The Strength of the Wolf is the Pack

by Scott Peterson

  The Jungle’s usual multicolored hide and vibrant frock turned yellow, then brown and finally black. Along the mighty river, the waters ran to a trickle as all around blossoms shut and withered, the many-petaled eyes of the Jungle closing for a season’s sleep, most never to awaken.

  Steam rose from the river, the water receded completely, and the breath of the Jungle became stale. The song of the carrion bugs grew louder as the music died in the throats of the birds, who no longer had the voice to croon. Tongues dried and the animals who visited the basin found it diminished to a thin shallow pond.

  And standing in the center of the basin was something most had never seen in their lifetimes: the Peace Rock—a long lean ridge of blue stone revealed by the receding waters. For the animals, it was a sign.

  At the shore of the basin, the porcupine Ikki was the first to see the Peace Rock, though he was too preoccupied with his property to notice right away.

  The porcupine hobbled along, the striped black-and-white quills along his back twinkling in the light as he meticulously attended to the collection of odds and ends the dry season had uncovered as the water had pulled back and away. One by one, Ikki listed each object as he came to it.

  “My pebble. My leaf,” said Ikki, his pink nose twitching intensely. “No one touches, no one touches. My rock. Two rocks. Three rocks…”

  Ikki followed the trail of rocks, counting each, until something stopped him in his tiny tracks. He hollered out.

  “The Peace Rock! It’s the Truce!”

  From the other side of the basin, scavengers gathered to watch, their bellies empty but their mouths full of opinions.

  A giant squirrel picked idly at his bright red coat, chewing at the inside of his cheeks. He pointed at the Peace Rock. A pangolin, a pygmy hog, and a hornbill followed his gaze to the stone protruding from the waning river.

  “We’re all gonna die,” said the giant squirrel.

  The pangolin licked his plate-armored back with a long dry tongue and then scratched his thin chin, squinting his tiny eyes.

  “It’s just a rock,” said the pangolin. “You see them all day every day. You’re standing on one now. I live under one. I look like one. It’s just a rock.”

  “It’s a pretty rock,” grunted the pygmy hog. He was half-asleep and kept dozing off, leaning against the pangolin to stay upright, his stiff brown bristles poking the few areas of the pangolin that weren’t fully armored.

  “Squawk,” squawked the hornbill.

  “The dry season brings the Peace Rock. Peace Rock brings the Truce,” said the giant squirrel, who couldn’t believe they didn’t know this. “Truce brings…tourists.”

  “What are you talking about?” The pangolin asked. “You’re telling tales again.”

  “No, it’s true,” the giant squirrel said. “Truce means hunting at the riverbank is forbidden. By the Law of the Jungle, drinking comes before eating, so Peace Rock means…we aren’t gonna die after all. But it is going to get crowded. Which could be worse.”

  The pangolin moved away and the pygmy hog toppled over, snoring, and stayed asleep.

  The hornbill squawked again, the colorful casque over his beak trumpeting his call, then hopped his way across the basin to where the porcupine was collecting his rocks. The hornbill picked at one with a dull yellow claw, and Ikki smacked his beak.

  “My rock,” said Ikki. “No one touches. The Peace Rock! It’s the Truce!”

  The hornbill squawked and then lifted into the air on dark black wings as all around him word of the Truce began to spread.

  It had been many years since a Water Truce had been called, but the announcement flew from the mouths of deer and wild pig and bison alike, their excitement filling the skies with feathers and calls, wings and words blanketing the Jungle with the news.

  MOWGLI HAD NEVER seen so many animals.

  Never at once and never all in one place. Predators and prey, all drinking from the same small watering hole at the same time.

  Raksha led Mowgli, Gray, and the other wolf cubs past the riverbank.

  “Wow,” Mowgli breathed, amazed. Animals piled almost on top of one another, all vying for a spot, for a chance at what little water was left. In spite of the desperation Mowgli saw in their eyes, and felt in his own stomach, there was something beautiful about it.

  Mowgli moved to join the others at the riverside, but Raksha stopped him.

  “Do not forget…” she said.

  “No hunting,” said Mowgli, eyes still focused on the animals.

  “Playing only,” said Raksha.

  “Playing only,” repeated Mowgli. “I got it, Ami.”

