He pulled his chair round beside Sylvie’s, shoulder to shoulder, so that they could watch the band. After some lengthy argument amongst themselves, the band began their first number. The patrons jumped up and cleared the middle of the room for dancing and within five bars, the floor was packed with an enthusiastic whirling and beat-tapping crowd.
Further conversation was impossible for a while but when the set finished Jean-Luc picked up where they had left off.
“Talking about respect, it has to be earned not given.”
Sylvie was infuriated. She had a split second in which to decide whether to take umbrage or deflate Jean-Luc’s intolerant comment.
She took the more diplomatic alternative. “True,” she said, “but everyone should start at a neutral point, say at zero. You have started me at minus ten and yet you expect me to start you at plus ten.”
The tartness of her tone caught Jean-Luc’s attention and he turned away from watching the band to search her face and gauge the significance of her comment.
“This is really important to you, isn’t it, Sylvie?”
When he saw she was having trouble answering because she was so annoyed, he added, “Sylvie, you have my respect. Plus five at least to start after the way you handled your friend’s foolishness yesterday. Now come and dance with me. See, the band is starting up again. Let’s be friends!”
He coaxed her out of her seat and drew her on to the floor. Jean-Luc was right. It was great to let go and dance her heart out. She didn’t even mind when the guitarist came over and tapped Jean-Luc on the shoulder to ask him to join them. Smiling his apology at her, Jean-Luc took a couple of harmonicas out of his pocket and jumped up on to the stage. There was a burst of clapping and several shouts of “Vas-y, Jean-Luc, vas-y!”
Jean-Luc stayed with the band for the next two sets, coming over to check she was all right in the interval. Sylvie was entranced to find that he had no mean talent. So, he had something else about him other than his love for his wolves and his devastating good looks.
As Jean-Luc walked her home to the hotel Sylvie was pleased with the results of the evening. They had managed to establish the beginnings of a friendship and she was happier about the prospects for a working partnership built on mutual respect.
Jean-Luc held the door open for her, gave her a quick buss on both cheeks and reminded her, “Five o’clock sharp, Sylvie.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be ready. I can’t wait to begin our survey of the wolf packs.”
Lisa was fast asleep when Sylvie tiptoed into their room. Much as she wanted to tell Lisa that perhaps they had misjudged Jean-Luc and that he really wasn’t such a bear after all, she was exhausted and was glad to get to bed as quickly as possible for the early start wasn’t far off.
Sylvie snapped right into action when her alarm went off at four thirty. She reached down for her clothes, which she had tucked under her bed covers the night before to keep them warm in the Spartan temperature of the hotel. She wriggled into her thermals, top and bottom, jumped out of bed to clean her teeth and wash her face before grabbing her new cerise alpine over suit from the chair and shrugging it on. Thick winter socks and hiking boots followed. She collected her gloves, hat and balaclava and hastily shoved them into her backpack with her sun cream, laptop, cell phone and some basic cosmetics - mascara, a hairbrush and lip salve being essentials. A quick glance at the clock showed she was early.
She pulled Lisa’s covers up over her and left the room as quietly as she could. Lisa needed the sleep and Sylvie wanted to avoid a long question and answer session on the happenings of the night before. She still hadn’t quite worked out the import of the evening’s events for herself. The one thing she was sure of was that she was looking forward to the trip with Jean-Luc with far more enthusiasm than she would have been had they not spent the evening together at the bar. The trip might even be pleasurable apart from being interesting from a work point of view.
She made her way softly downstairs, keeping to the edges of the old treads to avoid the creaky middle; the last thing she wanted to do was wake up Madame Bonjean and have her rush out, bright red hair ablaze, with another lecture on the wickedness of wolves.
