Wabi

by Joseph Bruchac

  The gelabago opened its mouth wide. Its thick black tongue came out to lick its thin lips. But it was not from hunger. It was afraid to speak the name.

  “Speak or I will let loose this arrow,” I said. “Who holds power here?”

  “Winasosiz,” it croaked. “Oldold Woman. She holds the power. She is Winasosiz. Come closer, come closer!”

  I stepped back. “Good. Now I have one more question. This one is for my friend. Have you eaten any wolves?”

  Malsumsis’s growl became a rumble like that of thunder in a growing storm.

  “No,” the gelabago gurgled. “Oldold Woman has them. Yes, oh yes. She has all the wolves.”

  I was standing between the gelabago and its pool. I looked back over my shoulder into the deep water and at those white skulls at the bottom. It seemed to be true. None of those skulls looked like those of wolves.

  I did not turn back toward the loathsome creature that had drowned and devoured so many innocent victims. I had to look no further to discover why this part of the Wide Valley forest was so empty of life and why the gelabago’s belly was so large.

  “You have spoken the truth,” I said. “I will not shoot you. Malsumsis, let the creature go.”

  I did not look back, but I heard the soft thump as Malsumsis leaped from on top of the monster he had pinned to the ground.

  Just as I expected, the creature showed no gratitude for my keeping my word and not shooting it with an arrow. With a gurgling roar, it leaped at my back. Its plan was a simple one: Knock me into the water, pull me under. There it would be out of reach of my wolf friend’s jaws. I had expected that too.

  What I hadn’t expected was that its leap would be so swift. For so large and ungainly a creature, it moved very fast. However, more important, I was faster in this case. Also, I’d picked my club up with my right hand as I placed my bow down with my left. Head Breaker was not about to be neglected this time.

  I still kept my word. Spinning around and cracking a monster’s skull with a heavy club is, after all, far different from shooting it with an arrow.

  CHAPTER 26

  In the Cave

  AS WE CONTINUED DEEPER INTO the heart of the valley, the forest around us began to change. The first trees we had seen had mostly been those that keep their coats of green all through the cycle of the seasons. Now wider-leaved trees were around us, maples whose winged seeds provide food for many creatures, oaks and beech whose nuts are eaten by the deer and the squirrels and the mice. When I was an owl, such forests as this had been favorite places for me. Good hunting.

  The change was not only in the trees. We began to see tracks and hear the sounds of small creatures rustling in the leaves and the grass. That was a relief to hear. Although the gelabago had wiped out all of the animals around its pool, there was still life other than monsters to be found in Wide Valley.

  The sky, though, began to darken. Distant thunder started rolling, and soon arrows of lightning would strike.

  I thought of the tales about the bedagiak, the Thunder Beings. I had heard those stories being shared by the humans of Valley Village around the fires at night while I hid in the nearby cedars. The bedagiak were beings shaped like giant humans who hunted for monsters with their fiery arrows. When their arrows struck the earth, it was to cleanse it of evil.

  I had liked hearing those tales, even though I knew the real story. Great-grandmother had told it to me when I was young. The Thunder Beings were not men, but great birds. How else could they fly across the sky?

  Sometimes, if innocent humans (or owls) were in the wrong place, they might be accidentally harmed or even destroyed by those fiery arrows the Thunder Beings hurled. Malsumsis and I needed to find shelter. It was becoming difficult to see in the heavy rain, which was now mixing with hard little balls of ice. The rumble of thunder was getting closer. There in front of us was a huge old tree, as big around as a human lodge. It was broken off at the top and hollow at the bottom. Malsumsis started to trot toward it. I grabbed him with both hands by the scruff of his neck and pulled him back.

  “No, my friend!” I shouted to make myself heard over the splash of rain, the spatter of the hail, and the whistling of the wind. “Not a good place!”

  There was nothing that I could see with my eyes, nothing that I could smell with my nose. And, of course, with the noise of the storm, nothing I could hear. But I felt a wrongness there. Inside that hollow tree was danger that we should not approach.

