GoldenEars

by Jane H Wood

  He turned back to look at the solitary pup, wondering what was wrong with it, when his ankle began throbbing again, reminding him of his rash decision to just dive into the river on impulse.

  A surge of self-reproach gnawed at him, forcing him to sit and assess his injury. He carefully removed his boot, then peeled his wet sock away before examining his ankle. It had taken on a red, slightly swollen appearance, but strangely it wasn’t as puffy as this morning, despite the long walk he’d made.

  A chill wind whipped across his face, penetrating his wet clothes, and he shivered. A fire was what he needed. Firstly, he set about squeezing the water out of his socks, then left them to dry on the nearby rocks before replacing his boots and tying them loosely.

  Picking up his makeshift crutch, he hobbled back into the forest in search of some kindling and moss. The ground was dry now and he was sure it wouldn’t take him too long to find what he needed, although he’d never attempted to make a fire outdoors in his life.

  Ten minutes later he hobbled back into his sheltered spot, dropping the armful of twigs and moss onto the ground. Sitting, he leaned against the rocks, puffing from the exertion and the discomfort in his leg. The forest was behind him, and snug in his little nook he was hidden from view.

  He began stacking the twigs in a rough pyramid shape, encircling the moss. He needed a spark to get it going. Flints would work, he told himself, discovering two shiny grey stones lying nearby. Picking them up, he commenced the frustrating task of lighting the fire.

  Joel and Mira had taken the pups hunting, leaving the boy banging his stones together. Night was descending and a pearly moon rose in the sky. Automatically, Edmund’s mind drifted into an artistic mode, visualising how the night sky might look on canvas, with a background of pale blue mountains forming a hazy line on the horizon.

  In the distance a pack of wolves started their evening serenade, each voice echoing as an eerie wailing filled the air. He shuddered, his mind returning to his present predicament. The fire was burning steadily now and he threw on more twigs to keep the flames high. He’d found a flat stone at the water’s edge earlier and decided now was a good time to drop it into the centre of the fire.

  He watched the flames lick around the sides, drying and heating the stone. Taking his penknife he plunged the blade into the fish’s belly, making a clean cut all the way to the tail, and began the distasteful task of scraping out its slimy intestines. The fire blazed and crackled, and guessing the time was right he draped the fish over the stone. Parts of the fish were burning in the flames but most of it would be fine.

  He was pleased with himself and wondered what his dad would say if he could see him now. But he was alone, sitting in the middle of the forest surrounded by wild animals, cooking a fish while wearing only his underpants and holding up his clothes to dry.

  The smell of the fish filled his nostrils; it would soon be ready. Using his penknife he lifted a piece of flesh off the backbone and tentatively ate some.

  ‘Mmm, that’s good,’ he said out loud, helping himself to more, and over the next few minutes he picked the bones clean.

  The only bits he didn’t eat were the head and tail; they were burnt anyway. He was just about to throw the remains into the river when the thought struck him that perhaps GoldenEars might like them. He would save them.

  A pair of pale eyes were watching him from the opposite bank. The animal sniffed the air; it could smell the cooked fish, and it licked its mouth.

  Silently, Joel and his family returned to the riverside. It was on Kegg’s insistence, because he was worried about the boy. They had made a kill and eaten most of it at the kill site. Joel stood holding a leg of a young elk in his jaws. He dropped the hind leg on the ground, then glanced across at the boy. He could sense danger in the air, for a familiar scent was on the breeze.

  A few minutes later a wolf came into view on the opposite bank.

  Joel flicked his ears in agitation, exposing his teeth and snarling. He was alert and ready for an attack. Mira moved to her mate’s shoulder, sensing his hostility at the sudden appearance of the wolf. She glanced at her youngsters nervously and released a high-pitched yelp of warning. The pups obeyed her immediately, turning to scamper into the cover of the nearby bushes. The tension heightened as the lone wolf stepped forward, his pale eyes reflecting in the moonlight, surveying them all.