She made it unnoticed to the front door, unlocked it and stepped outside onto the pavement. The sky was a dark blueberry; the streetlights had switched off but dawn was still a way from breaking. Down at the bottom of the cobbled street she could see the dim lights of the neighborhood boulangerie as the local baker went about producing the crusty cinq-cents and baguettes that French culture insisted should be fresh every morning. Elsewhere the street was still asleep. She leant against the wall and listened. Filtering up from down towards the port, was a vague rumble of delivery trucks. Now and then, a mobilette buzzed sharply as it zoomed through the distant alleyways. The air was damp with a thin mist drifting in from the sea bearing the faint tang of seaweed and fishy creatures. Sylvie drew in deep breaths of the damp ozone-laden air, sucking the ambiance and history down deep into her lungs. She felt good; she was warm and she was going to have an exciting day. All she needed was some petit déjeuner … and soon; her stomach was growling. It seemed a long time since the huge plate of mussels the night before; she must have danced off all the calories.
10 : A Visit to Wolf Pack Number Three
Right on cue, she saw headlights approaching. Jean-Luc came to a rolling stop and climbed out to help her with her stuff.
“Salut, Sylvie,” he whispered, his hot breath misting in the cold early morning air. He took her backpack from her and slung it into the car. “I do like women who are punctual and travel light!”
Before she could avoid it, he kissed her on both cheeks, his hair tickling her skin, and pulled her towards the vehicle. He dropped his strong hands down to her butt, cupping her to give her a heave up into the passenger seat. An involuntary frisson shot all the way down her legs to her toes. She shook herself in disbelief as she settled on the seat. What did her body know that she didn’t? As far as she was concerned, she and Jean-Luc had reached the point where they could be civil to each other but not without a struggle on her part. How could her senses betray her with the not-so-long-ago enemy?
“Ah, cold and hungry, no doubt - shivering like that, Sylvie,” remarked Jean-Luc. “We’ll stop for breakfast when we reach the outskirts of the city. Then we’ll miss the morning traffic which will start building up any minute now.”
He walked round to his side of the vehicle and climbed in, closing the door quietly behind him. Even during the last few minutes, the street had begun to awaken. Here and there, a light glimmered behind a shutter and a car stuttered to life at the bottom of the road.
As they turned the corner to run along the road beside the harbor and then up to join the main exit road out of the city, Sylvie looked across at Jean-Luc from time to time but he was concentrating on his driving and perhaps he was one of those people who didn’t like to talk before breakfast. That was all right with her, she had plenty to think about. She hoped that she would be able to rise to any professional challenge that would arise. It was important to her that she was not found wanting, leading her to slide down Jean-Luc’s scale of respect. If anything, she hoped to gain a few points even though it galled her that she felt that way.
At last, Jean-Luc stopped the car outside a small café, just before the on-ramp to the main highway along the coast. Sylvie took in the tatty curtains and the condensation running down the inside of the windows and raised her eyebrows at Jean-Luc. He grinned and led her into a fuggy little room, finding a table right at the back away from the locals who were crowded round the bar drinking their coffee and cognac.
“Alors, Sylvie. Would you like coffee or a hot chocolate with cognac?”
“Hot chocolate sounds great, Jean-Luc. But cognac at this time of the morning?”
“Trust me, it will do wonders. It will warm you and set you up for the day, and it’s great in hot chocolate. And croissants? Can you eat two?”
Sylvi
e smiled, “How did you know? I’m starving after all that exercise last night.”
She watched Jean-Luc shoulder his way through the crowd at the bar and rest his elbow on the counter. There was much male bonding with ‘salut’s’ ringing about and hefty shoulder-clapping.
He gave their order and then muscled his way back to their table, the men’s eyes following him to check out his companion and a slow blush began to climb Sylvie’s cheeks at the unexpected attention. A wolf whistle rang out as Jean-Luc sat down again.
“Don’t take any notice of them, Sylvie. They don’t usually see someone as attractive as you in here at this time of the morning and they certainly haven’t seen me with such an alluring woman for a long time, not since my fiancée ran out on me.”
“They seem to know you, Jean-Luc.”
“Oh, that’s nothing. Several of these little bars know me. I guest with many of the local bands and we play all the venues. Don’t make much money but we’re usually given a meal, free drinks and a good time. Plus, it gives me the opportunity to put in a good word for the wolves.”
