was why Hardfoot had come to her, to be her wolf-friend. The terrain was ragged, but no more so than her thoughts. She knew she had done something foolish: she had made a decision that could affect the rest of her life, and had not slept on it. If it turned out wrong, it would be because of that carelessness.
Yet how could it turn out wrong? Recognition could not be opposed. She was no strong telepath, but she had picked up enough to know that what had passed between Prunepit and Wreath was valid. She also believed them both when they said they had neither sought nor wanted it. Recognition did not require its chosen to seek it; it chose on its own basis, trampling under any other concerns. If she had fought it, encouraging her lifemate to flee it, he would have sickened, and his love for her would have suffered. From the moment the Recognition occurred, Prunepit and Wreath were destined to mate. There was nothing else Softfoot could do except accept it.
Then where was her error? As she mulled it over, she
knew what it was. She had ignored Wreath's motives. Oh, of course Wreath had no more choice than did Prunepit; Recognition accepted no motive but its own, as it went single-mindedly after the best combinations for the breed. But Wreath had always wanted to better her status, in whatever manner status existed among the elves. If she could have fascinated a chief, so as to be the lifemate of the most influential member of the tribe, she would have. But there had been no male chief of her generation.
Now, however, Prunepit might become chief, if his idea for hunting allos worked. If he became chief, he would be suitable material for Wreath's interest. Her interest, once aroused, was apt to be devastating. She would, quite simply, take him for her lifemate. Prunepit had settled for Softfoot partly because it had never occurred to him that a woman like Wreath would be interested in him. Indeed, she had not been, and would never have been, but for the Recognition. But what was planned as a strictly temporary tryst was in danger of becoming more than that, and Softfoot could do nothing to prevent it. Wreath's beauty, and her total self-interest, and the Recognition, made that clear.
Yet what could Softfoot have done? She was sure she had made a mistake, but she could not see how she could have avoided it. Maybe if she had slept on it she would have found a way. Now she was stuck; she loved Prunepit, and would always love him, but perhaps would lose him.
She laid her head against Hardfoot's furry shoulder and let the tears flow. The wolf ran on, completing the scouting without her direct guidance. He was aware of her misery, but did not fathom its source, so he let it be.
Prunepit and Wreath emerged and mounted their wolves. Physically, they seemed unaffected; it was as if nothing had happened. But mentally everything had changed; the compelling hunger of the Recognition had abated.
Another woman had made love to Softfoot's lifemate, and had done it better than Softfoot had ever been capable of. Cold as Wreath was, she was always good at what she put her mind to, and Recognition made it easy. No, there was no way Softfoot could compete-if Wreath decided on more than mere mating.
Prunepit joined Silvertooth, setting his hand on the great wolf's head for the strongest contact, explaining the role required of her. The wolf understood: she would run and dodge and feint, never truly attacking, and her actions would be scored as attacks. She was weak, but this she could do. She accepted a piece of leather; this she would protect with her mock-life.
Now Prunepit conferred with the others. 'You must not try to guide your wolves,' he told the two women. 'You must use your weapons only as the opportunity arises; it will seem like chance, for you will not know how your wolves will move.'
'I don't like that,' Wreath said. 'It will be like riding a strange wolf.'
'I know. But my plan is to link the minds of the wolves to the mind of the prey, so that they can maneuver as fast as it thinks. No wolf-and no rider-will be in danger as long as that is the case. Then the riders will be able to strike at will.'
'If they don't fall off their mounts!' Wreath exclaimed. 'I'm glad this isn't a real allo!' She could readily have added that she would have been even happier if she hadn't had to undertake a real mating.
Now they started the test. The three riders on their wolves surrounded the mock-allo, who growled and snapped convincingly, but never let go of the banner. But when Silvertooth lunged, the wolf before her dodged away, while the two others moved in closer. She snapped to the side, but again the target was moving at the same time she did, avoiding her without effort.
Then Prunepit reached forward just as Silvertooth hesitated, and caught away the banner. It had been almost too easy; it seemed like sheer chance. Had the prey reacted differently'Let me be the allo,' Wreath said, dismounting. 'Anything I tag is dead.' She took the banner from his hand and held it aloft.
'No, we could not take it from you, without suffering losses,' Prunepit said. 'I cannot relate well enough to elfin minds, only to animals. But the allos are animals.'
Wreath nodded. 'I think it will work,' she said. 'We must try it with the rest of the tribe.'
Prunepit grimaced. 'They will resist the notion. No one likes to have any other person between him and his wolf.'
'Not if six of the finest young elves show how well it works,' she said confidently. 'Then the women will believe, too.'
'Six young men?'
'I will ask them,' she said. 'They will not refuse.'
They did not refuse. No male elf refused anything Wreath truly wanted, however crazy it might seem. Not even this. The elves were openly skeptical, but the demonstration worked.
'Now we must go and tackle an allo,' Prunepit said. 'Only when we have proven that we can kill allos without taking losses, will we know that we can handle this crisis.' For the numbers of the elves were not great, and had been depleted by the recent disaster; they could not spare any more lives without throwing the viability of the tribe into question.
They rode out the next day, a party of their best remaining hunters. They did not have far to go, for the allos had forged steadily toward the holt. All too soon they encountered the first one.
It was a giant of a reptile. Its hide was knobby rather than scaly, but tougher man any ordinary leather. Its color was
faintly reddish, as if heated by the sun. But this was morning; the sun's full heat had not yet come, and the trees shaded the ground. The creature moved somewhat lethargically. Even so, its huge claws and teeth made it formidable. It outmassed the elfin party, and it had no fear.
Prunepit stared at the monster, daunted. The thing was so big, so ugly, so sure of itself! It did not flee them; instead it came purposefully toward them, taking them to be prey. It did not move as fast as the wolves, but no elf afoot would be safe.
Would his system of mind-linkage work on such a monster? Prunepit quelled his doubt. It had to work!
'Remember,' he called. 'Let the wolves guide themselves.'
The elves nodded. They had seen it work in the rehearsal; they did not feel easy with it, but they knew what to do.
The group of them spread out to surround the allo. Prunepit reached for the reptile's mind-and was appalled. The thing was a nest of sting-tails, concerned with nothing but hatred and hunger. Hatred for all other creatures, and hunger for their flesh. This was simply an attack entity, with no concern for danger, indeed hardly any awareness of it. Charge, bite, tear, swallow-that was its desire.
The allo leaped for a wolf-but the wolf was already moving out of the way, while three on the other side moved in close, their riders lifting their weapons. A spear plunged toward the monster's ear region, and an arrow winged toward its eye.
The spear slid off; the ear was armored, and the point was unable to penetrate. The arrow seemed about to make a perfect strike-but the monster's heavily ridged brow squinted, and the arrow bounced off and was lost.
The head whipped back to snap at the three attackers. As before, the three were moving before the head did, retreating, so that the great teeth closed on air. Simultaneously, the
wolves on the far side moved in close, and their riders attacked.
A spear sought the monster's nose. But this too was armored, and the teeth caught the spear and crunched it to splinters. The allo bit at anything it could reach, whether flesh or wood. If it ever caught any part of a wolf or elf, that would be the end of that creature.
