noon peak: a wolf pack intervenes
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The Pirate Wolf
Chapter 1: Beulahs Report
Its a few hours before sunrise, and if you stand in the
forest with your eyes open, adjusting to the darkness of this
moonless night, you might notice something. There!
Movement behind the thick stand of evergreen trees off to your
left. Is it a hundred yards away? Ten?
You hear a rustle from the right. There is a bush moving,
just a little, then it stops. It sounds close. No more noise comes
from the snow-covered ground. But now you dont need to
hear it. You can feel yourself surrounded by something. A
presence that gives substance to the gloom. Your spine tingles
and your stomach shrinks.
In truth, its a good thing youre not really standing there in
the black. You would be surrounded by hungry wolves.
On they come, flowing past the trees, like water coursing a
stony rapid. They meet in glens and again separate around the
pines, never pausing, focused on a single point not far off. As
they close on their target, they spread apart, encircling around
and beyond it. They begin to tighten their group, barring
escape.
Four deer in a small clearing look up. A mother and three
yearlings. They feel the presence too late. Yellow eyes stare at
them from every angle. They shudder in panic.
Finally, a wolf, the alpha, steps forward to speak.
Hello there! he says. It is Lark, the pack leader. Have
you seen our latest trick?
At this the wolves jump toward the deer and form a line in
the open clearing. Some of them jump on top of each other,
scrambling raggedly on each others backs. They form a
standing triangle four wolves high, with Lark on top. He
somersaults to the ground in front of the bemused deer and
presents his paws in a kneel. Ta da!
One of the yearlings claps his front hooves, the other two
look at him and shake their heads. Beulah, the mother deer,
rolls her eyes. Oh, please, Lark. You stole that from the
raccoons.
Lark lowers his head to one side. Its a coincidence, I
swear it, he says. Oh, by the vie, you kids hungry? We got
some prime cutlets here. Parmesan. One of the other wolves
steps forward and shrugs off an ill-fitting backpack. Lark pulls
open the zipper and noses out a box of frozen dinners.
You stole that, too, says Beulah accusingly.
Yeah, from people, Lark agrees. Everyone in the forest
knows the code. You take only what you plan to use, and not
something already claimed. But with humans its different.
You can rob them of all sorts of things.
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Theres this small group of them camping near the
Greeley Ponds. Not using their bear box. He chuckles at this.
Humans can be such morons.
The young deer sniff the boxes curiously. Kids! Get away.Its probably chicken, Beulah says. We have other sources of
protein.
Yeah, Lark says. You just have to eat a whole meadow
of it. And you guys are pretty fast twitch, too.
It isnt proper! Beulah protests.
You could get totally jacked, is all Im saying. He tears
open the box and tosses a few cutlets to his pack. They dive in.
Ugh, you guys, Beulah says with a shake of her head.
Her three boys bend their heads and go back to munching the
new ferns starting to pop up through the receding snow. Spring
is coming earlier than usual. Hey, they didnt happen to have
any coffee with them.
You know, I didnt happen to smell that, Lark says, his
jaws dripping with half-frozen spaghetti sauce. Well send a
Scout there to see if they crack any open at dawn.
Which one? asks one of the wolves. Four of them are
named Scout, and aptly so. Theyre the ones who keep getting
the assignments to watch for people. By now its a running
joke whether the name defines the job, or vice versa.
Oh, how about Little Scout this time?
There is murmuring among the crew, but they agree. Little
Scout is now catching some sleep back at the den. All the
wolves know his reports are unreliable, if somewhat fanciful.
They suspect hes discovered the magic effects of mountain
teaberries.
Remember what he told us about the road the other day?
one of the wolves says.
Yeah, Lark says with amusement. A whole line of
trucks painted like the forest.
Like we couldnt smell these things three valleys away,
laughs another.
Ridiculous, says Marcella, the wolf packs matriarch.
Beulah looks up. No, we saw that, she states.
The wolves look up, slowly chewing the last of their
cutlets. Have you been getting into the teaberries, too? asks
Wheat, one of the larger wolf lads. He is ironically named, with
the darkest fur, almost black. The rest laugh.
We did see it. Three nights ago, Beulah says. They hadone of those spinning birds on a truck. Painted the same.
The wolves knew the spinning birds well. Their loud
rumbling shook the mountains, and their sound could be heard
long before they were seen circling like giant hawks overhead.
It couldnt be chance that several of their pack had been struck
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with metal rain whenever these thunderous contraptions hove
into the sky above them.
Little Scout hadnt mentioned it, but they had laughed him
out of the cave as soon as he started to give his report of thesegreen vehicles rolling into the valley like a train.
Are you certain? Lark asks. The pack gathers around
him. Their trust for Beulahs nose, eyes and ears far outweighs
that of Little Scout, and many of their other Scouts, for that
matter.
Tis true, she says. Her spring meanders tend to stick
close to her den, on a hillside just above the Mad River. She
saw the trucks, maybe seven or eight of them, with their
spinning bird on the largest one. I couldnt range far enough
to tell you.
No matter, Lark says to this. But have you seen them
leave?
Not that Ive witnessed, no, she says.
The wolves look at each other with fresh concern. It is
strange to see such a concerted human activity going on this
early in the season. The moon has completed more than three
full cycles since the longest night, and the road is still traveled
mainly by people in cars. These rolling boxes bear cut planks
of trees on each roof, that the humans use to slide in ridiculous
fashion down the snow-covered hillsides. Until the snows
recede completely and the trees begin to gather water from the
ground, the road is the only way in and out of the valley, at
least for the people.
If the trucks and their flying machine havent been seen
heading back down it, theyre still here.
Thanks, B, says Lark. Wheat and the rest of the wolves
nod. We need to talk with Little Scout. Quick Scout, well
need you to go find out about that coffee instead. Quick
Scout, an almost white wolf with black paws, barks and darts
out of the clearing. Wheat picks up the bag. They nod to
Beulah and run in the other direction, toward their den.
Beulah looks at her three growing boys browsing the young
fir saplings. The wolves are known to be fierce protectors of
the valley, and what bothers them should bother all. It hadnt
occurred to her to be concerned until seeing Larks furrowed
brow. She feels a new pressure, like the barely detectable
breeze before a gathering storm.
Boys, she says. Lets head back.
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Chapter 2: Little Scout
They dont believe me, laments Little Scout. He is sitting
near the entrance to the packs cave, near the head of a small
valley above Drakes Brook. The pack long ago decided to usethe human names for the valleys features. Its peaks, roads and
rivers were called words that made no sense, not nearly as
much as field between the hills or tall trees by the pond. But
the uniqueness of the names made it easier to keep straight
which field between the hills they were talking about.
So over generations the wolves learned the human terms,
and used them. They knew that a road called route forty-nine
followed the Mad River uphill into Waterville, or The
Waterville Valley. Or just Waterville Valley. Even the humans
changed the words they used from time to time.
Little Scout is supposed to be sleeping, but instead he is
sitting in the darkness talking to Robert, a fisher.
Theyre not gonna buy an idea like that, little guy, says
the fisher, to his wolf friend four times his size, though barely
out of cubhood. Not after that tale you told about the flyingdeer last fall.
I did see that, I swear it, says Little Scout.
Oh, it was a keeper, says Robert. Like an antlered
Pegasus, it must have been!
Stop. Stop it, Little Scout protests.
But whered they go? Are they just hiding in the trees?
These trucks, Robert says, in a mocking stage whisper. Look,
they might be right behind you!
Little Scout shakes his head in annoyance, while Robertrolls onto his back, stricken with laughter. Its a saving grace
that Roberts obnoxious needling so quickly devolves into
uncontrollable hysterics. Little Scout resists the urge to look
over his shoulder, knowing only the cave lurks behind him. At
least he is pretty sure. Mostly.
I saw them come up the road, but if they havent left, we
need to find them, he says. Little Scout suspects that some of
his more boring assignments are the result of one too many
reports that went unbelieved, like the time a monkey was
brought to the town library. It really happened, and it might
have been considered with interest if another Scout had seen it.
But Little Scout was the teller, and his story was treated as
pointless nonsense.
Robert finally regains his composure. Yeah, yeah, little
guy, so what are you gonna do?
If I could find those trucks
This throws Robert into another bout of hysterics. So the
intrepid Little Scout goes off on his own to find the truth, he
laughs. finding adventure and hijinks and saving the pack
from certain disaster. I love it!
