by Jack L Knapp
I murmured to the others, “We’ll dress out those two, then pack them onto the big sled. We can try to get closer to those other animals, they're probably bison, when that’s done.
“Laz, you’ll stay behind with Sandra after we field dress these two. Yell if you see anything dangerous. The rest of us will try to get close enough for a shot.
“They're still too far away now, but if we can work in closer we’ll have a chance. It’s taking them a long time to paw through the snow, so that will work in our favor. They don’t seem very alert, either; most of them are just keeping their heads down and pushing ahead through the snow. Still, there’s sure to be one watching. Look for him, and when he lifts his head to look around, freeze in position. We’ll move in closer when he goes back to feeding.
“Don't shoot unless you can put the arrow into a killing spot. That way, I think we can get at least one without scaring them off. If they do run, I don’t want them running over one of us! Let’s also make sure we’ve got an escape route before anyone takes a shot.”
Lee snow-shoed to the ridge and stood sentry while the rest of us field-dressed the two llamas. The snow should make it easy to see anything approaching, but even so, keeping someone on watch had become a habit. I didn’t want us to get careless.
Sandra helped me dress out the llama I’d shot and Laz assisted Lilia with the second.
“You’re pretty fast with that bow, Matt. I didn’t even notice you draw back on the string, but suddenly this fellow was down. That’s a heavy bow too. I’m sure I couldn’t draw it!”
“I’ve been using it for a while, Sandra, and I’ve practiced a lot. You’re also going to need a heavier bow. As soon as we get back, I’ll make you one. You’ll be able to handle it with a little practice.
“The rule is start light, work up to heavy. You’ve picked up a lot of skill and strength while using the bow you’ve got. All that’s necessary now is for you to build more strength, then learn to control it before we go hunting. Having that extra killing power might just keep the rest of us alive. I’ll adjust the draw weight to your strength, easy enough to do while I’m building the bow. You can keep using your current bow until you’re comfortable with the new one.
“We’ll make it strong enough so that you can barely draw it at first, so expect that your back muscles are going to hurt while you’re getting used to the strain. I figure two weeks, a month at most to develop the muscles, but then you’ll stop using the bow you’ve got now and stick with the new one. Keep the old one for a spare.”
She nodded, but didn’t seem convinced. Well, she would still have the lighter bow if I was wrong. It would still be useful; Laz could keep the new bow for a spare if it was too much for Sandra. He had strength, just not yet the archer’s strength of arm and back that comes from frequent use. Medieval English and Welsh bowmen had been required by law to shoot at least weekly, and had later used those practiced skills and strong muscles to butcher France’s army.
In time, Laz would be drawing a bow as heavy as the one I was using. By spring we’d all need heavier bows, myself included. The animals we would encounter crossing the plains were too dangerous to hunt with anything less than the heaviest weapons we could use.
Practice had made us into skilled butchers and skinners; an hour later, Lilia and I snowshoed up the ridge to join Lee. Laz and Sandra remained in the hollow, stacking the meat on the large sled to balance the load.
We passed an old carcass a hundred yards past the ridge. Judging by the long hair and short, curved horns, this had been a musk ox. The killers had torn up the snow around the carcass while feeding. They had also urinated and left dung atop the snow.
I glanced at Lilia and she nodded. Lee looked at me and I murmured, “Wolves. No way of telling which kind. The main difference between them is size. Dire wolves are bigger than the gray wolves we had where I grew up, but there might not be a lot of difference between them here; the grays might be larger.
“If they leave us alone, we leave them alone. It doesn't matter which species they are. They’ll be after bigger game than humans anyway, things like bison and musk ox. I doubt they could kill a mammoth or mastodon. I don’t know whether they hunt the ground sloths, but they would definitely go after llamas or elk. They could bring down a stag-moose too, especially if they catch one in deep snow.”
Lee looked to where the bison had been foraging before.
“The herd has moved. They’re going south, and they’re moving faster than they were before.”
