Brinan of the Wolf Clan

by Laura Jack

  They reached the cave and Serena took out her ball of twine and tied it to the branch of a shrub. “We use this to find our way back.” The boys were impressed. As they toured the cave and admired the paintings, the boys were awe struck. Serena was less so, this time, although she still admired the paintings, she found herself studying them more critically, trying to analyse how they had been done. Brinan liked the painting of the bison best.

  “It looks like its charging.” Brinan commented.

  “No, it’s lying down, it’s just been killed. That’s why its tongue is hanging out.” Serena replied.

  Brinan remarked that the paintings were very high up, “Perhaps our ancestors were much taller.”

  “The floor would have been higher then.” Callom commented, his engineering logic hitting on the right reason. Where the passageway narrowed, Callom tried to climb the walls to touch one of the paintings using counter pressure of feet and hands. Brinan tried too and they make a competition of it. Callom succeeded but Brinan did not quite make it and fell hard. Annoyed with himself for failing, he got up to try again but . . .

  “Stop messing about you two, we’d better get back before we are missed.” Serena snarled.

  “Alright! We’re coming!” Brinan replied. Then he whispered to Callom; “We’re coming back later right?” Callom just grinned conspiritially.

  6 Wolf

  After several days of feasting the celebrations eased off. One by one, the Clans said their farewells and departed. Arguus had announced that morning that the Wolf Clan would be leaving at first light the next morning, so everyone should finish trading and say their farewells that day.

  Brinan and Callom wandered through the campsites, saying their goodbyes and looking out for last minute trade. It was getting near dusk before they decided to head back to camp and pack for their journey home when they noticed a group of people clustered around a dark skinned man. All of them were looking at what the man had in his arms. Brinan edged closer for a look and his heart leapt – the man was holding a basket of tiny wolf cubs that gazed bewildered and fearful over the rim. On the ground behind him were the pelts of adult wolves, a grim indication of the fate of the cubs’ pack.

  “All offers considered.” Brinan stepped forward and Callom joined him. The colour of the man’s skin was darker than he had ever seen. His facial features were an exaggeration of Magdalene features.

  “He’s from Mesopotamia, so far to the south west it would take us over a year’s journey to get there.” Whispered Callom.

  Brinan felt compelled to reach forward to stroke the cubs; they cowered down except for one white cub with a long, curly tail. She sniffed then licked his hand and Brinan lost his heart. You’re thirsty and hungry little one, he thought sadly. He did not think much of the man who was trading them. He had to rescue the white one. He hoped that if he took one, others would be encouraged too. He took off his haversack and emptied all the contents out in front of the man.

  “Is this enough?” he asked.

  “Not the axe head!” Callom snatched it from the pile. “Here I’ll put this in its place. He handed Brinan his invention with its circular rim and central spokes. Brinan threw it onto the pile but instead of landing, it bounced off a spearhead, rolled on its edge for a long way then toppled over.

  “Wheee!” Sang a little girl as she watched the object roll.

  “What is that?” The Mesopotamian asked as Callom picked up the object and brought it back.

  Callom looked at the man, then the object, then the little girl.

  “It’s a …a wheel.” He replied smiling. Then, thinking of where the man had come from added “It’s a traveller’s talisman to give the bearer a safe and speedy journey.”

  The man looked at the object. “A wheel eh, well it gives me an idea.” He put down the basket of cubs and took the wheel from Callom, holding it close while looking over Brinan’s pile. He picked out some spearheads, the dried tendons of deer, and one of Serena’s bracelets. “This will do. Take your pick.” Brinan shook hands with the man to seal the bargain then he picked up the pale wolf cub and cradled her in his arms. She licked his face, which made him smile and softened the hearts of onlookers. He was right; now others were taking an interest in the litter, especially the little girl. The other cubs would surely find homes.

  “I wouldn’t want to be you when Deema finds out!” Callom said as they walked back to their camp.

  Back at the tent of the Wolf Clan, Serena was arguing with Deema.