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No, no. No, no, no, Little Scout says, shaking his head
violently. Lark asked me to stay here, so I will.
Ah, the loyal cub defending his packs homestead,
fulfilling his duty, and saving the pack from certain disaster.
Just. Stop.
Well, Im just saying, that works, too, the fisher says.
Hes been pals with Little Scout since they shared a log to
escape certain drowning in a flood the previous spring. The
young wolf had been venturing a bit too far from the den when
he was caught in a torrent of runoff leading to the Mad. At the
time he wasnt much bigger than Robert, and the fisher was
able to pull the cub to the bank by the scruff of his neck.
Scouts mother started leaving food from the packs raids for
Robert and his family.
She was taken by the humans before the snow fell, but the
pack continued the tradition. Robert was sort of an honorary
member, and despite the brash ribbings he gave the boy, and in
fact all of them, he and Little Scout were inseparable.
The fact is, Robert believes Little Scout about the convoy
of trucks on route forty-nine. He just doesnt want to. He
remembers full well the shuddering beast that spiraled above
the trees the day Scouts mother was killed. Its thropping,
spinning wings created vicious winds and vibrated the air in a
way that could be felt through the ground into the den. Its
constant blasts sent a rain of death and echoed across the
hillsides.
If one of those fearsome human machines is back in the
valley, as Little Scout told the pack, its too dangerous toignore.
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Chapter 3: The Sunrise Plan
Little Scout perks his ears. He stands up and looks down
the valley.
What is it, kiddo? asks Robert, then he senses it, too. The
pack is returning early this morning. Something is wrong. He
turns his head as the first wolf, Lark, rises over the headwall of
the small ravine. The other wolves soon join him.
Little Scout, youre up, Lark says. Hes clearly perturbed
by this, but also glad there wont be any time wasted nudging
him awake. He looks at Robert. Youve been keeping my boy
from his nap.
Hey, dont look at me, Lark, says the fisher. I was just
digging around for- He stops as Larks stare unnerves him.
On second thought, go ahead and look at me, thats cool.
Sorry, Dad, Little Scout says grudgingly. Im ready for
your orders, sir.
Orders? Lark says. He and the boy have had some
discussions over his reliability lately, but the cubs insolence is
frankly more grating than a few botched assignments. Okay,
we were going to send you up to the ponds to watch some
campers, but my orders this morning are to tell us everything
you know about the group of trucks you saw.
Scout jumps at this. Now, dad? he asks.
Yes, now. How many of these trucks were there?
Oh, that depends, Dad, Little Scout says. They had six
of those forest trucks, but there was a long truck with a big
round box on it, like the biggest tree trunk I ever saw.
Lark nods. Thats was probably a tanker, he says. Whatelse?
They were carrying other machines. These rolling horses.
The rolling horses, Lark says. I believe the humans call
them ATVs. How many?
I saw four, and they also had a spinning bird on a bridge
truck.
All the wolves cringe at the thought of the spinning bird.
Not much can spook a wolf, but the flying monsters are
capable of ranging deep into the wilderness and raining hot
metal on anyone caught out. Thats fearsome enough, but the
rolling horses can carry the humans up all but the steepest
trails, faster than any wolf.
If the humans have those, it means they aim to use them.
How many people do you think there are? Wheat asks.
Lark thinks about it for a moment. Their cars usually have
one or two people, but this sounds like theyre on some kind of
mission. If it were us, wed bring everyone we could, right?
Right, Wheat says. They can put four in each of them,
and the two trucks.
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Thats twenty at least. Maybe thirty, Lark says. The pack
stands in silence for a few minutes. The average groups of
people number probably four. Families, like small packs. They
tend to keep to the village and sometimes venture into the
woods, but not very far.
Small parties without pups might go further, to the
mountain peaks, and may even stay out overnight. They tend to
bring a lot of their human ritual accoutrements and
conveniences with them. On rare occasions these people even
hunt, taking one of the valleys forest residents home on the
hood of their car. But the season for that is a long way off, at
the other end of the summer.
Larger groups arrive in convoys like the one Little Scout
saw, but not of forest-painted trucks. Sometimes people show
up in vans and larger conveyances. These folks hardly leave
pavement, preferring to course in and out of their village
structures where they sit pointlessly for long periods, poking at
beeping devices or prodding a plate of meat they had no hand
in taking.
Disgusting. But this is what the pack knows of people, from
decades of watching from the hills. The group of noisy, green
vehicles is new behavior.
Lark squares up. We only have one mission right now, he
says. Information. Where are these things? What are these
people doing? What can we learn from our comrades? We need
to launch the sunrise plan.
The sunrise plan. All the wolves shudder at the sound of it.
Its dangerous. The last time the sunrise plan came to thevalley, they lost half the pack, and many of their friends. The
plan involved monitoring the humans during daylight hours.
They risked being seen, and in the case of wolves, feared. That
time, the people turned out to be building a ski resort,
something the woods dwellers thought to be the zaniest thing
theyd ever seen.
But too many sightings of wolves, bears and moose while
the sun was in the sky triggered a massacre that lasted two
summers. It led to a lot of pursuit and narrow escapes, and in
many cases, no escape at all. The wolves and their neighbors
knew the story as it had been told across generations.
Can we survive that? asks Wheat. Our numbers arent
what they were then.
Lark looks at him and bows his head only slightly. Wheat
and Marcella are the only pack members hell let question himabout a decision this impactful. That turned out to be an
endeavor that didnt concern us, and yet many died. This new
development may be targeting us.
Which is why we might need to stay out of danger, says
Wheat.
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Which is why we might need to know, growls Lark. He
is clearly finished answering questions, and he is more certain
of the sunrise plan than before. Marcella, you will bring word
to the deer. Master Scout, you will apprise Quick Scout of
these orders. Robert, we need you to call forth your specialty
and monitor the town.
Will do, Capm, Robert responds, thrusting his head and
upper body upright. Hes been sort of an honorary pack
member since his escape from the flood with Little Scout.
Lark reminds the group of the importance of certain aspects
of the sunrise plan. Let nobody follow you, and if anything
happens we wont search for you. Be back here before the
shadow of Noon Peak leaves the river.
Lark, with respect, what of Shauna? Wheat asks.
Lark nods at this. Shauna had gone west to meet with
another pack from the big valley. A great messenger, she is on
assignment to share information with packs from all compass
points. Her spring ramble is always extensive and fruitful.
Youre right, Lark says. She may have information from theriver pack we could use. Find out what shes learned, and wait
for us. We may need her to go to the packs beyond the valley.
All the wolves nod and accept their fates. It is the way of
the pack. But there is one question left, which falls to Marcella.
And who goes to Kayak, Lark?
Lark gazes at her knowingly. I will visit Kayak and his
clan, he says. And I will take Little Scout.
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Chapter 4: Shaunas News
Sunrise is a slow process in the mountains. First, the sky
begins to lighten in the east, and stars begin to disappear to the
naked eye. On a clear blue day like the one about to begin, thecolor is uniform across the jagged horizon. The mountains
themselves stay black, and under the thick spruce and fir
canopy above two thousand feet, one can barely tell the
morning is coming.
A little while later, the colors begin to lighten from dark
grey to purple, and finally dark green. The sky is light enough
to rouse anyone sleeping under a thin nylon tent, but not to
penetrate the darkened shades of a resort hotel room. Mirror-calm ponds begin to reflect the whitening sky against the black
bands of trees.
The sounds of early morning fill the village, restaurant
doors opening, propane heaters and stoves firing up, trash
collection trucks backing to pick up dumpsters of collected
refuse. Different sounds fill the void in the forested ravines,
wind and rustling branches, rushing streams, breakfast fires
crackling at campsites, the light splashing of moose shuffling
in the bog shallows.
As the first rays of sun hit the trees at the tops of the tallest
mountains, another noise joins the symphony. This one stops
the heart of anyone hearing it. The shuddering throp and
keening whine of a machine with spiraling wings, carrying men
into the sky. Its thunder echoes against the cliffs and ridge tops,
shaking the air and penetrating bones.
Shauna stops on a ledge high above the Mad River. She is
on her way across the mountain ridge west of the valley. Shecatches sight of the spinning bird circling above the dark, sharp
hulk of Noon Peak, and then back toward the village. She hears
another sound blasting from it a voice. Human-speak,
unintelligible, piercing, weak in quality but grating in pitch.
Shes never heard it used this way from one of their flying
monstrosities.
