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Wolverine
In the harsh wilderness of the Rocky Mountains, every day presents a new challenge. Nate King and his family have survived by overcoming those challenges, one by one. But in the new valley that is their home, they face perils they've never before known. Some of the most vicious predators on the continent are stalking the Kings and their friends. Nate has gone up against grizzlies, mountain lions, and enraged buffalo, but he's never battled wolverines--cunningly savage killers that know no fear. One wolverine is dangerous enough, but five live in this valley…and they're out for blood.
People of the Forest
When Nate King chose a new valley in which to build his home, he wanted to get away from all civilization and the inevitable trouble it brings. But Nate can’t duck trouble for very long. A hostile band of Indians has also laid claim to the Kings’ valley, and they’ve made it clear they’re not willing to share. In a desperate act to punish Nate and his family, they capture his daughter, Evelyn. And Nate will do anything it takes—even if it means sacrificing his own life—to get her back.
WILDERNESS DOUBLE EDITION #25
49: Wolverine
50: People of the Forest
By David Robbins Writing as David Thompson
First Published by Leisure Books in 2005
Copyright © 2006, 2019 by David Robbins
First Digital Edition: April 2020
Names, characters and incidents in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information or storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
This is a Piccadilly Publishing Book
Series Editor: Mike Stotter
Text © Piccadilly Publishing
Published by Arrangement with the Author.
WILDERNESS 49
WOLVERINE
Dedicated to Judy, Joshua and Shane.
Prologue
The female’s nose twitched. From out of the valley wafted scents new to her. Tantalizing scents that made her halt and lift her head up into the wind.
Behind her, her five offspring also stopped and sniffed as she was sniffing. They imitated everything she did. It was how they learned. It was how they survived in a world that would, if they were not wary, end their young lives as abruptly and mercilessly as they ended the lives of so many other creatures.
Spurred by curiosity and an empty belly, the female grunted and headed down a timbered slope toward the valley floor. She moved with the shuffling gait of all her kind, her hairy body flowing over the ground with an ease and economy of movement that belied her bulk.
She was big, this female. More than five feet from the tip of her nose to the tip of her bushy tail. She weighed more than fifty pounds, which was more than most females, yet less than the huge male she had mated with. Her dark eyes gleamed with vitality and intelligence. Her teeth were razors, her curved claws could rend flesh and bone as if they were clay. She was in the prime of her life and her power, the queen of her vast wilderness domain.
Of all the animals in the wild, her kind were the most fearless. The female had never known a moment of fright her whole life. She was afraid of nothing, not the giant bears she occasionally ran into or the big cats that were wont to dispute her passage or the wolves that tried to steal her caches. It was always she who sent them running. For sheer, unbridled ferocity, she had no equal. Only others like her could match her, and only the huge male could best her.
Fearlessly she lived, and fearlessly she now descended toward the strange scents and equally strange lights at several points along the shore of the lake at the center of the valley.
The female had not been down to the lake in two winters. She had no need. Her thirst was slaked by various streams that meandered from the snowy heights to feed the lake. Prey was plentiful year-round. The high forests were her usual haunts, not the more open ground below.
She came to a rock outcropping and stepped to the edge. Silhouetted against the stars, she raised her head and sniffed. The scents were stronger. Scents of animals she had never smelled. Scents of animals that could fill her empty belly and the empty bellies of her five shadows.
She glanced back at them. Like her, they were nearly invisible in the night. Their eyesight was not exceptional, not like their sense of smell and their keen ears, but still they were used to the dark, and she could see them as clearly as if the sun were up. Two were males, three were females. They had been with her almost two years. Soon she must drive them away and they would go find domains of their own, leaving her free to mate with the huge male and give birth to more young in the perpetual cycle by which she lived.
These five were her sixth litter. They had grown at a remarkable rate, so much so, the biggest male and the biggest female were almost as big as she. Keeping them fed was a challenge. She was always on the go, always on the lookout for something to eat. It helped that her kind would eat anything, from roots and berries and eggs to any animal they could catch.
Some creatures, like the big cats, were faster, and some, like the elk, were many times larger; yet none—not even the most clever of foxes or the wiliest of coyotes—could surpass her kind in raw cunning.
Ferocity and cunning. Along with tenacity, they defined all that she and those like her were. She lived to kill. In all the mountains, in all the wilderness, her kind were the most efficient slayers to be found. Most other creatures fled at the merest whiff of her musk.
Accustomed as she was to always inspiring fear in others, and never having felt it herself, it did not occur to the female that the strange lights and the strange scents presented any danger to her or her brood. The lights and scents were new, they were different, they should be investigated, as would any potential source of food.
