The Land of Broken Roads

APPROACH, said Father. Socks lowered his head, ducked his tail, and crept forward on unsteady paws.

Dirt held his breath from the top of the tree, trying to gently shake a few more of the red-and-yellow leaves out of the way so he could get a better view. This was it. Socks would now live or die based on Father’s approval.

One of Socks’ older siblings, a female, reached her nose forward as he passed her, and he shyly touched it with his, his tail twitching in a hidden wag. But he didn’t stop moving forward, and the other three ignored him, pointedly looking elsewhere. Dirt suspected they’d be more friendly after seeing if Socks would get eaten.

Socks reached Father and the scarred, black wolf towered over him like a mountain. From where Dirt was watching, little Socks looked like a pygmy species compared with his sire, not just a child. Father leaned down his great head to sniff his pup and Socks whimpered, a heart-wrenching, pleading sound that Dirt almost never heard.

The pup gave a timid, playful little hop with just his front legs and reached his nose up to meet Father’s, licking his snout, then fell to his back to expose his stomach. I love you, please accept me, I submit to you, Socks was saying in the language of wolves.

Father growled and bared his teeth, and Socks whimpered, pawing at the air. The sound of Father’s growl was so shocking to Dirt’s basest instincts that he nearly lost his grip on the branch and fell out of the tree.

GET UP AND GIVE ME AN ACCOUNTING OF YOURSELF, commanded Father. Socks rolled over to his belly and sat up, head still halfway to the ground as he looked upward with pleading eyes.

Socks must not have started quickly enough, because Father said, ARE YOU TOO COWARDLY TO SPEAK WITHOUT YOUR PET?

-That’s not it,- said Socks. From across the valley, his mental voice was on the quiet side, but Dirt could still hear it. The pup was probably doing that on purpose. Dirt didn’t dare open his mental sight right now, not with Father so close.

WHAT IS THAT YOU HAVE ON? HAVE YOU BEEN TAMED? asked Father, his voice more threatening than lightning strikes.

-I wanted it, so some humans made it for me. I am wearing a harness, but I am not harnessed. Sometimes I like to carry things. Its purpose is to give me pockets,- said Socks, sounding gentle and conciliatory.

SHOW ME WHAT YOU HAVE IN THERE.

Socks’ ears twitched eagerly and he turned his head to look at the pockets on either side of his harness. He pulled out their contents with his mind, circling them around himself in the air. He couldn’t help but wag his tail as he explained, -This is a big bone that I like to chew on. It’s from a bull. This is a ball of metal the humans gave me. It’s called iron and I use it to hit things. This is a rock I found, and I Iike it because it’s so square. I wear it on the other side to balance out the metal ball. The Duchess gave me this necklace, and it has a special rock called an emerald. This is Dirt’s backpack and it has his clothes and a scroll in it. I only carry it sometimes. This is a flower that had lots of bees on it, and I wanted to see if they would follow it. They didn’t. It’s drying out now. This is a red leaf, which I kept because I didn’t know they did that when autumn comes. This is a rake that Dirt uses to brush my fur and scratch me whenever I want.-

WHY ARE YOU CARRYING AROUND GARBAGE?

-None of this is garbage.-

A WOLF NEEDS NONE OF THOSE THINGS.

-I still want them anyway. They are fun. You should let Dirt rake you.-

The pup didn’t seem to be taking this as seriously as expected, which made Dirt increasingly nervous. Dirt couldn’t tell from Father’s body language if he was impressed or not, but at least Socks was still alive, so that was something. If it’d help, Dirt would certainly rush all the way across the valley in an instant to grab that rake.

-Watch this!- said Socks. He shoved everything back into the big pockets except the iron ball, just larger than Dirt’s head, which he flung in a smooth arc against a nearby tree. The poor thing’s trunk exploded with a resounding CRACK, splitting in half and sending splinters whistling in every direction. Socks yanked the ball back and made it slowly circle over his head, tongue out and looking quite pleased with himself.

Then he suddenly shot it at another tree, shattering it like the first. Before the sound had even reached Dirt’s ears, Socks had retrieved the ball and held it ready for another fling.

YOU ARE ACTING TOO HUMAN. WHAT USE HAS A WOLF FOR TOOLS?

-I am not too human. You would use tools too if you had pockets. With this, I can hit something over there, even if I am over here.-

YOU CAN ALREADY DO THAT. YOU DON’T NEED AN IRON BALL.