  Raksha moved herself in front of Mowgli, where she could be sure he was paying attention.

  “And remember. Not everyone here has seen a man-cub in the Jungle before. So behave yourself.”

  Then she smiled and said, “Take the pups with you.”

  They scampered at Mowgli’s heels, biting and laughing as he led them to the riverside. They were thrilled.

  “Look,” whispered Gray. “Nilgai.”

  “And pygmy hog, and mongoose,” added another cub.

  Mowgli couldn’t believe what he was looking at. A herd of bison bathed in the shallows while brightly colored egrets landed on their backs, using them as perches. A flying squirrel tried to blend in among them, but the bison shrugged it off. Snakes of all shapes and sizes cooled their bodies underwater while turtles stacked atop one another like a rock pile, only inches away. No one seemed to mind or even take notice of how exceptional it all was; they didn’t really care. To Mowgli, that just made it all the more amazing. He wondered what the Jungle would be like if its peoples behaved that way all the time.

  Deer passed in front of Mowgli and the pups while the bison announced their arrival politely, suggesting those ahead make room for their great girth.

  Mowgli watched as a nilgai mother coached her young to the water.

  “One after another,” she said. “Stay in line.”

  Suddenly, the new members of the wolf pack, those who had grown from pups to adult wolves, strode past, their heads proudly held high. Mowgli used to run and play with them when they were younger, but now they seemed to exist in a different world.

  “Look, the pack!” shouted Gray.

  “Hey, guys,” said Mowgli to the new pack members, trying to be casual. “What’s going on?”

  They ignored him. Clearly, not even a Water Truce could bring the man-cub and the wolf pack any closer.

  “Whoa,” said Gray. “They didn’t even say hi.”

  “They do that to me, too,” one of his little sisters admitted.

  “That’s what happens when they get in the Council,” said a third wolf cub.

  Nearby, Ikki the porcupine continued to busy himself with his possessions.

  “My stick, no one touches.”

  The porcupine challenged a peacock who came too close to his stick.

  “Truce,” the bright bird reminded Ikki.

  “Truce, yes,” repeated Ikki, remembering.

  Mowgli smiled as he walked forward, marveling at the small interactions between such different peoples. His fingertips tapped the water pouch tied at his waist, one of his “tricks.” Using it, he’d be able to drink from the river as fully as the rest of the pack, even with all those animals crowding the shore.

  “Mind the feet,” a mongoose said as he crossed the man-cub’s path.

  Distracted, Mowgli walked right into a rhino drinking at the water’s edge. It was like walking into a mountain, and the man-cub was winded for a moment. He stepped back, staring up at the giant creature.

  The rhino turned and looked down at Mowgli.

  “A man-cub at the drinking place?” asked the rhino. His voice was like the sound of shifting rocks.

  The rhino’s mate glanced their way.

  “That’s just Mowgli,” she said, a smile on her snout. “He lives with the wolves. Leave him alone. Drink.”

  She winked at Mo
wgli, then turned her attention back to the river.

  The male rhino flashed Mowgli a skeptical look, then turned back to the water himself. Mowgli exhaled, relieved.

  From nearby, the man-cub heard the wolf cubs whispering.

  “Rats,” said one.

  “Let’s get ’em!” said another.

  The cubs chased a group of rats beside the shore. Mowgli joined the fun, cornering the small rodents. They turned their small mouths up to the man-cub and squeaked nervously.

  “Water Truce,” they said. “Water Truce.”

  The cubs moved in for the attack anyway but froze instantly at the sound of an angry hiss to their left—a cobra. It rose up to full height, its bejeweled hood level with the man-cub’s soft, unprotected neck.

  Mowgli and the cubs recoiled. The cobra hissed again as the rats scurried away. The cubs were terrified.

  “Wa—water Truce,” they stammered. “Water Truce!”

  The cobra slithered away. Mowgli and the cubs turned to one another, relieved. Then they burst out laughing.

  As time passed, more and more creatures gathered at what was left of the watering hole. Soon Bagheera arrived, wading through the gathered peoples of the Seeonee to drink.

  It was a full house, more than the old cat could ever remember gathering that way before.

  Mowgli’s water pouch bobbed past the panther and the others, inviting looks from many bewildered animals. It was fashioned from a discarded pelt and lashed together with vines so it would hold water, if only temporarily. A longer length of vine pulled it along the river. Mowgli, perched on a rock above the water, reeled it in, proud of what he had made.

