Her eyes were round with fear.
‘I could have been digging the wrong way, couldn’t I? I could have gone into the mountain, instead of away from it.’
‘Always better to trust your instinct,’ said Athaba. ‘Anyway, you’re all right now. Do you want to accompany us to Skassi? We’re on our way to join the pack.’
She shook her head.
‘No. No. I’ve had enough. My heart was never in it anyway. I’m going back to my old pack, what’s left of it. Most of them are with Skassi, but some stayed behind. A few of the old ones. I’m going back … I don’t care if he hunts me down,’ she added fiercely. ‘You can tell him that, if you wish. I’ve really had enough.’
‘I shan’t tell anything,’ said Athaba. ‘So far as Skassi knows, you’re still under the snow.’
Her eyes lost a little of their wildness.
‘Thank you,’ she said.
She left them, staggering back along the trail whence they had come. Athaba wondered whether she was ever going to make it. Someone who had survived an avalanche, however, might not be in good physical shape, but their mental reserves would be high. There is a kind of elation that follows a trial, immediately afterwards, and this is a deep source of energy.
The two male wolves continued on, past the valley.
It seemed that Skassi was never going to stop. It was over a month before Yanthra and Athaba reached a heavily forested hill that stood above a wide plain. It was a solitary height, not quite of mountain status, but imposing just the same. There were rocky outcrops on its slopes and clearings where the granite was exposed above the topsoil. Most of it was tree covered, however, even on the crest. It was on this summit that the pack appeared to be resting.
Even as Athaba and Yanthra reached the lower slopes of this wooded hideout, they were aware of a flying machine that was buzzing back and forth above the landscape. Skassi seemed to have walked right into the heart of hunter country on purpose. It appeared he was no longer interested in soft targets, he wanted to meet the human hunters on their own ground. It was suicide.
Athaba and Yanthra tracked the pack to the top of the rounded hill, but did not at first venture into the denning area. Athaba wanted to scout the surrounds before they revealed their presence to the other wolves. He told Yanthra to stay clear of the summit and to familiarise himself with the hill and its secrets, especially around the midriff of the slope.
At noon on the second day after their arrival Yanthra came to his father. He looked concerned, though to his credit he was not panicking. His news was grave.
‘We’re surrounded, father,’ he said. ‘There are men coming from the plains. They’re all around us I think. I was out hunting and I did a circuit. Their scent is everywhere. They must be coming to do battle with Skassi.’
‘Not so much a battle as a slaughter,’ said Athaba.
He went out and reconnoitred on his own, keeping to the base of the hill, but testing the wind with his nose. From a high vantage point, he saw them in the distance, a curve of hunters wearing camouflaged jackets and hats, surrounding the hill. They were closing slowly, making sure nothing slipped through their cordon.
Athaba returned to where his son was waiting.
‘I think you’re right,’ he said. ‘They’re moving in. They won’t be able to see, hear or smell them from on top of the hill, and it doesn’t look as though Skassi has posted any sentries down here. I wonder if he wants it this way? Why go up amongst the pines, where you can’t use your senses to the best advantage? The smell of the rising sap is overpowering at this time of year and the ground is soft with pine needles. The trees provide cover for the hunters. Either Skassi is useless at this kind of thing, which I know he’s not, or this confrontation is part of his scheme.’
‘What are we going to do?’
‘Well, we can’t save them all, Yanthra. We’ll be lucky to get away ourselves. We have to think of your brothers and sisters – and you of course.
‘While you were out hunting this morning I was searching some of the upper slopes for a hiding place. I’ve found this small cave – just a crack in the rock really – faced by a tall boulder and well hidden. It was my intention to get the pups – sorry, yearlings now eh? – to get you all into that cave and then destroy your scent trail with my own, so that Skassi couldn’t find you.’
Yanthra looked at his father with an accusing eye.
‘How were you and Ulaala going to get away?’