-I know, but I figured this out. When you lift something with your mind, the force has to go back into your body. But that works both directions. If I brace my feet I can use all my muscles.-

YOU DO NOT NEED AN IRON BALL. WATCH. Father turned his gaze toward a tall, thick pine and a sharp thump sounded across the field, a strange sound too quiet to echo. The tree remained standing. Then another high-pitched thump, and another.

LOOK, LITTLE PUP.

-Those holes are as small as Dirt’s fingers. How did you push them all the way through the trunk? Is it because you’re so big?-

NO. THINK OF THIS SHAPE.

-Oh, you start big and then funnel it down, like water going in a hole. Let me try,- said Socks. His posture had perked up a little, even if he made it obvious how he leaned toward Father, never looking away from him for long and frequently reaching up with his nose. He nuzzled his sire’s front leg in a way that wasn’t subtle at all, then braced himself and tried to hit the tree with his mind the way he’d been shown.

The thump was so quiet from this distance that Dirt thought he might have imagined it, and Socks ducked down in dismay at his failure. But Father didn’t bite his spine in half, so he hurriedly tried again. The second try made a slightly louder sound, and a third.

I DID NOT CALL YOU HERE TO WATCH YOU PRACTICE.

-One more try. I think I’ve…- said Socks, trailing off. He braced himself, digging in with front and back claws, and smacked the tree with his mind. Dirt heard the thump, faintly, but it sounded right. The pine swayed a bit at the top, which it hadn’t done for Father. -Well, I made a bigger hole than you did, so I didn’t hit as hard. But I still made one. See, Father? I am strong. I am not getting weaker running around with Dirt.-

PINE WOOD IS SOFT.

-Can my siblings do that?-

The great wolf hesitated to answer, giving away the answer before he replied. Dirt grinned to himself to see such an overwhelming presence outsmarted by his friend, and Father shot Dirt a look, just the quickest of glances, to tell him he was watching. Dirt’s smile vanished.

NO, said Father.

-How about— -

MOST OF MY CHILDREN ARE ADULTS BEFORE THEY GAIN THAT LEVEL OF MENTAL CONTROL.

-Then I bet they can’t do this either. Watch closely, everyone.-

Socks turned and stepped backward to be alongside Father, then pulled the emerald necklace back out. Even from here, Dirt could see the pup’s entire body focus on the necklace. Not quite well enough to know for sure, but Dirt could guess what was happening—the pup was unlatching it. That was hard enough for Dirt, who had fingers. Its band was so thin it looked like a thread instead of gold links at first glance, and the clasp operated by a tiny lever that Dirt had to use a fingernail to open. It had taken Socks at least four straight days of practice before he’d gotten it.

The other pups all startled at the same time, indicating that Socks had succeeded. They crowded in for a closer look, perking up their ears and wagging their huge tails.

YOUR PET’S FIDDLY LITTLE FINGERS HAVE BEEN GIVING YOU IDEAS. YOU SHOULD NOT IMITATE SUCH BIZARRE CREATURES.

-They are funny-looking, but mine is cute. And they can be useful.-

PERHAPS. SHOW US WHAT ELSE YOU HAVE LEARNED.

Socks thought about that for a moment. -Okay, no one move.-

The area filled with sparks, around and under all the other pups and even Father, surrounding them all in a cloud of glowing embers. Each spark burst into a short-lived flame, creating a giant ball of white and yellow fire that burned out almost instantly. Socks’ four siblings yelped and jumped back, and Father growled sincerely, creating a menacing low rumble that Dirt could feel in his chest, filling him with white terror.

-Look, I didn’t burn you. I didn’t even singe your fur. See how careful I am?- said Socks. He stepped from sibling to sibling making that squeaky whimpering sound, giving their faces little licks. Only once they were sure all their fur was intact did they return any of the affection.

Dirt gripped the branch ever tighter. What was Socks doing? How could he possibly dare do anything to aggravate Father?

HOW HOT CAN YOU MAKE THE FIRE? asked Father, sounding unimpressed. Still, some of the carnivorous edge had faded from his voice, which made Dirt wonder.

Socks stood straighter and wagged his tail. He skipped halfway across the field, then looked around to make sure no one had followed. They knew better.

He lifted his face upward and created another field of sparks about a body length above himself, then brought them all in together in a small ball. More sparks appeared and fell into it, looking very much like it was drawing them in, then a third batch. The ball swirled.

Socks strained, stretching his focus to its limit as he brought in more and more sparks. All at once, it became too many and exploded in a flash of white light. A searing wave of heat hit Dirt’s face and made his eyes water, followed by a gentle press of wind.

Dirt almost jumped out of the tree to go pat Socks’ fur when he saw it smoking, but the pup rolled on the ground and put it out, then hopped back to his feet, looking pleased with himself.

