Dog Tales

by Jack Dann

  ‘We have made you stronger and wiser than any cur dog. With your kind you will guard the flocks even against lion and bear. You may eat those that fall by the way; but at the appointed time you will bring the flocks in so We may count the increase and select the best among them. Then We will see how well you have done Our bidding.

  ‘As a token We will give you fire. If you tend it loyally, it will warm your camp; but if you let it die, only a Master can light it again for you. Let it be a reminder to you of Our grace.’

  “So the Warden took the fire and did the Master’s bidding, and so it has been ever since. But the Masters grew ever fewer—and though, by merit and loyalty of our ancestors, Sugar Hill still receives grace—for many tribes, no Masters attend when they bring the flocks at the appointed time. Still, we guard the flocks and their increase, for we know the Masters live among the moon and stars. Someday They will return to judge us at the appointed time, and when They see how the flocks have increased, They will know how well we have done Their bidding.”

  Here Moonsong stopped speaking, and the room sat silent but for the crackle of the fire.

  “You reckon they ever will come back?” Rida said presently.

  Delbert shook himself and stretched. “Bound to someday. They’re still up there. See them fly over sometimes, way up high.” He rose and went to pour himself some more cider from the jug mulling on the hearth.

  Ace grunted. “Why should they? What’ve we got for them? Shit, they don’t even know we’re down here. They left us the wardens to look after us and took off. They ain’t comin’ back. I don’t blame them. Shit, wish I could follow them.” He swigged sourly at his cider.

  Jake sat for a moment, then said, “So what about the wolf?”

  Delbert laughed. “What about the wolf, Moonsong?”

  “The wolf,” Moonsong explained, “is a demon from the north, where no Masters or wardens dwell. It is a creature of wind and ice; it forbodes the winter storm. It mocks the wardens’ loyalty and means death to the wards. It is a shadow on our dreams. We must drive it out.”

  Jake thought of the wolves. “Nah,” he said. “A wolf is just like a coyote, but bigger and smarter. It ain’t no wind and ice, just flesh and blood. It can freeze or starve in the winter, too. I ought to know, I seen them dead in the bad winters.”

  “We cannot have it here,” said Moonsong. “It bodes the going of the Masters. The Northmaster said he was the last Master in the North. Now he has left, and the demon has followed him. It is ill, it bodes only ill.”

  The old warden was visibly disturbed, and the other wardens in the room had become restive. Jake desisted from his argument.

  “The winters keep getting worse, and that’s the plain truth,” said old Mr. Hawkins.

  ###

  For three days Willow gave herself to love, and ranged at the wolf’s side. They moved to the north and east, well away from Sugar Hill range, or any warden. Together they hunted, and slept, and made love. They romped and played in the fall fields, startling the deer. Their world was each other, and they gave no thought to the rest. For the wolf it was no hard task; he had sought and won a handsome bitch, and his interest in the wardens, no longer so academic, was centered on her. The investigation of the other wardens could wait. Willow for her part had cast off all civilized restraints. If in the back of her mind she knew she must pay for this joy, the fire in her blood did not permit her to dwell on the matter. She was utterly consumed with love. The wolf was her only reality, and her grandmother’s exorcisms in the distance seemed the height of irrelevance. For two nights they did not trouble themselves to reply to the evensong.

  On the first day of Willow’s love, Grabchuck, Quailflusher, and his mate, White Rabbit, had gone seeking her. They searched for several kilometers outrange, and found several markers, both Willow’s and the wolf’s; but these were many hours old, and told nothing but that Willow was still in heat, and the wolf had been eating deer, which they knew. The couple had already withdrawn from the area, and the three found no evidence of their meeting, nor indeed any marker less than sixteen hours old. Still, it was clear that the wolf had been in the same area, and Willow’s absence was itself a suspicious circumstance. The cousins were greatly disquieted when they returned to camp.

