North Woods Law (The Great North Woods Pack Book 5)

by Shawn Underhill

  “Of?” he demanded.

  “Trouble,” she admitted.

  “Whose trouble?”

  “All of ours,” she said, wondering if there were any way to get out of telling him.

  “Tell me.”

  “Is it my place?” she appealed.

  “If I say,” he replied. “Speak up. I do not like the uneasy feeling you have passed to me.”

  Vaguely she recalled that her top speed was greater than his. She could slip by him and run for it. But, oh, she could not run forever.

  “A warden came to the village,” she said. “Harold told us. The warden found … dead man’s bones. In a tree.”

  The old one blinked thoughtfully and then, strangely, his posture relaxed again. Concern left his face. His eyes softened and he turned and resumed walking as if no issue existed.

  Evie caught up with him again.

  “Let the humans have their bones,” he said preemptively. “They have served my purpose.”

  The young wolf stared at him, asking with a look. It would be so much more fun to just run off on her own. But now she was deeply curious.

  “The man met justice,” he said. “It is over. To kill to eat is unavoidable in the wilderness. But to murder for human pride is a crime. Such was his crime, the murder of many. Finally, murder of a Canadian wolf, rare now in the east. Since then the man’s bones have told the story to all with eyes to see. The wardens have not such eyes. They do not see. So they are nothing to me. Let them have him now and ponder.”

  “The wardens might blame the villagers.”

  “That man was far west of us here.”

  “But the warden came.”

  “Because the fool had no clue. It was a grasp. Such men believe that they alone manage forests and waters, cycles and seasons. Such men deceive themselves, until they are met with my law, which is natural law at work. Then their feeble education fails them, leaving them lost in the confusion of a world misunderstood.”

  Evie walked silently for a time. There really was no way of being at ease with him, unless it was his idea.

  “You are educated in our history?” he finally asked.

  “I learn more by the week.”

  “Tell me, then, why did your grandfather move west?”

  “For land and opportunity.”

  “True. So he says. Just as our father, he is no braggart. No boaster. But more, know the truth, if you care.”

  “I do,” she said.

  “In those days our struggles were different. Yet we looked ahead and we saw what was to come, as if reading the coming clouds of a storm. Then my brother saw fit to extend our special care of this New England colony. To extend our stewardship, which is the true purpose of our great gifts. You see, men of the late nineteenth century tried to level the timber of these woods for every quick penny they could get. Only intervention stopped them from taking all. Only wise stewardship restored the forests that had already been leveled, the old-growth timber floated down rivers to towns for the uses of men. In that way my brother deserves all honor, for serving men along with all others of the earth. Surely, few could handle such a task, with our gifts or without. It is only his pity for wrongdoers that I fault him. Nothing more. Am I clear?”

  “Yes,” she answered.

  “He controls lands other than this village. But this, being our root on this continent, is where many of us are pleased to remain.”

  “I am glad.”

  “Are you?”

  “Very.”

  “You are a child of the world.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “So you think. Then, why do you fret for meddlers? We have managed all well for centuries. We need no help. Our ways are greater, serving all life. Are the trees not living? Are the birds and rodents and the great herding animals not a crucial part of a whole world? Are clear waters not a blessing to lives great and small, conscious or unconscious?”

  She did not answer. Her thoughts were focused on the imagery of his words playing out in her mind’s eye.

  “Have I not made it clear for you?” he asked at length. “Or are your thoughts still human thoughts?”

  “I do not know the difference, as you see it.”

  “Because you were raised by humans and have now been molded by my brother, the great sympathizer. That is no insult, young one. Truth is sometimes sharp. Do not shy away as a coward. Face it. You are of a great bloodline.”

  “Then, are all humans bad to you?”

  “Not all. But I will not submit to assessing and assigning individual worth for sake of conversation. Individual beings large and small live out their lives by the day, making choices from moment to moment. Some do well. Some do not. Do you agree?”

  “I do.”

  “Then, hear me. To place all humans under one banner, or, as you may say simply, to call them right or wrong, good or bad, is foolishness. One may do well for a lifetime before turning wrong. One may never do well and live short. Or do ill and then turn. One can never know. Life is not that simple. You only ask such a question to begin with because your perspective is still small, tainted by a human upbringing. You have spent too little time as the wolf, too little time in the wild to understand.”

  “I love it all,” she said in earnest. “I love it here!”

  “That I trust. I hear it in your voice and feel it from your heart. But now hear me, before I tire of this topic. You are able to love it because it is here. Likewise the simpler beings are free to scratch their livings by constant daily struggle. But if we, the most capable, do not manage the land with wise justice, the humans will be free to sow their havoc, as they always do, from one continent to the next. Then, your love will die along with you. All will be lost. Can you not see that it is those ready to fight that maintain security for all?”

  “I do,” she said, nodding.

