Toby wandered outside into the yard and stared at the cold white expanse of moor stretching away into the distance.
Are we really going to try and ride over that? We must be mad! What if the dogs are still following us? We’ve not got any choice though. If only I hadn’t smashed the Land Rover!
Just then, something at his feet caught Toby’s attention. Splattered on the white of the snow was a trail of dark red droplets. He knelt and stuck his finger into the sticky liquid. It was definitely blood, but whose was it? He followed the fresh crimson drips that led through the yard and into an old shed. Peering into the black depths he could hear the rough rasps of laboured breathing. Whatever it was sounded in a bad way. Was it human?
What if it’s one of the raiders? What if it’s Carl? Or worse – what if it’s one of the dogs?
16. A Wounded Warrior
Toby dashed back to the tack room, grabbing a pitchfork on the way.
“Come quick, Tash! There’s something or somebody in the shed at the back of the yard. I think it’s injured – there’s blood on the snow!”
“What!” cried Tash. “Are you going to stab it with that?” She pointed to the pitchfork.
“I’m not taking any chances – it might be one of the raiders or one of the dogs. Come on, we’d better stick together!”
The two of them edged slowly into the darkness of the shed. There seemed to be a body lying in a pile of mouldy hay at the back. Holding the pitchfork out in front of him, Toby approached it cautiously.
“It’s an animal,” he hissed to Tash.
“It’s a wolf!” she cried. “Look at its long muzzle and thick coat.”
“WHAT? A wolf?” Toby blurted out. He quickly backed away from the lifeless form stretched out in the hay.
“Shush!” Tash commanded. “You’ll frighten it!”
“I’ll frighten it? It’s frightening me!” said Toby in a loud whisper. “I’ve never been this near to a wolf before.”
Tash crouched down and, murmuring strangely, approached the wolf on all fours. Toby could now see that the creature had a grey grizzled head with a long white-streaked muzzle. Its dirty matted coat was a mixture of brown and black and grey, with clumps of ice and snow stuck to the longer fluffy hair on its belly.
“Must have just got here,” observed Toby, still holding his pitchfork in a defensive position. “Careful, Tash! Don’t get too near!”
“It’s ok – I’ll be fine.”
“Ha! Don’t tell me – your dad was once a famous wolf trainer in Poland?”
“Yes, how did you guess? Well, actually, he looked after the wolves in the Highland Wildlife Park. He worked there as a ranger. I used to go with him and help.”
I might have known! But this isn’t any domesticated, safari-park wolf – this is a wild one.
As if reading his mind, Tash said,
“This is a domesticated wolf. Look – he’s a wolf hybrid. That’s part dog and part wolf, though they look just like wolves. There used to be a craze for keeping them as pets, but most people didn’t know how to train them properly. When the owners couldn’t handle them anymore they turned them out on the hills to fend for themselves. My father used to find them dumped in the wildlife park.” Tash offered her fist to the wolf-dog. It took one sniff and then licked her hand.
“I bet this chap was a pet once, before the red fever,” she continued. “That’s probably why he’s come looking for humans when he’s ill.”
“What’s wrong with him?” asked Toby.
“Not sure – he’s got a wound on his foot, but one of the ponies could have stood on him when he was snooping round here. Looks more like he’s just exhausted and weak from hunger. He’s an old boy, so maybe he couldn’t keep up with the pack and they left him behind?”
“Pack?” yelped Toby. “So you think there’s more than one of them?”
“There’s bound to be. Wolves don’t usually live alone, and there were a lot of wolves in wildlife parks all over Scotland. They’ll have got free and been breeding for the last three years. There’re probably loads of them by now.”
“Really? What a horrible thought. So it’s not just the dogs and the raiders we have to worry about, then?”
“Here, you keep an eye on him, and I’ll get some warm water to bathe that wound,” said Tash, getting up from beside the prone wolf.
“Must I?” Toby eyed the wolf nervously.
As Tash disappeared, the wolf started to stir and slowly raised its head. Two brilliant blue eyes stared at Toby through the gloom of the shed.
“Errrr, it’s ok, boy. Don’t worry now…” he stammered, wishing Tash would return quickly. The wolf panted gently and kept staring at him.
“Here we are,” called Tash cheerfully, returning with a bowl and some clean towels. “Oh, I see you two are getting to know each other.”
