And the camp of her people would be close.
With a quick glance at the blood on his leg, Wolf overcame the surprise caused by her abrupt departure and, once again, took to the chase. I’ve got to get some answers. This is getting old.
Wolf’s pace slowed as he neared the stand of pine trees. She could be behind any one of them, ready to leap on his back and bite into his spine. There had to be a portal in Disneyland, but I didn’t hear her call for the storm. How did she do it? And…where are we? He knew he had to stop this mental questioning and allow his senses to take over. It wouldn’t do him any good for her to catch him unaware. Eyes closed and nose up, his ears only heard the furtive movements of normal creatures in the woods. His nose, though, caught her scent over the crushed pine needles as strongly as if she stood right in front of him. She hadn’t tried to lose him. There was a trail, and it was obviously leading him somewhere. But where?
Cautious, he stepped into the shade of the trees. Part of his mind registered welcome relief from the hot midday sun. It wasn’t this hot back home. It was also evening. He shook off the nagging inconsistencies as he quietly padded deeper into the forest. The path she had made was a mixture of disturbed leaves, broken twigs, and hairs caught on low-hanging branches. No self-respecting wolf would ever leave behind a trail like this—unless it was done on purpose. Wolf knew he had to tread carefully.
Her path led Wolf round and round the trees and boulders. It was a long, winding, unnecessary course. With the knowledge that he was being played, Wolf had no choice but to follow if he was to have any hope of finding her ultimate destination. He didn’t have long to wait. The forest began to thin as he neared the opening of a large cave. The ground in front of the cave was packed and scratched, evidence of much use. Coming to a stop, his head swung in each direction, searching, but her scent always brought him back to the cave. She was in there, waiting.
His eyes tried to pierce the darkness but he couldn’t see far enough inside. It was too deep, too dark. A mocking, guttural growl came from the depths of the darkness. This was it. This was the invitation for him to come and fight, to end it once and for all.
Instead of a headfirst rush into the cave, Wolf paused. He had two options. Well, three, but he would not call a portal and try to find his way home. That wasn’t his way. One, he could stay where he was, wait her out, and then stand his ground in the open. Or, two, he could go into the cave and fight on her turf. Either way, there would be a battle. He had to make sure she would never threaten the children again.
Her turning into a wolf—just like me—stumped him. There had to be more to it than what he could now see. She had not spoken a word since they fell over the railing of the old Motor Boat Cruise dock. Her reactions were purely wolf-like—both in her ways of attack and her intelligence of flight. He gave a low, frustrated growl. There were still too many questions and no easy answers. With a shake of his massive head he once again tried to clear his mind of unnecessary, distracting thoughts, all the while attempting to peer into the darkness in front of him.
Another taunting growl came from within. Now was the time for action.
I was supposed to take my uniforms to the dry cleaners today. Disgusted with himself, Wolf stamped his injured leg. The insignificant pain served as a reminder: Keep this up and you will not make it home. Then who will protect Peter and Catie…and Walt? Focus.
With a steadying breath, Wolf edged to the side of the cave’s opening. There were no more sounds from within, not even the heavy breathing of a worried adversary. His nose swung side to side. There, on the right. That was where her scent was the strongest. She’s expecting a straight-on attack. I never do what’s expected.
Wolf knew he would need a couple of moments for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the cave. Still outside, he closed his eyes from the glare of the sun and sprang into the left portion of the den where he then spun around.
He stumbled when his feet slipped on what felt like paper on the hard-packed floor. When his eyes flew open, a momentarily glance at his feet caused another shock to ripple through Wolf. Under him were pamphlets from Disneyland and photographs of Peter and Catie.
Reacting before his mind even registered the movement, he twisted to the right to avoid Omah’s lunge. She had seen his distraction and attacked, her teeth snapping thin air where his foot had been. Wolf doubled back, his tail attempting to cover her eyes as he shouldered her legs to knock her down to the ground.
In a tumble they rolled across the dirty floor, biting and growling, unable to get a firm grip on anything. Bursting out of the cave and into the open, their bodies were still entwined. Their powerful heads jerked this way and that, snarling and snapping.
