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"Truth is a function of memory," she said, drawing away from the other wolf to idly sniff at a clump of dead wildflowers nearby. They had bloomed too early, shooting up into the fresh spring soil, and a hard frost had killed them where they lay. "Kill all those whose memory conflicts with a tale, and the truth begins to change. And, ah...there we find the value of tales once more."

She lifted her delicate maw from the dead blossoms and once more sought out the garnet eyes of the stranger. "But, you speak fairly, and if I am to ask such a service of you -- that you may make claims of my notoriety, as you so generously offered -- then I must hold my end of the bargain."

She reclined demurely to her flamed haunch, lowering herself to her belly. It would be a mistake to think of the position as vulnerable, however; her muscles were tightly coiled, like a serpent, and her paws lay under her, ready for action at a moment's need. She gave off an impression of stillness, but every sinew of her body was honed for action.

"I was not always a lone wolf," she began, "And, if circumstances allow, I will not die as one. I am holding out...biding my time, patiently...for an opportunity allow. But these bones you asked of? A cruel and violent wolf once owned these bones. He dominated all he came across, and tore apart all who stood in his way."

She hesitated here, a moment, closing her eyes as though in memory. Her ears flicked back, before pivoting forward once more. "I fought my way to his side -- with teeth and claws, yes, but words and cleverness as well. Ahh, the danger of words. He had been challenged by so many...but he never dared expect it from a wolf he thought his only, most trusted advisor...the one wolf he had allowed at his side."

Her eyes opened, startlingly bright against the black frame of her brow. "He died in his sleep. His blood tasted like the last day of a bitter winter."

She shook her head, laughing slightly. "Why would I? Replace the one tyrant with another, and wait for some sly wolf to creep into my own den when I slept? No. They were...damaged."

Kaeerah didn't mind damaged wolves. She did, however, like them to be damaged in a way that made them easier to control....not likely to revolt.

And, anyway, there had never been such a pack. Or, perhaps there was. She didn't care to remember, just now. Truth was, as she had said, a function of memory, and dead wolves tell no tales.

"I am not a good wolf, Senka the Traveler. You may have surmised as much. But I imagine surely there are wolves in this land who are...strong enough...to follow me. Not as cowering fools, but proper equals."

Well, servants morelike. There was no wolf in the world who could be equal to Kaeerah, at least not in her estimation. But she wouldn't tell her followers that. They would love her...no, they would worship her. And that would be a fine thing to behold.

Ahh, and that was precisely the question that Kaeerah had hoped she would ask. She took a moment to gather her thoughts, to contemplate her answer. When she spoke, it was carefully and precisely -- and not without a little gleam of excitement in her cold eyes.

"We will gather more of our kind," she said, with a soft smile. "And kill the weaklings, until only the worthy are left standing. I would lead nothing less than the best of all of Telk...and, ultimately, I will lead all of Telk. All that survive, at any rate."

"Because history is created by the survivors," Kaeerah said, rising swiftly to her paws in a single, deft movement. "Go forth and tell your pack this. Tell all the packs this. I may not come tonight...or next year...but I will come. And they will join me, or they will fall."

She bared her teeth, a single silent warning to the other wolf to leave. She had tired of company.

"You wouldn't know him," she growled, stalking forward with deliberate slowness, hackles raised along the line of her spine. Fur rose up around the gaps of the bones along her spine, and her lips curled over pale, sharp teeth.

"Names are irrelevant. Know only this: He was a wolf whose luck finally ran out." She sped up, chasing the grey wolf; her patience was utterly spent. If the red-eyed storyteller tarried longer, Kaeerah fully intended to give her something substantial to bring back to her pack. A missing limb, perhaps. Or an empty gaping eye socket.