Sentinels in the Deep Ocean

by StacyPlays

  The group was now high on the mesa, above the hoodoos that rose in the distance, above the abandoned mineshaft where Noah, Page, and Molly were hiding out. They were almost as high up as the clouds. The female wolf led them to a cluster of cacti, which she parted using her powers to reveal a small gully in the earth a few feet below the mesa’s surface. There was a patch of soft-looking grass, a shallow pond, and . . . Stacy blinked . . . two more wolves!

  Seven

  EVEREST STEPPED DOWN into the gully and laid the skeleton wolf down on the grass. One by one, the rest of the group followed Everest below the ground as the cactus filled in above them. Wink and Basil stayed near the entrance . . . what was left of it. Stacy noticed her wolves seemed a little uneasy and then realized what the reason must be. We’re outnumbered. Four wolves to three. Stacy walked back to Wink and Basil and put a hand on each of them and whispered to them.

  “These wolves are special, just like you both,” Stacy said. “It’s going to be okay.”

  Stacy turned and walked over and knelt by the skeleton wolf. She ran her hand down his lean frame.

  “Ribsy,” Stacy said softly. “That’s what I’m going to call you. Here, have something to eat.”

  Stacy reached into her satchel and pulled out her jar of peanut butter. She knew the treat would be rich in protein and fat and would be good for the gaunt wolf. The wolf eagerly ate the peanut butter, and Stacy watched in amazement as Ribsy’s rib cage swelled and filled out. His bones were no longer visible. He licked the jar clean and laid his head down to rest. The female wolf came over and nuzzled Stacy’s shoulder, grateful for her help.

  “Of course, girl,” Stacy said, taking the wolf’s head in both her hands and rubbing her ears for a proper introduction. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Stacy plucked the cactus flower that was stuck to the wolf’s neck and tucked it into the thick fur around the wolf’s ear. Next, Stacy carefully removed the sharp needles buried in the wolf’s pelt next to where the flower had been. A small drop of bright red blood appeared where Stacy pulled out the biggest needle. She quickly untied the bandanna around her collar and wrapped it around the wolf’s neck, then sat back to admire how pretty the green-eyed wolf was with the purple cactus flower and the magenta bandanna. Stacy looked at the bandanna’s intricate paisley pattern.

  “Paisley,” Stacy said. “I think that name suits you.”

  Paisley licked Stacy’s face, and the whole mood of the underground chamber seemed to lighten. Basil and Wink appeared less tense. And Stacy turned her attention to the other two wolves, completely unprepared for what she was about to see.

  The other two wolves had been cowering in the corner of the underground space. A male and a female. The male wolf almost looked like a ghost. But not in the sense that he was wasting away, like Ribsy had been when Stacy first encountered him. No, this wolf appeared healthy and large . . . but had silver fur that was so fluffy and fine that it was almost translucent. Stacy stared at him, transfixed. The wolf’s fur reminded her of the baby goslings she had seen last spring at the river with Noah. Their fuzzy down had been so soft and airy. Stacy had described them in her journal as feeling like what she imagined it would be to touch a wispy cloud. His eyes were bright blue, like the sky on a particularly sunny day. They stared back at Stacy intensely.

  Stacy turned to study the female next to him. Her hind legs were sat down, submerged in the shallow pond, while her front half was sitting up, elegant and poised, but subdued and still . . . statuesque even. She got up from the water and walked over to Stacy to greet her. Out of the water, her fur hardened into place. Stacy ran her fingers down the wolf’s back. Her coat was stiff and so brittle that Stacy hoped she wasn’t in any pain. But she was. The wolf winced a little at Stacy’s soft touch. Ribsy ran over to the wolf, pressing his body against hers. Her fur softened a bit and Ribsy grew leaner. He helped her back over to the pond and into the water and then collapsed, looking weary and skeletal again. I don’t know what is going on here, but it’s not good, Stacy thought to herself so Everest could hear her. I thought it was only Ribsy who was in bad shape, but this female wolf seems even worse. This pack definitely isn’t thriving here in the mesa . . . in fact, they seem to be barely surviving. Everest nodded glumly. Stacy was unsure what her next step should be. She was suddenly filled with remorse that the two wolves who had stayed behind in the taiga were exactly the two wolves whose powers might have been of use to the mesa wolf pack. Tucker, if he himself was healed, could fix whatever seemed to be ailing the female wolf in the water. And Stacy would love to consult with Addison about what she thought was happening with Ribsy. Perhaps the tundra explorer’s journal mentions this pack in the pages I haven’t translated?