  Their grandmother was even more disquieted when they made their report. The wolf’s failure to respond the night before had sparked a hope that the exorcism might be taking effect. Now, instead, it seemed he might be up to even greater mischief. Starfall took care the word was spread, and redoubled her efforts at evensong, inserting a personal call to Willow to respond and tell her whereabouts. In the distance Willow heard the message and ignored it; the wolf, uncomprehending, did likewise. Starfall became persuaded the demon had compassed Willow’s disappearance. Her instinctive horror of the northling was confirmed, and the desperate anguish of her lament stirred every warden in the valley.

  On Sugar Hill the house wardens paced restlessly or went off to confer in the camps. The humans, too, were disturbed; even Jake could feel the tension in the song. Delbert explained the new anxiety; Jake scoffed, but the others turned uneasy glances on him, and he withdrew into silence. The songs continued unusually long. At last they were still, and the humans found unquiet sleep.

  In the night it rained, and the drizzle continued into the morning. Before dawn search parties set out, but the scent, already cold, was well laid by the rain, and they did not find it. Willow, hearing their signals, led the wolf to the west, confusing the trail as she went. By mid-day the rain had died down; most of the searchers had given up and returned to camp. Only a few continued to search, Quailflusher and Grabchuck among them. Late in the day they picked up a few markers where the lovers had been. By then it had grown dark, but the cousins persevered, and began casting toward the west.

  The sky had cleared, and the moon rose almost full. Many wardens had gathered at Starfall’s camp, and the entire valley waited upon her voice. Presently she came forth and, mounting a lofty rock, began to sing in a voice of pain. Woe upon us, she cried, woe has come upon us. We have strayed from the way, we have neglected ritual and duty. A path was opened: a devil has come from the north. She sang the devil, she sang storm and wind and ice, till all the valley joined in the cry of dread. Then, shifting suddenly, she entered a plaintive mode, a parent’s lament for a lost child. She sang Willow’s beauty and virtue, and the curse laid upon her by devils. She sang the grief and anxiety of kinfolk longing for a child’s return, and the wickedness of a demon that would work evil on a lost and lonely maiden. Hopelessly pleading, she cried Willow’s name: if she could here, if she yet lived, answer now, only answer!

  And Willow answered.

  She and the wolf lay some kilometers to the north. In the early evening they had pulled down a lame stag, and feasted to repletion. In the bright moonlight Willow’s joy had seemed complete, and she and the wolf lay side by side, grooming and caressing each other. Now the grief of her kinfolk reached out to her, and in that moment she felt she must explain, allay their fears, tell them of her joy.

  She sang of her love and her happiness. She sang the beauty and nobility of the wolf, and her joy in his company. And he, understanding not her words but her tone, joined his voice to hers in splendid harmony, a duet of wilderness and love and freedom. Before all the valley they declared themselves in clear song.

  For a moment there was stunned silence. A few voices rose—startled, angry, inquiring—to be cut off by Starfall’s clear, high quaver. Witchcraft! she cried. The demon has bewitched her! And she began a well-known exorcism, in which other voices gradually joined, from one range to another, until the whole valley rang with it.

  On Sugar Hill, Delbert turned from his window and looked whither Jake sat in shadow. “Well, your wolf’s done it now,” he commented. The other Hawkinses stared at Jake.

  Jake shifted nervously. “My wolf?” He glanced around, feeling the weight of more than a score of looks. “What’s he done?”

>   Delbert sank down on the bench with a sigh. His uncle, Old Earl, passed him a full beaker. “It’s kind of hard to explain.” Delbert sipped at the cider. “You heard them two voices answer old Starfall just now?”

  “Yeah,” said Jake. “One was the wolf.”

  “The other was a little bitch warden named Willow. Looks like they’re, uh, you know, gettin’ it on.” Delbert appeared somewhat embarrassed, glanced apologetically toward Moonsong.

  “What’s wrong with that?” Jake stared around defiantly.

  “Wolves are right close to dogs. Wild dogs breed with wolves up north. Run with the same pack sometimes.”

  A growl rose from several throats, and a young warden started to his feet. “Easy, there! Down!” Delbert quieted the wardens. A couple of the humans chuckled.

  “Well, now,” said Delbert testily, “firstly, these ain’t no cur dogs. Wardens are proud. They don’t mix their blood with no cur dogs. No wolves, neither.