“Think they might be migrating, Lilia?”
She thought about it.
“Could be. We don’t know much about them except that they like the grassy plains. They might be browsing on trees and brush now, since the grass has gotten hard for them to reach. But it’s still early in the season. This bunch might be stragglers from the main herd that got separated from the others, but if the snow gets deeper they’ll move south too.”
I nodded and moved up to where Lee was watching the herd. They would reach a small copse of trees soon, if they kept moving.
“OK, now we need to move fast. Don’t run, but walk fast. The snowshoes are slow and heavy, and if you hurry you’ll fall.
“We can hide in those trees, and they'll protect us if the bison decide to charge. If we bag one, maybe more than one, we wait for the rest of the herd to move on before we leave the trees to butcher it.
“We can bring the sleds up, load everything we can haul, then build a snow house to store what’s left. The wolves might find the meat, but there’s a chance they’ll follow the herd. Anyway, it’s all we can do, and a cache of frozen meat might mean the difference between hungry and starving before winter’s over.”
We collected the rest of our party and followed the meandering shallow valley, pausing only to examine a trail when we crossed it.
“Bear, and a big one, Matt. Not like the one that broke my arm, though. Maybe this one was a grizzly.”
I nodded. The trail didn’t look fresh, and if the grizzly had been looking for a place to den up I hoped he’d found one. In a deep cave, preferably, someplace we weren’t going to be.
We huffed our way into the clump of trees and moved up to watch the bison approach. “See that one on the right, a little back from the others? I think he’s a young one, maybe from last year’s calving. He looks fat and healthy. We’ll take him if the herd keeps coming.”
But they didn’t. The yearling moved into the herd and an older cow ended up closest to us. We communicated by gestures and agreed that she was our target.
She was twenty-five or thirty yards away when we shot. We drew at the same time, and as soon as I released my string two other arrows streaked across the short space and thumped into her side.
She sank down as her forelegs folded and then rolled over. A rear leg kicked briefly, then she lay still. She had rolled onto the side where our arrows had gone into the thick wooly skin. Last gesture of revenge on her part, or a little bad luck to make up for the good luck we were having?
Half an hour later the herd had passed on, taking no notice of the dead cow as they plodded ahead. Lilia followed as I moved up to the carcass and Lee went back to help Laz and Sandra bring up the sleds.
Within a short time we had the carcass skinned and quartered. Laz and Sandra removed some of the llama meat from the big sled, making room for the quartered bison, and packed it on the smaller sleds before packing bedding furs and equipment atop the load.
We would take only parts that contained the most meat. This included the neck, the four quarters, and the upper ribs. The hump was left attached to the backbone and ribs. The skin was tied hair-side-out over the load of meat on the large sled. As for what remained, the wolves could have it.
It took the combined efforts of three of us to pull the large sled. The two women towed a smaller sled each, manageable but still heavy for one person to pull. As soon as we crossed the shallow valley, we would have to leave the small sleds while all of us pulled a
nd pushed the big one up the slope. Two of us could then recover the small sleds and join the others.
#
We left the snowfield and were soon among the trees. I estimated half a day’s travel before we would reach the snow house where we had stayed overnight, and probably a full day after that before we reached the cabin. We would be ready to stop by the time we got to the snow house; it had been a long day and we were already tired.
A few high clouds had drifted in from the northwest and the breeze had gotten stronger. It was nothing to worry about yet, but we would also need to keep an eye on the weather.
We were more than halfway back to the snow house when I heard a wolf howl behind us.
Maybe the wolves had stopped to feed on the offal we’d left behind.
But maybe not.
Chapter 28
The breeze picked up and high clouds were stacking up to the northwest.
I heard more wolf howls behind us. They were getting closer. We pushed the pace as hard as we dared, considering the heavily laden sleds.
We were all puffing and beginning to sweat by the time we reached the snow house. Sweating in freezing temperatures is dangerous, but so is being caught by a pack of wolves.