  ‘I have journeyed long to find you, Joel. I escaped Gower’s insane leadership and I have news. May I join you?’

  A few rocks protruded above the water, spaced at intervals across the width of the river, though close enough to traverse.

  ‘Stay here!’ Joel commanded, glancing at his mate.

  With agility he leapt lightly from rock to rock and faced the wolf on the opposite riverbank.

  Mira edged backwards, recognising the wolf, and her fur bristled in annoyance. She was amazed that Joel hadn’t killed him on sight. She trusted her mate but felt bewildered that the wolf was now being allowed to enter their camp.

  The three adults stood high on a mound of rocks, deep in conversation.

  It was crystal clear to Edmund that these wolves knew each other because GoldenEars’ father had immediately adopted a dominant pose, with head held high and tail erect. Kegg ran from his hiding place and darted over to Edmund, who quickly scooped him up and held him close, protectively, while he continued to observe the body language of the adult wolves.

  Joel spoke first, his voice a deep growl.

  ‘You are a traitor, Borrin! Why have you come here?’ He was struggling to remain in control, restraining the urge to rip out the intruder’s throat, the hate emanating from his eyes.

  Borrin licked his lips. His father had always intimidated him and he knew there was no love lost between them. He gave a slight bow.

  ‘I… I am deeply sorry for my actions Fa, Father.’ He stopped and glared at Joel.

  A snarl played on Joel’s lips while he waited for Borrin to continue.

  ‘Um… Gower has gone mad. When you were driven out… he killed Frez and attacked Brack, Lantern and Mace. They were injured but not killed. Everyone is scared. Dupeena recovered from her injuries and he took her for his mate. She is as ruthless as he is… I was so frightened; that’s why I sided with him. You do believe me… I hope. I had no choice… Please, please, I am alone now. Can I join you?’ he stuttered, scraping at the ground with a paw. He lifted his eyes, and a sly glance drifted to the pups, then he faced Joel again.

  ‘There was talk of them coming this way. Gower still believes the pups with the golden hairs should die, so I thought I’d better warn you.’ Borrin stopped talking and stared longingly at the meat lying on the ground, inadvertently licking his mouth.

  Joel growled a warning and the black wolf took a step backwards.

  He could never forgive his son. He was a snivelling disappointment. It was hard to imagine he could have produced such an offspring, so cowardly and weak. Any other wolf who had betrayed him like that would be dead in an instant.

  Ever since that day when his beloved mate Sepina was killed by the hunters as she tried to protect her son, their relationship had been soured. Maybe he had been wrong to blame Borrin for her death, but he couldn’t help his feelings. A bitter seed had crept inside his heart that day and had been allowed to fester and grow, distorting his ability to think rationally about the circumstances surrounding that dreadful day.

  ‘I will never take you back, Borrin. Go be the treacherous coward you are. Find some other pack to take you in, for I want nothing more to do with you. And Gower, if I see him again… will die!’

  Borrin bowed slightly. It was the outcome he’d expected, and he glanced at the meat again before negotiating the rocks back across the river. One thing he had noticed while he stood talking to his father was that only one pup with the deformed ears was present. Perhaps the other is dead, he thought, and sniggered. H
e was secretly pleased that his father had suffered the death of one of his offspring. He paused and glanced back at the small family, feeling a pang of jealousy sting his heart. It was obvious his father cared deeply for his young, though that feeling had been denied him when he was a pup.

  Mira had watched Joel talking to the wolf. A loner and an outcast like they all were. Although the wolf belonged to their old pack, Borrin had always kept himself aloof. He was the omega and was often picked upon by the other members. Joel had observed but rarely intervened in pack squabbles.

  Joel looked at Mira, knowing they had a lot to discuss.

  ‘We will keep Borrin at a distance and see what he does. Watch him; I don’t trust him an inch. Find out what he wants and we’ll know soon enough if he’s telling the truth. It could all be lies,’ announced Joel as the wolf disappeared into the forest.