  “Mother that’s not fair, I wanted to start now. I promise I will not let my Shaman training interfere with my leadership training …”

  “I’ve said no Serena, it’s too soon. You will have no life at all with the extra ...”

  They both stopped abruptly and stared at the sight of Brinan cuddling the baby wolf.

  “Take it back.” His mother commanded before Brinan could speak.

  “I can’t,” Brinan lied; realizing too late that it was bad timing. “I traded for the wolf and she’s mine. A deal’s a deal and can’t be broken.”

  “… and Tamo promised I could start my training this summer, like Brinan says, a deals a deal and can’t be broken.”

  “Oh yes it can!” Roared Deema, it was rare to see their mother lose her temper but they had done it now. She marched Brinan out of the tent and looked around. “Where is the person who traded you this cub?”

  Brinan shrugged, smiling. Normally, he would back down when it came to his mother, but he felt the cub shake with fear in his arms and he felt like a mother to the cub now.

  “Stop shouting mother, you’re frightening the cub.” He said with a lot more confidence than he felt. Deema, tight lipped looked down at the cub and saw that he was telling the truth. She softened and Brinan, seeing this, smiled lovingly at the cub and at her.

  “Arguus is not going to be pleased.” She said at last. “I just hope you realise he may not let you keep it.”

  Lucky for Brinan and the cub, she was wrong. Arguus returned that evening after saying his farewells. The sight of Brinan coming towards him cradling the little animal did not make him happy but he knew how much the boy wanted one.

  “You may keep it Brinan, but it is your responsibility to feed and train. It is only a baby now, but it will be a full grown wolf by spring and if it hurts any member of this Clan I will have to kill it, understand?”

  “She won’t, I promise. Solman told me all about how to train them. I will train her to be a good tracker for us.” Then Brinan did something he had not done since he was a small boy, he hugged his uncle! Deema stood by and raised an eyebrow, exchanging a look with Arguus, once over the shock he smiled and softened.

  “A she is it? Well you may find that when she grows up she will want to leave you and find her own kind to have cubs. What will you call her?”

  Brinan looked at his cub. She still had the blue eyes of the very young. He had never named anything before. He remembered the story of the spirit wolf that howled at the moon, this one looked as pale as the moon. He thought of the perfect name.

  “Luma,” It was the name for the spirit goddess of the moon in Magdalene legends. Arguus smiled, he recognised the connection and nodded his approval.

  “You can’t say yes to him and not to me.” Serena pushed her luck.

  “Fine,” sighed Deema, thoroughly defeated. “You can start your training but any shirking of your hearth duties and it stops - agreed?” Now it was Deema’s turn to be hugged.

  Brinan spent that evening preparing special food for the cub. Cutting up cooked meat into tiny pieces and mixing them with a mush of grains and the liquid from a stew so she could suck it up like milk. Once she had been fed, the cub toddled around the hearth, greeting one member then another of her new ‘Wolf Clan’. Try as they might, they could not resist her friendly charms. Soon though, she was back in Brinan’s arms, fast asleep. Lodina offered him a basket for the cub, but she woke up and whimpered when she was put in it.

 
“Line it with something that you have worn to settle her – like women do with their babies.” Suggested Lodina. “It will have your scent on it and that will reassure her.” The idea worked and as the cub slept, Brinan packed up for the next morning.

  The journey back to the home cave took far longer than the journey to the Gathering. The Clan hunted and foraged along the way, building up stores of grains and raw materials for the winter. They detoured again to stop by a wide delta for several days fishing and bird trapping. Brinan had devised a carrier for the cub, based on the carriers the women used for very young babies. Like Serena, he was not allowed to shirk his duties and worked hard to contribute to the survival of the Clan in the long winter months to come.

  As the days grew shorter, the Clan finally arrived at their cave with a sense of tired relief. Without the excitement of the Summer Gathering to look forward to, the journey back had seemed far more arduous than the journey there. Everyone was glad for the familiar comfort of home – once they had evicted the small mammals that had taken up residence in the cave in their absence. Deprived of sunlight, the cave felt chilly and a musty odour hung in the air. Fires were lit in the hearths and fragrant dried herbs were burnt to sweeten the air. As summer cooled to autumn the search for, and storage of food and supplies, was a daily task for all but the smallest member of the Clan, Luma but she did an excellent job of keeping everyone cheered with her antics.