Sylvie was about to ask about his music when the old barman arrived with their breakfast. As he put the hot chocolate in front of her, she caught a whiff of the cognac. She picked up the generous cup with two hands and bent to inhale the aroma. It smelled delicious. What a combination! Chocolate and cognac. It reminded her of liqueur filled Christmas chocolates. Happy memories. She took a tiny sip and rolled it around on her tongue.
Jean-Luc waited to see what her verdict would be. She took another sip and caught him observing her. She gave him a rewarding smile.
“It’s to die-for, Jean-Luc. This is going to be a must whenever I make an early morning start from now on for the rest of my life.”
“Thought you’d approve. Now drink up. You can eat the croissants in the car. I want to push on as we have a long way to go to reach the Number Three pack.”
“Why are we checking on Number Three before Number One?”
“I’m anxious about the Number Three pack because the alpha pair had six cubs this year. Mostly the couples in our Park have between three and four. I want to see if they have succeeded in rearing all of them.”
Sylvie had finished her chocolate while Jean-Luc was talking and she put the cup down, ready to go. Jean-Luc threw some notes on the table and pointed to the paper serviettes. They both wrapped up their croissants, squeaked back their chairs and left the cafe to a chorus of ‘Au‘voir, Jean-Luc’.
They had finished eating their pastries by the time they reached the Italian border. Through they went, tracing the route they had followed earlier in the week. Once back into France again, Jean-Luc took a different road, saying that he was going higher up on the other side of mountain to where the Number Three den should be.
The tarred road ended and they ran on up a bumpy track for several miles before Jean-Luc pulled in under a stand of pines.
“We have to walk from here. Are you up to it, Sylvie?”
“How long will we have to walk?”
“Not as long as last time - about three hours in and we should reach the den. You need to work out what veterinary supplies you want to take with you; you’ll have to leave your chest back here in the vehicle. We can split the load and add in something for lunch.”
“I guess I’ll learn from experience how to prioritize what I take, Jean-Luc. I’ll take a few darts with tranquillizer, painkiller and antibiotics and a basic wound cleaning kit. OK?”
“And antidotes for common poisons … I’ll take a couple of body bags and hope I don’t have to use them. And a dogcatcher’s pole. Plus the usual binoculars, camera, laptop and sat-phone. It’s quite a load but all necessary.”
Sylvie was encouraged when Jean-Luc came over to help her shift the heavy chest so that she could choose her supplies. They were working well together as a team so far. She in her turn selected what they should take to eat and drink. Once everything was stowed in their backpacks, Jean-Luc strapped the folding pole to his back and started up the track.
He shot a look at the clear sky. Though it was still dark, the sun’s rays were beginning to creep up over the top of the mountain. “Looks as if the weather forecast was accurate for once.”
“It’s a perfect day,” agreed Sylvie attempting to spin round in a joyful circle to take in a three-hundred and sixty degree view. Her heavy backpack hampered her movement and she nearly swung herself off her feet.
Jean-Luc grabbed her to stop her falling over.
“Woah there, Sylvie! We don’t want any more broken legs! Allons-y, let’s get a move on, we have a long way to go and we don’t want to be retracing our footsteps in the dark again?”
“When will it start to snow?” Sylvie called out.
“Any day now. We’re lucky it’s held off so long. Of course, it’s easier to track the wolves in the snow but I’d like to check the packs as soon as possible after what happened to Kaya.”
It was tough going. The path at the bottom of the valley was climbing in altitude all the time and in parts, it was barely more than a sheep trail. In fact, they passed several groups of mouflon up on the slopes.
“See them, Sylvie?” asked Jean-Luc turning round to her. “There’s plenty of food around for the wolves at the moment.”
“Jean-Luc, can we stop for a few minutes?” Sylvie called out after an hour’s trek. “I could do with a drink.”
“See that mound up ahead full of holes? That’s a marmotte colony. We can stop just short of that. They may already be in hibernation but we might be lucky and see one or two.”
