CHAPTER SEVEN

Afew more days slipped by. I was so glad to be alive, I was savoring every moment of it. My body had healed almost completely, though faint bruises lingered in certain places. My strength had returned. I was full of energy, ready to go.

I barely noticed the cold. I'd grown used to the nip of the wind and the chill of the snow. The occasional strong blast set me shivering, but most of the time I felt as natural wandering about naked as the wolves.

I'd been accepted as an equal member of the pack now that I was back on my feet, and I was constantly out hunting — since I was able to run faster than the wolves, my services were in great demand. I was gradually coming to terms with the way they thought and communicated. I couldn't read their thoughts, but most of the time I had a good idea what they were thinking — I could tell by the way they hunched their shoulders, widened or narrowed their eyes, perked or dropped their ears and tails, growled or barked or whined. On the hunt, if Streak or another wolf wanted me to go to the left or the right, he only had to look at me and twitch his head. If a she-wolf wanted me to play with her cubs, she howled in a certain soft way, and I knew she was calling me.

The wolves, for their part, seemed able to understand everything I said. I rarely spoke — there wasn't much need for words — but whenever I did, they'd cock their heads intently and listen, then reply with a yap or gesture.

We moved around a lot, as was the wolves' way. I kept an eye open for Vampire Mountain, but didn't see it. That puzzled me — the reason the wolves met out here in the wild was to converge on the mountain and eat the leftovers that the vampires threw to them. I decided to ask Streak about it, although I didn't think he'd be able to comprehend my question or fashion a reply. To my surprise, when I mentioned Vampire Mountain, the hairs rose on the back of his neck, and he growled.