  We staggered in the opposite direction from the big hollow tree. It was the part of the valley where we had seen the roll of hills. The side of one of those rocky hills came into view. In it was the mouth of a cave.

  “There,” I shouted, pulling Malsumsis toward the cave.

  As soon as we tumbled inside, falling down on the dry, sandy earth beneath the wide overhang of stone, the screaming of the wind and the roar of the heavy downpour diminished.

  Malsumsis shook himself so hard that water sprayed in all directions and it made me laugh. Then he sat down on his haunches facing away from the cave entrance. I wiped the rain from my face, and shook it from my soaked hair just as my wolf friend had done.

  Sheets of rain washed across the mouth of the cave. It was hard to see far outside, although now and then I could make out faintly the shape of that huge broken oak. It looked even more ominous now from a distance. It was good that we had not taken shelter there. If we had entered that tree, we would not have been alone. I was certain now that something was inside that hollow tree, something not at all pleasant.

  Then I realized that we were not alone here either. My sense of smell was no longer drowned by the rain, and I could smell something, something other than Malsumsis’s moist fur. Malsumsis, of course, had noticed it long before I did. His nose was better than mine. That was why he was staring so intently at the back of the cave. I turned slowly to look behind us. It was not a deep cave, but it was so shadowed at the back that it was hard to make out what was crouched and hiding there.

  Malsumsis was not growling as he would if there was danger. In fact, he was gently moving his tail back and forth. And that was when I too recognized the scent that had reached my nose.

  I held out my hands. “We are friends,” I said in a soft voice. “Come here.”

  A small whimper came from the back of the cave that was answered by a yelp from my wolf friend. A pale shape lifted itself up and came forward, head down, tail tucked between its legs. It dropped onto its side and then rolled onto its back at our feet, exposing its throat in the ancient sign of friendship and submission. It was not as large as my friend, and where his fur was black as night, hers was as white as snow. But there was no mistaking what it was: another wolf.

  Malsumsis nudged the smaller wolf with his paw, gently grasped her by the throat with his jaws, shook once gently and then let go. Sister, we accept your friendship.

  The female wolf jumped to her feet. Wagging her tail, she shoved her wet nose against my leg, then ran in a circle around us, whining and barking. Malsumsis kept his dignity, even though I sensed that in another place at another time he would also have been running and leaping, as happy to see her as she clearly was to find herself confronted not by enemies or monsters, but by new friends. Finally, she calmed down enough to sit back on her haunches, madly wagging her tail.

  I squatted down, my back to the cave mouth that was still veiled by the wash of the rain and wind. I did not reach out to pet her as I did Malsumsis. Her submission had been to him, not to me. It would take her some time to accept me as fully as she did another wolf. But I already liked her. That crazy energy of her greeting had told me something about her personality.

  “Wigowzo,” I said to the female wolf as she lolled her tongue out of her mouth and smiled at Malsumsis. “You are happy indeed.”

  But there was more I needed to know about her than her good nature. If, as I suspected, she was one of Malsumsis’s lost pack, then why was she alone? Where were the other wolves? The gelabago had spoken
of a being he had called Winasosiz, the old, old woman, who had all of the wolves. What did it mean that she had all of them? And why was Wigowzo not with them?

  Suddenly, there was a great flash of light and the world exploded around us.

  CHAPTER 27

  Cooking Meat

  I ROLLED BACK UP TO my feet and looked out of the cave. The lightning strike had not hit us, but it had been so close that my head hurt and my ears were still filled with a high trilling sound like the singing of frogs. Malsumsis was crouched on his belly with his head down, snarling and ready to fight back against whatever had just attacked us. Wigowzo was pressed close to his side, both of her front paws over her eyes. Although she was as big as many grown wolves, I could see how young she was, still little more than a puppy. This might have been the first time she had ever heard such loud thunder or seen the strike of lightning so close.

