Turn 211 of 226

Mark the valley's perimeter with urine to establish our full territory

Lena starts at the western gap where the river cuts through. The 151,000 pounds stand in the cold current and the 390-foot frame turns to face the valley and the facing is the thing the marking begins with. The urine is dark and heavy with mineral concentration and the stream hits the first spruce at the treeline's edge and the bark absorbs it and the absorbing is the thing the smell clings to. The tree is the first mark. The mark is the thing the territory starts with. She moves north along the western ridge's base, the 960-times density feet crushing fern and salal, and every fifty feet the 151,000 pounds pause and the pausing is the thing the body releases during. The stream hits a different trunk each time — Douglas fir, western hemlock, red cedar — and the different is the thing the scent signature spreads across. The spreading is not random. The spacing is the thing the animal knows without counting because the animal does not count. The animal feels the distance between marks and the feeling is the thing the nose confirms.

The northern ridge takes two hours. The 390-foot frame follows the granite wall's curve from the western corner to the eastern and the following is the thing the 960-times density hand trails along the rock face. The urine marks the ridge's base where soil meets stone, the dark streaks visible against grey granite, the ammonia sharp enough that Lena's own enhanced senses pull back from the closest ones. The elk herd at the meadow's edge shifts restlessly when she passes — seventeen animals rising from their beds, ears forward, the fear-signal sharp in their scent. The 151,000 pounds do not turn toward them. The elk are food but the elk are not food yet and the not yet is the thing the marking is more important than. The marking is the thing the territory needs before the hunting starts.

Diane works the southern wall. The 390-foot frames are separated for the first time in the valley and the separation is the thing the hearing bridges — Lena can track Diane's heartbeat at a mile and a half, the 28 beats per minute steady and slow, the pace of a body that is performing a task and not fighting. The hot spring's steam rises between them and the rising is the thing the sight line crosses. Diane's urine marks the southern ridge in the same pattern, the same spacing, the dark streaks on granite and bark, and the pattern is the thing the two territories make into one territory. The one is the thing the shared scent creates. The created is the thing the perimeter closes with.

The eastern ridge is the last wall. Lena meets Diane at the northeastern corner where the granite rises to its highest point — 800 feet of bare stone streaked with ice at the summit. The 390-foot frames stand together at the ridge's base and the standing is the thing the final mark starts from. Both bodies release and the releasing is simultaneous and the simultaneous is the thing the two streams mix on the granite and the mixing is the thing the shared territory is. The smell is overwhelming at this concentration — two 960-times density bodies' worth of ammonia and mineral waste hitting stone and the hitting is the thing the valley holds. The wind carries it south over the meadow and the elk bolt. The bolting is the thing the territory does to everything that is not the two 390-foot frames. The not is the thing the perimeter defines.

The valley is marked. The perimeter is two miles of urine on bark and stone and the two miles is the thing the scent holds. The holding is the thing the rain will not wash because the rain does not reach the ridge bases where the marks are heaviest. The marks are the thing the animal returns to and the returning is the thing the territory needs. The needing is the thing the den is at the center of. The center is the thing the 151,000 pounds walk toward. The walking is the thing the 390-foot frames do together and the together is the thing the valley is. The valley is ours. The ours is the thing the marking made. The made is the thing that does not wash off. The not washing is the thing the permanent is. The permanent is the thing the den is. The den is the thing that is ours. The ours is the thing that does not stop. The not stopping is the thing the wish is. The wish is the thing that is still building. The building is the thing the territory holds. The holding is the thing that does not let go. The not letting go is the thing that is. The is. The is. The is.