-I can make it even hotter if Dirt helps.-

DIRT IS NOT ALLOWED TO HELP RIGHT NOW, said Father. The great wolf moved over to Socks, only needing a few steps to cover that broad distance, and leaned down to sniff him. Socks rolled to his back again and raised his paws, reaching for his sire’s face. Father lifted his head just high enough not to be reached and gave another quiet growl.

Then Father turned and stepped back to where he was before. COME FORWARD, he said, indicating with a thought which wolf he meant. It was the female who had greeted Socks, his sister one year old.

She stalked out into the meadow, all playfulness gone. She approached like a predator, not a friend, half again Socks’ size or more with almost none of the fuzz and gentleness of puppyhood. The gray fur of her birth had almost all darkened to black, indicating her maturity. Her orange eyes lost all their affection and she began to regard her little brother as prey.

TAKE OFF THAT HARNESS, PUP. IT WILL NOT HELP YOU HERE, said Father.

Socks grabbed the harness with his mind and stepped backward to slip out of it, then deposited it carefully on the ground beside a thin pine at the edge of the meadow. He shook himself to loosen the lines of flattened fur that had been under the straps. Then he stood straight, looking ready.

KILL HIM. IF HE SURVIVES LONG ENOUGH, I WILL TELL YOU TO STOP.

Socks wagged his tail for just a moment, glancing across the field to the tree where Dirt was watching, which filled the boy with panic. What was he thinking, losing focus at a time like this? Please, please live, he begged to no one, still keeping his thoughts to himself.

The pup looked back at his older sister and said, -I have fought scarier things than you.-

She snarled and stepped forward, ready to circle and look for an opening. And immediately lost her balance and bit the grass. Socks had tripped her with his mind. She tried to rise but took a ringing blow on the head, pushing her back down.

That was only temporary, however, because she redoubled her strength and surged forward, shrugging off blow after blow. She kicked forward through another mental trip attempt and jumped forward, teeth and claws ready. Socks ducked under it and hoisted her right over himself, then stepped away.

For her second attack, she didn’t jump, but rather charged straight through and none of Socks’ mental attacks could push her away. She was half again his size and probably twice his weight, and that was before she strengthened herself with mana.

She reached him easily and they became a tangle of twisting limbs and vicious roars. They bit and tore at each other, growling and snarling the whole time. She had the clear advantage, but Socks was wily enough to keep his throat out of her teeth. More than once she got her fangs into the fur around his shoulder and he tore himself away, opening bloody flaps of skin to keep from letting her do even more damage. The blood slicked his fur and made him harder to grab.

Dirt whimpered and he clenched his teeth to keep from crying out.

Socks raked her belly with his rear claws, opening long, bloody lines, but it wasn’t deep enough to let her guts out and end it. She roared in fury, but Socks twisted out from below her grasp.

They stood apart, then lunged at each other, trying to sink their fangs into whatever they could grab. They split up and lunged again. And again. Her attacks were stronger and more direct, and each time Socks had to pull himself out of her teeth. Not every attack drew blood, though—sometimes she came away with just a tuft of fur.

The fight raged from one end of the meadow to the other, and beyond it. They crashed into trees, uprooting the smaller ones and shaking the birds from the others. It was so fast, so bestial and chaotic, that Dirt could hardly stand to watch. He had to, though, despite how hard it was to see. He and Socks had come mentally prepared for the worst, but that didn’t make it easier.

Socks shifted his strategy again, spending more effort dancing away. Invisible hands pushed his sister’s jaws aside, or caught her foot at just the right moment to make her stumble, or some such thing. Never enough to stop her—he couldn’t—but always sufficient to slow her down.

He began to look like he was enjoying himself, despite Father’s judging eye, which filled Dirt with desperation. The whole field was torn up, trees broken, earth and blood and bits of fur everywhere, but Socks was wagging his tail like he was playing tag with children.

That enraged his sister more and more, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. If Socks turned to run, she’d be on him in an instant. If he faced her directly, she’d overpower him. But this dance of dodging and misdirection was something she couldn’t overcome.

Until she grabbed him with her own mind. Dirt watch Socks’ movements slow as her mental grip tightened around him, and although it seemed she had much less control, her strength was more than he could resist. Finally she held him secure and lunged in one final time to rip his throat out.

But she didn’t. She snapped her jaws shut and buried her muzzle in his neck instead, looking completely confused. She stepped back and waved her snout in the air, twisting in every direction and Dirt quickly realized that Socks had clamped her mouth shut. No matter how she struggled, she couldn’t get him to let go.

