by Darren Shan
The wolf was a terrifying sight up close, with its dark gray face and slanting yellow eyes, its black muzzle and bared white teeth, some two or three inches long. Its tongue lolled out the side of its mouth and it was panting slowly. Its breath stank of blood and raw animal flesh.
I didn't know anything about wolves — except that vampires couldn't drink from them — so I didn't know how to react: Attack its face or go for its body? Lie still and hope it went away, or shout and maybe scare it off? While my brain was spinning, the wolf lowered its head, extended its long wet tongue, and … licked me!
I was so stunned, I just lay there, staring up at the jaws of the fearsome animal. The wolf licked me again, then got off, faced the stream, went down on its paws, and lapped at the water. I lay where I was a few moments more, then pulled myself up and sat watching it drink, noting that it was a male.
When the wolf had drunk enough, he stood, lifted his head, and howled. From the trees on the opposite side of the stream, three more wolves emerged and crept down to the bank, where they drank. Two were females and one was a young cub, darker and smaller than the others.
The male watched the others drinking, then sat beside me. He snuggled up to me like a dog, and, before I knew what I was doing, I'd reached around and was tickling him behind his ear. The wolf whined happily and cocked his head so I could scratch behind the other ear.
One of the she-wolves finished drinking and jumped the stream. She sniffed my feet, then sat on the other side of me and offered her head to be scratched. The male growled at her jealousy but she took no notice.
It wasn't long before the other two joined the couple on my side of the stream. The female was shier than her friends and hovered a couple of feet away. The cub wasn't scared and crawled over my legs and belly, sniffing like a hound dog. He cocked a leg to mark my left thigh, but before he could, the male wolf snapped at him and sent him tumbling. He barked angrily, then slunk back and climbed over me again. This time he didn't try to mark his territory — thankfully!
I sat there for a long time playing with the cub and tickling the bigger pair of wolves. The male rolled over onto his back, so that I could rub his belly. His hair was lighter underneath, except for a long streak of black hair that ran partway up his middle. "Streak" seemed like a good name for a wolf, so that's what I called him.
I wanted to see if they knew any tricks, so I found a stick and threw it. "Fetch, Streak, fetch!" I shouted, but he didn't budge. I tried getting him to sit at attention. "Sit, Streak!" I ordered. He stared at me. "Sit — like this." I squatted on my butt. Streak moved back a little, as though he thought I might be crazy. The cub was really playful and jumped on me. I laughed and stopped trying to teach them tricks.
After that I headed back to camp to tell the vampires about my new friends. The wolves followed, although only Streak walked by my side — the others trailed behind.
Mr. Crepsley and Gavner were asleep when I got back, tucked underneath thick deer blankets. Gavner was snoring loudly. With only their heads showing, they looked like the ugliest pair of babies in the world! I wished I had a camera that could photograph vampires, so that I could take their picture.
I was about to get underneath the blankets when I had an idea. The wolves had stopped at the trees. I coaxed them in. Streak came first and examined the base, making sure it was safe. When he was satisfied, he growled lightly and the other wolves entered, keeping away from the sleeping vampires.
I lay down on the far side of the fire and held a blanket up, inviting the wolves to lie down with me. They wouldn't go underneath the blanket — the cub tried, but its mother jerked it back by the scruff of its neck — but once I lay down and covered myself with it, they crept up and lay on top, even the shy she-wolf. They were heavy, and the scent of their hairy bodies was overbearing, but the warmth of the wolves was heavenly, and despite the fact that I was resting so close to the cave where a vampire had been killed recently, I slept in complete comfort.
I was awakened by angry growls. Jolting upright, I found the three adult wolves spread in a semicircle in front of my bed, the male in the middle. The cub was cowering behind me. Ahead stood the Little People. Their gray hands were flexing by their sides and they were moving in on the wolves.
"Stop!" I screamed, leaping to my feet. On the other side of the fire — which had died out while I was sleeping — Mr. Crepsley and Gavner snapped awake and rolled out from under their blankets. I jumped in front of Streak and snarled at the Little People. They stared at me from underneath their blue hoods. I stared at the large green eyes of the one closest me.
