the gift, but I believe that SilverSides will appear soon and make everything clear. ”
WhiteTail’s eyes narrowed. “But you do believe that this place was created as a reward for the faithful?” Maverick nodded. WhiteTail leapt to her hind feet and pointed at something in the street below. “Then what are they doing here?”
Maverick’s eyes followed where WhiteTail was pointing. At least thirty young males were marching four abreast down the middle of the street, ears flat, hackles raised, fangs bared in menacing snarls. A playing youngling made the mistake of darting into the street and got cuffed head-over-haunches back to the curb by one of the leaders.
“Who are they?” Maverick asked, his hackles rising.
“One Eye and his pack,” WhiteTail growled. “Very mean; we’ve been fighting border skirmishes with them for years. ”
Maverick fought his hackles down and whined nervously. “Maybe the missionaries persuaded him to-”
“What missionaries?” WhiteTail snapped. “My father spent three days talking about sending missionaries to the other packs, but by the time he was done talking, everyone was too well fed and comfortable to go!”
Maverick could only whimper anxiously.
WhiteTail pointed into the street again. “Look, there’s going to be a fight!” A ragged mob of converts was collecting in front of the automat, and someone from LifeCrier’s inner circle was desperately trying to organize them into a Hunt. For a moment the invaders slowed to a stiff-legged gait, arched their backs to make themselves appear larger, and sidled toward the defenders with loud, bloodthirsty snarls. Among the defenders, a few in the back deserted, and the formation started to crumble. With a triumphant howl in BeastTongue, One Eye charged.
With a completely different howl, he dug in his claws and skidded to a stop, just inches short of the legs of the enormous black WalkingStone that had stepped out of the shadows and into his path.
“You shall not fight in this city!” The WalkingStone’s voice was like thunder. One Eye scuttled back a few trots and seemed to gather courage once he was back with his pack. He issued orders to his lieutenants with a snarling voice and sharp, chopping gestures; several of the larger males slipped out of the pack and began sidling indirectly toward the WalkingStone, as if to flank it.
“You are welcome to live in the place that has been prepared for you,” the WalkingStone said, “but you shall not fight in this city!” On cue, eight more WalkingStones stepped out of the shadows, surrounding One Eye.
The pack broke and ran.
“Well,” Maverick said with a smug smile, “do you still doubt that SilverSides watches over us?”
“SilverSides schmilversides,” WhiteTail snarled. “So far all I’ve seen is WalkingStones behaving the way WalkingStones have always behaved. I’ll believe in SilverSides when I smell her fur. ” She was still glaring at Maverick when a rumble of thunder rolled out of the clear blue sky and echoed down the empty streets. Startled, both Maverick and WhiteTail jerked their heads up to see the strange, winged shape descending on a tail of flame.
“WhiteTail?” Maverick asked, his voice squeaking like a trapped grasshider. “It looks like you’re about to get your chance. ”