Wolf’s superior fighting skill got the better of her and rolled her onto her back. Her muzzle was firmly in his jaws, his claws had her forelegs pinned to the ground. She fell limp under him knowing he could break her jaw with one bite.
When she suddenly stopped resisting, Wolf continued to hold his dominant position. A beaten wolf should slink away, never to come back to the pack. But, did she consider herself beaten? Or was she simply waiting for the next moment to strike back? His deliberation was cut short when he felt a nicking pain in his side. Not releasing Omah’s nose, he turned his head as far as possible and his eyes widened. Now he could see that, as they fought, they had been surrounded by warriors, Blackfoot by their dress, their spears all pointing at Wolf. Once he had gotten the black wolf’s attention, the nearest brave drew his arm back to hurl his spear into Wolf’s side.
With a sharp bark, Omah gave the command for the warrior to relax his arm. Reluctant, the brave was slow to lower his weapon. It was still held ready and pointed at the intruder. With a mighty shove, she got out from under Wolf and slowly stalked around him. Now that her people were there to back her, Omah taunted her opponent as she snapped close to his face, her tail whipping back and forth in victory.
Unfazed by her show, Wolf didn’t even flinch, but kept his eyes on the spear-bearer. Experience told him that, if he bested her again, the warriors wouldn’t hesitate to attack.
Another of the Blackfoot warriors said something to Omah as they all turned to leave. She nudged the tense Wolf with her head, and pointed with her nose. Still loosely surrounded by armed warriors, Wolf had no choice but to follow.
Alert, angrier than he had ever been, Wolf kept his eyes constantly moving as they entered their camp. With no visual references he could identify, he was unable to determine where—or when—he was. A low growl of frustration earned him a soft nick in the shoulder from the spear-bearer. Let me meet you face-to-face on the battlefield and then we will see who masters that spear.
Omah glanced over her shoulder at the incident. A well-placed foot kicked a cloud of dust into the wolf’s face. It was a reminder of who was in charge. The bared fangs that answered her showed he would not easily be cowed.
The two wolves were led to the Council of Chiefs to decide what should be done with the intruder. Omah sat on her haunches as she bowed her head in respect. Wolf looked each chief in the face and stood his ground, his head high, his tail straight. He was the son of the Shaman. They were equals. Ignoring the low, warning rumble from Omah, he likewise ignored her.
Unfamiliar with the Blackfoot tongue, Wolf could only wait. Since there was no need for the Plains sign language amongst their own people, he could only pick out a few words. As the talk dragged on and on, he was reminded of his long-winded father and gave a snort of amusement. When Omah’s sharp ears caught the disrespectful noise, her head whipped in his direction. Wolf covered it with a cough and sneeze as he turned away from her.
With some time on his hands he tried to familiarize himself with the camp. They had entered from the south and were now in the center of a widespread gathering of buffalo hide tipis. These were much larger than the ones the Lakota used. Each tipi seemed to have a resident dog that Wolf knew would help pull the belongings on a travois. To the right was a loosely defined
corral that held the tribe’s horses, guarded by a handful of older boys.
Wolf knew that there were two kinds of Blackfoot people. One was a warrior tribe, and the other was more peaceful and strived to get along with their numerous neighbors. They both would fight, but the latter rarely fought to the death and would rather count coup by touching their enemy in battle without actually hurting him. So far Wolf had no idea which kind of people were now holding him. Thinking back over all of Omah’s behavior, he still could gain no clear insight, even though she had never actually hurt Peter. He would just have to wait and see which way this was going to go.
As the talk continued, a small rock suddenly flew across Wolf’s head and slammed into Omah’s side. Eyes narrowed, she glared at the wolf next to her, but realized he hadn’t done anything. Her eyes roamed the perimeter of the gathered tribe and stopped on a small group of children huddled together, armed with more rocks. With a snarl she sprang to her feet, fairly leaping over the watching Wolf.
