The Gathering Storm

It comes, Hopper agreed. If Shadowkiller falls to the storm, all will sleep forever. If he lives, then we will hunt together. You and us.

Perrin rubbed his chin, trying to sort through the Sending of images, smells, sounds, feelings. It made little sense to him.

But, well, he was here now. He'd wanted to come, and he'd decided that he'd get some answers from Hopper, if he could. It was good to see Hopper again.

Run, Hopper sent. His Sending was not alarmed. It was an offer. Let us run together.

Perrin nodded, and began to jog through the grasses. Hopper loped beside him, sending amusement. Two legs, Young Bull? Two legs are slow! That Sending was an image of men stumbling over themselves, tripping because of their elongated, silly legs.

Perrin hesitated. "I have to keep control, Hopper," he said. "When I let the wolf take control . . . well, I do dangerous things."

The wolf cocked his head, trotting beside Perrin across the grassy field. The stalks crunched and scraped as the two of them passed through, finding a small game trail, turning along it.

Run, Hopper urged, obviously confused at Perrin's reluctance.

"I can't," Perrin said, stopping. Hopper turned and took a few bounds back to him. He smelled confused.

"Hopper, I frighten myself," Perrin said, "when I lose control. The first time it happened to me was just after I met the wolves. You need to help me understand."

Hopper simply continued to stare at him, tongue hanging out the front of his mouth just slightly, jaws parted.

Why am I doing this? Perrin thought, shaking his head. Wolves didn't think like men. What did it matter what Hopper thought of it all?

We will hunt together, Hopper sent.

"What if I don't want to hunt with you?" Perrin said. Saying the words made his heart twist. He did like this place, the wolf dream, dangerous though it could be. There were wonderful things about what had happened to him since leaving the Two Rivers.

But he couldn't continue to lose control. He had to find a balance. Throwing away the axe had made a difference. The axe and the hammer were different weapons—one could be used only for killing, while the other gave him a choice.

But he had to make good on that choice. He had to control himself. And the first step seemed to be learning to control the wolf within him.

Run with me, Young Bull, Hopper sent. Forget these thoughts. Run like a wolf.

"I can't," Perrin replied. He turned, scanning the plains. "But I need to know this place, Hopper. I need to learn how to use it, control it."

Men, Hopper thought, Sending the smells of dismissiveness and anger. Control. Always control.

"I want you to teach me," Perrin said, turning back to the wolf. "I want to master this place. Will you show me how?"

Hopper sat back on his haunches.

"Fine," Perrin said. "I will search out other wolves who will."

He turned, striking down the game trail. He didn't recognize this place, but he'd learned that the wolf dream was unpredictable. This meadow with the waist-high grass and its stands of yew could be anywhere. Where would he find wolves? He quested out with his mind, and found that it was much more difficult to do here.

You don't want to run. But you look for wolves. Why are you so difficult, cub? Hopper sat in front of him in the grass.

Perrin grumbled, then took a leap that launched him through the air a hundred yards. He landed with his foot falling to the grass as if it had been a normal step.

And there Hopper was ahead of him. Perrin hadn't seen the wolf leap. He had been in one place, and now in another. Perrin gritted his teeth, questing out again. For other wolves. He felt something, distant. He needed to push harder. He concentrated, drew more strength into himself, somehow, and managed to push his mind farther.

This is dangerous, Young Bull, Hopper sent. You come here too strongly. You will die.

"You always say that," Perrin replied. "Tell me what I want to know. Show me how to learn."

Stubborn pup, Hopper Sent. Return when you aren't determined to poke your snout into afireasp's den.

With that, something slammed against Perrin, a weight against his mind. Everything vanished, and he was tossed—like a leaf before a storm—out of the wolf dream.