GoldenEars

by Jane H Wood

  Kegg stared at the boy’s hand and sniffed the air. He wasn’t offering food but he wasn’t threatening him either. Slowly Kegg stepped forward until he was standing in front of Edmund.

  Astonished, a wild wolf pup just inches away from him, Edmund sat there in awe, looking into two clear yellow eyes. He was magnificent and beautiful. Edmund inhaled deeply, attempting to quell his nervousness, before plucking up the courage to carefully wipe away the blood. The pup remained still, eyes alert, watching him, though allowing him to stroke him.

  Several joyous days passed, and play featured largely in their time together. By the fourth day, Edmund could see that the pup had regained a lot of his strength but needed regular exercise and fresh air. Keeping the rope tether attached like a leash, he took the pup outside and walked him around the cabin. They lazed in the sun, reclining on the soft dry grasses, Edmund chatting to him, and Kegg listening with his head tilted on one side. A friendship had formed between them, born out of respect and trust.

  8

  The untimely arrival of the hunters had proved calamitous for Joel and his family. Forced to flee with the stampeding herd as all thoughts of Kegg vanished from their minds, miles sped past, and now, wildly off-course, the family hid among the trees.

  At last the danger had passed and, retracing their steps, they resumed their search. Days later, the little family discovered a trace of human scent, lingering, almost indiscernible amid a cluster of trampled weeds.

  They followed the trail, picking up the faintest scent, as evening advanced when, by chance, they arrived beside a line of trees that fringed a clearing. In the centre stood a small log cabin. A thin stream of smoke drifted from the narrow chimney flue. It was a clear indication that humans occupied the dwelling. Joel sniffed the air; mingling with the smoke was the smell of wolf. Kegg was somewhere in that place.

  ‘How are we going to get Kegg back?’ Mira asked, detecting her son’s scent too.

  Joel was baffled; he had no plan or the faintest idea how to go about it. He wasn’t expecting this; animals he could deal with, but this was beyond him. His only experience of humans was their thirst for blood – their blood.

  His father had warned him before he’d died: ‘Be wary, for they are selfish and cruel and will hunt us to the last. Stay alert, Joel!’ his father had said. ‘They can kill you from a distance with their long sticks that make a noise, and traps that jump out of the ground. Beware of the smooth ground, Joel, and listen to the birds.’

  His wise father was the leader of the pack for many years, before he became too weak to maintain his authority. Later, Joel had challenged him and won. His father had died soon afterwards; he was old and his time had come.

  Joel sat up. He’d just caught another glimpse of a pack of wolves skulking in the trees. They seemed curious, yet wary too. Their close proximity to the human dwelling was deterring their approach. Joel knew his family had wandered into their territory, trespassing on their land. But tomorrow, if all went well, Kegg would be back with them again, then they’d be able to leave their lands.

  ‘It is late. We will watch and wait, see what happens,’ said Joel quietly. His family nestled beside him as they all melted into the growing shadows. ‘Nothing more will happen until tomorrow. Sleep. I will stay on guard,’ he said, insightful of the danger the resident wolves posed to their safety.

  Morning arrived; Joel had stayed awake all night, determined in his vigil. The scent of woodsmoke lingered on the air and the occasional murmur of human voices drifted on the breeze. The cabin door opened briefly, then banged shut as two men strode out, descended the steps and headed purposefully into the forest.

  ‘Clumsy and noisy creatures. You can hear them a mile off,’ snorted Joel, curling his top lip in contempt while surveying the human with a long stick slung casually over his shoulder.

  Tuke and Skeena whimpered. ‘We are hungry, Father.’

  Mira nodded her understanding, for she desired meat too.

  ‘Kegg is all right; I can hear him. He’s in that smaller dwelling,’ she said confidently, her eyes bright in anticipation of being reunited with her son.

  ‘Yes, I can sense that too. Your mother and I will hunt. Skeena, stay here with your brother.’

  ‘But Father, why can’t I come?’

  Joel’s stare silenced her. ‘Tuke is still hurting; keep him company. We will return with meat. Tonight we will free Kegg!’ he growled, although he hadn’t a clue how he was going to accomplish it.

