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to this place. What is there that Truth wishes us to see? Perhaps there is indeed a door that she needs opened. Perhaps there is something else.
    Rascal was leaping and snapping at the treed jaguar. Firekeeper kicked him solidly in the shoulder, sending him rolling.
    “Fool, pup!” Firekeeper snapped. “You merit an ear cut into ribbons for such behavior. Never taunt one of the great cats. Singly they are a match for any wolf.”
    Truth liked this praise, and licked a paw complacently. Firekeeper grinned up at her.
    “But, Truth,” she continued, “no jaguar is a match for three wolves—especially when one of them is quite good at climbing trees. Will you come down, or do I come up after you?”
    Truth wrinkled her nose and spat, but she also jumped down and haughtily permitted her harness to be put back on her.
    Even so, twice more she slipped her harness. Once was when a young doe bolted out of a thicket, surprising them all. One moment Truth was meandering along in her harness, partly steered by her two guides, the next she was a blur of golden light and compact speed, chasing down the terrified doe.
    The second time, they had taken shelter from a violent thunderstorm. Lightning struck a tree nearby and even before the air filled with the smell of burning wood, Truth was away. She came back, embarrassed by her own fear.
    “I was elsewhere” was all she would say, “and the sound caught me unawares.”
    So it was that with a heart filled to brimming with a heady mixture of doubt and curiosity Firekeeper breasted the inlet that would take them to the island that held the house that was no house, a ruin that had, apparently, been ruined by some agency other than the passage of time.
     
     
    AS ISLANDS WENT, their destination was not among the largest in Misheemnekuru, nor the best positioned. Long and narrow, but sheltered on the whole by one of the more massive islands from the force of the open ocean, it was large enough to harbor wolves, deer, and ample smaller game. Elk, being grazers rather than browsers, did not thrive there.
    This lack of large game was why the island only boasted a single small pack, and why Firekeeper’s versatility as a hunter had been welcome. Bitter and Lovable had flown ahead, and the resident pack had sent their welcome. Bitter must have given the wolves reason to stay away, however, for the travelers landed without the reception Firekeeper had expected.
    She drew the raven aside, and he confirmed her suspicion.
    “Something is not right with what Truth tells us. I would not involve those who have young to help survive through the coming winter. There are a few resident great cats as well. I have sent word to them of what we are about, for I would not have rumor reach them that we are abusing their kin.”
    Firekeeper nodded. “I have felt that Truth is hiding something, but I do not know what. Do you have any wisdom you might share with me?”
    The raven fluffed his feathers as if feeling cold, though the day was quite warm. “I do not, but cats of any size are sneaky. They rely on stealth rather than force of number for their hunting. This contaminates all their thinking.”
    Firekeeper, who held similar views, did not protest. Wolves and ravens, whether Cousin or Royal or Wise, were frequent allies, comfortable with the ways of their different peoples.
    Indeed, we are not too unalike. They have their flocks, and their mated pairs. So do we. They may be scavengers, rather than hunters, but they are clever, as one who snatches meat from a wolf’s jaws must be .
    The group had made their crossing as daylight was waning. The beast-souled preferred not to travel by night, though the wolves and jaguar would have been as comfortable after dark. The ravens, though not bound to daylight hours as their Cousin kin were, also preferred daylight. Considering the possible pitfalls concealed beneath the land over which they must travel, Firekeeper decided in favor of those who preferred