"What's happening?" Gavner shouted, blinking rapidly.
The nearest Little Person ignored Gavner, pointed at the wolves, then at his belly, and rubbed it. That was the sign that he was hungry. I shook my head. "Not the wolves," I told him. "They're my friends." He made the rubbing motion again. "No!" I shouted.
The Little Person began to advance, but the one behind him — Lefty — reached out and touched his arm. The Little Person locked gazes with Lefty, stood still for a second, then shuffled away to where he'd left the rats they had caught while hunting. Lefty lingered a second, his hidden green eyes on mine, before joining his brother (I always thought of them as brothers).
"I see you have met some of our cousins," Mr. Crepsley said, stepping slowly over the remains of the fire, holding his hands palms-up so the wolves wouldn't be alarmed. They growled at him, but once they caught his scent they relaxed and sat, although they kept a wary eye on the munching Little People.
"Cousins?" I asked.
"Wolves and vampires are related," he explained. "Legends claim that once we were the same, just as man and ape were originally one. Some of us learned to walk on two legs and became vampires — the others remained wolves."
"Is that true?" I asked.
Mr. Crepsley shrugged. "Where legends are concerned, who knows?" He crouched in front of Streak and studied him silently. Streak sat up straight and ruffled his head to make his ears and mane erect. "A fine specimen," Mr. Crepsley said, stroking the wolf's long snout. "A born leader."
"I call him Streak, because he's got a streak of black hair on his belly," I said.
"Wolves have no need of names," the vampire informed me. "They are not dogs."
"Don't be a spoilsport," Gavner said, stepping up beside his friend. "Let him give them names if he wants. It can't do any harm."
"I suppose not," Mr. Crepsley agreed. He held out a hand to the she-wolves and they stepped forward to lick his palm, including the shy one. "I always had a way with wolves," he said, unable to keep the pride out of his voice.
"How come they're so friendly?" I asked. "I thought wolves shied away from people."
"From humans," Mr. Crepsley said. "Vampires are different. Our scent is similar to their own. They recognize us as kindred spirits. Not all wolves are friendly — these must have had dealings with our kind before — but none would ever attack a vampire, not unless they were starving."
"Did you see any more of them?" Gavner asked. I shook my head. "Then they're probably journeying toward Vampire Mountain to join up with other packs."
"Why would they be going to Vampire Mountain?" I asked.
"Wolves come whenever there's a Council," he explained. "They know from experience that there will be plenty of scraps for them to feed on. The guardians of Vampire Mountain spend years stocking up for Councils. There's always food left over, which they dump outside for the creatures of the wild to dispose of."
"It's a long way to go for a few scraps," I commented.
"They go for more than food," Mr. Crepsley said. "They gather for company, to salute old friends, find new mates, and share memories."
"Wolves can communicate?" I asked.
"They are able to transmit simple thoughts to one another. They do not actually talk — wolves have no words — but can share pictures and pass on maps of where they have been, letting others know where hunting is plentiful or scarce."
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br /> "Speaking of which, we'd better make ourselves scarce," Gavner said. "The sun's going down and it's time we got a move on. You chose a long, roundabout route to come by, Larten, and if we don't pick up the pace, we'll arrive late for the Council."
"There are other paths?" I asked.
"Of course," he said. "There are dozens of ways. That's why — except for the remains of the dead one — we haven't run into other vampires — each comes by a different route."
We rolled up our blankets and departed, Mr. Crepsley and Gavner keeping a close eye on the trail, scouring it for signs of whoever had killed the vampire in the cave. The wolves followed us through the trees and ran beside us for a couple of hours, keeping clear of the Little People, before vanishing ahead of us into the night.
"Where are they going?" I asked.
"To hunt," Mr. Crepsley replied.
"Will they come back?"
