(“He has no breath,” said Lope, with finality. Her grief, displayed before her children, was profound, and terrifying to them.
He lay still, he who had never lain still since his wriggling birth. Indeed, he neither took air, nor gave it back. He lay perfect and still. Grey he was. His massive chest so quiet.
The wind blew long and low and black. Hard rain spattered the family.
The young gathered around him with hollow hearts. Tails low, they trembled before him, two now fatherless.
“Woe! Oh woe! Oh!” sang Gnaw, he who was least, and weakest. Lope looked upon her least son with empty eyes. No. Not that one. A fine singer. No more.
Paw and Tail, the fatherless, raised their small voices. “Yiiyiiiooooo!” Again, and yet again. A thin strand of sound flying away in the wind. Who shall hear them? The keening?
“Who will breathe for us?” called Lope, at last, in agony of heart. “Who shall walk among us and before us?” She called into the low clouds, to the sky, to Maker, to all who hear such things.
One who hears and sees a lot, and to be honest, talks a lot, did hear their songs on the black wind. And though she would normally have flown on mighty wingbeats up to her high nest in the rocks at a time like this, she felt pity.
As they stood around him, a great Raven, fighting against the storm, feathers ruffled, came to them. She saw that he lay motionless on the deep wet grass near the tree line. She saw Lope, the mother, standing bleakly with her children.
“I see that your lord is no more, Mother. What is your name?” said Maeve. She spoke softly as a mother herself, who had lost someone also.
“He called me Lope when we were joined in life. I called him Love, oh great dire bird,” whispered Lope. “Have you a name, Bird,” asked Lope.
“I am Maeve. No bringer of evil. I am a sort of messenger,” said Maeve, as kindly as a creature with a croaky sort of voice could manage.
“I will tell you about he whose messenger I am. Perhaps you have heard of him who rules here?” said Maeve.
“I know that there is such a one, but we have stayed far from the towns and the people, away up north. No,” said Lope. “We don’t know him.”
“I think the best thing for all concerned, is for me to bring you to him, and he will know what to do,” said Maeve.
“Do we dare to come before him at a time like this and as weak as we are?” said Lope.
“Yes, you do dare, for he is wise and good, Lope. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he already knew of your plight. He has ways of knowing,” said Maeve. “He listens to the wind you know?”
“Very well, Maeve, we shall come before him, as you say,” said Lope.
“I will lead the way, flying low. You must follow closely, all of you. His home is a little hard to find unless I bring you,” said Maeve.
So follow her they did, wherever Maeve led. Through the wind, the rain, the darkness, they watched carefully and followed her until at last they came to the Home Clearing. The great Raven, with the four wolves following close behind.
The fire had burned down to a bed of glowing coals but was still warm. Ramona and the children and the cats were tucked into bed in the cave behind that subtle green door.
But Ralph himself sat near the fire, as if waiting. The wind didn’t blow so hard here, and the rain mostly stayed away. At last he saw Maeve and the family approaching.
He saw her fly in low and slow followed by the mother with her children, a grown son, and two small ones. He remained sitting, so as to not loom over them in the night.
“I’m sure glad I didn’t have to wake everybody to get to talk to you, Boss,” announced Maeve. “Look who I found standing at the tree line around their fallen lord!”
Ralph did look.
At last he said, “I heard something in the wind. It woke me and now I see the cause.
“What is your name, lady, and the names of your children?”
So, she gave him their names and since Ralph has this way of comforting creatures, they all sat close to the fire, near his feet, looking up to him.
“I think I know what to do. If you agree, lady Lope,” he said. “Do you want to hear it?”
“Maeve said when she first saw us that you would know what to do. So, yes, I want to hear it, sir. But, first, what is your name?” said Lope, for Maeve hadn’t said his name yet.
“They call me Ralph. It’s a bit of a long story, for another time. The name my mother gave me is a little hard to remember and even harder to say,” said Ralph.
“Very well, we shall call you Ralph,” said Lope, feeling better and better as the conversation went on. Gnaw and the cubs, Paw and Tail, gathered near, feeling better also.
By now, Maeve was perched on his shoulder where she could hear the whole thing. She was very good at remembering his decrees and decisions for later reference.
“This is what I think we should do, Lope. I think it would be right for you to make your home with us here. I always wanted a family of wolves here and I know my family and even the pumas will be happy too. It’ll be great! You’ll see! We’ll all have so much fun! I can’t wait! So, how about it?” Ralph said happily and then waited for her answer.
Lope looked at each of her children. She saw only gladness there. So she turned to Ralph, and said, “yes, you’re right. That’s the very best thing we could do. We will stay here with you and your family. Yes. Our thanks, sir!”
“This is great,” he said. “Can you sleep near the fire for the night? We’ll figure something better out tomorrow and you’ll meet Ramona and Twigg and Cherry, and the cats! I can’t wait to go tell Ramona!”
Lope said "of course", that they had slept much rougher than by a nice fire before.
Ralph put some more wood on the fire, and since it was too late for Maeve to fly to her nest in the dark and the wind, he took her into the cave with himself.
When he climbed in under the big quilt, he woke Ramona enough to say, “boy have I got a surprise for you in the morning! Wolves! Four of 'em!”
“OK, Baby,” said Ramona, drifting off to sleep again. “I’m sure it will be fine….”)