‘Well, you must accept that your mother might not want to go with us. She may have decided to stay. I hope she comes with us, but I can’t force her. She’s a wolf with a will of her own. If she does come, she can go with you in the cave. One of us has to throw Skassi off the scent and that’s got to be me. I was going to run, down the hill, and lead them a dance out on the plains.’
Yanthra said, ‘But you can’t do that now. The whole area is full of hunters. You’ll be shot out in the open.’
‘I’ll think of something. Now, what you have to do, is this …’ and he outlined his plan, making sure Yanthra knew the part he was to play. When they had talked it over and refined it, the pair of them set off towards the peak of the hill.
As they walked they chatted.
‘If we don’t meet up again, though I’m sure we will,’ said Athaba, ‘I want you get word to your mother. Tell her the story of my disappearance and say I would never have left her on purpose. I think she knows that, but I want you to tell her anyway. Also, I’ve got a riddle for you to solve. Listen,
I am:
The stone that floats,
the wood that sinks
the rock that runs
the air that stinks.
What am I?
Yanthra stared at his father with a worried expression.
‘I don’t know. Is this a test, Athaba? If I fail, what happens?’
‘Nothing happens. No, it’s not a test. It’s just a bit of fun. My father told me that rhyme, not long before he died. I never did work it out, not for myself. I had to have help in the end. Now I know what it means, of course. In those days, a puzzle like that was dangerous, because the pack Skassi and I came from did not like anything that sounded mystical. My father took a chance in playing the game with me, because if someone had heard, or I had mentioned it, they would have … well, he would have been in for a bad time. They were an ignorant pack, you see, and afraid of anything new, anything which required an understanding which was not born of practical everyday things. Progress in that direction was frowned upon. You weren’t expected to use your mind for such things as mystical riddles, only for improving your hunting skills. Things like that …’
‘So you won’t scold me if I get it wrong?’ asked Yanthra.
‘No, of course not. You take your time, son, think it over. In a few seasons from now, you might …’
‘Is it a volcano?’
Athaba pulled himself up short.
‘Who told you that? Who told you? Was it your mother?’
Yanthra looked at his father innocently.
‘No. I never heard it before. I just guessed. When we were with Skassi’s pack, the wolves came from all over the land. Some of them talked about pumice stone which floats like wood. And I was told that where the earth cracks open, on some islands in the south, there is a stuff called lava which is white hot rock that flows like water … I just guessed. You’re not angry?’
Athaba was aware he seemed huffy.
‘No, no, not angry. Just surprised. I thought … I thought it would take you longer, that’s all.’
‘Sorry, father. Tell me another one and I’ll savour it for a while.’
‘I don’t know any more,’ replied Athaba.
‘What about if I give you one? Um, what is it that draws circles in the sky, but leaves no marks?’
‘Look,’ said Athaba, relieved. ‘We’re coming to the end of the trail. The den must be just ahead. Now remember what I’ve told you.’
‘You don’t know, do you?
’
‘Don’t know what?’
‘The answer to my riddle.’
‘I’ve no time for games now, son. This is serious business.’
‘Oh,’ said Yanthra, and he sounded disappointed.
‘All right,’ sighed Athaba, ‘what is it? I’ll never guess in a million seasons.’
‘An eagle! Mother told us that. Clever isn’t it?’
‘Very clever,’ Athaba snorted. ‘Now, pay attention to our plan. Remember what to do.’
‘Yes father.’
Chapter Thirty
With Yanthra close behind him and wanting to create as much of a diversion as necessary, Athaba walked right into the centre of the wolves. They had known he was there, of course. They would have scented the presence of two strange wolves in the vicinity, but since there were only two, against forty-three, there was little reason for the pack to be alarmed. This was one pack that was always open to new members. In any case, one of the two was hardly a stranger. He was a yearling that had deserted them.
Athaba stopped and looked around him. Skassi had chosen a forested spot. Underfoot was a thick layer of dead pine needles, forming a soft brown cushion. That was bad. Hunters could approach without being heard. The aroma of sap and pine needles was in the air, almost overpowering. That was also not good. Any attacking huntsmen could come from downwind and would have to stink for their scent to penetrate the smell of the conifers.