  Some of the other adults stared uneasily at Mowgli and his invention. A curious nilgai calf moved to get a closer look but was stopped by its mother.

  “Stay here,” she warned.

  Mowgli offered some water to Gray, who sat at his side, then sipped victoriously. Feeling mischievous, Mowgli spit water between his teeth at the youngest wolves on the Council as they drank at the river below. Gray laughed, eating it up. Suddenly, there was a growl behind Mowgli.

  “Drop it,” said Akela.

  Mowgli turned and saw the head of the pack standing over him. Mowgli did as he was asked.

  “What did I say about your tricks?” asked Akela.

  Mowgli knew from his tone that it wasn’t really a question, but felt like he should answer just the same.

  “But, Akela, I couldn’t get…”

  “What did I say?” repeated the wolf.

  “It’s not the wolf way,” conceded Mowgli.

  “No more tricks,” said Akela. The wolf moved away, and Mowgli sighed. He dropped to all fours and sulked back to the riverbank. Mowgli didn’t understand. He knew it wasn’t the wolf way, but that didn’t mean it was bad. Mowgli’s trick worked! He had figured out a way to get more water from the river faster. Surely that must count for something. But it didn’t—not in Akela’s eyes. It made Mowgli feel distant from the pack, different, like he was alone even though he was surrounded by his wolf brothers and sisters.

  Bagheera watched all this with a full heart. He knew Akela to be stern, yes, but he also knew that Akela was merely trying to protect the man-cub.

  Others joined in as Akela watched the river. Suddenly, the wind changed and the sky grew darker. Akela’s hackles rose ever so slightly. Bagheera lifted his head, noticing the vultures flying above. His entire posture shifted, muscles tightening, ears back. Something was wrong.

  A young buck froze midgulp, mouth hanging open. He stared, terrified, at a shadowy shape on top of a nearby rock. One by one, all the peoples at the river stopped and lifted their eyes. Bagheera rose on his haunches and growled.

  Mowgli looked up. Bagheera never growled. The man-cub followed the panther’s gaze to the rock where the Bengal tiger sat. His fur was bright with black stripes, elegant but for the old burns scarring his coat.

  It was Shere Khan.

  THE TIGER LICKED his lips and smiled at the buffet before him.

  Every people, every meal of the Jungle was there at the river’s edge. His mouth watered.

  He watched as the wolf cubs were herded behind the adults.

  Raksha motioned for Mowgli to join them.

  “Behind me,” she said, never taking her eyes off the tiger.

  “What is it?” asked Mowgli.

  “Not another word.”

  Mowgli ducked behind Raksha but peered out, fascinated. How could one animal have such an effect on so many others?

  The tiger dropped down from his perch and took a slow lap around the Peace Rock.

  “Please,” he said. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

  Every eye was on Shere Khan; every creature withdrew in fear as he sauntered past. Snakes slithered away, and tortoises popped their heads back into the safety of their shells. The great tiger stepped on one of Ikki’s sticks, and the porcupine trembled.

  Shere Khan was massive. His thick muscles rolled and flexed under his beautiful striped hide; he was a creature built for one thing and one thing only: killing.

  He took a long slow sniff of the air, eyes closed, enjoying himself. Mowgli was surprised how joyful the tiger seemed for a creature that instilled so much fear.

  “I just love a hot summer night,” said the tiger. “All the fragrances in the air. All the stories the wind carries.”

  He stopped by the river and drank in absolute silence. No one breathed.

  “Everyone comes to the Peace Rock,” the tiger continued, licking his chin and flicking his whiskers. “So many smells to catch up on.”

  He sniffed the air again.

  “But I…”

  He stopped. He sniffed the air a third, then a fourth time.

  “I can’t help but notice, there’s this strange odor tonight. What is it, this scent I’m on?”

  Shere Khan made his way slowly to the wolves. Mowgli felt Raksha pull him closer.

  The tiger shifted his gaze over the wolves, then found Mowgli with his bright amber eyes.

  “I’d almost think it was some kind of…man-cub….”

  “Mowgli is spoken for, Shere Khan,” said Akela firmly. Mowgli was amazed. The wolf seemed utterly fearless in the face of this much larger animal.