  When he chanced upon a den of wolves while out scouting for herds to hunt, Arguus decided it would be a good opportunity for Brinan to study the Clan’s totem in its living form. It was part of his training as a future hunter but it would also help him understand their ways so that he could train Luma more easily. It was late afternoon and as the sun started to sink towards the mountains, Brinan and Arguus were lying on their stomachs looking over a rocky outcrop. About thirty feet below, a pack of wolves had just returned from a hunt. From out of a fissure in the rocks, a litter of half-grown pups emerged greeting the adults.

  Their tenacious licking of the adults’ muzzles invoked the adults to regurgitate the meat they had consumed with gluttonous haste at the kill site. The pups bolted down the partly digested food and harassed the adults for more. Brinan and his uncle watched for a short while. In a subdued whisper, Arguus explained about the hierarchy of the pack.

  “Do you see that large one by the stream, he is the lead male. The pack also has a lead female, that darker one who is making subservient gestures to him. Only the lead females have cubs, but the whole pack takes care of them. That one, with the many scars and bite marks around his muzzle is second in command but he would like to be first.”

  As if on cue, the lead male attacked the second in command, forcing him into a submissive posture. The other pack members surrounded the leader offering him their submission too. The lead female turned on a younger female asserting her dominance too.

  “The greatest threat to a wolf’s leadership is the wolf that is immediately below him in status - that is why he shows his dominance over his second in command. He would not bother to harass the lowest ranking wolf; he leaves that to the wolves that are lower in rank than he is but above the others. It is just as well your little she-wolf is not part of a wolf pack. With her upright tail, she would never be able to show the subservience she is meant to and the other wolves would make life hard for her, even drive her away, or kill her. Many animals have a similar ranking system, horses for example and of course, people, but dominance among us is much more subtle. Do you know who the most powerful person in a Clan is?”

  “The headman or headwoman.” Brinan replied confidently.

  Arguus shook his head. “On the surface, maybe - but the most powerful person in a Clan is the one who has something you want. It may be a personal possession, or a skill, or knowledge. A leader does not have the right to take another person’s possessions or demand their knowledge but a good leader will learn how to win the trust and loyalty of that person so that he or she will give of his talents and knowledge willingly to the benefit of the whole Clan. What I am trying to say is everyone in a Clan has power over everyone else. In that respect, we are better than wolves. Never covet or be envious of what others have Brinan, share what you have, whether its food, tools or knowledge and you will receive like in return. That is what makes a good leader. A leader; whether he or she is a human, a wolf, or a horse, will have nothing to lead if he or she does not offer what they have to the Clan first.

  “Remember also that even the lowest ranked person has something to offer so treat everyone with respect and consideration. A good leader does not covet others but makes every member of his tribe valued. I wanted to see that trait in you Brinan, and when you brought that cub home, I saw it take root and grow.”

  “Is that why you let me keep her?”

  “Partly, but also she is a lesson for you. Knowledge that is earned first hand, rather than simply given, is the best kind of knowledge. Knowledge of something can often be a greater burden than a blessing. Leadership isn’t always nice, and sometimes you will have to make decisions that are hard and unpopular. Having a wolf cub may be a good thing or it may not, you will learn, one way or another.”

  Brinan frowned, he did not like the turn this conversation was taking. Arguus continued:

  “We don’t hunt wolves often, unless it’s a lone one that might attack when food is scarce. Predators are harder to track and kill than prey animals, take the time to know your enemy, learn their patterns and then plan your attack. We learn more from them by watching them than by killing them.”

