At the sound of his voice the wolves drew back eyeing him cunningly. They still panted from the chase, and saliva dripped from their red, jerking tongues. Only one glance was necessary to see that the deer they quarreled over was dead. It lay tongue out, staring up at Raphael out of unseeing eyes. Blood ran in thin streams down its neck, dropping slowly on the leaves below. The slim legs were bent and limp.
‘Oh, you fools! You fools!’ the boy almost cried. ‘How can you conquer the Sorcerer if you murder one another?’
‘We were hungry,’ said the leader of the pack. ‘We must eat.’
‘Where are the eagles?’ demanded Raphael.
‘They are asleep.’
‘Summon them,’ ordered Raphael contemptuously. ‘Summon all the animals.’
The wolves left gladly. They were ashamed at being caught and glad to get away.
Raphael sat down on a rock, chin in hand. The animals had failed him. They had not kept faith. But he had not kept faith either. Betrayer. Betrayed. The Sorcerer had known this. That was why he had allowed him to escape so easily.
Slowly the clearing filled. The animals approached furtively: the deer, the rabbits, the field mice, the porcupines, and the snakes. But the wolves did not appear, nor the mountain lions, nor the bears, nor the weasels. Suddenly the eagles landed, dropping down like shadows out of the moonlight.
‘Where are the others?’ Raphael asked Empyrean sternly.