  “‘Mowgli,’” said the amused tiger. “They’ve given it a name.”

  The man-cub was confused. Why was this animal so interested in him? He felt a tinge of fear.

  The tiger turned to the gathered peoples.

  “I apologize if I’m slow. I’m just a simple tiger. I’m not a complicated kind of beast. But when was it we came to adopt man in this Jungle?”

  “He’s just a cub,” said Akela.

  Shere Khan leaned closer to the wolf, the burns in his fur more pronounced as he drew nearer. Mowgli thought he looked more like a monster than a tiger.

  “Does my face not remind you what a grown man can do?”

  Akela didn’t respond, so the tiger turned to address the peoples of the Jungle again.

  “Shift your hunting grounds for a few years and everyone forgets how the Law works.” The tiger spoke with a smile, but there was no joy in his voice. “Well, let me remind you: a man-cub becomes man, and man is forbidden.”

  Raksha shifted on her paws, hackles raised. She spoke under her breath.

  “What do you know about Law?”

  “Raksha,” warned Akela.

  But she would not be silenced.

  “Hunting for pleasure. Killing for power. You’ve never known Law.”

  Shere Khan paused, danger in his eyes, but Raksha wouldn’t back down.

  “The cub is mine,” said Raksha. “Mine to me. So go back where you came from, burned beast.”

  There was a long moment when no one moved or breathed, Shere Khan simply staring at brave Raksha, Mowgli’s ami. Then Akela growled.

  “Raksha. Enough.”

  Akela—powerful, unyielding—rose atop the rock and called out.

  “The tiger knows who
rules this part of the Jungle. I am sure he does not intend to come here and make threats. Especially during the Water Truce.”

  The other wolves rose with Akela, taking aggressive postures that Mowgli recognized. A show of force. Shere Khan glared at them. The gathered peoples waited for things to escalate, but instead the tiger spoke again.

  “I am deeply respectful of these laws that keep us safe. So here is my promise….” He crossed in front of the Peace Rock. “Nothing lasts forever. The rains will return and the river will rise. And when that rock disappears, this Truce will end.”

  Shere Khan looked back through the crowd and locked eyes with Mowgli.

  “You want to protect him? You claim him yours? Fine. But ask yourselves: how many lives is a man-cub worth?”

  And just as suddenly as he’d come, the tiger was gone again. Mowgli stood in confusion. What is this all about? Bagheera watched the man-cub, concern on his face and in his heart.

  Many of the animals bristled uneasily, both hoping for rain and dreading its return.

  The tiger was gone, but the sky growled with his lingering threat.

  THE TIGER’S WORDS tore at Mowgli’s head. How many lives is a man-cub worth? What had he meant by that?

  Mowgli turned the threat over in his mind and his heart as the rains returned. When he was growing up, the clouds’ breaking and pouring their waters back into the earth was a reason to celebrate. But now that Shere Khan had left the mark of his words on the Jungle, everything had become quiet and dark, and even the birds seemed to lose their voices.

  The wolves argued for many days at Council Rock, faces low and full of frowns, with Bagheera, observer and advisor, nearby in an adjacent tree. Gray and Mowgli watched from afar, catching pieces of the adult arguments and the occasional angry growl. Mowgli could hear Raksha over the rest.

  “What are they talking about?” asked Gray.

  Mowgli just stared. Simple questions didn’t seem to have simple answers anymore.

  The tiger wanted him dead, but why? Surely there was other food in the Jungle for a cat that big. If not, then Mowgli knew the pack was the only thing that stood between him and Shere Khan’s belly. As the Council argued, some shared their love for Mowgli, while other, older wolves expressed a worry that they’d be risking war with the fearsome tiger by protecting the man-cub. He knew he was not of the wolf pack, not really, but he’d spent his entire life hoping to become one of them, and now they debated his worth, the value of his life, without ever truly acknowledging his place among them. Mowgli felt like he was a burden to the pack, and maybe that was all he’d ever been. As the Council spoke, Mowgli couldn’t hear all their words, but what he did catch tied knots in his belly and pulled at his heart. They barked and growled for days, until one cold night, Mowgli had heard enough. Sick with questions he couldn’t ask, Mowgli saw Raksha making a final appeal to the Council. He knew what he had to do.