  I made a motion with my hand. “Be calm, my friends,” I said. “That arrow of fire was not meant for us.” I turned my head toward the outside. “Look there.”

  Malsumsis stood and came to stand by my side. After a moment’s hesitation, Wigowzo did the same. The rain was letting up, the rumble of the thunder moving away from us. Across the clearing from us, the huge hollow oak tree was now blackened and burning from inside. That arrow of lightning had struck right into its heart. The air was filled with the scent of not just burning wood, but also cooking meat.

  That brought a smile to my face. Whatever had been lurking inside that hollow tree was certainly now of no more danger than a cooking haunch of venison. And, thinking of venison, unlike so many other monsters, this one smelled as if its meat would be tasty. That made me smile even more broadly.

  With a wolf on either side of me, both of them wagging their tails at the pleasant smell, we came close to the tree and looked inside. It wasn’t possible to tell exactly what the creature inside had been. The fur and much of the skin had been burned from its body by the great heat of the lightning and the fire it left burning in its wake. The big creature was shaped a bit like a squirrel, but much, much larger, with impressive claws as long as my fingers on its blackened paws. The lightning strike seemed to have hit it in the head, bursting open its skull. Its dead mouth hung open, displaying some very sharp teeth.

  The monster had built a nest of some sort inside the hollow tree using brush and sticks. It made for an excellent cooking fire. The fat on its body sizzled and popped as it simmered.

  It took a while for the fire to burn down enough for us to get at the meat. Of course, before we ate I gave thanks. I looked up at the sky in the direction where I had heard the last rumble of thunder.

  “Bedagi, Grandfather Thunder Being,” I said, “we thank you for protecting us and for giving us such a fine meal.”

  Then I tore two big pieces of meat from one of the back legs of the creature. I fed them to Malsumsis and Wigowzo, who had both been sitting patiently with long strings of drool coming from their jaws. Then I tried some myself. This cooked monster meat tasted good.

  All three of us ate until our stomachs were sticking out. Then I sat down in front of the cave with my back against the hillside. My two wolf friends curled up in front of me. I was happier than I’d felt since before that embarrassing scene at the campfire in Valley Village when Dojihla had exposed my owl ears to the people and called me a monster.

  I felt around inside me for the pain that had struck at her rejection. It was still there, sharp as a small pointed stick, but it no longer made me feel lost and blind. I would never stop caring for Dojihla, even if there was no way she would ever care for me. But I was doing something now, something I knew to be good. That we had already found one wolf from my friend’s lost pack told me my trail was right. The way the Thunder Being had just helped was further proof.

  I looked at Wigowzo. I would try to find out from her why she was alone and where the rest of her family might be found. But not right now. The young white wolf was sleeping, her head resting on Malsumsis’s dark back.

  Of course, my faithful wolf companion was not asleep. Although he was curled up with his head on his paws, his eyes were open and his ears were pricked up. He now had two friends to protect. He knew, happy and full and resting though we might be, we were never completely safe in this dangerous valley.

  CHAPTER 28

  Wigowzo’s Story

  By the time the sun was in the midst of the sky, we had reached the far edge of the forest. Nothing had troubled us, attacked us, tried to stop us. But we knew that there was still danger ahead.

  My wolf friends flanked me as we loped through the forest. Even though she had known us less than a day, it was as if Wigowzo had always been with us. She’d seen how Malsumsis always turned to me, and I was clearly now the leader of our little pack.

  Malsumsis looked over at me. From the other side, Wigowzo did the same.

  What now? they were asking.

  I looked more closely at the white wolf. She was thinner than Malsumsis. It would take more than one monster meal to fill out her lean sides. But she had a lanky strength and kept up with us easily. Now and then, just as Malsumsis did, she had ranged just a stone’s throw ahead or had dropped behind, scouting for danger. But each time she and Malsumsis came back to take their place by my side, they’d given me the same message.

  No enemies yet.

  We were alert and ready. In fact, we were eager for a fight. That may be why none came to us. Cowards do not like to attack those who are strong and rested and prepared.