Wolf found he was holding his breath as the group of children scattered. Omah leaped at the biggest boy. He shrieked as he scampered out of reach, and the others rushed in to jump on the wolf who somehow had lost her balance and stumbled. The shrieks became cries of laughter as the children fell on her in a pile, hands grabbing tufts of hair as she rolled over and pretended to bite at them. Dust filled the air as the melee continued, Omah’s tail waving in the air as she leapt around with the children who were delighted to have her back playing with them. Their play was interrupted by a call from the Council as they motioned for Omah to come back to hear their decision.
Omah interrupted Wolf’s contemplation on seeing a different, softer side of her when she slammed a shoulder into him to get him to move. The moment vanished. Not wanting her think she had the upper hand, Wolf snarled as he suddenly lunged at her unprotected throat. Caught unaware, she found herself in a precarious position. With no effort at all, she knew Wolf could bite through her jugular vein.
One of the braves sprang to her aid by whapping the shaft of his spear across Wolf’s back. Wolf refused to let go. Omah understood the reason and reluctantly let out a light yelp. Dominance acknowledged, the pressure on her neck lessened. She backed away, eyes filled with anger and embarrassment.
Wolf was surprised when she merely walked past him, followed by the majority of the braves and chiefs. Knowing that he was expected to follow, with no other option, Wolf proudly kept his head up as he fell in behind her.
Still alert, it was obvious to Wolf that they were being taken to the far side of the camp, away from the horses. The tribe’s horses would be used to Omah’s scent just as his tribe’s horses were used to him. The men would have to be concerned with a foreign wolf around their animals. A loss of a herd of horses would be devastating to a tribe who relied on them for hunting and traveling.
A large, loose circle was formed, leaving the two wolves alone in the middle. Wolf began to think he had his answer: This wouldn’t be a rambunctious frolic with the children. The tribe apparently expected them to fight to the death. He knew he could take a stance by refusing to fight her, but figured the braves would then jump in to finish him off. A fight to the death wasn’t his way and he desperately needed an alternate solution that would satisfy everyone. I could partially maim her….
With an angry roar, Omah did what was expected by her people and launched herself at him, effectively ending his speculations. There would be no time for deliberations. He had to fight.
He nimbly jumped aside and turned back to reach her throat again. Omah was no fool and had anticipated his move. He snapped thin air as she feinted to the left to bite at his unprotected, sore back leg.
Her fangs didn’t have enough time to sink in all the way but still reopened the wounds she had inflicted only a short time ago. Wolf freed his leg and kicked dust into her eyes to momentarily blind her. It also gained him a moment to try to think of another option. Being surrounded in their circle, there was nowhere for him to run and escape to gain some time. Not knowing where he was or where to run made that choice unappealing. Omah had the definite advantage here.
While she was still disoriented with the dust, Wolf leaped on her back, his superior weight crushing her to the hard ground. With a loud yelp of pain, she tried in vain to wiggle out from under him, snapping at his paws, but unable to reach them.
Focused on only her, shifting his weight so she couldn’t escape, Wolf didn’t see the reaction of the crowd at her cry. One of the women, her elaborate deerskin dress decorated with porcupine quills and beads, grabbed the spear out of the hand of the warrior next to her. With a shrill yell, she rushed the huge black wolf and began beating his back with the spear. When that had no effect on the animal, she stuck the tip into the bleeding gash on his leg.
“OW!” Oh, shoot. Rule one: Never talk.
Omah’s eyes immediately widened as she ceased to struggle under his suffocating pressure. “You can talk!”
Wolf’s head jerked around to look down at her face. He had been about to grab the spear with his teeth and grind it into sawdust. “You can talk?”
“Get off me!” Struggling, Omah used her shoulder to push against him and crawled away. “Why….” She broke off whatever she was about to say when her sister raised the spear again. “Saa!” No!
Her sister, Kiaayo, slowly lowered the spear, her confused face darted back and forth between the two wolves that stood before her. “Why can that wolf talk, Omahkap’si? We don’t understand. Is…is he like you?”