“They’re like prairie dogs, aren’t they?”
“Not really. Different species. They’re a large ground squirrel and they have a thicker coat. Have to survive the deep winter here. They’re an excellent extra source of food for the wolves, especially for cubs learning how to hunt or for an animal that is injured. I guess that is what P’tit-Loup has been feeding on.”
“Marcel told me about him. It must have been difficult for you to let him go again in the wild after you and Marcel had spent so much time and care on him. It must have been like saying goodbye to a favorite dog.”
“Wasn’t easy but we can’t tame the animals we look after. We have to let them go if we think they have a chance of making it on their own. Haven’t found his body so I guess P’tit-Loup is doing fine.”
When they were within fifty yards of the colony Jean-Luc stopped, slowly shrugged off his backpack and sat on the ground. “That’s close enough.”
Sylvie followed suit and joined him on the rough grass. Jean-Luc already had his binoculars to his eyes. Sylvie poured out some coffee and passed him a cup, which he took in exchange for the binoculars. Sylvie put them up and took a good look. There were only two of the little creatures to be seen. One of them was standing guard. He beat his tail on the ground with vigor when he sensed their presence and the second one darted down a burrow.
“They’re cute, Jean-Luc. It’s a shame to think they are just part of the food chain with the wolves being the top predator in the Park.”
“Not forgetting Man, Sylvie. Don’t ever forget Man and his rifles.”
They packed the cups away and took off again. Jean-Luc was anxious to reach the wolf den before noon. As wolf specialists, they both knew that the wolves were more likely to be close to their den at noon than at any other time of the day. They hunted by night and rested up during the day.
When the sun was close to its zenith, Jean-Luc halted and held up his hand and waved Sylvie to go slow and quietly. He waited for her to join him and then whispered in her ear, “The den is round the next fold of the mountain.”
He held up his finger to check the wind. “Luckily we’re down wind of the den but we must still be stealthy. The den’s below an outcrop of rock about a hundred yards up the slope to our right. If we climb up here, they are less likely to hear us and we can approach the den from this side.”
They left the winding path and began their a
scent of the steep mountainside. When Jean-Luc judged they were at the right height, he led the way along the side of the slope. The terrain was awkward and deceptive; tussocks of thick mountain grass, sudden dips and clutches of rock made the going difficult. Sylvie had to concentrate on every step. The last thing she wanted was a twisted ankle. The day was heating up, their packs were heavy and Sylvie could hear a stream. How tantalizingly cool it sounded.
They rounded a large clump of bushes and there before them was the stream with a stand of pine trees beside it.
Jean-Luc checked the wind again. “We’ll stop here and have lunch. We don’t want to get any nearer before we eat in case the wind changes.”
“Are we close?” Sylvie asked, wondering why they had to stop and eat.
“About a hundred yards,” answered Jean-Luc. ”We should have lunch now in case we don’t get another chance and we need energy to carry on and then hike all the way back again.”
Sylvie could see the good sense in that and yielded to Jean-Luc’s instruction. She put down her pack with a sigh of relief, stretched her arms out sideways and over her head and eased her back. While she went off for a pee behind a bush, Jean-Luc unpacked their lunch.
They sat down on a large rock together, ate their sandwiches and drank their coffee. Sylvie was overcome with a feeling of intense happiness and joy. She dropped her head down onto Jean-Luc’s mighty shoulder, relaxed, and closed her eyes to absorb as much as she could with her other senses. The last insects of the year were buzzing around trying to make up for lost time before the snow fell; the stream splashed and gurgled and a pair of buzzards mewed high in the cloudless blue sky. Pine and wild sage scented the air. The sun fell on her face and the rock beneath her hand was warm.
She stirred awake to find Jean-Luc’s arm around her shoulders, holding her firmly against his side to keep her from falling. She pulled away trying to hide her embarrassment but Jean-Luc chased her with his hand and chucked her under the chin, “I let you have forty winks. You needed it after the early start and the long walk. Do you feel better now?”
Waking the Wolf (Coup de Foudre) Page 8