  Skeena took charge as self-appointed guardian of the human dwelling and her brother. Tuke resigned himself to her bossiness because the pain in his hindquarters was disabling his ability to concentrate on anything other than himself.

  Finally, his dad and Bert had set off on their daily hunt. Alone at last, Edmund was planning to get rid of the bony remains he’d stored in the corner of the shed, bundled underneath a redundant oiled cloth. He hadn’t needed to provide an explanation yet, but the disappearance of three hares and two squirrels wouldn’t go unnoticed by his dad or Bert if they asked him to retrieve one for supper. To his shame, he was contemplating lying if he was put on the spot, claiming that weasels had managed to get inside the shed and steal the dead animals, however implausible it might sound.

  Later that day, his plan was to take the jumble of skin and bones and throw them far into the forest. He felt guilty, but he would make amends to his dad, somehow.

  It was late afternoon when a dull rumble rolled across the distant skies. Edmund looked up briefly; another storm was threatening but it was on the horizon. Unconcerned, he continued his sketch. It was a picture of GoldenEars, who was safely tethered inside the shed, fast asleep after the excitement of the day spent together.

  He sat patiently on the top step, waiting for his dad and Bert to return, his drawing pad resting casually on his knees. He was poised there, purposefully in full view in case his dad should suddenly appear unnoticed and march into the shed. It would be impossible to miss the pup. And, well… he dreaded to think what he would do under those circumstances. So he was on the lookout, ready to intercept if they should head in that direction.

  Just then he heard voices, twigs snapping and the crunch of dry vegetation. It was all the warning he needed. Swiftly he closed his drawing pad and placed it beside him.

  ‘Hello Dad, Bert. I see hunting was good again,’ he said brightly, eyeing the dead animals hanging from Bert’s hands.

  ‘Is that a beaver?’ he asked, stepping off the veranda to have a closer look. I hope GoldenEars likes beaver, he thought to himself. ‘Let me put them away, Dad. I know how to hang them now.’

  ‘Okay, son, but leave two of the hares here. We’ll have them tonight.’

  ‘Right, Dad, leave it to me.’

  He hurried towards the shed, struggling with the weight of the beaver, and the hare that wasn’t needed.

  Joel and Mira returned later that afternoon, each carrying a dead muskrat clenched in their jaws. No sooner had the dead animals been released from the adults’ mouths than Skeena and Tuke grabbed one each and began ripping into the limp bodies.

  Tuke looked up, his mouth full of fur and flesh.

  ‘Father!’ he managed to say, his voice urgent with the exciting news. ‘We saw Kegg today, walking calmly around the dwelling.’ He stopped talking and hastily swallowed his chunk of meat. ‘With the human!’ he finished, his eyes bright and expectant, wondering what his father would make of his announcement.

  To his dismay, his father didn’t comment, as though the discovery was unimportant and insignificant. But that wasn’t the case in Joel’s mind. He was grateful and relieved to learn that Kegg was alive, but he was puzzled too. He failed to understand why Kegg hadn’t tried to escape the human when the opportunity had presented itself.

  Tuke moved away to finish his meal, noticing his father gazing at the human dwelling, his eyes narrowed in cont
emplation.

  ‘It will be dark soon,’ remarked Joel, scanning the skies. ‘We will stay among the trees out of sight but close enough to the cabin to observe, and if something happens to our advantage we’ll launch a rescue.’

  Tuke finished his meal and lay down heavily. His hindquarters still felt sore and he was trying his best not to make a fuss. Relieved to just lie still and rest his legs, this suited him fine.

  A breeze blew against his nose and he sniffed the air, aroused, for food was on the wind, but not the fresh kill his parents had brought. He crouched low and followed the scent to the other side of the clearing, and there, strewn over the ground, were the remains of several small animals, just skin and bones.

  He licked one of the bony heads and a familiar scent filled his nostrils. Kegg’s scent was all over the carcass.

  ‘Father, come quickly,’ he called as quietly as he could, trying to contain his excitement.