The sun came through the canopy of needles and patterned the ground beneath with shadows. Amongst these dark and light patches, lay many wolves, and around these wolves were the bones of several kills. Athaba’s first impression of them was that they had slipped into apathy, but he knew he must be mistaken. This pack had so far outwitted the armies of hunters that had now tracked them down and ringed the mountain. They were simply resting before the next battle. This was their way of recouping, re-energising. They were a wanted gang of ripthroats and mankillers whose deeds would be sung by descendants, but whose season on earth was coming to an end. The world of men had been mobilised against them. The slopes below were crawling with trigger-happy gunmen who would turn over every stone, push aside every stem of cotton grass, lift even the mosses, until this pack was slaughtered to a wolf.
Suddenly, Athaba caught a whiff of a scent he thought he had forgotten. Ulaala! The conscious mind may have lost the fragrance of that she-wolf, but not the subconscious. He realised then that he had been desperately hoping for that aroma to find his nostrils. It seemed he had been searching for that scent for seasons out of time. Now he had it and his mind reeled for a moment. He had told Yanthra to give Ulaala the choice of whether or not to accompany Mook, Wassal, Riffel and Grisenska, but now he wished he had said, “Insist on her coming. Say I hold her to all her promises. Tell her I’m sorry I was taken from her. Tell her anything, son, so long as she comes with you.” But it was too late to change his mind. Yanthra had his instructions: lead out his brothers and sisters when the chance came and take them to the cave, lower down the hillside. “If your mother wishes to accompany you, all well and good, but don’t press her,” he had said.
Then he saw her, standing just a few lengths away. Her grey eyes were on him. He almost ran to her, licked her muzzle, shouted his joy at seeing her again after all those seasons. Instead he stood there, believing that his feelings were foolishly exposed for all to see, in his wooden stance, his awkward pose. He could express nothing. The words rushed to his throat, but there were too many, they jammed there, locked solid. There was a wish that others would stop their staring, get on with whatever tasks they were doing. It would have been easier to show his anger towards them than open himself to her.
Finally, it was she who spoke first.
‘It is you?’
Her expression changed from perplexity to something else, something he had been hoping to see. In her face was a kind of hurt delight, as if she wanted to scold him, but was too overcome with emotion to say very much at all. He remembered then that she thought him dead and realised how much more difficult this was for her than it was for him. Her mate had strolled into the pack as if he had just been out hunting, gone perhaps a day, instead of back from the dead after several seasons.
‘Yes,’ he replied, simply.
Seeing her now, the journeys came back to him: seemingly endless treks over tundra and mountain, through snow and ice, in wind and rain. He remembered his bleeding pads, when he had been footsore, his flesh weary, his bones feeling as if they had been rammed together by some uncaring creature who wanted him to suffer. He recalled the agonising loneliness of the trail, the long, long nights, the dull days. The sight of her brought back the times he had gone hungry simply because he would rather be nearer to his goal than spend the time to hunt. There were those times when hope had flared like sun in his breast, only to be extinguished shortly afterwards. Times when his mental and spiritual reserves were all but exhausted, yet still he knew he had to force his body forwards.
Yet now, now he saw that they had all been worth it.
‘I thought, you were dead,’ she said in a accusing tone.
‘So did I,’ he remarked wryly. ‘It’s not something I can tell you in a few moments, but I was captured by a man that day I left the den, and have been searching for you ever since.’
‘It’s good to see you,’ she said, and he knew she meant it and that it would be all right between them.
At that point a sturdy-looking wolf came up to Yanthra.
‘The deserter has returned, has he? I suppose you think you can work your way back into the pack by bringing along this broken down old flea-carrier? There’s punishment due, yearling.’
‘Who’s this overbearing she-wolf?’ asked Athaba of his son.
Yanthra scratched himself nervously behind the ear.