  The wolf pack had settled down and basked in the evening sun, the lead male and female watch the cubs playing and indulgently got up to play with them. The other adults did too and the game ended with mutual licking and grooming of every single pack member. The cubs were the centre of the packs attention. Like the children of the Wolf Clan, they were loved unconditionally and nurtured to the best of the adult’s abilities - because they assured the future of the pack, just as Brinan and the other children assured the continuation of the Wolf Clan.

  As the sun disappeared behind the mountains, Arguus and Brinan walked back to the cave, each lost in his own thoughts. Their excursion gave Brinan a lot to think about; as he returned to his hearth, he stopped suddenly and turned to his uncle.

  “Thank you Uncle.”

  Arguus smiled. “For what?”

  “For your knowledge,” Brinan smiled back. Arguus nodded, the boy had understood the lesson.

  “I think, nephew, it is time to take you on a stag hunt.” His remark made Brinan’s heart leap and his stomach sink at the same time!

  7 First Hunt

  Arguus kept his promise about the stag hunt. The leaves on the trees changed to a kaleidoscope of orange, yellows, reds and browns. Stags fought for females in the annual rut. It was during this time that Arguus and his hunters chose to hunt them. Preoccupied with each other and exhausted from fighting they were easier prey. The female deer were left alone. By leaving them to calve in spring and only culling the surplus males, the Clan not only assured there always be deer on the hills around their cave but it meant more food in the lean winter months for the pregnant does.

  Brinan set out for the first time with the hunters on a clear, chilly morning. Last night he had hardly slept, his mind leaping between excitement and fear. Arguus had explained that he was only along to observe and learn but Brinan imagined making his first kill. It was the most important day of a boy’s life. Dovan and Jonan accompanied them, along with Yorak. Although a much older man, Yorak was robustly fit and an excellent tracker.

  Brinan clutched his spear made for him by Jonan. It had been decorated with the image of a deer on the shaft. He had been grateful for his fishing spear with its lightweight hooked blade; but it was no use for hunting stags. His mother had given him a new parka made from the creamy brown reindeer skin with the fur on the inside. Arguus had given him a new flint knife – like the ones the men carried for skinning and bu
tchering carcasses.

  Brinan hoped he would be able to make use of it today. He paid close attention to Yorak as the old man pointed to deer tracks and spoor in the heather and peat bogs. As they closed in on the deer, Yorak explained the silent signals that hunters use when surrounding their prey. He motioned Brinan to stay put and ‘watch’ as he and the others belly crawled to the top of a hill and peered over. Eventually, Yorak signalled to him to join them but to keep low. As Brinan belly crawled up towards them, he panicked that they would not find deer and that they would return home empty handed and the hunters would think him unlucky and resolve not to bring him again.

  A resounding clash of antlers dismissed his fears and gave rise to a new fear; that of frightening off the herd. In the valley below them, on the edge of the tree line, two stags fought. Around them, the females grazed peacefully.

  The more Brinan looked, the more deer he saw, only movement made them visible. When they were still, they blended in perfectly with the landscape. Arguus pulled up some blades of grass and held them up then let them go to see which way the breeze was blowing. He nodded to Yorak, they were upwind of the deer. At a signal from Yorak the hunters belly crawled downhill, until they were well beneath the skyline. Then they stood up and skirted around until they were closer to the deer in the shelter of the trees but still upwind.

  It was a long trek, the necessary stealth slowing them to a snail’s pace. Brinan curbed his impatience. Waiting, he knew instinctively, was a crucial part of the hunt. A rustled branch; a snapped twig; a rolling stone could alert the deer to their presence and they would run away over the hill leaving the hunters empty handed without even a throw of a spear.

  They stopped briefly to rub deer droppings under their armpits and muddy their faces. Brinan realized too late that he should have done it the other way around and wrinkled his nose at the smell of deer dung on his face. At a signal from Yorak, he settled down behind a boulder as the others spread out to get closer to their quarry. The men spanned out as individuals. Every time a deer looked up the hunters froze. Only when they relaxed and stooped to graze did the men move again. Each man had singled out a stag to hunt. It increased their chances of success if more than one target was aimed for; but the throwing of spears had to be simultaneous for it to succeed.