Weynon stared at the wolves ahead, his heart thumping. He had never run across any creatures more dangerous than a street dog, and just the idea of talking to wolves was terrifying. They were hardly moving, and at least a stone throw away, but he couldn’t help himself from wanting to turn his horse and run. Even the horses looked agitated at the sight of the wolves, though not Fletcher.

  “I won’t be able to hear them going this fast,” Weynon managed to say, hoping Garec wouldn’t risk the wolves being able to chase with their usual speed.

  “Elethe, stop channeling once you see Weynon make a connection,” Garec said.

  Weynon clenched his reins. There had to be another excuse to get out of talking to them, but he couldn’t think of one.

  Dowyr rode up beside him and channeled, “Are you seriously scared of talking to wolves?”

  He nodded and, not wanting Garec to hear him, signed, big scary teeth.

  “But they’re like the coolest animals! Come on, you can do it.”

  “Don’t worry, Weynon,” Elethe called. “If anything goes wrong, Donnan and I can take care of it.”

  Weynon took a deep breath and nodded, then channeled, first reaching out to the horses and calming them, then reaching out to the pack of wolves. He felt and heard nothing at first, but then the wolves were suddenly moving normally, and they stopped abruptly to turn towards the Company, a spike of alarm coming from them at the sight of everyone.

  Hello, Weynon sent. Don’t be afraid, we won’t hurt you. I’m Weynon.

  A long series of images flashed through Weynon’s mind, which was common when communicating with animals, but he also received scents and feelings. It all translated in his mind into understandable language.

  A two legs that speaks wolf? Curiosity.

  He who speaks wolf, but is not a wolf. Wonder, and something else… nostalgia?

  Earthbrother. Awe.

  Another swarm of images flashed in Weynon’s mind, and he understood them to be the names of all the wolves. Short Snout, Prancer, Raindrop, Smellerbug, and Farsight, the pack leader.

  Weynon sent his name to them again.

  We do not know two legs’ names, Farsight sent. We will call you Little Rider.

  “Well?” Garec asked.

  “I’m talking to them,” Weynon said. “What do you want me to ask?”

  “Ask if they know where there might be enemy camps.”

  Weynon did so, and the wolves’ responses came quickly.

  Two legs are all the same to us, and we do not go near them, Farsight sent. But we have smelled many packs wandering from morning to evening sun.

  How far? Weynon asked.

  What they returned was confusing to him, making him wonder whether they understood the question. He saw the sun move across the sky, as though it would take that long to reach the two legs at a wolf’s pace, but had no clue how far that meant.

  Your horses move like lightning, Raindrop sent. We did not smell you coming.

  Do you hunt other two legs? Prancer sent.

  Just two very dangerous ones, Weynon sent. Thank you for your help.

  How dangerous? Farsight sent before Weynon cut his channeling.

  One leads big armies, the other moves mountains and changes rivers.

  The wolves snarled in response, sending a mix of fear and hatred. Some of the nearby archers stirred, watching the wolves and fiddling with their arrows.

  We know this Earth Slayer, Short Snout sent. He has killed many of our brothers and sisters.

  Weynon’s eyes widened and he turned to Garec. “They know Royce.”

  Garec’s face hardened. “Could they lead us to him?”

  Weynon asked the question, and the wolves looked between each other as if discussing their answer.

  We do not hunt for two legs, Farsight sent. Nor do we have Earth Slayer’s scent, but we will share your name and scent, Little Rider, so our brothers and sisters will know you are an Earthbrother friend and give you guidance.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Be wary, young pup, Smellerbug sent. The final hunt is long away, but Shadowwalker stirs.

  The wolves all looked towards Garec, then dashed off into the brush.

  “What was that?” Garec asked. “Do they want us to follow?”

  Weynon shook his head. “They don’t know where Royce is, but they’re gonna tell other wolves about me, ones who might know where he is and can lead us to him. I think.” He did not like the idea of who knows how many other wolves knowing about him. What Smellerbug had sent also sounded ominous, and vaguely familiar, though he couldn’t think of why. “Dowyr, would you know what or who ‘Shadowwalker’ is?”

  Dowyr looked surprised. “That’s an obscure name for Hell. It only appears once in The Five Sentinels, in the book of the Blind Poet. Why?”

  “One of them said that he stirs, and that’s when they looked at Garec.”

  Garec idly tugged at his riding gloves. “Interesting. They must be able to sense Voidspeakers. Maybe that’s why dogs have always avoided me since my Apex. Was there anything else?”

  Weynon nodded. “They said there are groups of two leg—I mean, humans moving from morning to evening sun. East to west, I guess. I don’t know how many or how far exactly. Probably an hour or two away by horse, I’m not sure. Wolves speak very strangely.”

  “Better than nothing. We’ll move north for now. Elethe, are you okay to continue?”

  Elethe looked like she was falling asleep in her saddle, but she shook herself and nodded. “Just need some food and water. Had a light breakfast, so if I can rest a bit, I should be able to channel for another forty minutes, probably.”

  “We should be safe enough for that.” He raised his voice and began riding to the back of the Company. “Everyone, ten-minute break.”