‘This is Nidra.’
Athaba stared the formidable she-wolf in the eyes. He would not like to have to fight such a strong mega. He was getting too old for fights and she looked vicious. Other wolves were gathering around them now, and a lean male, probably one of Skassi’s shoulderwolves, had come down from the summit of the hill. There was a hostile atmosphere building up. Ulaala came to his side. So did a tough-looking yearling with more meat on her than Yanthra had on him. This had to be his pup, Grisenska, the largest of his brood. He nodded approvingly at her. Then he turned his attention back to Nidra.
‘You really should find out who you’re speaking to before you wade in,’ he said to the female. ‘There are some wolves on this earth who look ragged and beaten because they’ve recently conquered the world. Some wolves have no need to look fit and strong because there’s nothing they haven’t done, and couldn’t do again, and nowhere they haven’t been, and couldn’t return to if they wished. You don’t take on the world and chew it up, to come away looking like you look now. Once you’ve done that, you look like I do.’
‘You’ve conquered the world?’ she sneered, but with less confidence than she had shown before.
‘In a manner of speaking. You force me to brag. I’ve fought with bears and walked away. I’ve killed wolves larger than you. I’ve humbled one you hold in great awe, though to tell you his name would be poor manners on my part. I’ve travelled to the edge of the earth and back. I’ve fought with men in their own dens, and snatched their food from under their noses …’
‘Have you ever killed a man?’ she cried.
‘No, but I’ve tamed one. I’ve taken a man and turned him into a wolf, turned him into a useful member of my pack. It’s easy to kill. Try capturing a man and making him your own.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ she snarled.
‘I would if I were you, Nidra,’ said a voice from behind her.
She whirled and Athaba looked up, at the same time his olfactory memory gave him further recognition signals.
Standing on the edge of the clearing was Skassi. A leaner, more rugged wolf than Athaba had left behind so long ago, but Skassi just the same. His coat had lost the sheen
of the early years and his eyes looked weary and worldworn. He was flanked by two wolves who looked even more formidable than Nidra. They had shoulders to put a musk ox to shame. They looked as if they could crack rocks with their jaws.
‘Come up, brother. It’s good to see you,’ said Skassi.
Nidra was looking as if a boulder had struck her between the eyes and she repeated, ‘Brother?’
‘The wolf he told you he had humbled, was me. This is one of the old breed of wolves, one of the great ones. He has done all he said, and more. Look at him. Look at me. Do you not think we resemble one another? We have the same blood. We have the same spirit. Once we were enemies, because we were both ambitious. We come from a lineage that gives not a mote to rival, not a speck of dust, if it means stepping down. We have ancestors that walk the Far Forests with fire in their eyes. This is my brother, Athaba.’
‘Athaba!’ said several of the surrounding wolves at once, and there was awe in their voices.
They stepped back, giving him space, opening a path through the pines, to where Skassi stood. Nidra continued to stare at him with narrowed eyes, but eventually stepped aside herself. Obviously Skassi had passed on stories about him, had turned him into something of a legend. There was a touch of irony in that, considering what they had been to each other in the past. Athaba realised that as the only other surviving member of Skassi’s old pack, he had to be more than just a wolf. If he was Skassi’s ‘brother’ he had to be almost a god. He was glad now that he had bragged to Nidra about his exploits. Skassi would approve of that.
He began to walk towards Skassi.
‘Brother is it, you old rogue?’ he called. ‘You didn’t call me brother when we fought in single combat, those times back in seasons lost. I seem to recall that I was also humbled by you. No one’s mentioned that yet. So far it’s a draw – one each. Maybe we’ll get to fight again before we die and find out which of us is the real wolf, and which the fake.’
There was a murmur amongst the avenue of wolves at this speech. Athaba knew what they were thinking. He had dared to call our leader ‘an old rogue’. He has the audacity to suggest he might be ‘a fake’. Surely Skassi will have him torn to pieces?
Midnight's Sun: A Story of Wolves Page 34