Still, when the female came to the valley floor, she slowed and stalked warily forward. New sounds reached her keen ears, puzzling sounds she could not explain. Sounds so alien, they raised the hackles on her neck and filled her with an uncharacteristic unease.
Where once the shore of the lake had been flat and bare, there now stood three giant piles of logs. They reminded the female of the mounds beaver lived in, only these were many times larger and had sharp angles. One was at the west end of the lake, another midway along the south shore, the third midway along the north. Their purpose eluded her. The light came from glowing squares lit with a radiance unlike the pale gleam of the moon or starlight.
From inside the nearest pile of wood came a peculiar chattering. The female could not compare it to anything in her experience. It was like the chatter of chipmunks, only fuller and louder and punctuated now and again by high brittle squeals. Something was in there. Something alive.
At the moment, though, the female was more interested in a number of large creatures that milled about to one side of the nearest log den. She slunk closer and realized they were hemmed by slim logs laid end to end, with gaps between. The creatures were somewhat like elk in their general shape and as tall as elk at the shoulder, but these had long flowing hair on their necks, which elk did not have, and long flowing tails, and the sounds they made were not sounds elk made.
Still, they were prey, and the female stalked toward them with her body slung low to the ground.
Suddenly light spilled from the pile of logs. A large hole had opened, a rectangle ablaze like the sun, and out strode one of the noisy creatures from inside, holding a long stick. The creature moved to
where the elk-like animals were milling about and made a series of sounds that calmed them. Then the creature turned and stared in the direction of the female and her offspring.
The female was not concerned. She was too far from the light for the new creature to see her. She noted how it came slowly forward and raised the long stick, and she sensed a significance to the long stick that was beyond her ken. She also sensed one of her brood stir, and she hissed so only he heard and knew to stay where he was or suffer her wrath.
The strange one stopped. The female was tempted to attack, but just then another of the strange creatures came out of the log den. This one was shorter and slender and had long flowing hair, like the tails of the elk-like animals. It, too, carried a long stick, and it made a noise that caused the first one to turn and walk over to it.
Then a third creature emerged, the smallest yet, with flowing hair like the second. The three of them made many sounds until the large one motioned and all three went back inside the pile of logs and the rectangle of light blinked out.
Bewilderment gripped the female. This was alien and oddly disturbing. She started to turn to lead her offspring back up into the high country. She froze when yet another new scent reached her quivering nostrils. It came from a smaller pile of logs situated a short distance away. It was a bird scent, but birds unlike any with which the female was familiar.
She crept closer. From within came soft clucks and the flapping of wings. She sniffed and scratched at one of the logs, and the clucking grew louder. The birds had heard her and were scared.
The female circled the logs, seeking a way in. A recessed hole held promise, but it was blocked by a flat piece of wood. She pressed against it but it would not budge, so she used her claws. The birds uttered frightened squawks.
Maybe it was the racket they made. Or maybe it was the stomping of the elk-like animals that brought the largest of the strange creatures back outside, this time holding a long stick in one hand and a glowing object in the other.
Light spread across the grass toward the female. In three bounds she darted around the small pile of logs and was crouched in deep darkness beside her young ones. The strange creature came closer. The light brightened but it did not touch the female or her shadows.
The strange creature bent toward the pile, then straightened and raised the glowing object up high.
The female girded to attack, but the strange creature retraced its steps to the rectangle of light and the light went out.
A pang in the female’s belly galvanized her into going around the side of the logs and renewing her assault on the flat piece of wood. She liked juicy bird meat, whether it was duck or the succulent geese that came to the valley twice a year or the occasional grouse.
Her claws did their work. The wood came away in bits and pieces. Within moments she had gouged a slit, and through it came the bird scent, strong as could be. In her famished state it was enough to drive the female into a frenzy. She threw herself at the barrier as if she had gone amok, her teeth and claws digging deep. Slivers flew every which way. One pierced her paw but she did not stop. It was a trifling discomfort. She could endure worse.
One of her young growled. She did not think to wonder why, and the next moment light washed over her. Belatedly, she realized what that meant and whirled. Thunder boomed. Something struck a log next to her with a loud thwack, and an acrid odor assailed her.
Two of the strange creatures had come outside, the large one and the slender one with flowing hair. Wisps of smoke rose from the end of the long stick held by the creature with the flowing hair.
The female screeched a challenge and flung herself at them. Quick as she was, the large strange creature was quicker. It raised its long stick, and again the female heard a clap like thunder. Simultaneously, a tremendous blow nearly buckled her forelegs out from under her. She recovered her balance but instead of charging she spun and loped into the night.
Instinct propelled her. The instinct to stay alive. She was hurt, badly hurt. Her insides churned, and she felt hot and wet and uncommonly weak. She had to concentrate to keep her legs moving. Her body wanted to lie down and rest.