  Weynon climbed out of his saddle, glad the snow was barely covering the ground, and put a feedbag on his horse as the rest of the soldiers did. He helped Dowyr put it on for his horse, as he struggled just to stay standing.

  I can’t feel my legs, Dowyr signed.

  Weynon smiled. “You’ll get used to it.”

  Can your Emogic bring peace to muscles?

  Weynon laughed and shook his head. “Why don’t you ask Sirona for healing?”

  Dowyr gave him a look of utter horror and channeled, “You really think she’d willingly make me feel better? No sir! I will happily suffer instead.”

  Weynon nodded and took a small notebook and charcoal out of his pack, then made a checkmark. “That’s willingly enduring suffering off the list.”

  “Hey, hey, hey, what’s that? Are you trying to see if I’m following teachings from The Five Sentinels?”

  Weynon grinned. “Somebody’s got to keep track.”

  “Oh yeah?” Dowyr marched up to Weynon and punched him in the gut. He folded with a gasp and dropped the notebook. “Willingly endure that, you—”

  Dowyr noticed the notebook and picked it up. He would’ve found no such list, just a checkmark on a blank page. Weynon held his stomach, laughing and wheezing.

  “You… damn you. You’re a real bastard. Get up.” Dowyr reached down and pulled Weynon to his feet as he began coughing. “Light, I didn’t mean to hit that hard. Are you made of paper or something? Go see Sirona.”

  “I’m fine,” Weynon wheezed, smiling. “She kinda scares me too. Got you real good, though.”

  Dowyr shook his head, though he couldn’t help but smile too. “Yeah, you did.” He smacked him on the forehead with the notebook. “Don’t do it again, or you’re gonna start seeing why Hell was named Shadowwalker, kay?”

  Weynon took back the notebook then looked towards where the wolves had been. “Why do you think wolves are cool?”

  Dowyr shrugged. “Because… they’re smart. I read a couple books about them, and they’re a lot more sophisticated than most people think. In a lot of ways, they’re like us. They hunt together, protect each other, and they make sure everyone knows who’s in charge without killing each other. Well, maybe not like us there.”

  “In all the books you’ve read, have you ever found something called the final hunt?”

  Dowyr looked thoughtful. “No, I don’t think so. What is it?”

  “I don’t know, just something one of them mentioned. I think it’s related to Hell somehow.”

  Dowyr was motionless for a moment, then narrowed his eyes at Weynon. “Have you read all of The Five Sentinels? Beginning to end?”

  “No, not yet. I’m not old enough to read the last three books. Why?”

  For as long as Weynon could remember, it was taught that The Five Sentinels could only be read up to a certain point depending on your age. Any child, no matter the age, could read the first few books, roughly a quarter of The Five Sentinels. They were full of simple stories and doctrines, many even a four-year-old could understand. At the age of eleven, all but the last three books became available, adding more in-depth books like The Wisdoms of Paradise, Zion & The Halberd, and Three Sages’ Parables. The last three books were not to be opened until the age of seventeen, said to contain the most complex truths and mysteries.

  Dowyr made a funny laugh. “Of course, you wouldn’t secretly read ahead like everyone else. Well, what that wolf said could have to do with something mentioned in the last book.”

  “What’s that?”

  Dowyr gave him a skeptical look. “You really want to know?”

  Weynon shrugged. “Nothing says I can’t listen to you tell me about it.”

  “Fair enough. Well… the last book references the first, restating that Heaven will come to Earth someday, but there’s more context as to why. He’s supposed to come because Hell will break free, and so there’ll be one final battle. Completely ridiculous, but maybe that’s what the wolf was referring to.”

  Weynon silently thought about that. A final battle between Heaven and Hell? A final hunt related to Hell? They certainly sounded similar enough to be related, but how could that be true? Hell was meant to stay imprisoned for the rest of time. What did it mean that he could escape? Perhaps the answers would come when he was old enough to read the last books of The Five Sentinels. And at least the wolf made it sound like the final hunt wasn’t any time soon, so he tried to not worry.

  “Mount up!” Garec called, and Weynon and Dowyr began scrambling to ready their horses and climb back on with the rest of the soldiers. “Let’s get moving again. Elethe, how long do you have left?”

  “Ehh… I’m going to say half an hour,” Elethe said.

  “I’ll take it. Whenever you’re ready.”

  Weynon took a moment to channel at Elethe and sent a wave of calmness to her. She looked at him with mild surprise.

  I want to help, he signed with a smile.

  She grimaced and signed, Thanks, but please don’t. I don’t deserve your help.

  Weynon’s smile faded, but he set his jaw and channeled another wave to her. Says who? he signed. You get it anyway.

  Elethe didn’t look pleased with that, but at least the tension in her shoulders melted away for the moment. That was good enough for him.

  The Company began to ride north at a steady pace, and there was little to speak of. The land rolled gently by in mild snow-covered slopes with a sparse gathering of bare trees and bushes. Weynon felt terribly exposed from all sides, not only to human eyes but also wolves. Who could ever feel comfortable knowing wolves were spreading your name amongst themselves, intending to find you again? Even knowing they were trying to help him, it sent a shiver down his spine.