  His family skirted the clearing and arrived at his side. Joel sniffed the scraps of the hares and stood pondering what it meant; it went against everything he’d been told about humans. He couldn’t believe it, but Kegg was being fed. Someone was looking after him.

  Edmund sat at the table, waiting for his dad to finish serving up the evening meal. Bert sat opposite, watching him closely.

  ‘What have you been up to today, Ed?’

  Caught unexpectedly on the hop, with no prepared answer, Edmund decided to choke himself on a mouthful of water he’d gulped too quickly. Sam eyed his son with concern.

  ‘Here, boy, get your teeth into this lot,’ he said, putting a plate of food in front of him and giving him a firm pat on the back for good measure.

  ‘Thanks, Dad,’ he managed to say, then noticed Bert was still waiting for an answer.

  Sam watched his son with growing suspicion. ‘Are you feeling all right? You look a little flushed. Has anything happened?’ he asked, while placing their own plates of food on the table.

  He sat down beside his friend, noticing his son shovel an overly large forkful of mash into his mouth. Both men glanced at each other, then leaned forward on their elbows, expectantly. Edmund endured another bout of coughing, swallowing nervously before clearing his throat.

  ‘Um… err…’ he began, ‘I tidied my room, then rearranged the supplies inside the shed. Then I suppose I just sat on the step and looked at the forest,’ he said, realising how dumb that sounded; but judging by their expressions, they appeared satisfied with his lame excuse.

  Being known as a dreamer had its advantages, and he felt sure he’d got away with his deception, managing to keep his voice flat and casual. Sam shrugged at Bert, then both men got on with their meal.

  A sudden gust of wind rattled the roof, dislodging a loose tile. It clattered noisily on to the roof of the wooden veranda before dropping to the ground with a brittle thud. The sound had Edmund turning quickly in his seat, fearfully staring through the window at the shed beyond. He wanted to check that it was all right because earlier he’d noticed that the door hinges were a bit rusty and that one of the screws was missing.

  The storm clouds had darkened the skies prematurely tonight, he noticed. Then the rain began, light at first then growing heavier, until it was thudding against the window panes. A moment later a gust of wind blew down the chimney flue, making a mournful whistling sound. The temperature dropped suddenly, making Edmund shiver. A deep rumble of thunder droned across the skies, and the roof gave an ominous rattle. A severe storm was advancing.

  Edmund was growing increasingly worried with each passing minute. He wanted to keep surveillance on the shed without drawing attention to himself.

  His dad struck a match and lit the candle set in the middle of the table, the little glow casting an illusion of warmth inside the cabin.

  ‘It’s only a storm, Ed. Nothing to worry about. We’re safe here,’ he said confidently.

  Edmund nodded uncertainly, thinking of GoldenEars. He would undoubtedly be frightened, and maybe he’d howl and give the game away.

  Bert glanced wistfully at his friend, registering how cleverly Edmund had managed to evade their questions earlier and that he couldn’t keep his eyes off the shed.

  ‘We think you should come with us tomorrow, Ed, get out of the cabin. You’re not seeing the forest stuck in here. Besides, we found metal traps hidden on the forest floor. They are dangerous. Nothing like the rope snares we use. I think you need to see them and know how to avoid stepping into one,’ said Sam forcefully.

  Edmund was only half listening to what his dad was saying because he was busy thinking about how he was going to sneak outside and feed GoldenEars. Then the word “dangerous” penetrated his mind, and he spun to look at his dad.

  ‘What’s dangerous? I know there are wolves and bears out there.’

  His dad let out an audible sigh of frustration.

  ‘Trappers, Ed! Setting metal traps all over the forest! That’s what you should be angry about, not the thin bit of rope we use in our snares!’ his dad shouted angrily.

  Sam rose from his chair and strode towards the kitchen area with his empty plate, thrusting it nosily into the sink, the knife and fork clattering against the plate. Without further comment he began stacking the saucepans and plates ready to wash up.

  The atmosphere instantly changed and renewed tension filled the cabin. Edmund swallowed, aware he’d said the wrong thing again; whatever came out of his mouth lately had a way of annoying his dad.