More commonly these devices spray out death. Mainly for
her pack.
Her trip across the gap was fruitful. It is clear the winter is
ending, and its recess is even further along down there in the
big valley. Her pack lives in a much smaller trough of land
between mountains, drained by a smaller, if lively river, and
encircled almost completely by mountains and notches
impassable to most human conveyances.
It wasnt always this way. Generations past told of a systemof smoke-belching chains of rolling steel boxes on tracks that
led deep into the ravines and across the gaps to the east. The
humans used it to kill half the forest and drag the trees away to
build more of their shelters elsewhere. Shauna has been outside
the valley, and knows that there are such shelters in even
greater size and numbers. They arent taking trees from her
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home range anymore, but somewhere, other packs forests are
still being plundered.
The humans rolling boxes cant get out of the valley by
any other way than route forty-nine, far below the ledge whereShauna stands now. It will be this way until they open the
gravelly road on the other side of the mountain they cleared for
their snow-sliding. It is still deep with crusted and gritted snow.
Too deep for the human contraptions.
The humans have named many of the peaks for other
people who came before. Some of the people who bore these
names were known to the wolves of their time. Some werent.
The only names that made sense in a wolfs estimation were
Noon Peak, directly south of the human settlement, and the
pyramid mountains on the other end.
The spinning bird makes its way out of view behind the
mountain, but not out of earshot. Its blaring vocal cacophony
still carries across the valley, and now Shauna notices another
activity. Below, the lights of human vehicles are streaming
along the roads in close formation. Theres a frantic energy as
many of them escape their paved clearings and line up to head
for the one road out of the valley.
Shauna realizes the road crossings wont be easy if too
many of these rolling boxes come along. Daylight is nearly
upon her now, and she needs to be in the valley of Drakes
Brook. She jumps down from her ledge and follows the nearest
path down.
Shortly before the river crossing, she comes to a meadow
cleared by the humans. Overhead pass thin black lines, likeropes drawn between the tall branchless trees the people have
buried into the ground long ago. Shauna notices that several of
them hang limply against the towers, their bare ends lying inert
on the ground. The wolves learned long ago to stay clear of
these broken ropes, as certain to stop breath as the metal rain
they use in the hunt.
She crosses the river underneath one of the human bridges.
By the next full moon, this river will be deep and fast with
brown floodwaters, but the full thaw has not yet arrived.
Shauna reaches the bank and ducks behind the brush near the
road. The lights of one of the rolling metal boxes begin to flash
around the uphill bend. She races across and lurches into the
trees on the other side.
Something to the right catches her eye. Two dark human
conveyances sit in the middle of the highway, their lights
black, and four humans stand in front of them with firesticks,
their hunters tools. Shauna feels shame at her failure to notice
this before she crossed, but it is clear they didnt notice her. Or
at least they didnt react. She can feel by their energy that
theres a tension, and it is directed beyond her, at the
approaching lights.
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As the vehicle rounds the turn into view, the two trucks in
the middle of the road click on, flooding the area with light. Its
as bright as the sun itself, directed at the vehicle. A second
rolling box appears behind it. The first reaches the men
standing in the road and stops. Its progress is blocked by the
two larger machines, and the men with their metal firesticks
surround it.
Shauna sees a human step out of the vehicle. Another is
pushed into the box by someone on the other side. Theres a
clamor of human barking and baying and finally, a blast. She
looks around the bushes near the road to see one of the people
laying in the road. Even at this distance she can tell that life hasleft it.
She sees other rolling boxes approaching, slowing as they
near. Suddenly, the second machine reverses course and turns
toward her. Its lights blaze across the brush and trees as it
reverses once more, falling across Shaunas muzzle for an
instant, and with a screech of its wheels, races back toward the
village. The next vehicle does the same.
Shauna watches as several more of these rolling machines
turn and flee as the four men begin walking up the highway,
bellowing their strident voices and blasting their dark black fire
sticks into the air. One of them sends several blasts into the sky
each second. She can sense the rising fear, and almost hear the
eruption of human hearts beating themselves out of their
chests.
Shaunas job is to range far, meeting other packs and clans,
gathering and delivering news. The sharing of information is
important to all who reside in the valley. She turns and heads
up the ravine of Drakes Brook by the quickest possible route.
She has news.
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Chapter 5: Kayaks Counsel
In the predawn hour, Lark and Little Scout cross the dark
ridge known as Flat Mountain on their way to visit the den of
Kayak. They hear the throbbing echo of the spinning bird as itcircles round and round above the village across the ridge.
Though they cannot see the infernal machine, they know it is
unlikely that any of the valleys residents will be asleep for
very long.
The whole valley lay in darkness, enduring the cacophony
of the whining machines spinning wings and growling
engines, accompanied by the keening, shrill voice of the
humans speech trumpeting forth from it.
Kayak resides in a cave high on the other side of Flat
Mountain, above Lost Pass. His hibernation season is coming
to an end, though Lark and Little Scout both know his first few
days awake will find him irritable and severely hungry.
And thats if he's awake already. Woe to those whose task
it is to roust the great bear from his slumber. Lark stands before
Kayaks den, hoping it hasnt fallen to him.
How long are we to wait? asks Little Scout.
As long as we must, Lark answers. It has long been
custom to summon any bear by patiently waiting near the
entrance to his den, without malice or urgency. Finally, there's
a shadow in the den entrance, as something shoulders its way
forward. A large bear shuffles toward the opening and groggily
looks at Lark and his son.
I've been wondering when you would approach, he
finally says.
Lark and Little Scout bow their heads, showing deference
to the Great Bear. We humbly seek your counsel, says Lark.
We have been monitoring the human activities in the valley,
and we wonder if you know of these events.
You seek my counsel? Or my protection? asks the bear.
Kayak is the leader of a clan of bears that dominates the valley.
He has held the position for as long as Lark or any other wolf
alive can remember. The story of his name comes from his
tendency during the trout run. Instead of standing atop the falls
waiting for fish, like an honest bear should, he prefers to sit on
his duff, appearing much like a human in one of their river
boats.
None would relate this story in his presence, though
throughout the valley it was agreed. In fact, Kayak now rises to
sit on his rear haunches, towering above Lark and Little Scout.He regards them carefully. They are not enemies, though
friendship is likewise not an accurate description of their
relations.
It is true we seek your help, says Lark, Whether your
witness, your wisdom, or your might.
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Then it is pleasant to greet you, Lark, says Kayak. And
you, Scout. Youve grown a great deal since the leaves fell,
though I suppose thats an obvious thing to say. Given the
urgency of recent events in the valley, I propose we dispense
with our polite pleasantries and get down to brass tacks. He
chuckled at his use of the human term, though he had little
notion of its meaning.
Have you known of the humans affairs, asks Lark.
I woke only yesterday, Kayak replies. But others in my
clan have let me understand the goings-on below.
Do you know where theyve hidden their machines? Lark
asks.
Kayak looks toward the sky as if studying the waning stars.
Come with me, he says, lowering to his four legs and
summoning the wolves with shake of his considerable neck.
Lark and Little Scout follow the bear to a promontory on the
high ridge, from where they can see the lights still flickering in
the valley. The sunlight is just hitting the top of Tecumseh
Mountain, and the spinning bird is a black shadow flying abovethe village, its voice blaring as its lights graze back and forth
across the village.
You see those structures there? Kayak says as he eyes a
group of buildings halfway down the slope. Thats where they
used to stage their disruption of the woods in times long past,
and where theyve hidden their intent this time. You would
have been aware, had your pack not been off rehearsing its
circus maneuvers. Some of my kind know from circuses the
terrible limits these humans will go to. What they'll do to us,
they'll do to each other doubly so, and from the words they
spray forth from their spinning bird, it is clear they mean to do
so.
You can identify their words? Little Scout asks.
Listen, Kayak says. You dont need to understand their
words to discern their meaning.
Indeed, from here Lark can feel the nervous energy of the
men below. He can smell the fear as people collect in front of
their dwellings to hear the imperious words shouted at them
from the fearsome creature hovering above. He sees the flicker
of lights as some scramble into their rolling boxes and race for
the road leading out.
At this, the sound of the humans flying contraption arises,
and Lark can see it coming towards them as if summoned. Lark
and Little Scout duck into a thicket of logs, while Kayak the
bear steps forward, as if in defiance, daring the people on thisflying machine to see him.