  ‘Did you see him looking at Kegg?’ asked Mira, worried.

  Joel had seen every sly look and was aware that Borrin had noticed Glyth was missing.

  Since the lone wolf departed, the tension had eased, and Edmund went back to drying his clothes. He kept a watchful eye on the two adult wolves, still feeling nervous being so close to them, but having GoldenEars near him seemed to guarantee his safety.

  The other wolf pack began howling again but closer this time. Edmund listened intently, trying to count the individual voices. The hairs prickled on the back of his neck at the realisation that at least eight wolves were out there.

  The alpha pair heard them too, knowing they were the intruders here. And with their own pups in tow, it would make passage through their territory slow, leaving them exposed and vulnerable.

  Edmund was beginning to understand what was going on. He knew wolves had their own territory, and they would defend it from outsiders who might want to take it from them, probably even kill to keep it.

  His shirt and trousers were dry enough so he stood up to put them on. He wandered along the riverbank, noticing the rocky boulders and formations of smaller rocks cast into the river’s shallows. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but he had an uncomfortable feeling something was going to happen, and he needed a backup plan.

  After a section of open riverbank, an interesting rock formation came into view. It stood close to the river, blocking the view of the forest, and it had a wide crack at ground level, narrowing as it neared the top.

  He peered inside; it was dark, appearing to be no more than a foot wide at its base. Removing the flashlight from his trouser pocket he flicked it on and squeezed inside.

  Standing there, he found himself in a serviceable space; the only problem was that it narrowed at head height. He crouched low, avoiding the jagged rocks just inches above his head. He roamed the beam over the space, noting that it widened, creating a cavity roughly two feet wide and stretching several feet further into the rock. Kneeling, he turned his attention to the dusty ground where beside his feet lay an assortment of manageable-sized rocks. He would be able to roll them into position and block the entrance if the need arose. With only one way in, he could defend it.

  Pleased with his discovery he scrambled out and returned to his campsite. In his absence the fire had dwindled low, but with a bit of encouragement from his stack of twigs the flames reignited. Kegg bounded over to him, and Edmund stroked him fondly as they settled down together in front of the comforting glow of the flames.

  He tried to get some sleep but his mind kept drifting to his dad. Perhaps he was worried about him and was out looking for him. Or maybe he and Bert had gone home. His lies and deceptions had been the last straw, for in those brief seconds before the shed roof fell in his dad had seen everything. The look in his eyes was something he’d never forget.

  Why was he so selfish?

  ‘Dad, Mom, I’m sorry,’ he mumbled.

  With a self-pitying sigh he sat there feeling utterly wretched. Kegg looked up at him and whimpered, sensing his mood.

  ‘I’m all right, boy,’ he said, stroking him fondly.

  Kegg lowered his head, and they both gazed into the flickering flames. The warmth was relaxing Edmund, and finally he drifted off to sleep.

  Mira and Joel had talked at length discussing Borrin and his motives for following them eastwards. It was decided that they would move from this area soon, hoping that they had misinterpreted the look on Borrin’s face. But as a precaution Joel warned his mate to keep Kegg under close attention.

  ‘Stay here with the pups,’ said Joel. ‘We need to know how many individuals there are in that pack. They could be trouble, or perhaps they will allow us to pass through their territory unharmed. I’ll see what their leader is like and decide whether to speak to him. Be wary, Mira, I’ll return by dawn.’

  He left his mate settled among the bushes a short distance away from the boy. She watched from her hiding place, perplexed by the interaction between Kegg and the boy. She didn’t understand the friendship between them. Then quite suddenly a strange feeling came over her as the painful reality hit her – she was jealous. The boy had taken her son.

  11

  With stealth, Joel crept through the undergrowth. Ahead, he could hear the pack; he was close now. Picking his steps so he didn’t make a sound, he weaved between the twigs of a prickly bush and lay down, his dark fur instantly blending in to the shadows, his outline broken by the foliage and barbed stems surrounding him.