  Stacy sat down and flipped to a random page in the middle of the journal. Here goes nothing. She began quickly translating one sentence at a time until she had decoded an entire diary entry. She hastily read through it, scanning for any mention of the mesa wolves.

  Time flies! I can scarcely believe we’ve made five visits to the tundra already this year. When we moved away from the tundra seven years ago when I became pregnant, we’d given up hope completely that Ames and Diamond would ever produce pups. Imagine our surprise when we discovered Diamond was pregnant on our routine trip to the tundra this year. We’ve been visiting as often as possible making preparations for the birthing and today was the big day. Diamond birthed five pups beginning at 05:19 this morning. Three males and two females. We won’t know what color eyes they have for a week or two, but all appear to be strong and healthy. We’ve only been back in the tundra about a week, but plan to stay here for the next several weeks to monitor the pups’ progress. Ames has made remarkable improvements to our crude glacier home in the years we’ve been away—I daresay it’s almost palatial now with all the spacious additions he’s created.

  Stacy stopped reading. She didn’t know what to do. She’d obviously picked the wrong entry, and every moment she spent translating the explorer’s journal was precious time they were wasting not helping these wolves. The explorer’s entry was interesting, but it provided no help to Stacy’s current situation.

  If Addison were here, then she could read ahead. It would take me hours, if not days, to translate enough of it to find something. Stacy looked over to Ribsy and the female wolf who was now slumped next to Paisley; both wolves had sorrowful expressions. They didn’t have time for Stacy to translate the journal.

  Stacy wasn’t sure exactly what she should do, but she knew that they all couldn’t stay in the small ditch in the mesa. We can’t take them all the way back to the taiga, Everest. I doubt they’d survive the journey. But let’s at least get them to the mineshaft and make them a decent meal. From there we can decide what to do next. Everest nodded in agreement and walked over to the large cloud-like wolf. There was a tense exchange between them, and for a moment, Stacy wondered if the mesa pack wouldn’t want to come with them. I can’t blame them. They just met us. And who even knows if they’ve interacted with a human before. Maybe they never met the tundra explorer. . . .

  Stacy looked around at each pair of the wolves’ sad eyes: blue . . . black . . . green . . . aqua. Wait! The tundra explorer referred to them just as numbers in the rune. She never saw them up close. Everest, you need to explain to him who we are!

  Everest continued to stare at the large wispy wolf. The wolf nodded occasionally, taking in everything Everest was showing him in his mind, just as Ames had done with Everest and Stacy in the tundra. After a while, Everest turned to Stacy and gave her a nod. They were ready to leave together.

  Stacy looked up at the green-and-purple cacti canopy covering them—the sky had turned the same shade as the purple cactus. Twilight. It would be a difficult journey back to the mineshaft with the two weakened wolves and an exhausted Paisley. But Stacy was determined to save this pack.

  “All right everyone,” Stacy said, standing up. “Let’s get going. If we’re lucky we can make it to the mineshaft bef
ore nightfall.”

  Eight

  THE FULL MOON was high in the sky as Stacy, Everest, Basil, and Wink filed into the abandoned mineshaft. They were greeted enthusiastically by Page, Molly, and Noah, who all ran around in excited circles, barking and wagging their tails until they suddenly realized the presence of the others. Ribsy, Paisley, and the other two wolves walked slowly through the mineshaft’s entrance. Ribsy and the female wolf were walking slowly, as they were clearly weak and unwell. Paisley and the male mesa wolf walked slowly because they were apprehensive of entering a new place and meeting Stacy’s dogs.

  Eventually, everyone greeted one another and settled down for the evening. Basil made a fire, and Stacy prepared as much food as she could for the group. Their meal consisted of all of the fish Noah had brought from the mesa, filleted and fried, along with roasted Brussels sprouts and turnips from Addison’s garden, and some cactus pear that Noah had foraged while they were gone and Basil had charred over the coals of the fire.

