Eleeri pushed her pony into the water on his downriver side. He swam valiantly and her assistance was limited to a grip on his mane, which helped him find his feet again on the far side. The two younger, smaller fillies needed more. By now, too, the Gray Ones had recovered some of their confidence. But as they raced forward an arrow storm met them, so that they rolled screaming and howling. With the trembling babies behind them, girl and mare faced the remaining enemies.
“If I hold them, can you get the other two across?” Eleeri hissed.
*If they do not panic,* Tharna sent. *If they do, I have no easy way to aid them.*
Her friend snatched a look behind her at the two foals who cowered in their shadow. They couldn’t be more than a few weeks old. Keplian foals seemed to be born small. True growth didn’t come until they reached two or three months of age; then they seemed to grow as if they were being inflated. But these two—she hooked a foot out of her leather.
“Watch the Gray Ones.”
Moving quickly, she released the stirrup leathers from her saddle and flipped one around each foal. Buckled into the last and next to last holes, they fitted. Good. Now if one did slip, the mare would have something to seize.
She swung back onto her mount. The enemy had begun to advance again, hoping she was occupied. Seeing her attention was on them once more, they backed away.
Keeping her eyes on them she signaled the mare. “Go! One at a time.” She watched from the corner of an eye as mare and foal plunged into the water.
Among the enemy there seemed to be some dissent. Eleeri thought she could hear growls and occasional snarled words. She was correct; the gray ones were furious at the likely escape of prey. But they had died in sufficient numbers to make it clear these two were not to be trifled with.
Their current leader was making the best of it. “Watch them. If we can, we pull them down. If not, we still have three dead ones to feast us.” His look boded no good to Keplian and human, though, and his memory was working busily. A Keplian with a human. It could only be the pair he had heard of a few weeks ago. A pack had hunted them, to find themselves the hunted instead. They had lost many of their pack as the prey escaped. Back in their own lands he would bespeak all packs that they should watch for these, kill if they could ever be caught off guard. It might be some trick of those from the valley. He would show them the Gray Ones were not so easily taken or tricked. His lips peeled back from fangs as he snarled his frustration.
His fellows were less interested in the escaping prey. Behind them lay enough meat to feast on for days. Longer, now that half their number was dead. The wounded were thrust aside as the rest sought the best parts to begin their meal. The last filly gave a tiny whimpering squeal at the sight. Eleeri cursed the feeding enemy harshly and she reached over to stroke the shaking foal.
“Don’t worry, little one, we’ll get you to a safe place, and your mother can’t feel anything anymore.” The baby looked up and Eleeri was struck all over again with the red fire that swirled in Keplian eyes. Her fingers curled around her pendant, feeling it grow warm.
“Help me get her away safely,” she whispered softly. “And I hope that meal poisons the lot of them.”
Back in the old days, as she remembered, wolvers had poisoned cow carcasses with all sorts of compounds, but mostly strychnine. They’d been after stock-killing wolves, not Gray Ones, but by all the gods she’d like to see this lot killed by the very mares they’d murdered. Once, when she was a child, she’d seen a container of the deadly powder. Her hand tightened on the pendant as she recalled the descriptions Far Traveler had given her of its use and actions.
The third foal was safely across and the mare was sending impatiently. *Battle-sister—Eleeri! Stop thinking and get over here before you provoke them.*
The girl came to herself with a jolt. Wordlessly she swam her mount across the water, then led her group along the trail. One hand still gripped the pendant, its warmth unnoticed. Nor did she see that the tiny eyes glowed with a wicked fire. Long ago the girl had also seen the molecular structure of strychnine. Now that knowledge swirled almost to her conscious before subsiding again.
The Gray Ones feasted heartily before sprawling in the shade. They snapped and snarled lazily, and the wounded were careful to watch their uninjured companions. At present there was enough meat for all. When the time came that there wasn’t, they must be on guard.
Mare, human, and rescued foals were all well up the trail and out of earshot when the commotion began. A Gray One found his arms and legs had begun to shake. Then another began to twitch. The spasms increased in severity as one by one all fell into the pattern. Only the wounded that had not been permitted to eat were free of the trouble. They, in turn, trotted over; with their fellows occupied, now was a good time to feast. Their satisfaction was shattered in a short time as the first of them also began to twitch. The spasms became continuous until all gasped, unable to breathe. Finally they went limp.
Far up the trail, Eleeri still sat her mount with a hand on the pendant. Strychnine was a cruel death, so she had always heard. The worst of it was all the other deaths that led from poisoning a carcass. The stock killers died, but so did anything else that ate the poisoned meat, be it bird or beast. The wolvers had rarely bothered to clean up the lethal remains. That was wrong. No, on second thought, she would not wish such a death on even the Gray Ones, not if it meant the innocent dying with them.
Where the Gray Ones lay in death’s rictus, a bird landed. It hopped to the meat and began to feed. It was joined by others. They ate eagerly and departed, to be replaced with others. All were safe. Sometimes wishes can be more powerful than the one who wishes will ever know.
In another hour the foals were beginning to falter. Eleeri consulted with Tharna and called a rest break. Then she drew the mare aside.
“What are we to do about feeding them, sister-kin? All are young. The colt might manage on grass and water; he’s no doubt been eating grass as well as nursing, from the size of him. But the fillies are far too young.”
The mare was serene. *Hylan no longer needs my milk. I have fed him because it pleases us both, but it was not necessary to him. Now I will feed these instead.*
Her friend surveyed her. “That’ll be a real drain on you. You’ve been nursing Hylan for months and now you switch to feeding two foals for months more.”
*True, but even if I can only give milk for another month or two, they may then be old enough to manage part of the time with grass.* Eleeri nodded doubtfully, saying no more. She couldn’t bear to see the foals starve, but still less did she wish to watch as her friend wasted away, her strength going to feed the babies. She glanced over to where the three slept, slumped on the grass in utter exhaustion. Poor little things would probably be grieving badly, too, as soon as their strength returned. She would push this trip as hard as they could handle. If they were tired out, they’d be less inclined to mourn.
It was so, although the foals may not have appreciated her motives. Hylan was delighted at their safe return, and with playmates. As the older, stronger, and smarter, he took leadership at once. Even the other colt deferred to him carefully. Indeed, his deference was so marked, Eleeri wondered.
*Stallions kill easily,* the mare enlightened her.
“Hylan isn’t a stallion, and I don’t think he’s a killer by nature, either. In horse herds it isn’t that unusual to have more than one stallion. Not if it’s a large herd.”
Tharna snuffled. *That’s horses. With our kind, the stallions are very quick to kill any who appear to defy them, mares and foals alike.* She saw her sister-kin’s eyes widen. *Yes, I tell you this. I have seen it happen. It was why I wandered far away from the lands of the Keplians.*