Remain calm, Kayak says. We will protect you. Your
needs will be regarded. He turns to Lark and Little Scout. It
isn't exactly what they say, but it is the nature of it.
What are they defending the people from? Little Scout
wonders aloud.
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As with all humans, I suspect their words and their
meanings are diverged, Lark says.
It is true, answers Kayak. They mean not to protect, but
to control, and even now I can sense that not all are going toobey.
The flying device moves toward them for another moment.
The shadow of the mountain will keep them hidden, but Lark
sees the sunlight expanding down the shoulder of the big
mountain across the valley. A loud blast echoes from the
depths of the valley to the west, and the giant metal bird
suddenly veers off toward it.
Then it is time for us to return. I thank you, Kayak, he
says. If we act, will you lend assistance?
Kayak regards him carefully. You said you seek my
counsel, Lark. Mine is to stay far from these men. It may in
fact be time to migrate elsewhere. Wherever these people are
known to clutch such power over their fellows, only death
follows. We should not find ourselves in the path of this
juggernaut.Lark nods and gestures to Little Scout to follow him off the
ridge. Kayak lumbers into the brush without another look back.
On their way down the mountain, Little Scout asks his
father, What assistance did you ask Kayak for?
I have not yet determined a course of action, Lark states.
But this new activity by the humans requires a response in
kind.
They return to the den to find that others in their pack havecompleted their missions, though Robert has not returned.
Quick Scout reports that the party at Greeley Ponds did indeed
have coffee, though it couldnt possibly matter now. The
campers themselves were gone, their tent torn through and their
gear strewn about. Master Scout and Quick Scout had to range
far out of their way to avoid humans setting a picket on the
Livermore Road.
Marcella reports that the deer are scattering by separateways outside the valley, and this surprises nobody.
There is a rustling in the brush near the den. All the wolves
turn and bristle, baring their teeth, but after a moment they are
cheered by the arrival of Shauna.
I have news, she says.
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Chapter 6: On The Run
Robert is a fisher. Not a fisher cat. The inconsistency of
human monikers is one of the things that irritates him, though
he knows it shouldnt. He is what he is, regardless of what thehumans call him. Other things that irritate him include the
spider webs across his morning browsing paths and human
refuse clogging the streams and trails, especially if its empty.
Being a fisher means his presence around the village is
tolerated, even expected, by the humans. His ability to gather
information around the town is a thousand times that of the
wolves, whose presence is wholly unwelcome. Even the jogger
he encounters simply emits a quick yelp of surprise and tracksa path around him without slowing.
Robert emerges from the undergrowth behind a human
restaurant. Its big metal box containing trash from the previous
nights visitors is commonly unguarded and easily breached.
This morning, he sees a man standing near a truck and two
rolling horses, with a firestick strapped to his back. There is
another human, or maybe two, sitting inside the cabin.
The human looks in his direction, then back at the door to
the building as another man walks out, himself bearing a
similar tool. It looks a lot like the devices used by hunters,
though the season for fearing them lies on the other side of
several changes of the moon.
From what Robert can make of their bantering, they are
about to head up to the ponds beyond Flat Mountain.
At that moment, the air is fractured as a huge metal beast
shudders to life and climbs above the trees. It soars over thevillage and a voice begins to bellow from it. Robert can barely
make out the words, but the humans can. The people by the
rolling machines exchange a slap of the hands. Robert sees the
jogger, now standing in the road just beyond the entrance to the
buildings paved meadow. The men dont notice him before he
lunges into the woods nearby.
The men hear the rustling bushes, and look. Robert quickly
pounces back into the bushes and takes a glance back at thehumans. Theyve turned away and are climbing onto their
machines.
What it is about these extraneous activities that interests the
men, Robert can never figure out. Their hunting, traveling on
rolling conveyances, and building of shelters makes sense. But
the ludicrous snow-sliding, forest-walking, and running up and
down the roads in the darkness bears no fruit. These endeavors
lack any logical utility.
The people on their four-legged metal devices start up the
things with a grating howl, and roll quickly into the forest
beyond the open lot, where their carriages spin showers of mud
into the air. Robert sees the jogger look out of the woods, and
duck again as the truck rolls out onto the road and past him.
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The chopping, screaming bird overhead circles and continues
to shout at the people now emerging from their buildings.
Some are starting their rolling boxes and careening out to
the road before the truck can pull ahead to stop them. Robertcan feel their frantic energy. Whatever is going on, the humans
are aligning into clans. In times of crisis, the valleys denizens
have been known to do the same thing. It never goes well for
one of the clans.
The spinning bird heads off in another direction, and there
is a lull in the action. Robert sees the jogger skulk out of the
woods and dart off toward a group of buildings, much faster
than his earlier loping. Robert decides its time to follow suit.He would have liked to rifle through the garbage, but the sun
has started to drench the hillsides. He heads off back to the den.
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Chapter 7: Spreading It Thin
Robert returns to the den and finds the pack waiting for
him. Shauna has arrived from her trip over the mountains to the
west, and the tale she recounts is the most harrowing ofanyones. The wolves are shaken by the tale of humans laying
siege to the town, killing over territory.
And now Robert, what news? Lark asks, after each of
them have had a chance to digest Shaunas report.
Robert tells the story of the jogger, the people in the truck,
and the two who rode away toward the Flat Mountain Ponds.
By the absence of its chopping din, it is clear the flying beast
has been still for several moments.
Weve learned where theyve been hiding, and the extent
of their brutality. Whatever these humans are up to, Lark says,
theyre closing off all the routes from the valley, not just the
road.
We know they brought in a tanker for their rolling
machines, so they mean to keep control for awhile, says
Wheat.
But for how long can they maintain this without
supplies? Shauna asks.
Thats a good observation, says Lark. Theyre setting up
bases in every pass. I propose we do the same.
The wolves look at each other. What? Wheat asks.
Sorry, Lark, but arent we spreading ourselves thin?
Well need to eat, and rest, and figure out how to
intervene against these men, Lark says. We cant do all threefrom here.
Wheat speaks up. Lark, Im with you, no matter what, but
it seems these people are only acting against other humans. Is it
our place to get involved?
Lark looks at all of them. He knows this feeling is popular
among the pack. In fact, he isnt convinced that wolves have
any business bothering to thwart the humans.
Do you remember the tales of what it was like before this
town was peaceful? Lark asks. Men were here to cut down
every tree and build their long stretches of steel through the
mountains.
We know it was like this, Lark, says Wheat. Those men
tore out the woods. By all accounts, the place was a wasteland.
But our kind survived that. Well survive this.
We almost didnt survive that, Marcella says. She steps
down from the ledge just above the entrance to the den. Tis
true those men took to the woods to build their smoke-belching
machines and clog the rivers with trees, but their firesticks
were turned on our fathers. Our survival depended on retreat.
Hiding. Like dogs, not wolves. We are not dogs. Are you?
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Wheat backs away at this. No. I suppose not.
Marcella stands before the pack. Whats going on down
there has never happened in our lifetimes, but it has happened.
As surely as these men have turned their weapons on eachother, theyll begin to notice us. And our comrades.
As if on cue, the pack can hear the crack of a firestick
somewhere in the distance. Then another.
If there is a time to stop these humans, it is now, says
Lark. Shauna, your recollection is still fresh, and should be
heard by the packs outside the valley. Go to the settlement
beyond Flat Mountain. If the humans are headed that way, that
may be how they plan to keep themselves stocked. Set up a den
and get some rest. Wheat, join her.
Wheat lowers his head at this. Got it, Lark, he says.
The rest of us will rest here and set out tonight. We are
spreading our pack thin. But so are they. Their success relies
on a network, a supply line, and constant communication. We
know how to do that. Better than they do.
The wolves nod and consider Larks plan. This is the first
time he has led the pack through a crisis. It seems possible that
his plan may escalate the situation for them, or it may be the
best course of action to resolve it.
There is no way to know. It seems the only way out of this,
is through it.
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Chapter 8: Beyond The Ponds
Wheat and Shauna head into the boggy meadow around the
Flat Mountain Ponds, beyond which lay the human towns to
the east, where people arent hemmed in by the valley. Itsclear that the humans are up to something brash. Theyd seen
people do harm to each other, many times more violent than
anything their own kind could do. But this is new. Its
organized, like an entire pack gone rabid.
Of course, such sickness soon causes its victim to be cast
out, and death follows. This outfit has already lasted too long
for that. Shauna and Wheat are off to find whether this
behavior is happening beyond the ridges.