  “Very well. The murderer’s carcass has fed many, and his absence has spared many others since. His fall was that he was no longer content to eat, and therefore no longer fit to be accommodated. His end was just. Now the shortsighted humans mistakenly see him as a victim, and so their emotions compel them to place blame. This does not surprise me, as their mistakes are too numerous to correct or contend. So I say now, as I have always said, let the humans be as they are. If they choose wise harmony and regard for all, they do well, and should enjoy peace. But if they reach beyond their bounds, spoiling for trouble, they will surely find it.”

  “Nothing is new,” he added after a breath.

  Evie stood thinking a moment as the elder Snow walked on. Memories flashed through her mind, and quite suddenly she was struck with a newly perceived understanding of the elder, though the memory that caused this was something very far off topic. It made her feel more in unison with him than she’d ever expected to feel.

  She dashed by him and ahead of him and excitedly whirled to face him.

  “Ah,” he growled, slowing to a stop. “What more?”

  “I think I get it,” she said. “I now see your objection.”

  “And?” he returned without much interest, his eyes blinking lazily.

  Very quickly she related a story of an experience to convey her point. As a child she had loved soccer, a running game, she explained, and no one would argue that she was by far the best player on her team. It was of no real consequence to her at the time, but she clearly recalled a small ceremony at the close of the soccer season where all players on her team received identical trophies. It seemed strange, but not a serious problem. After all, the point of playing was fun, and most did have fun.

  But what was learned?

  “I now see what the humans do,” she said. “And I see why you rage against it.”

  “Yes,” Abel said, appearing more interested by the second. “It seems my breath was not wasted on you. Tell me in your own words.”

  “They try to deny the natural order of life. When it is a child’s game, it is a small thing. But when those children grow and try to order the worl
d in that manner, it becomes great trouble for all. That is why you said I had not spent enough time as the wolf. A child of the world. I have not the hard experience of reality. I am clouded with human sentiment, though I love the wilder world so much more.”

  “You cheer me,” he said, and gave a rare quick snap of his tail. “Surely not all humans do such things with ill intent, but often in ignorance and misguided desires for kindness. Fairness, they call it.”

  “Yes!”

  “Kindness is honorable, unselfish. Fairness, which it is confused with, is a different matter. It exists only in human imaginations.”

  “I see.”

  “I tell you the truth,” he said. “I have watched all manner of animals compete, both with their own kind and others. Take young bears, little balls of fur. Do they not inspire humans to sew likenesses of which their children cuddle in beds?”

  “Cute,” Evie said.

  “That is the sentiment. The human spin. The warped reality. I have watched such bears wrestle most fiercely. Not for hatred or cruelty but for practice for the challenges surely to come. Their mother, being not a blind guide, rarely interferes. They must toughen and sharpen themselves to survive. To be denied such practice would leave them helpless in their future trials. Now, watch, and watch close, as the humans raise up weaker and weaker generations. Less resourceful. Less creative. Less prepared. And this they call kindness? Love?”

  “Mistake,” Evie offered.

  “I say, it is the slow slide toward extinction. Let it be, if they desire it so.”

  “It is already starting,” Evie said. “I have seen it.”

  “Yes, and you have been taught by my brother. Very well. Now we are of similar minds. Observation makes clear that humans set aside the natural law and hope to be sustained by lesser ways. You saw this truth by way of your childhood game. Moose, I assure you, dear child, with simple minds guiding their lumbering bodies, know the absurdity therein. Life is rarely easy, and safety is purchased with effort and blood. One who teaches cannot truly help a learner with false lessons and empty rewards, no more than one can extinguish a flame by closing one’s eyes to its light. It is weak falsehood. Veiled cowardice. Refusal of reality. A mind game disguised and mislabeled as kindness.”

  “This is not so far from Papa’s views.”

  “Not so far,” he agreed.

  “Then all can be well between you.”

  “This truly concerns you?”

  “It does.”

  “You love this pack. This way of life.”

  “I do!”

  “You speak from the heart, with the simplicity of a child. Yes, I feel from you the great love of kin as with my brother. Such love is the deepest root of many good things. You are wise to hold it dear, while turning away from the hollow ideals of your upbringing.”

  She nodded proudly.

  “Rest assured, child, most is well between us. But still a small part of him wishes to hold back the harsh law for as long as possible. In short, by his mercy, he defied me and allowed a great enemy to endure. That I can never forget, never accept. And if he suffers at the thought of my prisoner’s current suffering … No, do not deny on his behalf. Am I not his other half? Do I not know why he calls to me in spirit? I will soon do as he hopes, and remove the woman from the village. I only defy him long enough to make clear my message. He has put off his coming here because he knows my mind. Now, finally he is here. Even he is in need of occasional lessons and reminders. Not for lack of ability, mind you. Few could ever match his mind. But for lack of focus. He must be shown anew. I ask, does another command his respect as I?”

  “Doubtful.”

  “So you see, I must do what must be done. Call me hard and cheerless. I will always do what must be done, so that you, child, may run free by night and rest easy by day.”

  She was nodding as she said, “And I see your anger toward human thoughts. Their wrongdoings are bad, but you hate more their influence on your brother.”

  “Truly,” he said with a low snarl. “Deeply.”

  “He would say the foolish need good examples. The sick need pity.”