  “Secondly, bitch wardens don’t generally come in heat this time of year. When they do, they reckon it’s the evil spirits or something, and they s’posed to go off alone till they’re out again. Ain’t no dog warden s’posed to go near them till then. But this wolf—’course they reckon he’s a devil, anyway. But now he’s gone and led that Willow astray—and her Starfall’s own granddaughter, ain’t she, Bearbait? Your cousin, ain’t she?” An answering rumble. “So the wardens are mad as hell.” He sat back judiciously.

  “Well now, wait a minute. How’s the wolf s’posed to know that?” Jake felt that the currents were running against him; but the role of wolf’s advocate seemed to be his. “It gets lonely traveling. How’s he s’posed to know?”

  Moonsong’s voice rose from her place by the fire. She spoke at some length; Jake could not follow it. Delbert translated, “They reckon it was witchcraft. They can’t have no breeding with no devil. She says that wolf has got to go.”

  “It ain’t no devil!” Jake insisted. “It’s just a critter, like a warden or a sheep or something. If you stick him, he bleeds.”

  Delbert shrugged. “I don’t know about that. All I know is what the wardens think, and it ain’t no use arguing with them.”

  There was a pause.

  “Nice weather we been having for hunting,” Little Earl observed thoughtfully.

  “Be different from foxes,” added his brother Billy.

  “Oh, shit.” Jake got up suddenly, dumping a cat complaining on the floor, and walked outside. For some time he stood staring at the moon, listening to the night sounds. The wardens were still now. The moonlight flooded the hilltop. He scuffed his feet in the leaves and thought of the lover’s song. He remembered the girl, and that last spring up north, when she was just pregnant, when she and Jake and the old man had lived in the lakeside cabin . . . and he cursed and kicked among the leaves. The breeze freshened, and he shook himself. Presently he went back inside. The conversation was on another matter. He filled his pipe and took himself back to his armchair.

  ###

  Quailflusher and Grabchuck pelted through the night in the direction whence Willow’s voice had come. Only they had continued so long. They had finally cut the couple’s trail shortly before the singing began, and their grandmother’s voice had impelled them along it. They were checked and casting about in a rocky patch when Willow answered; at once they were off again. Within minutes they had picked up the scent, and loped easily over the countryside. The moon gave them more than enough light, and their noses led them surely. They did not give tongue, but followed the trail in silence. It seemed to grow fresher by the meter.

  Her people’s rejection of her love shocked Willow into a moment of lucidity. The wolf, the dead stag, the moonlit clearing seemed suddenly foreign, dreamlike. She rose and walked about, fretfully testing the air. The wolf, sensing her anxiety, approached her solicitously. They exchanged sniffs. His manner was affectionate, reassuring. He was real indeed. Her blood stirred again. The wolf licked her face; she responded in kind. He nipped at her playfully and danced, inviting her to wrestle. Tempted, she took a step, then stopped again uneasy. In the distance the songs of her people still sounded. The breeze stirred about them, bringing scents of the night, cool and damp, the small rustling sounds . . . something . . . she turned, tested the air again. The breeze was shifty . . . there. Home-smell. Someone was coming. Not many, but fast, running. The wolf had caught it now, too; he bristled slightly, paced nervously, took up a stand before the dead stag.

  “No!” Willow growled softly. “Leave it! We’ve got to go!” She edged toward the north side of the clearing. The wolf would not heed her. The moonlight fell full upon him, standing to his greatest height, his mane erect, his eyes gleaming, a fearsome sight. She could not leave him.

  Running feet sounded loud now: the scent grew rank, and Quailflusher and Grabchuck burst into the clearing. With a roar the wolf charged. Grabchuck was bowled over by his rush; Quail was seized by the throat and thrown before he could collect himself. Quail fought desperately; a moment later, Grabchuck rejoined the fray, and the issue stood in doubt. The wolf let go of Quailflusher, knocked Grabchuck over again, then gave a prodigious leap to land three meters away, in full aggressive display. He had nothing of warden language, but they understood him clearly. Leave us alone, he said.