  There was barely enough food for everyone. Stacy was positive each wolf could have eaten at least triple the portion she doled out, but the new wolves seemed grateful, and everyone finished their meals . . . even the Brussels sprouts.

  The meal, meager as it was, seemed to revive Ribsy. He looked back to normal. Paisley was napping peacefully next to the wolf Stacy thought looked like a giant puffy cloud. She’d spent the entire trek from the mesa wolves’ den to the mineshaft trying to come up with a good name for him. Something that reminded Stacy of the sky, clouds, or heavens. She would have named him Celeste, but he didn’t look like a Celeste. She thought about simply calling him Cloud, but his aura was not soft enough to convincingly carry off the name Cloud. For as delicate and flimsy as his exterior seemed, his personality was anything but. He was commanding, and a bit austere, and Stacy even wondered if he was the mesa pack’s alpha. She’d finally settled on the name Atlas. Celestial. Strong. A name fit for a leader.

  As for the last wolf in the mesa pack—the one who had been in the water when Stacy first found her—Stacy had been trying out the name Pearl for her, as her coat was not as brilliant white as her own wolves’ but had a type of mother-of-pearl iridescence to it. The name was a good one, but Stacy was more concerned that Pearl had not perked up since arriving at the abandoned mineshaft. She’d managed to choke down her dinner, but the food had not done anything to improve her coat, which was crusty and cracking. Noah kept making trips down the mineshaft to water springs and carrying back a bucketful in one of the gourds they’d brought, so he could dump the water on her to temporarily soften her hard, brittle coat before heading back down the mine for more water.

  Stacy was exhausted from the events of the day, but her mind was racing as everyone bedded down for the night. Why didn’t we encounter the mesa pack the first time we visited the mesa? Did the mesa pack hide from us? How much longer can Pearl survive like this? Does she have a power? Is she dying? Does Atlas have a power? What is it? What should I do if Pearl isn’t better in the morning? What would Addison do? Stacy tossed and turned all night against Wink and Basil.

  In the morning, Pearl was alive, but only barely. Noah was weary from staying up all night attending to her. It seemed as though he had taken an instant liking to her. Judging by the fact that Everest and Atlas were still fast asleep, Stacy surmised that Noah must have enlisted their help during the night to push an enormous iron mine cart up from the mines. How on earth did they get this up here? And how tired was I that the sound didn’t wake me up? Noah must have filled the mine cart with water, because Pearl was currently soaking in it. Stacy walked over to Pearl, who looked sullen. Stacy reached into her satchel and pulled out some dried fish. Pearl instantly lifted her head and cocked it to one side. Stacy fed her the dried fish and watched as Pearl transformed. Her hair was now silken and flowing and her back legs and tail moved gracefully in the small amount of water in the mine cart. Noah woke up and walked over, his eyes wide. Clearly, Pearl had not looked like this all night while Stacy was asleep. Pearl dipped under the water and then reemerged, sticking just her head and snout over the top of the mine cart. Noah came nose-to-nose with Pearl, and then suddenly, Pearl lifted her snout and spat a bit of the water out like a fountain onto Noah’s face and then quickly disappeared under the water again. Stacy laughed as Noah shook his head and peered down over the edge into the mine cart where Pearl was turning circles.

  Everest got up and walked over to where Stacy and Noah were standing and looked at Pearl and then to Stacy with a quizzical expression. I don’t know, Ever. She just . . . perked up all of a sudden. Stacy was relieved Pearl was feeling better. It was as if a huge weight was lifted from everyone in the mineshaft for a few hours that morning. Stacy decided to decode more of the tundra explorer’s journal to see if she would learn where the explorer had gone when she’d left the tundra. It must have been to the mesa, right? Hopefully I can learn something—anything—that will help Pearl.

  The wolf pups have all opened their eyes and are doing well. Quartz is the biggest by far. He eats the most and I’m confident he’ll become the largest of the litter. Personality traits are calm, quiet, and observant. Copper is quite large as well, although most of it is fluff. He loves to snuggle. Lapis and Citrine are well matched as playmates, with Citrine usually able to get the best of him. She is remarkably agile for her age. Amber was the last of the litter to open her eyes, but that seems to have worked to her advantage. Her senses are superior to the others’: smell, hearing, balance. She may be the smartest, although only time will tell.