“We’ll offload half the meat and hides here and leave them in the snow house, cave in the entrance afterward and cover the vent with snow. The meat’s frozen now and doesn’t have much smell, and whatever scent there is won’t have had time to escape through the snow.
“If the wolves do smell it, they might stop following us, at least for a while. While they’re eating those frozen quarters, we might get enough of a head start to make it back to the cabin. We’ll make better time pulling lighter loads anyway.”
Lee asked, “Matt, wouldn’t it be better to just take cover in the snow house and defend it if they try to get in?”
“I thought of that. But hiding while the wolf is literally sniffing at your door, and when that door is made of snow, well….”
“Point taken. Is there a plan, fearless leader?”
“Sure. If all else fails, we throw you to the wolves! I heard a story once that featured that solution, throw the baby out while everyone else escapes.”
“I never heard that story and I don’t think I’d like being the tossee. How about we throw Laz? I’m probably pretty bony and tough, you know.”
“Serious plan, if all else fails, kick off the snowshoes and climb a tree. Put arrows into as many wolves as you can until they get frightened off or we kill them all. But we’ll probably lose everything on the sleds, maybe even the sleds themselves. We used leather laces, so if the wolves are hungry enough they’ll chew the leather.
“We worked hard for that meat, and we need those hides too. They’re not worth getting killed over, but I’m not giving them up if there’s any other way.
“Meantime, there are trees and we can climb one if we have to. Just be careful, the limbs are sure to be icy and you won’t like what happens if you lose your grip!”
“How about we start planning which tree we might need to climb? Always keep one in sight, and if the wolves catch up, we put the women up the tree and see if we can keep the wolves at bay. Matt, you and I have faced cats and bears, killed them too. We’ve got bows and a good supply of arrows, and I see no reason why we can’t kill wolves. If they get in close we’ve got the spears, but I’d rather arrow a wolf at forty paces than spear him while he’s gnawing on my leg.”
“I shoot better from the ground,” Lilia said. “And Sandra can use a spear to stick anything that gets through the arrows. There likely won’t be many wolves. They’re big animals and they’ll need meat, a lot of it. That small herd of bison was moving south, and the only other thing we saw on the open grassland was the llamas, so I don’t think there’s enough food to feed a large pack.
“I doubt there’s more than maybe three or four of them, unless they’re hunting mammoths, and I think those have probably gone south too. Same as the big bison herds, they need a lot of graze. They can’t forage through heavy snow.”
“It’s a thought, Lilia. We’ll just have to wait and see. But we know what we have to do so we’ll just keep going as long as we can. If they get close, we can decide what to do then.
“There’s the snow house ahead. Lee watches, the rest of us unload the big sled. Top skin goes in, two hindquarters from the bison, two hindquarters from the llamas, get it done fast. As soon as you’re out, collapse the entrance tunnel. Laz, you cover the vent hole. Try to make a tight seal but don’t waste time.”
We left the snow house a scant ten minutes later, pushing on through the trees. I regretted leaving the meat and skins; losing the meat endangered our long-term survival, but being caught by wolves was the immediate threat.
The next howls came from only a few hundred yards behind us.
There was no chance now to reach the cabin; we would have to fight.
“OK, those two trees, the ones close together. They’ll protect our back. Put the small sleds between them to fill in the gap, put the big sled in front. Park it close to the trees.
“We don’t have time to build a snow fort, but maybe we can still keep the wolves out. Laz, get the shovel and dig a ditch across our front. Pile the snow behind it as you dig. The wolves will have to jump the ditch and snow barrier before they can get to us, or maybe they’ll drop into the ditch before they try to jump the wall. Either way, they’ll slow down.
“The idea is that they’ll have to jump the wall, so they’ll have to come high rather than attacking from high and low at the same time. Slowing them down gives us more time to shoot and the wolves will be easier to hit.