  Quail and Grabchuck had not expected to plunge directly into combat. They were intimidated. “Willow!” Quailflusher barked, all his hair on end. “Willow! Where are you? Are you here?” He began sliding to the right, still facing the wolf, ready to meet a fresh attack.

  Willow unfroze suddenly. “Here!” she cried. “Stop! Don’t fight him!” She darted forward to stand by the wolf, shouldering him, then pushing in front of him. “Don’t fight him! You don’t understand!”

  The two wardens backed up a pace or two. “What are you doing here, running with the devil like this? What are you thinking of?” Grabchuck’s voice was sharp in the sudden quiet.

  “He’s not a devil!” she cried passionately. “He’s wild and beautiful! Grandmother is wrong! Quailflusher, my uncle, you always loved me and watched out for me ever since I was a puppy tumbling at your feet, can’t you understand? Don’t you know what I feel? I can’t leave him!”

  “Willow, Willow, it’s your blood speaking, not you! Look at him, look at him! He’s no warden! He’s monstrous! Like a huge savage, but ferocious and dangerous! Didn’t you see how he attacked us? He’s dangerous!”

  “You attacked us, you came to take me away! He fought for me, as my own mate should! See, you challenge him still! Why can’t you leave us alone? Why can’t all of you leave us alone? Every night the songs, and no one understands, not even you, Quailflusher!”

  Quailflusher withdrew another step. “You are bewitched, Willow. You don’t know what you’re saying. Listen to me, listen to your people calling you! Shake off this spell the demon has cast on you. Leave him, come back with us!”

  Willow stopped. In the distance the great chorus still rang. She shook herself. A great wave of bitterness rose in her. “No. You’re wrong, you don’t understand. I can’t leave him, I won’t. He is wild and strange and beautiful, but he’s no devil. Who should know better? You don’t know him. Grandmother knows nothing of him. He is my mate.” She sat down. The wolf, puzzled by the incomprehensible discussion, nuzzled her ear. She lay down. The wolf stood over her protectively, facing the two wardens.

  “Is this your last word?” Quailflusher demanded.

  “I will stay with him,” Willow repeated.

  “We’ll tell Grandmother what you have said,” Quailflusher said with dignity. He turned carefully and strode from the clearing, breaking into a trot as he reentered the sheltering trees. Grabchuck followed.

  ###

  The sun was well up and the Hawkinses had breakfasted the next morning when a delegation of leading wardens approached the front porch of the house. Bearbait went out and conferred with them, then came inside and spoke briefly with Delbert. The family waited exp
ectantly.

  “Well,” said Delbert. He glanced at Jake, then looked at his father. “They want to talk to us,” he said. “’Bout the wolf.” He looked at Jake again. Jake looked elsewhere.

  “Yeah,” Big John said. “Well, looks like we better talk to them, then.” He rose slowly and started out to the front door. The others followed. Delbert paused a moment.

  “Jake? You coming?”

  Jake stirred. “Yeah. I reckon.” He got up and followed.

  On the front porch they assembled, old Mr. Hawkins and Big John in front. Jake pushed toward them; the others made room for him. Several house wardens, Bearbait and Moonsong among them, took up positions around the family. A good dozen wardens sat waiting, several of them visibly grizzled with age. An extremely elderly bitch warden sat slightly before the others.

  “Delbert?” old Mr. Hawkins invited. Delbert stepped forward, hunkered down a meter or two from the old warden.

  “Yo, old Starfall,” he said. She came forward, sniffed his hand, panted briefly as he rumpled her ears and rubbed her neck. He spoke to her in warden talk, softly, soothingly. She nudged his hand, then sat back formally and addressed the humans.

  The family stirred; Big John glanced at Big Earl, then at Jake. Delbert spoke, translating.

  “It’s what I said last night, Jake. The wolf done run off with that Willow. Couple of these young wardens”—he indicated two younger wardens among the delegation—“tracked them and found them last night. Say the wolf attacked them. And that Willow wouldn’t leave it. They figure it’s bewitched her proper. Anyways, they want to hunt it down.” He stopped, scanned the assembly.

  The humans stirred. Big John looked at Jake, cleared his throat. The younger men were muttering, openly eager. Jake sighed.