“I wouldn’t say that, exactly,” muttered Toby, keeping his eye on the wolf. “I don’t trust him; he looks a bit dangerous to me.”
“He’ll be fine. You just have to know how to handle them,” chirped Tash, winding a long woollen sock around the wolf’s muzzle and tying it gently shut. “Just to be on the safe side,” she explained. The wolf didn’t seem to mind, and stayed lying down while Tash carefully washed its bloodied paw. She patted it dry with the towel, and then coated it with the pink gunge out of the jar in her pocket. “I think he’s really exhausted. Probably hasn’t eaten for days.”
“I hope he’s not eyeing us up for his next meal!” remarked Toby. He wished Tash would hurry up so that he could get out of the shed and away from those penetrating blue eyes.
“Don’t be silly. I’ll open one of the tins of soup for him. Got some chicken noodle – he’ll like that, and my mother always says chicken soup is good for invalids.”
“Ummm, does she? I bet she wasn’t thinking of wolves when she said that.”
“Why don’t you go and catch the ponies while I feed him?” suggested Tash. “Put them in the stables and then I’ll show you how to tack up.”
“When are we going to head off? We’ve wasted enough time already,” argued Toby.
“Aren’t you forgetting our Christmas dinner? And anyhow, we don’t want to start across the moor as it’s getting dark. Better to wait until tomorrow, and YOU need to learn to ride first!” Tash ordered.
Crikes! She can be well bossy, can’t she?
Toby backed quietly out of the shed and went round to where the ponies were standing snuffling greedily at some hay Tash had put out for them.
“Hiya girls, you going to be good for Toby?” he asked, staring with dismay at their large bottoms turned to him.
How am I going to catch them? Maybe they’ll follow me into the stables if I wave a bucket in front of them?
Toby went in search of a bucket. He found one in the tack room, and some musty-looking pony cubes in a metal locker. He rattled the cubes in the bucket under the noses of the ponies.
“Mush mush! Come with Toby!” he called, slowly backing towards the gateway. The ponies flung up their heads, sniffing the air. They spied the bucket, and then all of them charged towards Toby, knocking him flying into the mushy snow. The bucket tumbled through the air and landed in the yard, throwing the pony cubes onto the ground. The ponies milled round, pushing their noses hungrily into the snow.
“What’s going on here then?” Tash came round the corner from the shed. “Haven’t you caught them yet?”
“They tried to trample me to death,” explained Toby. Was it his fault if the ponies were so unruly and wild?
“Come on girls,” called Tash, grabbing the nearest pony by the forelock and dragging it towards the stables. The ponies seemed to recognise that someone with authority was now in control and obediently mooched into the stables after her.
Once each pony was in a stall, Tash set about putting the saddles and bridles on them. Toby watched with envy; she was so calm and efficient with them. They moved over when she told them to and stood quietly as she
slipped the bridles over their heads and the bits into their mouths.
“I’ve called this brown one Daisy, the golden one is Flossie, the grey one is Molly and the white one is Lulu. They won’t know their names yet, but you take Daisy, she seems the quietest.”
“Take her? Take her where?” Toby anxiously asked. The ponies appeared even larger close up and he was carefully watching where they put their huge hairy feet. He didn’t want to get stood on. He had seen the mess one of them had made of the poor old wolf’s foot.
“Take her out into the yard and I’ll show you how to get on,” commanded Tash.
Toby did as he was told and tugged at Daisy’s reins.
“Come on, Daisy, be good for me,” he pleaded. He was not looking forward to the next half an hour or so. The ponies looked just as dangerous as the wolf.
Daisy lazily followed him over to a mounting block in the corner of the yard, and stood like a rock as he clambered clumsily into the saddle. Sitting up, Toby had the feeling of being a long way from the ground. Fumbling, he tried to get his feet into the stirrups but they turned this way and that and refused to let his toes onto them.
“Here,” said Tash, grabbing hold of his lower leg. “If you keep your legs back here you’ll find it a lot easier.” She slipped his foot into a stirrup and then went round the other side to do the same to the other foot.
“Now all you have to do is kick and steer, ok?” commanded Tash.
Toby nodded. She made it sound so easy. But from up where he was sat it felt very strange, especially when Daisy started to move forwards, her huge frame swinging from the left to the right.