  Stacy looked out of the mineshaft at the afternoon sun. She hadn’t realized how much time she had spent poring over the explorer’s diary. She could read about her wolf pack as pups forever. It was fascinating, and Stacy wished more than anything that she could make faster progress in translating the journal’s pages so she could see if there was anything in it that would help Pearl. But it was getting late in the day now, and only Page and Molly had remained with her, tucked away in the back of the mineshaft entrance. Stacy stood up to check on what the wolves had gotten up to while she was engrossed in the journal.

  The only wolves who were still in the mineshaft were Noah and Pearl. Stacy walked over to them, eager to spend more time getting to know Pearl—but she stopped short when she was a few feet from the mine cart. Pearl was slumped over and sleeping. She’s not feeling well again. Stacy put her arm around Noah’s giant body.

  “We’ll figure out a way to get her better, don’t worry.”

  Atlas was near as well, watching over Pearl. Stacy wished more than anything she could communicate with these wolves the way she could with her own. It would happen in time, she was sure—if we have a lot more time together, that is. Stacy was amazed that the mesa pack had been able to keep Pearl alive this whole time by themselves. Clearly it had taken a toll on Ribsy’s health. And left Paisley constantly frazzled. And made Atlas standoffish and stressed. It must have been so hard for them.

  Stacy turned toward the entrance of the mineshaft and saw that Basil had made a large fire. Next to the fire sat Ribsy, with several dead jackrabbits and a small javelina nearby.

  “Basil!” Stacy exclaimed. “What . . . what happened here?”

  Stacy realized what must have happened before she had finished her sentence. The mesa wolves obviously didn’t follow the same unusual diet her taiga pack adhered to around Stacy. They would of course hunt here—not only was there not much to eat in the desert, but they didn’t appear to have a human companion like Stacy around who would have encouraged them to eat more . . . civilized meals. Pearl was probably a good fisher like Noah, but not in her current condition or without a nearby river or lake. So this must be what they ate. Stacy looked at the grisly scene, but then remembered that even her wolves used to eat chickens they raised for slaughter. Stacy shuddered at the memory of it.

  “Um . . . well done, Ribsy,” Stacy said in an unconvincing tone. She wasn’t thrilled at the sight of the dead animal
s, but she had to remind herself that it was a good thing that both the mesa pack and her own would eat well tonight.

  She left Basil and Ribsy to their meal preparation and walked farther out onto the mesa. There was something in the distance that Stacy couldn’t quite make out. It looked like Everest and Paisley were busying themselves around . . . Are they bushes . . . ? Or . . . ? Stacy took a few quick steps forward. She couldn’t believe it. They were crops!

  Stacy ran down the hill to where Paisley and Everest were standing. There was a small but very well-organized garden that had definitely not been there that morning. There were a few rows of beetroot, carrots, and what looked to be corn—although it would be months before the corn grew tall enough to pick and eat. But just as Stacy had finished taking in the scene, Paisley began walking around each crop in a tight circle. Of course! Her bonemeal effect! Everest was watching her intently as well. The crops grew instantly. Paisley plucked an ear of corn from the stalk with her mouth and threw it to Everest, who caught it and brought it over to Stacy. Stacy held the corn in her hands, peeling back its layers to reveal bright golden yellow kernels.

  “Incredible,” Stacy said. “I’ll roast this over Basil’s fire!”

  Stacy, the taiga pack, the mesa pack, Page, and Molly stuffed themselves. Well . . . everyone except for Pearl. None of the food appealed to her. She poked around at some of the fish and then retired back to the mine cart. Stacy had eaten her fill of corn on the cob and had no desire whatsoever to watch as the wolves gnawed on javelina or jackrabbit, so she went to the back of the mineshaft to update her journal. Now more than ever, it was important to her to keep her own record of her interactions with the wolves—both her own and the mystic mesa pack. She had been inspired by the author of the journal and hoped that one day they would meet. I bet she would know how to help Pearl.