What do you suppose these people are up to? asks
Wheat.
Shauna is silent. Shes seen the menace of humans up
close, having been on her mission on the other side of Thornton
Gap, to meet with packs on the other side of the big river.
Wheat knows shes seen a lot of strange human activity in her
travels. There are highways and towns over the ridges north
and west that dwarf the little village in the valley, and the
violence of the people seems to increase with the size of their
settlements.
A voice comes from the trees behind them. Theyre
preparin, thats what it is. The wolves are startled. They turn,
half-growling, ready to pounce, when out steps a tall moose
from the brush onto the trail.
Shauna and Wheat relax. Henry! Wheat says. Youll get
yourself mauled sneaking up like that, you know. He doesntdare say killed, knowing he and Shauna are no match for the
old bull.
Throw fur some other time, we can, says Henry. This
runnin monkey escapade is out of your league. Out of all of
ours, way I see it. He barely stops chewing whatever green
thing hes just pulled out of the bushes.
What are you talking about? Shauna asks.
Well, you know how we load up for winter? Henry says.
Thats what the monkeys are doin. Cept the winter theyre
plannin is a good deal longer.
What does killing each other have to do with that? asks
Wheat.
The big moose eyes the two wolves. Neither of them have
lived half as long as him, and theyve never seen a true winter,
like the one a decade before. That was a winter to remember,
though few wanted to. Nobody in the valley talks about it, but
not from shame or guilt as much from familiarity. Everyone
knows the details, so theres no point in rehashing the horror of
that spring.
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I forget youre uninitiated, he says. I hear the talk when
theyre in the woods. Theres a color to it. Theyre not all the
same, you know. Oh, they all complain. But about different
things. Some grouse about their leaders, their things. You know
those rolling boxes of theirs? Cars, they call em. Those are a
problem. The trees they used to hack down? They still do, just
elsewhere. The other monkeys, mostly the hunters, they
complain about the other ones complainin. They all got a fear
in them, about their valley. Its bigger than ours. And it seems
to be gettin worse. I seen this comin. Trouble is, I think were
ridin the flood with em.
Wheat and Shauna look at each other. So what are wesupposed to do? Watch them kill each other? Wheat asks.
Dont see as we have much choice- Henry says, stopping
suddenly. They all hear it. One of the human ATVs is heading
up the trail leading into the meadow. Or maybe two of them.
The wolves and moose stand dumbfounded. Normally
theyd already be bounding into the trees, but the morning's
events has driven them toward a dangerous curiosity. These
men coming up the vale might offer some clues about their
aims.
You want to learn somethin? Heres your chance. says
Henry. He trots into a pine grove, beckoning for the wolves to
follow suit. They head back toward the mountain. A few
minutes more pass before the buzzing machines lurch into the
meadow. There are two, each ridden by a human. Shauna can
see their colors now, their garments a mottled green, like the
rolling horses they ride. They carry their firesticks strapped
across their backs.
They reach the edge of the pond and stop. There is some
pointing and gesturing to the lines of trees around the edge of
the marsh. By their behavior, it is clear they mean to choose a
place to camp. One of the men turns to look toward the stand of
trees where Shauna and Wheat duck behind a boulder, and
suddenly freezes. His eyes lock in their direction, and he
reaches over his shoulder to remove his firestick. Quickly, the
other human reverses his machine and brings it around, lookingtoward the wolves.
The man lowers his firestick toward the wolves. Wheat and
Shauna freeze, knowing the sunrise plan may have fulfilled its
potential for disaster. Their legs press the ground like coiled
springs, ready to launch at the slightest twitch from the men.
The humans havent yet moved from their perches upon the
rolling horses.
At once, there is a scream from a brushy knoll close to the
pond, and the two men jump. It is Henry, rushing toward them,
calling out with a hollow, high-pitched wail that sends shivers
down Wheats spine. How Henry skulked around the men so
quickly, hell have to find out later.
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Without considering their next action, which normally
would be to take off into the woods to count their luck
elsewhere, he and Shauna do something completely outside
their nature. They charge.
The human with the firestick turns to see the massive bull
moose coming at him, and jumps from his machine. He runs
back down the trail, and is quickly knocked on his muzzle by
Henrys kicking front legs. He drops the stick and hobbles to
his feet as Henry lowers his huge head and lifts the man into
the air. Falling onto a boulder, he smashes his head and rises
once more, blood now streaming from a deep gash. Henry
kicks at him again, and soon the human no longer moves.
Shauna races at the other man, who throws his rolling horse
into gear and suddenly yells as it lurches backwards into the
pond. It drives deep into the muck at the waters edge, and
whines as its wheels spin, throwing water and drenching the
man. It digs itself a divot in the mud and flips sideways.
The wolves are nearly upon the man. He jumps from the
vehicle and runs through the mud and reeds, his firestick
slapping against his back. As Shauna lunges at his neck, he
turns and staggers backward, pulling a smaller firestick from
his belt. He fires, and Shauna falls to his side with a yelp of
pain.
Wheat is already in midair, and strikes the man in the back.
He snaps his jaws on the mans forearm, feeling a click and
hearing a searing scream. He lets go and jumps in front of the
man, now pulling himself through the mud with one arm, still
clutching his firestick. He aims it at Wheat, and the wolf
bounds out of the way just before he fires it. There is no blast,
only a click. The device is fouled by the mud.
Wheat backs away and noses Shauna. Her breath has left
her. Henry ambles toward them, his quarry subdued, and
stamps the dirt, snorting steam from his nostrils. The human
laying on his side in the mud smiles, throwing his firestick to
the pond. He vocalizes something as Henry and Wheat move
closer. They share a glance as the man climbs to his feet. His
arm is smashed and gushing blood, and they watch him stagger
away toward the only machine left upright.
Henry moves to block his path, and they recognize the
humans expression of understanding. He laughs, and trudges
off toward the village, holding his arm and watching Henry and
Wheat behind him. When he nears the edge of the woods, he
breaks into a jog.
Wheat nudges at Shauna again. He looks at the ground, not
knowing what to think.
Not long enough, she lived, Henry says. Tis a shame in
any case, but those monkeys werent aiming for this.
They pointed their arms right at us, Wheat says in
protest. Look at what theyve done to Shauna.
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But not with a hunters device. Opportunity. Thats all it
was, Henry says, nodding toward the human machine. These
humans werent hunting. Theyre equipped for some kind of
blockade.
Wheat looked over the equipment piled on the rolling
horse. The humans had lugged a lot of food and other materials
that clearly werent the tools of hunters. They would have
made too much noise and thrown off too many scents for
people trying to hunt.
Youre right. Its a siege. Thats what Shauna saw on the
road, says Wheat.
If theyre closing the valley, this would be a way out,
Henry states.
Wheat raises his head and squares himself, the way Lark
would do. I have to continue with Shaunas mission, to find
out whats happening beyond the ridges.
The moose looks balefully at him. If youre suggesting we
get involved-
You said it yourself. Were in this flood with them,
Wheat says angrily. Whatever it is. Just while Im gone, let
the pack know whats going on here. And keep this pass open.
He wheels and begins to trot off toward the villages to the east,
beyond the ponds.
Will do, alpha, Henry replies. When Wheat stops and
looks over his shoulder with a snarl, he backs away. Very
well, Wheat. Were all in the flood.
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Chapter 9: Change Of Plans
If you stand among the hardwoods a little while after
sunset, theres a rustle in the branches, just beginning to sprout
their new leaves. Soon, the hollow echo of the valleys walls
will start to dampen as soft green foliage fills the landscape and
soaks up the breeze. The spreading canopies of maples and
birches will soak up the rains, drip wet with dew and filter the
suns rays from the soft ground, itself returning the damp
warmth of rising saplings and vivid grasses with the immutable
onset of spring.
But now, all of that that remains beyond another cycle of
the moon. On this evening, a clear blue day is ending, and thebillowing grey clouds coursing overhead from the west bring
the threat of cold, drifting rains and winds that will whip the
trees and scour the mountaintops. An echo in the valley retains
a cold, sullen resonance that seems to ring as if the hillsides
themselves describe a bell in which every creature, branch, and
falling stone is the clapper.
As the moon is slowly obscured, the hairs on your neck
stand on end as an open-throated call rises from somewhere in
a ravine below Noon Peak. A wolf. It is answered by another
call miles to the east, beyond another ridge, somewhere in a
broad marshy bowl which the darkening hillsides enclose
almost completely. There, the stars reflect on the calm open
pools that collect the crashing streams tumbling from the hills,
where brooks and rivers begin to cut their routes downward
into valleys far away.