"It would not surprise me," he said, and, come dawn, as we were making camp, the four wolves reappeared like ghosts out of the snow and made their beds beside and on top of us. For the second day running, I slept soundly, disturbed only by the cold nose of the cub when he snuck in under the blanket during the middle of the day to cuddle up beside me.
CHAPTER SIX
WE PROCEEDED WITH CAUTION for the first few nights after finding the blood-spattered cave. But when we encountered no further signs of the vampire killer, we put our worries on hold and enjoyed the rough pleasures of the trail as best as we could.
Running with wolves was awesome. I learned a lot by watching them and asking Mr. Crepsley questions; he considered himself something of a wolf expert.
Wolves aren't fast, but they never get tired, sometimes roaming twenty or thirty miles a day. They usually pick on small animals when they go hunting, but sometimes they go after larger victims, working as a team. Their senses — sight, hearing, smell — are strong. Each pack has a leader, and they share food equally. They're great climbers and can survive any kind of conditions.
We hunted with them a lot. It was so cool to race alongside them on bright star-speckled nights, over the gleaming snow — chasing a deer or fox and sharing the hot, bloody kill. Time passed quicker with the wolves around, and the miles slipped by almost unnoticed.
One cold, clear night, we came to a thick briar patch that covered the floor of a valley sheltered between two towering mountains. The thorns were extra thick and sharp, capable of pricking the skin of even a full vampire. We paused at the mouth of the valley while Mr. Crepsley and Gavner decided how to go on.
"We could climb the side of one of the mountains," Mr. Crepsley mused, "but Darren is not as strong a climber as us — he could be damaged if he slipped."
"How about going around?" Gavner suggested.
"It would take too long."
"Could we dig a way under?" I asked.
"Again," Mr. Crepsley said, "it would take too long. We will just have to pick our way through as carefully as we can."
He took off his sweatshirt, and so did Gavner.
"What are you getting undressed for?" I asked.
"Our clothes would protect us a little," Gavner explained, "but we'd come out the other end in tattered rags. Best to keep them intact."
When Gavner took off his pants, we saw he was wearing a pair of yellow boxer shorts with pink elephants sewn into them. Mr. Crepsley stared at the shorts incredulously. "They were a present," Gavner mumbled, blushing furiously.
"From a human female you were romantically involved with, I presume," Mr. Crepsley said, the corners of his normally stern mouth twitching upward, threatening to split into a rare unrestrained smile.
"She was a beautiful woman." Gavner sighed, tracing the outline of one of the elephants. "She just had very bad taste in underwear …"
"And in boyfriends," I added impishly. Mr. Crepsley burst into laughter at that and doubled over, tears streaming down his face. I'd never seen the vampire laugh so much — I would never have guessed he could! Even Gavner looked surprised.
It took Mr. Crepsley a long time to recover from his laughing fit. When he'd wiped the tears away and was back to his normal somber self, he apologized (like laughing was a crime). Then he rubbed some awful-smelling lotion into my skin, which sealed the pores, making it harder to cut. Without wasting any more time, we went ahead. The going was slow and painful. No matter how careful I was, every few feet I'd step on a thorn or scratch myself. I protected my face as best as I could, but by the time we were halfway into the valley, my cheeks were specked with shallow red rivulets.
The Little People hadn't taken off their blue robes, even though the cloth was being cut to ribbons. After a while, Mr. Crepsley told them to walk in front, so they endured the worst of the thorns while clearing a path for the rest of us. I almost felt sorry for the silent, uncomplaining pair.
The wolves had the easiest time. They were built for terrain like this, and swiftly slinked through the briars. But they weren't happy. They'd been acting strangely all night, creeping along beside us, low in spirits, sniffing the air suspiciously. We could sense their anxiety, but didn't know what was causing it.
I was watching my feet, stepping carefully over a row of glinting thorns, when I ran into Mr. Crepsley, who'd come to a sudden stop. "What's up?" I asked, peering over his shoulder.
"Gavner!" he snapped, ignoring my question.
