Part 7 (1/2)
”It's challenging in these gusts. You see those owls flying in?”
”Yes, sir.” Faolan had never seen so many owls before. They seemed to be pouring in from all directions.
”See how they are flying just off the wind? *Crabbing,' they call it.”
”Crabbing?”
”Yes, like a crab walking sideways, except they are flying. The wind is pus.h.i.+ng them one way, away from their destination. So they angle their flight toward the direction of the wind. They are not really flying sideways, but instead of flying directly toward the slopes, they have slightly turned into the direction of the oncoming wind to compensate for the wind drift. The amount that the owls turn is called the wind correction angle. Now think about doing that when you jump.”
”You mean I should jump into a gust.”
”Yes, smack into it. And don't start your twists, flips, or pikes too soon or you'll miss the thermal drafts, and that's the great treat of leaping when the She-Winds blow.” Twist looked up suddenly. ”Look, Faolan! Look at that Masked Owl up there. By my marrow, I think it's your old friend Gwynneth a” a lovely flyer if there ever was one.”
”How does she do it?” Faolan was amazed. His dear friend appeared to be gliding effortlessly in the buffeting winds above, never even waggling a wing.
”She's riding the thermals, those billows of warm air. They lift the owls up high. A free ride, you might call it. And you can do it, too. We can't get as high as owls do, to *owl point' as the term goes, but there's a place at the very top of a lifting draft that is known as the wolf's peak. Jump into a thermal and let it take you. It's the closest we wolves ever get to flying. Ready to try it?”
Faolan was so excited that his paws were almost dancing on the bones.
”All right. Now let's not rush this,” Twist said. ”When I say jump, you jump.”
Faolan sensed the lead edge of a very hot gust.
”JUMP!” Twist shouted.
Suddenly, Faolan was rocketing into the air. It was so fast he barely had a chance to breathe. Embers whizzed by him like shooting stars. He had entered the sky, a peculiar firmament in which the constellations were composed of red swirling stars.
Faolan wasn't flying and yet he might have been. He had fur not feathers, legs not wings, and yet he felt a strangely familiar sensation a” a stirring just where his shoulders joined his backbone. The billowing drafts of warm air caressed his underbelly and lifted him higher still. He wasn't as high as the owls, but he was in their world and it felt good. So good that he almost forgot to do any of the moves he had learned. So he drew up his hind legs for a backward walkover.
”Faolan! Welcome to the sky!”
”Gwynneth!”
She waggled her wings and flew off.
”Very nice, very nice indeed!” Twist said when Faolan landed back on the top of the cairn. ”But you nearly forgot your scanning maneuvers.”
”I know! I know!”
”Don't worry. It's a common thing for young Watch wolves when they first discover thermals. Look over there at Edme on Morgan. She's getting a lot of bounce out of them.”
Yes, Faolan thought, and she is managing several scanning moves a” a double twist linked to a backflip. Edme was not nearly as easily distracted as Faolan.
”What a jumper you are!” Gwynneth exclaimed as she alighted on the cairn. ”A natural if I ever saw one.” Faolan felt a surge of happiness stream through him.
”Well, I forgot to do any real scanning moves. It was just so a so a wonderful.”
”You looked like you belonged up there with us.”
”Really!” Faolan tipped his head to one side and looked deeply into Gwynneth's s.h.i.+ny dark eyes.
”Yes, really, Faolan. I never saw anything like it!”
After his s.h.i.+ft was over, Faolan trotted happily back to the den. ”Wasn't it fantastic, Edme?” he said, sliding down the slope into the den. ”I mean, those drafts lift you right up. I felt it was as close as I'd ever come to flying like an owl a”” He broke off mid-speech. ”Edme?”
Edme was curled into a ball in a far corner with her muzzle buried between her paws. Absolute silence as loud as any noise engulfed the den.
”Edme, what is it?”
Without looking at him and with her muzzle still buried, Edme mumbled something in a m.u.f.fled voice that Faolan had to strain to hear.
”You've been what?”
”Dalach'd,” Edme said again.
”Dalach'd? No!”
”Yes. I can't jump for three nights.”
”But why? What did you do?” Faolan asked.
”You know that arrangement of bones that they make so you can grip better?”
”Yes.”
”I didn't show the proper reverence for the keybone.”
”And so you got dalach'd? I mean, Twist never said anything about proper reverence. Did Winks tell you that?” Faolan asked, totally bewildered.
”It wasn't Winks. It was Banja. Winks wasn't feeling well.”
”Banja a” that old she-bag of a wolf!”
”She hates me, Faolan. I don't know why. I mean, she's missing one eye. If anything, she should understand me better, like Winks does. I'm not allowed on the cairn for the next three nights. How will I ever learn to navigate the She-Winds?”
”It's wrong. Completely wrong. Winks would never have done such a thing. I think we should protest,” Faolan said staunchly.
”No, no. And it's my problem, not yours. I'm just going to try and forget about it.” Edme circled her caribou pelt before she settled down again to try to sleep.
Neither wolf could close their eyes. They were both thinking about Banja and her unrelenting criticism of Edme. It was a mystery. Although Banja's constant harping didn't qualify as abuse, it was damaging.
”Faolan, you asleep yet?”
”No.”