It is Wheat, now arising from his rest in a hollow near the
bog, hidden from the track, the two rolling horses the humansleft behind, and the body of his friend Shauna. As he returns
the howl from his packmate, who he realizes is Red Scout, he
knows they expect to hear a reply from Shauna. It will not
come.
There is another call. Wheat replies, then pauses, revealing
a gap of time for Shauna to fill, but there is only emptiness. He
howls once more. There is a chorus of calls from the far valley,
and the tale is told.
The men have not returned. But Wheat knows they are
unlikely to leave behind their machines. He has seen humans
abandon a great deal of gear. They leave bags, mostly laden
with their fabric covers and other unusable clutter, and
sometimes food. Hes seen them leave tents and items that
beep and blink in garish colors. But for such a noisy device,
with its ability to transport men so swiftly along the trails, to
stand mute for a full period of daylight, has never been subject
to Wheats witness.
Wheat knows his job. He is to keep watch over this marshy
valley until given further instructions by Lark. Knowing of
Shaunas loss, it is likely that he will be joined on this evening,
probably by one of the Scouts. Wheat watches the stream while
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the moon floats higher, until the clouds drift in to hide its
reflection from the pools. The stillness of the water is riffled by
winds, briefly gusting and driving the forest to a low whisper.
In the waning light, he sees Henry appear on the far side ofthe bog, accompanied by Wilma. Soon, Beatrice also emerges
from the trees several leaps away. The three moose catch
notice of Wheat, now sitting well upwind at the edge of the
field. They nod and dip their muzzles to the mud. Wheat rises,
looking away, then moves toward the human vehicles. They
deserve a more thorough inspection than what he was able to
give them earlier, when his greater priority was to find a den.
The two machines remain where they were left by thefleeing man. One stands in the trail, and two bags hang open
behind its saddle. One held seeds and grains of a sort, and
Wheat can smell evidence of something richer. A few
unopened bags of dried chicken, broccoli, and carrots have
been pulled to the ground by rodents, who were unsuccessful in
liberating the contents. There are also a few stems of
unidentifiable meats the men eat. Lark and many of the pack
love these, though Wheat finds them sour.
Further down the trail, toward where the first man lay on
his belly, is the long firestick. He dropped it part of the way
while running from Henry. Wheat has seen many of them, but
has never had an opportunity to inspect it closely. It is no
longer than a cedar sapling, and as straight. A strap connects to
it in two places, and its coloring is too dark to blend in with the
land even in the twilight.
The second machine still lay on its side partly submerged in
the muddy edges of the bog. Wheat smells something foul here,and suspects it is the same residue causing the color-riddled
film on the water. Somewhere under the murk is the solid metal
firestick, shining in the moonlight and alienating the confused
trout. This is not a place to dip the muzzle. He moves on.
There is a stir in the meadow. Henry and the other moose
lift their heads. It isnt the return of men. Wheat recognizes the
approach of Lark and Little Scout just before they emerge from
the trees behind him. A third trace on the air tells him they areaccompanied by Robert.
Lark stops at the edge of the woods and Wheat goes to him.
This spot is essential, Wheat, he says. We know from
Robert that it is considered equally so by the humans. This is
the closest Lark will come to praise. He looks around the
meadow and sees the two human devices sitting by the bogs
edge. Beyond, he sees Henry, Wilma and Beatrice ambling
back into the trees.
There were two, Wheat tells them. Soon after we
arrived. One was put to end by Henry, and the other has run
that way. Wheat nods in the direction of the town. His
firestick never left his back, but he used a smaller one to finish
Shauna.
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This is unfortunate, Lark says. Shauna carried news
from the western packs, and was our envoy to the east. Now
well have to put that off until we can secure this route.
Where else are these humans setting camp? Wheat asks.Well learn that by the morning, Lark tells him. Red
Scout is down valley along the roadway, watching the blockade
the men have set up. Quick Scout is at the Greeley Ponds
again. Master Scout is heading toward Livermore. Rye and
Claris will patrol the Gap, and Marcella holds the den.
Are they setting camp alone? Wheat asks, perplexed. He
already thinks the plan has too many holes in it for the pack to
manage.
No. The news of Shauna gave us pause, Lark says. If
something happened here, it may be pivotal to their plans.
We kinda think theyre coming back, Robert adds. Lark
gives him a sharp glance.
Wheat is often amused by the fisher. Robert often takes
advantage of his special role with the pack, and Wheat wonders
if someday Larks patience will wear thin. Its agreed in my
view. The humans are going to regroup and put their focus
here, Wheat says. But when? Why didnt they come back
today?
Thats what I am hoping to learn, Says Lark. So I am
heading to their base on the other side of Flat Mountain. With
Robert.
But this bog, if they come back, Wheat begins to protest.Ill need assistance.
Little Scout will remain with you, Lark says. He nods to
Little Scout, who until now has been sitting quietly, monitoring
the valley around them for any movement.
Wheat nods, but mostly by reflex. Lark is giving him an
extra set of paws, but not a shred of experience in maintaining
a picket in such a wide valley. And he knows there will be no
short effort expended in correction of the cubs errant
frolicking.
Lark notes this hesitation. Is this acceptable? he asks.
Very well, Wheat answers. I have a den. There is food,
by the machines.
I have no doubt youll excel, he says. This spot will be
reinforced if need be.
Thanks, Lark.
He turns to Robert. Weve got to move along. Remember,
stick by the trail. I will range to the west of the ridge, and well
report above their base before the moon sets.
Sure thing, big guy, Robert says. Little Scout laughs,
earning a sharp ear flick from Lark.
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Listen to Wheat, Lark says. He and Robert both turn and
head down valley, toward the village.
Wheat sits sullenly watching them go.
This doesnt look all that bad, Little Scout says. Did youbump into Old Henry?
He never said words about her, Wheat answers. Just
how unfortunate it is that he had to change plans.
Little Scout looks at him questioningly.
Shauna died to protect this valley, and this pack. And he
just brushed her aside.
Little Scout bows his head at this. He realizes Wheat is
right. Im really sorry about Shauna. My dad is, too. Trust
me.
Wheat looks at him, then moves off toward the machines.
Lets eat. They have that jerky stuff you like.
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Chapter 10: A Shot In The Dark
I saw nobody back that way, Robert reports when Lark
meets him at the edge of the woods near the human base. I
followed their tracks the whole way through Lost Pass.
Nothing.
Likewise, Lark replies. But I didnt expect to see
anyone up on Flat Mountain. What do you make of this place?
The human base is a depot of metal buildings housing the
machines they use to clear roads of snow and build new asphalt
meadows. It is surrounded by a steel wire fence made of links
and topped by a spiral of powerfully sharp metal wire. Devil
wire, they learned to call it. Lark knows the razor-like metal
well from a previous foray, when he and some bobcats were
practicing their hide-and-pounce tactics near here. He found a
stretch of the devil wire discarded in the woods, and still has
the scars on his hind leg from struggling with it.
Theyve been standing there the whole time, Robert says,
nodding to the two humans standing inside the fence. Neither
of them were the ones he saw riding off toward the bog the
previous morning.
Ive seen their lights from the ridge. More humans are
coming up the valley into the town, but nobody is being
allowed out, Lark says. This is where theyre running it all.
Below the depot is a network of human byways and
dwellings extending partway up the hillside. Its where the
most of the stayovers those who live in the valley through
the winters spend their time. They seem to spend much of it
sitting in their nearly identical buildings, drinking and staring
at blinking panels and beeping devices.
Lark continues, Their dens below here are dark tonight. I
think someone has shut off their machines.
Didnt Shauna say she saw their lines down? Robert asks.
She did. These men have disabled the wires we see along
their route forty-nine, Lark responds. Yet they are able to
bring their own light.
The corral the two men are standing in also hold several
metal structures, two more of their rolling horses, and several
of their other machines. At the far end of the lot is the spinning
bird, sitting silently, waiting to be taken to the sky to rain metal
and fire against the valleys residents. Its tasks have mainly
been applied to containing the humans within the village, but
Lark knows it can be pressed into use against his kin just as
readily.
The entire lot is dark, except for lights of blazing white thetwo men bear on their heads, and a strip of yellow beaming
under the metal door into the largest building. The men have
been talking, barely audibly, for as long as Robert has watched
them.