  He peered through the tangle of stems, discovering a clearing bathed in moonlight, where in the centre the pack of wolves appeared to be in a feeding frenzy. He relaxed slightly, conscious that when a hunt had been successful the need to feed became all-consuming and attentions were fixed on their meal. While he watched them, oblivious to his presence just yards away, he counted thirteen strong adults including a male standing a short distance away, whom he assumed was their leader. On the ground, he spied a dead moose, a sizeable prey for any wolf pack to tackle and bring down. They were formidable indeed, he concluded.

  His attention drifted to the dead animal, and he licked his lips, hoping perhaps a little would be left over. The carcass was lost from his view as bodies encircled it, continuing to feed, the sound of jaws crushing bone, flesh being torn, then gulped down. They were confident out in the open; nothing could harm them.

  A female let out a brief, high-pitched yelp, clearly audible above the noise of the feeding pack. Joel noticed four pups emerging from the shadows, confident and eager to join in the feast. They appeared to be about the same age as his own pups, he thought.

  A slight rustling drew his attention, barely feet from where he crouched, and to his surprise a wolf crept cautiously in to the clearing, its tail held low, adopting a submissive posture. Within five yards of the pack, the wolf dropped on to its back, exposing its soft underbelly.

  It was Borrin!

  Joel was amazed to see him, then anger and suspicion rose inside him. He waited to see what would happen.

  The wolves stopped feeding and swiftly turned on the intruder. Borrin yelped in pain but didn’t fight back, instead calling out to their leader.

  ‘Stop, please! I am alone and an outcast. I have no home. I can hunt, help you. May I speak… oh, great leader?’ he squealed, maintaining his submissive pose.

  The alpha male made a low growl and the pack stood aside so he could pass.

  ‘Who are you to dare to enter our territory?’

  Borrin rolled onto his feet, keeping his tail low between his legs, while his head remained bowed in respect.

  ‘I am Borrin from the western wilderness. I have news that will affect all wolves in this land. You must hear what I have to say,’ he said dramatically, and smiled to himself, knowing he had their attention.

  ‘I am Thorn, alpha male and leader here. You will speak and tell me what you mean by that.’

  The big male stepped in front of Borrin, staring down at the sly face and thin scruffy body belo
nging to this impertinent wolf. Thorn snorted and curled his lips in distaste.

  ‘Well?’ he growled, growing impatient.

  Borrin shivered uneasily, for Thorn stood tall and muscular in front of him. The pack sensed their leader was growing annoyed and moved closer. Borrin lifted his head and glanced at the alpha wolf before he spoke.

  ‘I have come to warn you of the danger you all face, for two pups were born this spring, both deformed with drooping ears and yellow hairs on their tips. We knew it was a bad omen, because since their birth the mountains have grown uneasy and all the herds have left our lands, travelling eastward, leaving us hungry. Our leader defended his family, so we fought, and they were banished. My pack stumbled on, hungry and leaderless, until we all separated. I tracked the family to your lands. They are here, for I have seen them. Evil lies within these deformed creatures… They must be killed or the same fate awaits your pack when the herds move away.’ He paused and looked up.

  ‘The herds have always wandered,’ growled Thorn. ‘It’s in their nature to graze, but to migrate at this time of year is strange, I grant you.’

  ‘I remember some tales!’ interrupted the alpha female. Thorn turned to stare at her. She bowed respectfully.

  ‘If I may continue?’ she asked hesitantly.

  Thorn inclined his head in consent. The female spoke, her voice low in awe.

  ‘The tales concerning wolf lore bind us all. Our ancestors forewarned of a wolf born with yellow hairs; his coming will change our lives. But the stories are shrouded in mystery; no one knows for sure for they are vague in their meaning.’ She stopped and her eyes lingered on her young.

  Thorn thought for a moment.

  ‘Brindle speaks true for I have heard of such tales, but I can’t recall from whom, or if indeed they are real.’