He felt the same way after the nights of the moon, when the beast emerged to take command of his body, reshaping Darrow to its own carnal desires. In the mornings, Darrow could barely remember running with the pack, though faint smells and dim images clouded his memory.
'How do you change when you will?' he asked Sorcia.
Some of the nightwalkers could change only during the full moon, or when Rusk evoked their transformation through the power of Malar. Darrow was among the latter, and he envied the others.
'Some were born with the gift,' said Sorcia. 'They are true nightwalkers. For them, it is as natural as speaking their mother tongue. They learned it so long ago that they can't remember not having it.'
'But you can learn a language,' said Darrow.
'Just so,' she agreed. 'And you can learn to change shape when you will.'
'Teach me,' he said.
And so she did. The lessons began with words but soon left them behind.
The beast was always inside a nightwalker, no matter whether proud Selune rode the sky or veiled her face. Lured out with rage or desire, it would come to the right call. When Sorcia slapped him, Darrow felt the beast snarl. When they ran naked through the forest, he heard it panting in the back of his mind. And when they lay together, even when he closed his eyes to see Maelin's face, Darrow heard the distant howling of his other self deep inside.
By the end of the month of Flamerule, Darrow no longer forgot the nights of four-legged hunting. When autumn came, he could change whenever Selune showed more than half her face. By the Feast of the Moon, he hoped, he would stand as a wolf before Rusk used his infernal spells to impel the change in the weak.
Even fewer people made the pilgrimage to the lodge at Harvestide. All the worshipers from the northern woods arrived, but there were only two from the south. A scowling Rusk emerged from the lodge after receiving them in private.
To lift the mood, Rusk spoke to the People and their worshipers after his opening prayers.
'My journey to the city was not in vain,' he said from the altar, 'nor was my sacrifice for naught. The Black Wolf Scrolls contain the words of Malar, the Great Hunter. In them I have found the truths the moon worshipers tried to conceal from us. In them, I have found the path to our destiny.
'Our birthright is not limited to the wild. We are the children of the natural world, including the cities shaped by the misguided followers of the weakling gods. The day of our retribution draws near, when the Black Wolf will lead us on the hunt that reclaims our rightful territory from the herd.
'Hear me well, my faithful children, for I speak the words of Malar, and mine is the honor of leading the last wild hunt to break down the pens and fences of the city dwellers. Those who prove strong enough may join us, while the weak we will hunt for our sustenance and our pleasure.'
That night, the chosen prey ran fast and far, but in the end he did not join the pack. He cried for Mielikki, Daughter of the Forest. If she heard his plea, it was far too late. Ronan tore out his throat, and the whole pack feasted on his flesh.
Three tendays later, in late Eleasias, Rusk took Darrow and Sorcia ranging to the southwestern reaches of the Arch Wood. They walked in human form, though Darrow had wished for a chance to prove he could transform at will. He had become much better at it recently. It took him less than a minute to enrage the beast and let it come over him.
When they reached the southwestern woods, they found the first signs of human habitation. First they smelled the wood smoke and the unmistakable odor of human kitchens. Soon they spied lone cottages and small clusters of sod houses appeared just within or beyond the tree line.
'Why do they live so far from a town?' asked Darrow. At least in the northern woods, the foresters were within a day's walk of Moonwater.
'No lords to tax them,' explained Rusk. 'No laws to bind them. Most of them are strong. That is why they make good prey and sometimes good People.'
Contrary to Rusk's endorsement, the forest dwellers seemed weak and frightened. They barred their doors at the sight of the strangers and peered at them through the shutters.
'Something turns them against us,' grumbled Rusk. 'They cannot have forgotten the winters when we fed them.'
'You know who it is, Huntmaster,' said Sorcia.
Rusk frowned and increased his pace, leaving Darrow and Sorcia 'behind.
'Who is it?' asked Darrow quietly.
'Maleva,' said Sorcia. 'A cleric of Selune.'
'One cleric?' said Darrow. 'Why don't we drive her away or kill her?'
'Her home is protected by a forbiddance,' said Sorcia. 'And Rusk has long decreed that none but he shall take her life.'
'A matter of honor?' asked Darrow.
'No,' said Sorcia, 'a matter of weakness.'
They found Maleva's cottage the next night. It stood atop a low hill near the forest's edge. One square window glowed with yellow light, and a thin ribbon of smoke rose into the dark blue sky. Even from fifty yards away, Darrow smelled rabbit stew and wood smoke, as well as the dog lying beside the front door.
'See how close you can get,' said Rusk. Sorcia and Darrow looked at him in surprise. 'Both of you, from different directions.'
'You said she had a forbiddance on the place,' said Sorcia.
'That's why he's sending us first,' said Darrow, who remembered all too well the way Rusk used him as a trap-springer back at House Malveen. He didn't like it, but he knew Rusk would not tolerate an argument.
Sorcia felt otherwise. 'You called Balin a coward for leading from behind,' she said.
Darrow blinked and stepped back, expecting Rusk to strike her down. Instead, he merely fixed his eyes on hers and asked, 'Which of you will free me from paralysis or heal me if I am struck down?'
Sorcia had no retort for that argument.
'When you wield the power of Malar, perhaps we will discuss my decisions. Until then, you will do well to obey them.'
Darrow had already turned away to skirt the hill and approach from the north, where the tree line would prevent him from making a silhouette against the sky. The stars shone in the cloudless sky, and the crescent moon was bright and high.
From this side, Darrow could see neither the dog nor the window. Darrow crept close, expecting trouble only when he reached the building. Thus, he was unprepared when he triggered the ward when still thirty yards away.
Brilliant silver light suffused his body, and an invisible force thrust him away from the cottage. He fell sprawling on the ground, twitching and breathless. The force that pushed him back felt like fire and lightning combined. He couldn't smell or taste, and all his flesh felt numb and useless.
He rolled to his feet and felt briefly dizzy. His vision blurred, then cleared. He looked for Darrow and Sorcia but saw neither of them.
From around the cottage came the dog, barking furiously. It was a big wolfhound with a mottled gray coat. Darrow heard the sound of the door opening, and a woman's voice called out, 'Who's there?'
Darrow turned and ran, the wolfhound close behind.
'Call back your dog, Maleva,' boomed Rusk's voice. Darrow veered toward the sound, seeking the protection of numbers, as well as Rusk's magic. His body stung and ached from his expulsion.