  Although they’d moved with fierce determination along the trail, my two wolf friends had yelped and played together like two puppies before we started out that morning. I understood why. Malsumsis had not seen another wolf since he was that small puppy that I rescued from the Greedy Eater. And from what I had learned from Wigowzo, such carefree play had not been a part of her life in this valley.

  The story that she gave us was a grim one. She told it not with words as humans speak, but in the way that wolves communicate, thoughts touching, carrying pictures and memory and emotions. I saw her pack overwhelmed by what seemed to be a pale cloud. It had confused their thoughts, commanded them to follow that trail over the ridge and into this valley. I saw them tied, shared the feelings of pain from being beaten by a shape that swirled like that cloud which had captured them. There was a shape within that cloud. It never allowed itself to be seen directly. But it seemed like that of a tall, bone-thin human being.

  Hunt for me, it commanded. They had hunted.

  Pull my sled as my dogs. They had done that as well.

  Amuse me with your pain. That too.

  But they had not done so immediately.

  Two wolves, who had been the leaders of their pack, had resisted. They’d refused to move, even though pain washed over them when they did so. It had not been easy, but they’d forced themselves to defy Her. Their spirits were strong. They could not fight with their jaws, they could not flee, but they could tell their legs not to move as wave after wave of a cloudy, half-seen fire swept through them. They could be wolves. They stared straight at the one who tried to command them. They saw Her. They refused Her. Finally their bodies grew limp and their eyes closed in death.

  Wigowzo and the others lacked the strength of their dead pack leaders. They’d never been able to look directly at that being which possessed such twisted power. They did as they were commanded. They hunted. They stood guard outside a lodge made of twisted stumps and vines deep in that barren land at the far end of the wide valley. They pulled the sled on which She rode, pulled it not just through the snow of winter, but also across the dry, dusty, burned land where no trees grew.

  They had little to eat, just enough to stay alive. They were beaten for no reason. And being forced to do those things that they did not want to do was the hardest of all. It wore them down as the seasons passed.

  She had been born here and was the youngest in their pack. No other little ones had come to the pack here in the wide valley. So th
eir numbers had grown smaller, not just from the loss of their two leaders, but from the deaths of three of the older wolves whose bodies and hearts gave out as one season of captivity followed another.

  Wigowzo and the other wolves had, in their own way, also refused to be tamed. They’d kept a spark of spirit burning deep in their hearts. The one who tried to own them saw that and so at night they’d been roped to posts, jaws tied shut to prevent their escape while the bad-minded being slept.

  Escape. That was all they could think of whenever their minds were not claimed by She who made them prisoners. And finally one night when the rope about her muzzle was tied less firmly than usual, Wigowzo had managed to chew through the rawhide that bound her. There’d been no time to free the others. Night was almost over. With the first light of day, the one who held them would wake. Then there would be no chance to get away.

  Run, young one, the rest had silently urged her.

  So she ran. And so we found her.

  The images in her mind showed me the small plan she’d made. Sneak back at night. Chew free the ropes that bound the others. Close her jaws around the throat of the bad-minded one who did them such wrong. Taste hot blood as she bit hard and shook death into that being.

  It was a plan I understood. Had I been her, I would have felt much the same way. Of course I knew, as Wigowzo knew, that she had little chance of succeeding on her own.

  But she was not on her own now.

  I squatted beneath the last of the tall trees to study the trail that led on beyond the woods. Malsumsis and Wigowzo flopped down on their bellies on either side of me. Our journey through the forest had been the easy part. What lay ahead of us now were the swampy lands.

  There were fresh tracks in the moist earth. They led into the swamp. Two very different creatures had made these tracks—creatures we hadn’t met before. One set looked like the splayed prints of a lizard with occasional marks from the drag of a long tail. The other set was like some sort of cat, rounded and with no sign of any claw marks. But those two sets of tracks were not those of an ordinary lizard and cat. They were too big. Much too big.