Dimly, the female was conscious of the patter of her young. She heard a bellow from the large strange creature, and another clap of thunder, but she was spared another of those mysterious blows.
The female ran until she came to the base of a wooded slope. Plunging into the vegetation, she stopped to check on her brood. They were all there.
A commotion broke out along the lake but she paid it no heed. She was in too much pain to care. She was bleeding, and her left foreleg and much of her front was soaked. The blood flowed from a hole about the size of a large acorn. She licked it and tasted the salty tang she so loved. But this was her life’s blood, not that of prey.
She climbed rapidly toward the high forest and her den. There she would be safe.
An unusual urgency gripped her. An overpowering need, like the need she felt when it was time to mate, or the need she felt to secret herself when it was time to give birth.
Her young ones followed, as they always did. The scent of her blood agitated them and they made more noise than they ordinarily would. The biggest of the males would not stop growling. Normally she would silence him but now she needed all her strength and focus to keep moving.
Queasiness came over her. Bitter bile rose in her gorge but the female swallowed it and kept on climbing. She thought only of her den, her haven, the sanctuary where she had raised her litters. She must get there, and get there quickly, and nothing must stand in her way.
Presently, though, the female found it hard to breathe. Her lungs strained for air. In great gulps she sought to fill them. But gradually her limbs grew numb. She lost all feeling except for the pain. The bleeding had stopped, but she suffered bouts where her mind spun, relieved by periods of clarity.
Dimly, the female perceived that her offspring were on each side of her and not behind her as they should be. The largest of the females nudged her and whined deep in her throat.
They were confused by the blood and her weakness, and did not know what to do.
She was only halfway to the high country when her strength, once so prodigious, gave out. Her stamina, once without limit, dwindled to nothing. She was empty inside, empty and cold and exhausted. For another dozen yards she staggered on, spurred by a spark in the wellspring of her being. Then her legs gave out and she collapsed in an exhausted sprawl.
Her brood was all around her, licking, nipping, whining, urging, but all she could do was lie there, unable to respond or move. She tried to test the wind for enemies, but she could not raise her head high enough. She was helpless, totally and completely helpless, and she sensed that just as she had seen the life ebb in countless prey, so was hers about to end.
All things died. It was the basic law of the wild. Most things were eaten by other things. Plants were eaten by plant eaters and the plant eaters were eaten by meat eaters and the meat eaters were eaten by other meat eaters. On and on and on it went in an endless circle of slay to survive.
The female’s eating days were over. She felt her young ones nestle against her and was grateful for their warmth. The night blackened, and the next she knew, she was awake and bright sunlight hurt her eyes. She was able to raise her head enough to establish that she was lying in the open, and she was alone. Her brood had left her.
The female sank back down and closed her eyes. She was so tired. She wanted to sleep but a persistent clattering from below warned her that a creature of some kind was climbing toward her, something big, with hard hooves that rang on rock.
With a supreme effort she twisted her neck and beheld her doom.
There were two of them, the large one with the long stick and another much like him. They were astride the creatures that were like elk but were not elk. She watched them approach. She saw them point their long sticks when they spotted her, and then lower the sticks again.
Slowly, cautiously, they c
ame closer. The large one from the night before, whose scent the female recognized, leaned down and made sounds. The other, younger and slightly smaller, showed its teeth and pointed its long stick.
The female heard a sound like the snapping of a dry twig. She thought of her five young ones and the joy they had brought her. She thought of the valley that had once been hers and was now theirs, and these strange intruders with their log dens and long sticks that spat death. She thought how wonderful it would be if her young ones did to the intruders as the intruders were about to do to her.
Then came another crash of thunder that was not thunder, and the female knew nothing, absolutely nothing at all.
One
Winona King was in paradise.
She liked that word, paradise. Many of the words the whites used had so many meanings, it was hard sometimes to choose the right one. But paradise, so far as she knew, had only one meaning. Her husband had defined it as a place of bliss where everyone was happy. That certainly fit. Winona was as happy as she could ever recall being, with ample and sufficient reasons.
First, Winona loved their new home. The valley was everything she dared hope it would be: verdant, beautiful, ringed by majestic peaks, abundant with animal life, a Garden of Eden, as Nate called it, only without the serpent. That last allusion puzzled her since she had come across a number of snakes since they got there, including several rattlers. Then she realized he was referring to the serpent from the Bible.
Second, Winona loved being close to her son and his wife. Before, Zach and Louisa had lived so far away she was lucky to see them once a moon, if that. Now she need only walk to the north side of the lake. Since they built their new cabins, she had spent many a wonderful hour sipping tea and talking to Lou. Zach, though, was seldom home. He was always off hunting or exploring. But she still saw him more often than she had before, and that was something.
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