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Wenda heard a dog whining. She felt its cold wet nose on her hand and wrist. With the sound and touch, a tiny flame sparked against the cold within her. She looked down at the dog. White Paw, he was called. She could not smile, but she liked him. He was a good dog. She wished she could speak to him. That was forever gone now.
White Paw grabbed her wrist lightly in his mouth! He pulled at her, made her get up and follow! She did not fight him, had so little fight left in her. He brought her outside. Pada and Muna were waiting, staring at her. She sent her thought to them. No, that didn't work now. She had lost her deer soul. Tears fell from her eyes, but White Paw did not let go, but drew her to her two deer. Yes. They were her deer. Her herd. Their soft eyes looked at her and reminded her of the warmth of their deer love that she had known before. She could feel it at least in memory. No, not just memory. She knew it to be true, even if there was a wall between her and them that could never be passed through again.
"Oh Pada, Muna, I can't talk to you anymore!" White Paw released her wrist as she hugged their necks. They snuffled her hair, as they were wont to do to show their warmth toward her. She still knew them! They were not leaving her, even though she could not be one of them.
"I guess I am talking to you, just not in reindeer." Pada made a low noise in her throat. "And you can talk to me too! I think I know what you meant!" For the first time since the attack, she felt a smile on her face. She turned to White Paw, who sat on his haunches, his ears perked, watching her, with a big tongue-lolling smile. "Thank you, you wonderful dog! If I had only known!"
* * * * *
Wenda spent a day more at the Green Man Free House, gaining her strength back, preparing Pada and Muna and her sleigh for another trip to the north. There were traps to set, yes, but also herds to say hello to, hills and valleys and great ice-covered lakes to traverse. There was cold, clear sky to greet, wind to listen to singing, and Tuskers to track.
Wenda bid farewell to the hobbits, to Mara and Aresto, to the owner of the House, and the others who were staying there, and last of all to White Paw. She gave him a big hug around the neck and got a face full of wet, warm tongue for her trouble. She laughed.
Pada, Muna, and Wenda slid over the thickening snow, for the sun was hid and the flakes were falling. Just the three of them. Just like old times. Almost.
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