A storm was coming. Loomahk felt his fur prickling and his skin crawling. "Storms make me anxious," Loomahk said by way of apology when Doe asked him to sit still. He'd been pacing the cave all day, not going out, but shuffling toward the entrance every few minutes and whimpering low in his throat with a sound like the rumble before an avalanche.
"We're in a dry place," she pointed out. "And we're safe from lightning as long as we stay inside. What worries you?"
"Do you think there will be lightning?" he asked.
"You sound as though you want lightning," Doe said with a frown. "Oh--is this to do with Re?"
Before he could answer, there was a sudden howl of wind--the first sign, save for the wolf's perpetual motion, that a storm approached. Loomahk loped to the entrance, baring his teeth into the wind and sniffing the scent of electricity. Doe came to stand beside him.
"You never answered me last night." she said.
Loomahk did not know what to say. He couldn't lie to her--she might find the truth soon enough, this very night even, if all went well, but..."We do have such a place. Like your people's houses of worship, yes. Only, it is a sort of secret."
Doe's eyes misted. "You think so little of me? Do you think I would betray you or anything you held sacred?"
He lowered his head in shame. Of course he thought better of Doe than that. He loved her deeply and would not deny her anything. "If you want to see it I'll take you there," Loomahk said. It would be a good way to tear into the hours before the storm, bite them through instead of pacing and nibbling at the edges of them like some grasschewer. He darted into the wind and fast-descending cold.
"I didn't know you meant right now!" Doe shouted in protest, running out after him.
They stood soon in another cavern, this one no small distance below ground. Doe had gone by the dome of it many times without noticing--a little hill bordered by stones, two fan-trees on either side, so near to the village she could see its lights through the trees. Not far from the hill was a rift in the earth, well hidden in the brush, just big enough at its widest point for a full-grown wolf to wriggle through to fall on a soft pile of fanleaves beneath. Doe had come tumbling down after with no thought of how to return to the surface. She was fearless.
They stood in a vaulted room. Light from a small dying fire glinted in Loomahk's eyes. Fearless Doe shuddered to see his eyes like that; they gave him the look of the ghost wolf who hunted the unwary on foggy nights. But the guttering flames were reflected elsewhere--on other surfaces, in other eyes. First Doe saw a tiny weaverbird and a bobcat and a fox, all swaying a little and softly repeating a chant with a rhythm strange to her ears. Two things about this scene interested her--that after each sway, they pressed their bodies almost flat on the floor, and that a bird and a cat would be worshipping side by side.
"Re may be the Good Predator," Loomahk explained, "but there is no bloodshed allowed in the temple."
"What did you call Re? The 'Good Predator'?"
"The Sun is Hawk and Lion, yes? Both hunting animals. The sun knows and aids those of us who must kill by hiding his light at the end of the day. Hunting's best at night. We are thankful for the time Re leaves us, and we call Hawklion 'Good Predator.' That weaverbird, and rabbits, and deer, and all other such creatures--they must have a different name for the Sun, but I don't know it.
Next she noticed, in the middle of the floor, a strange jumble of glittering objects. Doe had to stand in a pile of black ash (remains of past fires never swept away, she figured) and lean far over it to get any sense of what it was. The collection was arranged in a wide disc. In the middle were shining yellow pebbles and bits of sand. Strangely, the sand also sparkled in the ruddy light. Gold, she realized. Gold nuggets and gold dust. This inner circle was about an arm's length in diameter. All around it were rings, brooches, necklaces, earrings, and dahntahl coins, all gold, all brought, Loomahk explained, by packrats or ravens.
"The first circle predates the Rahs," Loomahk said. "It was here in the temple when we discovered this place. We've added our tribute since then."
Doe undid the strings of the 'ket she had tied to her belt and scattered her own gold coins from it to the floor. Loomahk gave her a severe look. "I know gold has value for your kind. That better not have been all you had in the world."
"I still have some silver," she answered, knowing he would not understand the difference in value.
The chant was over. The fox came padding up to Doe with what appeared to be a grin on his face, though with foxes sometimes it is hard to tell. "Welcome, lovely one," he said in a lilting voice that rendered all he said a chant. "I am Fah-Ree, and I lead worship here. What may I call you?"
"Doe."
"Doe, I thank you for your donation to the temple. What may I do to repay this generosity?"
"Will you teach me that song?" She said it without thinking. In a way, that's all she was, a singer. The lure of new melody was irresistible.
The fox bowed. "It would be so delightful to me to be able to say I taught a human one of our songs. It would bring me such joy as I can't even express." Loomahk narrowed his eyes at Fah-Ree; he knew the fox well, and knew when his tone was mocking. But Doe hadn't seemed to notice. She clapped her hands gleefully, like a little girl.
"The words are simple enough; just take care the rhythm does not trip you up. He sang slowly, deliberately, with his paw marking the beats on the floor.
"Kee Re"--sun in the east--"lorhn ah sahn"--hawk and lion--"lehn sohn"--protect our dreams.
"Kee Re, lorhn ah sahn,
Kee Re, lehn sohn."
He smiled with all his pointed teeth. "Nice, nice. No better tribute to Re than a good song, except perhaps a good hunt. Time enough for that outside the temple, though, eh, Loomahk? We are all true to our natures."
"Sometimes I think you are nothing more than your nature, Fah-Ree," the wolf answered, but he was interrupted by a thunderclap.