“Get out the axe too. Stick the handle into the snow where you can grab it if you need it. It’s a good close-in weapon, just be careful not to hit one of us. Same with the spears, butt ends into the snow, angle the blades forward. They’ll be handy if we need them and a wolf might even stick himself if he jumps the wall.
“If you have to climb a tree, hop up on a sled and go up from there. It will be faster. Let’s get the snowshoes off. Oh, and get me a forequarter from the small sled. I’ll use that, too.
“Lee would whine if we tossed him out, Laz too, so I’ll give the wolves a forequarter instead. We’ll save Lee for bait next time.”
The banter helped us relax. The others weren’t exactly whistling while they worked, but they weren’t tense either.
I got the forequarter from Lee. We had a clear line of fire out to perhaps forty yards in the direction the wolves would be coming from. I hauled the quarter in that direction, feet barely sinking into the wind-packed snow, and dumped it about twenty yards past where Laz was digging the trench. I then tied a rope to the forequarter’s shank and ran the other end of the rope to a small tree, tying it firmly. The rope would keep the wolves from dragging the forequarter away, possibly out of range for our bows. I barely got back inside our improvised ‘fort’ before the wolves came into view.
There were five of them, dark, heavily built brutes. A huge male led, a slightly-smaller female followed close behind; the other three trailed and were smaller than the female. They might be from this year’s litter, not that it made much difference; even the smallest was larger than the gray wolves I'd seen.
The big male was as large as a six-months-old calf and had a head the same width. But this head had a muzzle-full of sharp teeth and a pink tongue that lolled past the teeth.
I glanced around but there was no need to say anything; we were as ready as we were going to get. There was no time to talk and nothing to say anyway.
I pulled half a dozen arrows from my quiver and stuck them into the snow wall ahead of me. Lee was on my right, Lilia on my left, Sandra and Laz behind us. Lee saw what I was doing and also stuck arrows into the snow wall.
The lead wolf stopped to tear at the forequarter I’d tethered as bait. The other, probably the alpha female, moved in, despite a warning growl from the leader, and grabbed at the shank end of the forequarter. The
other three paused, then decided we were a safer option than trying to steal meat from the adults. They came on, bounding toward us.
Adult wolves might have been more wary; the three young wolves saw only food ahead. They had probably never seen humans before. Run straight at the prey, grab for the throat and the heels, and if there was a problem killing, maybe one of the adults would be there to help anyway. The tactic would have worked against a llama.
But we weren’t llamas, and we had arrows ready on our bowstrings.
The lead one fell to my arrow. He ended his life, kicking up snow less than five yards in front of the two leaders where they were now biting off mouthfuls from the forequarter. The big leader paid no attention to the dying yearling and attempted to drag the meat away, but succeeded only in pulling the line taut. He kept tugging at the remnants of the forequarter, but the female abandoned it and sniffed at the dead one.
Laz shot the leader of the two remaining youngsters as they kept coming. Lilia’s bow thrummed too, but I didn’t see where her arrow went. I grabbed one of my ready arrows, nocked it on the string and drew it back.
It seemed as if I had all the time in the world. I put this one into the big leader. The fletching, all that was visible after the arrow struck, stood out from just behind his foreleg. It might have hit a lung, but probably I had missed the heart. The big wolf went down anyway.
The female finally realized that something was wrong. Four of her pack-mates were suddenly down, dead or dying.
Lilia had scored too. Her arrow had gone into the front of the other yearling, into the base of the throat. There was a small amount of arrow showing but most of it was buried in the wolf's chest. Judging by where the feathers stood out from the throat, Lilia’s arrow might have hit the beast's heart. Blood spatters dotted the snow around the wolves. Not much of it came from where the arrows struck, because arrows tend to seal the wound closed, but all of the downed wolves had bled from the muzzle, indicating mortal wounds.
The female snarled as my third arrow punched into her open mouth and passed through the neck behind it. She was probably no more than fifteen yards from me when I shot. I nocked another and waited, but there was no need. Only the big male was alive, not dead, clearly dying, but still snapping and snarling while scratching at the snow.