  “Yes. And would go on saying it even as the sick spread their dark illness to every creature of the earth. I see them only as they are. Fragile, frightened little creatures. They build cities to hedge themselves from the more demanding world, making gentler places to dwell. And yet their cities miserably fail their hopeful purpose. I once visited several small cities in my youth. There I saw truth. What is outside may be kept out, but what is already within the humans cannot be fenced off, cannot be tamed. News reaches even me when I visit the village. I hear whispers and rumors. Is there no theft in these human utopias? No murder? No harsh rivalry? No sickness and hunger? No cruelty? Are all honest and true, caring for one another as one great pack?”

  “It may be worse than you remember.”

  The old one took a breath and said, “I trust you on that. But enough with this human talk. It stretches my patience as nothing else. And as for my brother, he must take leave of the humans soon, in order to regain that which he knew in his youth. That is my demand.”

  “Would he ever leave Ludlow?” she asked with a momentary start.

  “Abandon? Nay, he should never. I only say he must step back for a time. Let his sons manage the human affairs, until they need leave as well, for their own good. Let my brother make no more merciful mistakes. Let him rest from his long study of human history in his room of books. Nature speaks louder, clearer. He knows this as well as any.”

  “He does,” she agreed.

  “He would not bring you here otherwise.”

  “Yes. It sounds so simple.”

  “Simple,” he mused. “Simple for us to say. Difficult in practice.”

  Chapter 19

  Kerry entered the station, stamping the snow from her boots. Jones was kneeling before the ancient woodstove in the front corner. He had started a fire with old newspapers and was now feeding it with dry sticks of wood from the pile stacked against the wall at the back of the garage. The room smelled strongly of heating iron and burning dust and cobwebs. It felt nice stepping in out of the wind, but inside still didn’t feel drastically warmer than the outdoors.

  “Well, I’ve been calling around,” Dorothy said, as if Kerry had asked. “No one is real excited about coming out to fix that window tonight.”

  “No one has the right one lying around,” Jones muttered. “They’re not universal.”

  Dorothy nodded and resumed, “Robert figured we’d be better off starting the stove for the time being. We can’t let the place freeze up. If you think we’ve got budget problems now …”

  “Isn’t there another emergency heater in the garage?” Kerry asked.

  “Yes,” Jones confirmed, staring at the flames. “Several. But those are battery powered, in case of power failure and generator failure. Short term tools. No way can they heat this whole place for the night after the cold setting in like this. And no way can the furnace handle running constantly as it is. If it quits on us, we’ll be operating out of our trucks for days on end.”

  “It’s been years since we used this old stove,” Dorothy explained. “I hope that old pipe holds up. Damn, if they’d only give us the money to get things fixed up around here.”

  “Money goes to the bigger, more important stations,” Jones said flatly. “We’re not quite close enough to a major park.”

  Kerry said nothing and went down the hall to the garage and searched around and returned a few minutes later with a handful of Mylar emergency blankets.

  “A few of these over the window can’t hurt.”

  “Good thinking,” Jones said, then looked back to the fire.

  Kerry made a subtle face at Dorothy and the older woman responded by raising her eyebrows. It was like Jones had been frightened into adopting a whole new and friendlier personality.

  “Ron,” said Dorothy, referring to her husband, “will be here shortly. The four of us can keep
warm company at least, even if our fingers are cold.”

  “Yeah, about that,” Jones said, turning his head from the fire. “I was thinking, I can hold the fort down here. No need for the rest of you to stand around shivering all night.”

  Is this real? Kerry asked herself. Has a kind spirit taken control of Robert’s body? Or is it just another test. I take up his offer and go home, and then forevermore I’m the snotty kid who runs home when the going gets tough.

  “Nonsense,” Dorothy said. “At some point you’ll need to kick back in your office chair and shut your eyes. Once you nod off, you could be out cold for hours while the stove dies down.”

  “I’m fine,” he said.

  “For now.”

  “Dorothy, please. I’m fine.”

  “Well, to be honest, I just wouldn’t feel right,” she said. “That’s what it comes down to.”

  “Same with me,” Kerry added with partial honesty. Maybe fifty percent.

  Jones laughed faintly and said, “If you want to stay here and eat dehydrated meals, that’s your call. I can handle it, though. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “This office is all of ours,” Dorothy said. “We ought to stick together, I think. And let’s be real for a moment. There’s just no telling if that burglar will come back tonight or not. It’s not a good idea to be here alone.”

  Jones looked back to the fire and poked it with a thin piece of wood.

  “Speaking of that,” Dorothy said in her next breath. “What exactly happened here, Robert?”

  No answer.

  “You were the first one here, weren’t you?”

  He stared at the fire.

  Dorothy looked at Kerry and, after noting her blank stare, she asked, “Why do I get the feeling I’ve missed something big?”

  Does your mouth ever stop? Jones thought, mildly gritting his teeth. Good grief.

  “Well, it’s time to let me in on the secret. What did you see? Somebody? Anybody?”

  “That’s just it,” Kerry answered reluctantly. “I have no idea what I saw. And neither does Robert.”