Gavner shuffled past me, breathing heavily (we teased him about his heavy breathing a lot). I heard him utter a choked cry as he reached Mr. Crepsley.
"What is it?" I asked. "Let me see." The vampires parted and I saw a tiny piece of cloth snagged on a briar bush. A few drops of dried blood had stained the tips of the thorns.
"What's the big deal?" I asked.
The vampires didn't answer immediately — they were gazing around worriedly, much in the same way that the wolves were.
"Can you smell it?" Gavner finally replied quietly.
"What?"
"The blood."
I sniffed the air. There was only the faintest of scents because the blood was dry. "What about it?" I asked.
"Think back six years," Mr. Crepsley said. He picked the cloth off the briar — the wolves were growling loudly now — and thrust it under my nostrils. "Breathe deeply. Ring any bells?"
It didn't right away — my senses weren't as sharp as a full vampire's — but then I remembered that long-ago night in Debbie Hemlock's bedroom, and the smell of the insane Murlough's blood as he lay dying on the floor. My face turned white as I realized — it was the blood of a vampaneze!
CHAPTER SEVEN
HE MADE GOOD TIME through the rest of the briar patch, taking no notice of the cutting thorns. On the far side we stopped to get dressed, then hurried on without pause. There was a way station nearby that Mr. Crepsley was determined to reach before dawn. The journey would normally have taken several hours, but we made it in two. Once inside and secure, the vampires fell into a heated discussion. They'd never encountered evidence of vampaneze activity in this part of the world before — there was a treaty between the two clans, preventing such acts of trespass.
"Maybe it's a mad wanderer," Gavner suggested.
"Even the most insane vampaneze knows better than to come here," Mr. Crepsley disagreed.
"What other explanation could there be?" Gavner asked.
Mr. Crepsley considered the problem. "He could be a spy."
"You think the vampaneze would risk war?" Gavner sounded doubtful. "What could they learn that would justify such a gamble?"
"Maybe it's us they're after," I said quietly. I didn't want to interrupt but felt like I had to.
"What do you mean?" Gavner asked.
"Maybe they found out about Murlough."
Gavner's face went pale and Mr. Crepsley's eyes narrowed. "How could they have?" he snapped.
"Mr. Tiny knew," I reminded him.
"Mr. Tiny knows about Murlough?" Gavner hissed.
Mr. Crepsley nodded slowly. "But even if he told the vampaneze,
how would they know we were coming this way? We could have chosen any number of paths. They could not have predicted our route."
"Maybe they're covering all the paths," Gavner said.
"No," Mr. Crepsley said confidently. "It is too farfetched. Whatever the vampaneze's reason for being here, I am sure it has nothing to do with us."
"I hope you're right," Gavner grumbled, unconvinced.
We discussed it some more, including the question of whether the vampaneze had killed the vampire in the previous way station, then grabbed a few hours of sleep, taking turns to remain on watch. I barely slept because I was worrying about being attacked by the purple-faced killers.
When night came, Mr. Crepsley said we shouldn't go any farther until we were sure the way was safe. "We cannot risk running into a pack of vampaneze," he said. "We will scout the area, make sure we are not in danger, then carry on as before."
"Do we have time to go scouting?" Gavner asked.
"We must make time," Mr. Crepsley insisted. "Better to waste a few nights than run into a trap."
I stayed in the cave while they went scouting. I didn't want to — I kept thinking about what had happened to that other vampire — but they said I'd be in the way if I came — a vampaneze would hear me coming a hundred yards away.
The Little People, she-wolves, and cub stayed with me. Streak went with the vampires — the wolves sensed the vampaneze presence before we did, so it would be helpful to have one along.
It was lonely without the vampires and Streak. The Little People were aloof like always — they spent a lot of the day sewing their blue robes back into shape — and the she-wolves lay out and snoozed. Only the cub provided me with company. We spent hours playing together, in the cave and among the trees of a nearby small forest. I called the cub Rudi, after Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer, because he liked to rub his cold nose into my back while I was asleep.