  He chewed his lip nervously and hurried into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

  As expected, a low murmur of voices drifted from the living room. Edmund knew they were talking about him. He didn’t care; let them say what they wanted. His only concern was for GoldenEars. He shrugged dismissively and turned away from the door.

  Retrieving his drawing pad and coloured pencils from under his bed, he made himself comfortable on the thin mattress and leaned back against the wall. Choosing a bright yellow pencil, he began colouring in the unusual golden hairs on the tips of the young wolf’s ears.

  Another clap of thunder made him jump. It was loud and threatening, overhead this time. Edmund darted over to the window and stared out at the beating rain. The trees were swaying in the gale-force winds and dark clouds covered the sky.

  He listened. GoldenEars was being good, but he must be frightened. He decided he would sneak out as soon as he could.

  Suddenly someone was hammering on the door of the cabin. The door was opened and a gust of cold air rushed through the little building, rattling his bedroom door. Several pairs of feet banged on the floor as people entered. The door was slammed shut against the weather.

  Edmund stood by his bedroom door and opened it a crack, putting an eye to the opening. It was just enough to see what was going on, and he listened to what was being said.

  ‘Hi folks,’ came a deep voice. ‘Sorry to disturb you. Morgan told us the cabin was being rented again this summer. I’m Sergeant Bob Sykes from the local police department in Bitterbougher Creek, and these men are my constables, John Brennan and Tim Hamilton.’

  The men shook hands and Edmund heard his dad introduce themselves then offer the men a drink. They accepted, and chairs scraped the wooden floor as everybody seated themselves around the table. The sergeant continued speaking, his voice slow but inquisitive.

  ‘This is a rather isolated spot. Where’re you folks from?’ he asked, taking a mouthful of coffee.

  ‘We’re from Edmonton, and we like the peaceful isolation of this place,’ answered Sam.

  ‘That’s a pretty long way south of here. How long are you planning on staying?’ asked Bob, spooning more sugar into his mug.

  ‘We will be here until the end of August. This is a great place to unwind and get back to nature,’ answered Sam, getting slightly irritated by the questions.

  The sergeant nodded and shrugg
ed his shoulders.

  ‘There’s a large group of loggers working a few miles south of here. I don’t know if you are aware of them?’ There was a long pause. ‘Well, there was a killing in the camp a few days ago. By all accounts the men think a bear is responsible. The foreman was killed in his sleep and most of his body was eaten there on the spot… Renegade bears; once they get a taste of human flesh they seldom stop. We are hunting the animal, and I wanted to warn you all to be on the lookout for the beast. It’s dangerous, and we intend to kill it!’ said Bob with a smirk, picking up his mug and swallowing another mouthful of coffee.

  Edmund had heard enough and closed his door quietly, feeling unnerved by the policeman.

  The men stayed a few more minutes then left. Sam tapped lightly on his bedroom door.

  ‘Did you hear any of that, Ed?’ he called, his head tilted towards the door, listening. But there was no reply from inside the room. ‘Edmund!’ shouted Sam, getting annoyed. ‘Answer me! There’s a killer bear somewhere around here and…’ He pushed open the door and stopped speaking as his eyes rested on the empty room, his son gone and the window slightly open.

  In fear for his friend’s safety, Edmund had climbed through the window, landing on the wet grass outside. He’d pushed the window shut, instantly feeling the full force of the wind buffeting his body. The storm was deafening, filling his ears. The trees were black and menacing against the night sky. Their branches swayed violently, creaking and groaning under the pressure exerted on them.

  The wind was so strong it took his breath away as he battled towards the shed. Rain stung his eyes and his hair lashed wildly around his head. The door was suddenly in front of him and he charged inside, banging it shut against the storm.

  It was miserable inside the shed, only a fraction better than being outside. A constant whistling revolved around the little interior as the wind forced its way through the splits and gaps in the walls’ wooden panelling. Edmund flicked on his small flashlight and spotted the pup huddled in the corner, trembling. The beam of light reflected in the pup’s frightened eyes, staring at him earnestly.