Omah shook her head slowly side to side. Adrenaline from the fight still coursed through her and she was edgy, ready to fight some more. She answered her sister in Blackfoot as she paced in front of the shocked Wolf and her tribe. “I don’t know, Kiaayo! I just found out. Asaksiwa!” Leave us! “I need to settle this.”
“Bring him to us when you know what to do.” Returning the spear to the disgruntled brave, Kiaayo motioned for the others to follow her.
Once alone, Omah stared into the blue eyes of Wolf. He glared back, ignoring the blood again running down his leg. “We need to talk, Wolf.”
“You think?”
Omah bared her teeth at him. “Sarcasm will get you nowhere. Follow me.”
Wolf sank down on his haunches. “This is fine with me.”
With a glance up at the sky, she snorted and turned away to leave. “Suit yourself, but it’s going to rain any minute. Not that you couldn’t use a good bath….”
On their arrival, the clear sky overhead had been a brilliant, clear blue. But, typical of the Midwest Plains, small clouds had come in, one by one, unobtrusive by themselves. Bumping together, joining into darker, threatening shapes, the sky now darkened. A steady wind had picked up, blowing ahead of it dust and leaves. She knew it would soon turn fierce, both wind and rain lashing at the thirsty ground. Just as she spoke, the first fork of lightning streaked across the sky. With a disgusted shake of his head, Wolf realized, again, that he had no choice but to follow his hostess.
Instead of taking him to her tent in camp, Omah knew they would have more privacy if they went back to her cave in the hillside. Protected on three sides, it became a haven from the storm outside. With the brightness of the sun obscured, her den was even darker than before.
Eyes now adjusted to the dark, Wolf went first to the item that caught his attention earlier. He put his paw on the picture of Peter and Cate peeking out behind Lance. “Where did you get this and how did it get here?”
Curled up comfortably on the floor, her tail protecting her feet, Omah was amused by his demanding tone. “The ‘how’ should be obvious by now even to you. I took that photo just after I found the two kids in the Mansion. I figured I’d need it again to find them. It’s amazing how popular that boy is around the Park. I learned from the cast members how to find his father and the rest was easy.”
Wolf could tell by her relaxed position that the fight was over…at least for now. He knew, however, not to trust her.
&
nbsp; At his continued silence, Omah knew he was confused as well as intrigued. Even though it didn’t show, excitement ran through her. Impatient to find out about his past, her mind filled with questions. Why was he like me? Can he do what I do? When she finally did speak, her tone was carefully neutral as if she didn’t care whether he answered her or not. “So, tell me, Wolf, how do you come to be this way? I thought I was unique.”
Hearing her question, his head jerked up from the picture of his two little friends. Yet he still remained silent as he thought. What should I tell her? How much? It was too fascinating to pass up.
Her impatience got the better of her. “Iitsi’poyi!”
His head tilted to the side, not understanding the word. The command in her voice was obvious enough but he kept silent.
“I said speak!”
“Arf.”
The irritation in her eyes faded as she began to chuckle. Her mouth dropped open into a wolf’s version of a grin. “I’ve used that one myself.” She looked away and shook her head. The movement caused the different shades of red in her beautiful fur to blend and dance in the dim light. “All right. Let’s call a truce and start over. I’d say ‘shake on it,’ but I don’t want you flinging dust all over my den. How about at least sitting and quit glaring at me. You’re safe…for the moment.”
Wolf did sit, but it was near the opening of the cave. “You apparently forgot who was pinned on the bottom. It wasn’t me.”
His reminder elicited a growl. “I was just catching my breath.”
“Uh huh.”
“Be that as it may, we are at an intriguing impasse right now. We both want to know how the other came to be and neither of us wants to go first. Am I correct?”
Now it was Wolf’s turn to laugh. “Yes, that about sums it up.” A boom of distant thunder echoed through the cave. The storm was almost over. Would the battle begin again? “How long have you been this way? How long have you been able to travel?”
HIDDEN MICKEY ADVENTURES 4 Page 3