We should move in closer, Robert says. See if we can
tell what theyre saying.
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Lark shakes his head. We dont want to be seen skulking
about, he says. Better they know nothing of our interest
here.
Cmon, just for a few minutes. Let me go in and listen to-
Robert is interrupted by the arrival of another vehicle. The
men open the gate and it enters the yard to stop by the building.
Two more men step out and take a large box, one of the
unnatural bins they use. Not wood, not metal, but something
else. Normally they use a cover to keep out the weather, but
this has none.
What are they carrying? Robert asks, as the men below
start jabbering to each other.
Lark sees a pile of devices in the bin. It looks like a cache
of the blinking things theyre always clutching in their hands.
The men are pointing and sweeping their arms across the
valley below while they yammer on. They laugh about
something.
They talk on those things, Robert says. Are they trying
to keep everyone from using them?
Theyve been letting other humans in but not out. That
must be why theyre blocking the passes, Lark says.
I dont get it, Boss, Robert says.
They want to keep the humans outside the village from
knowing whats happening here.
At that instant, a loud bang is heard from the darkened
village below. Lark and Robert duck back into the trees and
watch the men turn to look down valley. There is a chattering
voice from the devices on their belts, and two of them hop into
the truck and head down the road.
I should follow, says Lark. He turns to see that Robert is
eyeing him expectantly. Sorry, someone needs to stay here
and watch the base.
You sure? Theres nothing happening here, Robert says.
But something will, and when it does, we need to know
the pattern. Lark doesnt need to say anything more. His gaze
locks with Robert and the fisher crouches back. Lark is right.
One thing about humans the valley dwellers know, is that if
you watch long enough, their patterns will be entirely
predictable. Roberts observations could be essential to
understanding what is going on.
Lark heads off through the woods along the roadway, three
more men emerge from the building and get into a truck. The
spinning bird stays at rest, for now.
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Chapter 11: The Will Of Men
This is boring. We should go raid the campground or
something, Little Scout says excitedly. Like normal times.
Wheat bristles at the shoulders hearing this. He swallowsthe shard of beef jerky in his maw. You know this isnt
normal times, kid.
Scout lowers his head. But my dad would want us to carry
on without these humans changing our ways.
Your dad, Wheat growls, would want you to do exactly
as he demanded. Me, too.
You mean set up camp and wait? Were doing that.
Yes, we are. And well do more of it before the moon
sets, says Wheat.
Little Scout noses into the bag of trail mix the humans
lugged all the way up into the marsh. He wrinkles at the smell
and turns away. Why havent those men come back for their
rolling horses? he asks Wheat.
They will. As soon as they figure out what to do with us,Wheat says. Hes familiar with the way humans manage
themselves in the forest. Theyre impulsive and stupid. Ive
seen many a man walk along their trails, whistling and
clomping along with thick, heavy covers on their paws. They
wake up every woods dweller within a days browse.
And its true, in the woods men are like a circus act rolling
into town, creasing the silence as marching bands and parades,
with balloons flying overhead and clowns doing their
somersaults. Wheat would have no idea what a circus is, but it
would fit his notions of mankinds wilderness behavior
perfectly.
Wheat continues, There is little danger in their
foolishness, but when man takes his time, as these humans
seem to be doing, theyre much more of a menace. When they
concentrate their effort, they can outwit even us. Only death is
the outcome.
Do you mean like last summer? Little Scout asks.
Wheat is quiet, and turns away.
Well, Wheat? Scout asks again. Is it going to happen
again?
Almost sure of that. Weve done too much already,
Wheat says. The humans seem to be following other plans yet,
but they know what happened here, and theyll react soon
enough. Larks stirring up our packs end.
Thats my father, Little Scout snaps. His young belly is
incapable of delivering the depth necessary for a true growl,
and Wheat only laughs.
Yes, he is, Wheat replies, and hes made a mistake
going into the village. Down there a fisher, a fox, even a bear is
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a regular thing. But when those men see your father. A wolf.
At their toes. Theyll turn that bird of theirs from terrorizing
their own like, into another campaign on us. Its happened
many times before, including last year.
There is a shot heard far off in the valley, from the
direction of the town. Wheat and Little Scout recognize the
sound. Its a firestick for certain. He looks up from the
manmade machines theyve been inspecting. Wheat gazes
back, eyes glowing in the dim moonlight.
You see, if Larks gone and gotten noticed, its a fair
prediction the humans will gather against the pack. That may
have been their next volley.
Scout sniffs the crisp breeze. Hes learned to recognize a
storms approach. My father always told me there was no
rhyme to their actions. Theyll do what they do and take what
theyll take, and they have no purpose.
Of course theres purpose, when their eyes lose that dull
glaze. They can turn in an instant. Look into a mans eye, and
you can see fear, you can see rage, and then you see purpose.
Ive seen it when I was He stops, his voice trailing.
When you were what? Scout asks.
Shhh, Wheat growls in a low whisper. Did you hear
that?
The noise Wheat heard was indiscernible to human ears,
but he caught it immediately through the breeze in the branches
and the riffling pond. Voices, like a low mumble, from deep in
the notch leading to Drakes Brook. He hears it again, and this
time Little Scout notices it, too.
Cmon! Wheat says, and darts into the trees back to his
den. He doesnt wait for Scout to follow, knowing the young
wolf is sharp enough to need no further prompting. Little Scout
darts through the brush right behind him.
From the den, perched in the lee of a cliff on the shoulder
of Flat Mountain, they can see the expanse of the boggy
meadow below. They watch as the white beams of headlampsemerge from the trees and begin to play across the grasses, and
finally set a course toward the machines.
There is something else. With the men, the wolves sense
another creature. Like their own kin, but tamed by eons of
alignment with men. A dog. This newcomer is far less
menacing, but in ways, presents a new danger.
Little Scout and Wheat stiffen when they catch the scent.
The hairs on their shoulders stand. All of their senses are
energized.
You see? Wheat says.
See what? Little Scout wonders.
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Robert went through Lost Pass. Your father went over the
mountain. But the men came around the mountain on its sunset
side. And they came at night.
And they have a dog.
Yes.
Scout considers the unexpected cunning of all this. They
watch as the beams of light reach the machines and stop. The
beams spray light around the edge of the pond as the men lift
one of the machines from the muck and then start the other
one. Its high-pitched growl echoes across the valley. The dog
barks. Every woods creature is surely awakened.
But that would mean these humans know our patterns.
Little Scout says with a shudder.
Wheat nods. Then you understand. It is a fearsome thing,
the will of men. What theyve just done here thats purpose.
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Chapter 12: Fugitives
The village is quieter than Lark can remember. None of the
human vehicles meander along the roads, swerving with the
intemperance of their drivers, as they normally do at this hour.
At the close of the typical human day of sliding around their
cleared mountain slopes, they take to revelry in their gathering
dens. This ritual closes with a lot of sliding around on the
highways instead.
On this night, there has been no revelry. Lark keeps as
close to the road as he can, without being spotted by the men.
He knows of several trails that lead to crossings, but every one
of them means a compromise. It adds a measure of time tothread his way through the undergrowth of the darkened wood,
but staying out of sight is imperative.
Lark passes behind houses, each of them dark, showing no
sign of occupation. Some are open to the night, their doors torn
or removed completely. Vehicles stand empty along roadsides
and in driveways. Some of them have caromed deep into the
gullies away from the hardtop. These sit devastated with scars
given by the boulders and trees on their paths. One even
remains running, its lights fading to a dull yellow.
To Lark, these open dwellings and conveyances invite
larceny, or at the very least exploration. The pack could feast
for a week on the entrails of a well-stocked coldbox found in
these human dens. But a wolfs sense of irony is keen enough
to understand the ease of an opportunity is equal to its danger.
He leaves the open houses be.
In the center of the village is a large pond, created by man,
alongside one of their largest structures. Lark chooses a
narrow, well-wooded spot to cross the hardtop, and gets as
close as he can to the building. A long bridge, wide enough for
two of Larks pack to cross together, reaches from the far bank
to where he crouches behind manicured junipers and azaleas.
The dark shadows of men move slowly alongside the
structures walls, carrying their firesticks low at their hips.
Voices are heard from the dens inside. Sometimes shouts and
irate tirades, but mostly whispers.
There is a great deal of anguish here. Lark cannot decipher
the human speech, but he can sense it.