She still had her claws, and she still held Socks in her grasp. But she was so surprised by her inability to get her mouth open that it seemed she’d forgotten all that. Dirt quickly removed those thoughts from his mind, though, lest she happen to see them.

ENOUGH, said Father. Both pups let go of the other, and Socks quickly stepped over to lick his sister’s face affectionately. Despite his injuries, he seemed in a better mood by the minute. Dirt, on the other hand, couldn’t hear the birds anymore over the sound of his own terrified, beating heart.

Father lifted both pups and placed them before himself, rather than step over where they were. The great wolf huffed in annoyance and looked over to Dirt, who ducked down instinctively, as if that would do any good. Then Father looked back down at Socks and said, THIS IS NOT WORKING. YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE FRIGHTENED AND TIMID. DO YOU NOT THINK I WILL KILL YOU?

-She gave it away on accident. I am very good at seeing thoughts someone is trying to hide, because Dirt and I play a game like that. But not just her. She was the first, but they all did,- said Socks, sounding proud. -I saw as soon as I got here, and then I hid it from you so you wouldn’t find out.-

AND I DIDN’T THINK TO LOOK. I AM GETTING LAX AND YOU ARE A RASCAL. THE GAME IS OVER. LICK THEIR WOUNDS, said Father. He lowered his huge head and finally rubbed faces with Socks while the other pups came and licked the wounds of the combatants.

Dirt could hardly believe what had just happened. Socks had known he wasn’t going to die, all the way from the start? He edged closer and closer to the end of the branch, wondering if he was allowed to come down there yet or if he even wanted to. It really did look like the trial was over, because now he couldn’t see even a hint of hesitation or coldness among them.

Indeed, it was nice to see Socks finally smothered in the affection he deserved from his own kind. Maybe Dirt could wait until his heart stopped pounding so hard before he went down. He finally let his mind open to their thoughts so he could watch what was going on, though.

Socks and Father had been speaking in words, but the other pups didn’t care to. They probably could, but why bother? The air filled with their thoughts, pure emotion and scent and complex ideas all jumbled together in a way Dirt had forgotten about, it’d been so long. Affection and admiration, mostly, speaking so loudly that it almost felt like it belonged to him. They were curious about his adventures and the things in his pockets, and Dirt relaxed onto the branch to enjoy the moment for a bit longer.

Father’s voice nearly startled him from his perch, though. GET DOWN HERE, HUMAN. I HOPE YOU ARE PROUD OF YOURSELF. THEY ALL WANT POCKETS NOW.

Dirt jumped right out of the tree rather than waste an instant climbing down. He strengthened his legs and back with mana and rolled when he hit the ground, then sprinted over and lay down on his back right next to Socks. He pulled up his shirt to expose his belly and looked away, in a posture of complete submission.

I SEE YOU FOUND SOME CLOTHES, said Father.

-He wears them most days now because it gets cold in the morning and he doesn’t have any fur,­- said Socks, adding ideas and pictures to the words. Dirt shivering after waking up, his teeth chattering in the cold wind while Socks ran, the city full of humans and all of them dressed.

Dirt said something as well, trying his best to speak in the way of wolves. A bundle of ideas and scents—familiarity and relaxation, the comfortable feeling of cloth on his skin, the bite of cold air and his need to stay warm. An image of himself leaving the human city and the reassuring scent of Socks’ fur as he lay down for the pup to run. Their affection and Dirt’s choice to stay with him.

The other wolves were amused, all of them opening their mouths to show their tongues. -You speak like an infant,- said one of the younger males. Dirt grinned before he remembered that baring your teeth was different for them. Fortunately, though, they understood.

Of the four pups, Dirt recognized two as being from Socks’ litter. He’d met them before, and even spoken a bit. He sent them puffs of affection and recognition. To the two older pups, he sent respect and greeting. And, foolishly, to Father he sent complete humility and gratitude, the kind that expects nothing in return. He still did his best to avoid looking at Father’s mind, though, which glowed like the burning summer sun at noon.

GET UP OFF THE GROUND, HUMAN. THAT IS NOT HUMAN BEHAVIOR.

Dirt hopped instantly to his feet and bowed, like people did for the Duke.

THAT’S BETTER. NOW, PICK UP THAT RAKE. AFTERWARD, WE WILL DISCUSS WHAT YOU TWO WILL BE DOING OVER THE WINTER.

Father lay down, his bulk shoving trees aside rather than moving to where there weren’t any. He rested his chin on the ground and looked at Dirt expectantly with eyes as big as the boy was.