A group of men suddenly emerge from the building,
carrying something heavy. The large white cloth they bear
nearly drags along the pebbled path. A deep red bloom collects
and grows around its middle, and Lark does not mistake the
smell. The men struggle to drag the cloth to the edge of the
pond, where they release it. Exactly the object Lark expects to
see rolls into the calm water - a human. A female.
Lark senses something else, and finds his suspicion
confirmed when two dogs exit the building. Huskies. They
immediately sense him, and turn their heads across the pond,
growling. The men holding the tethers lurch forward as they
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pull angrily against their restraints. Suddenly, one breaks free
of his masters grip and drives headlong across the bridge.
Flushed out, Lark bolts from his hiding spot. The men on
the other side are shouting now, and the other dog is set free.
Lark darts along the ponds edge and heads back toward the
road crossing. The dogs reach the end of the bridge and
accelerate through the snow. As Lark dives into the woods
across the highway, they are only seconds behind.
The men come running well back of the huskies. Lark hears
a shot ring from a firestick. There is another bang, then
shouting. No more shots come while Lark runs through the
woods behind the human dwellings.
The dogs are keeping pace, and the men will easily be able
to follow his tracks. Lark knows he must break his pattern. He
sees a shattered entrance into one of the houses, and races
across the clearing into the open doorway.
He is in a dark enclosed space, paneled in the false wood
sheets the humans enjoy building their dens from. Lark jumps
into a cavern where risers climb to the chambers above. This is
an opportunity. He reaches the top of the steps and crashes
forward, tearing open the large silver casing that contains the
humans food.
As he hears the dogs enter the space beneath, he lunges into
the box and collapses the metal racks. Bottles full of every kind
of sticky liquid hit the hard, slick floor and explode across the
room. There is no meat, so Lark lashes at the second door. He
is rewarded when ham, chicken, and steaks tumble out, sliding
to the feet of the two large huskies standing in the doorway.
Lark is larger, but these two are well trained. They growl.
In the open lot below the window, Lark can hear several
humans running toward the house.
He has one advantage. He is untrained. Lark has never been
rewarded with beef cuts for barking on command. These dogs
are not wolves. He can feel their confusion as they drool over
the meats. He raises the fur on his collar and bares his teeth.
The huskies are terrified, but they stand firm. They mimic
Larks display, and rather pathetically, he notes.
Lark lowers his guard and fades back, lowering his head. A
submissive maneuver. The dogs are thoroughly confused, and
as they move toward him, Lark noses the meats. A large roast
rolls toward the dogs.
The quality of their training is top-notch. The huskies
ignore the food and move closer. Lark can hear the men
entering the house, stumbling in the darkness below. He rises
once more and bristles, growling this time with terminal
menace.
The dogs cower. Their choice is clear. Attack and die, or
stand down, and feed.
As they hesitate, Lark turns and bolts for the far end of the
building. He dives through an open window and heads for the
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end of the lane. Beyond this human neighborhood is the head
of a ridge leading to Flat Mountain.
Behind him, he can hear yelling as the men prod their dogs
into action. He can also hear their yelps, as whatever the men
use for prodding are employed. How grateful to not be a dog,
he thinks.
Lark dodges into the snowy woods and heads for the side
of the ridge. He passes an open clearing where the men have
been robbing the woods of their trees. As the wolves of the past
told it, the men once denuded the valley much more completely
than the limited stands they work now. The damaged
streambeds and scoured hillsides still show the marks left bytheir unbound culling of the forests.
Near the head of one of the clearings, Lark passes a small
hut, not a human dwelling, but a small metal structure they
haul around on wheels. He notices something. A sound. He
stops in the open lot near the building. There are smells here
that dont belong. He hears a voice inside the metal box.
A door opens, and a man steps out. He holds a firestick.
Lark can hear another voice from inside, then two, and a small
human head pokes from the doorway. It is one of their cubs. A
female. Her blond hair curls below her shoulders, and Lark can
easily make out the redness in her eyes. She has been
whimpering like a fox kit. The man hastily blocks the door and
kneels to the small creature, whispering.
In the distance, Lark can hear the dogs barking. His tracks
lead right to this place. He knows he can escape if he moves
now, but he stands frozen in the middle of the lot.
The man hears the dogs, and turns away from the building.
Suddenly, he stops and stares firmly at Lark. Their eyes lock.
Wordlessly, the man nudges the cub inside the door, and a
human female looks out through the opening. She follows the
mans gaze to the wolf, and is about to open her mouth wide,
when the man holds up a hand, extending one finger before his
lips. The woman draws the child inside, into the darkness.
These humans have escaped capture, Lark realizes. He
cannot lead the men here. With a slight bow of his neck, heturns and heads back along his track. Behind him, he can feel
the mans gaze following. He hears the dogs drawing closer.
They are on a collision course now.
Lark runs straight back along his track until he can stand to
close the gap no longer, and drops into a ravine leading toward
Lost Pass. The dogs are louder now, and he can sense them as
they pick up the new trail. Lark leaps across the stream and
scrambles up the far bank. The dogs have reached the top of
the ravine, and he hears another shot ring out, but it is not a
firestick. Instead, it sounds like a loud tap.
It rings out again, and something grabs Larks right hind
leg. He rolls over and howls in pain. The grabbing sensation is
accompanied by something else, not pain, but equally
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debilitating. He gathers his feet and runs again, hobbled by the
tug of a wire, much like the devil wire he found himself
entangled in a few years past.
Lark looks back. There is no wire, but he sees the huskies
rising to the trail, mere yards away. He jumps to his feet and
starts hobbling along. The dogs are upon him. This changes the
game.
Lark leaps at the neck of the first dog. The husky ably
dodges away from his snap, and the other dog takes a sharp
bite at Larks hind leg. Lark sweeps his rear claws across the
face of the second husky, and it whines as it rolls into a small
rivulet by the trails shoulder.
The first husky recovers and bravely lunges at Larks neck.
This is a mistake. Lark ducks and lashes his open maw at the
neck of the poor creature. His jaws snap tight, with a power
nearly triple that commanded by the dogs, and his teeth sink
deep into its fur-covered skin. The warm blood gushes from its
rushing veins, but the deal is done. The dogs life is finished
with the snap of its neck.
The second husky climbs to its feet and hobbles toward
Lark. Lark is about to turn and race for the ridgetop, when the
men climb out of the valley and strike him with a stretch of
wires. The sharp metal spikes burrow into his skin, and he feels
them, but their pain is obscured by something much more
devastating.
Larks entire body is stilled as a thread of agony courses
from the wires, filling his body from the tip of his tail to his
eyes. He cant think of a way to identify exactly what it is. It
burns, but is not fire. It freezes him, but is not ice. His muscles
seize, and he shakes, lying and kicking on the ground. He can
see the dog pulled away, its tether in the hands of one of the
men. The man with the wires steps over him. The pain strikes
him once more.
Then he can see nothing else.
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Chapter 13: Gathering Snows
Robert has waited long enough. The dark grey sky over the
Tripyramids has begun to lighten, and the winds have picked
up. The crisp breeze has become a cold, grating gust, a last
gasp of winter. Flakes of snow begin to blow across the open
lot below his thicket in the brush.
Lark left while the moon was still in the sky, but it is long
gone now. The black clouds toward the valleys sunset end
have obscured its passage, but its silver glow no longer strains
to break through the storm.
Robert is nothing if not loyal. Lark commanded him to
hang back and watch, and thats what he will do.
Even when he heard barking in the valley far to his left, he
stayed in his makeshift burrow. When he heard the shots of
firesticks on the mountainside, he remained still. When he
sensed a calm break in the actions of the men, he ambled out of
his hiding place and looked around, but never let the fenced lot
below leave his view.
Its quiet now, and Robert returns to his burrow, where hemust decide whether to strike the vigil. He cannot. Lark told
him to wait, and he will. But there is little doubt that the
barking and shouting he heard had something to do with his
patrol.
It might have been a mistake, Robert knows. The pack is
careful to never let themselves be seen in the village, and
certainly not during daylight. Lark must return soon, or much
of what they have built over many turns of the sun will be
dashed like debris against the banks of the flood.
Robert remembers how it nearly came to pass the previous
summer, when a member of the pack was caught in one of the
mens snares. A devious device. They appeared throughout the
lower valley, anywhere within a half-days walk for a human.
It became obvious what and where they were. They were
always near a trail cut by the men, and always near where men
top related