“We’ll go into the front garden of the hotel. It might not be too bumpy there,” said Tash, walking alongside Daisy. “When you feel her slowing down, all you need to do is give a kick with your feet, like so!” She grabbed his ankle and swung it back to give a soft thump on Daisy’s side. Daisy hardly flinched and kept lumbering forwards.
“Feels like she’s going too fast already!” cried Toby, clutching on to the front of the saddle.
“Get a grip! You’re only walking! We’ll have to travel a lot faster than this if we’re to get across the moor in daylight.”
Is this such a good idea? I’m not going to be able to stay on this thing at speed!
Daisy plodded on until they came to a flat piece of ground in front of the hotel that must at one time have been a large, gravelled car park. Tash positioned herself in the middle and proceeded to shout commands at Toby while he tried to ride Daisy around her.
“Keep your heels down! Sit up straight! Watch where you’re going! Steer! You’re going to crash into that bush if you don’t look out! Pull on the reins!”
It was a lot harder than Toby thought it was going to be. There was so much to think about. Once he had mastered holding the reins properly he then had to think about kicking Daisy and steering her at the same time.
“Ok, now let’s try the trot!” called Tash, who was stood clutching a woolly scarf to her swollen face. Toby kicked furiously and Daisy lurched into a trot, nearly unseating him. He grabbed hold of her tangled mane and tried to follow Tash’s instructions to rise up and down in time to the swinging movement of the pony.
“Can we stop now?” he begged breathlessly. “I’m exhausted! And my bum’s getting sore!”
“Ok. That’ll do – but you’re going to have to try harder tomorrow otherwise you’ll never keep up!” She started to walk back towards the hotel, her shoulders drooping.
Never mind about me – how’s she going to cope with a long journey? She doesn’t look great at all. Wish she’d tell me what’s wrong.
Daisy was keen to return to her friends and Toby left the reins hanging on her neck as she strode back to the yard. Slipping down from her back, he unbuckled the girth strap and pulled the saddle off.
“Are you ok?” he asked Tash while she unbridled the pony.
“I’m fine,” Tash snapped back.
Ok, I was just asking! Gosh, she’s a bit touchy!
“I’m going to check on Snowy,” Tash said quietly, heading towards the shed.
“Ok,” replied Toby. “You’ve named the wolf Snowy?” But Tash had slouched off and he was left with Daisy. He gave her some pony cubes and a quick pat, then put away the bridle and saddle.
He went to the shed to find Tash sitting in the hay chatting to Snowy. The wolf-dog seemed to be feeling better and was sitting up on his haunches, licking Tash’s fingers.
“He looks a bit brighter,” commented Toby, being careful not to get too near. The wolf’s piercing eyes were trained on him from the moment he stepped into the darkness of the shed.
“He was tired out and footsore. He must have been travelling for days on his own.” Tash caressed the wolf’s head. “He’s feeling much better now he’s had a good feed and got some healing cream on his pads.”
“Good,” said Toby. “What are we going to do with him?”
“Do?” queried Tash. “We’re going to let him go of course. Once he’s had a rest and some more feed he’ll be off to find the rest of the pack.”
“Do we want him to do that? They might be hunting us next! If we let him go he might become dangerous when he’s met up with his pals.”
“Snowy won’t harm us, not ever!”
“Maybe we could keep him as a pet?” asked Toby. “Look at him – he’s obviously an old dog. He’s covered in scars and old healed wounds. Poor boy’s been in the wars. He’s a right wounded warrior. We could take him with us.”
“No, he’ll never keep up with us on the ponies. It wouldn’t be fair. He can stay here and rest until he’s ready to go and find his pack.”
“Ok, if you say so.” Toby was defensive. “I’ll go and start dinner, will I?”
“Ok,” mumbled Tash, stroking the soft silky hair on top of Snowy’s head. The wolf whined and wrapped himself around her.
Toby went back to the hotel. The cold had started to creep under his layers of clothes as the sun dipped and left the early afternoon sky. As he stepped into the warmth of the kitchen, he rubbed the sore patch on his bottom. Riding ponies wasn’t easy and tomorrow he would have to ride all day across the moor and mountains, and maybe the whole day after that.
17. Happy Christmas
Toby stood in the ghostly hall of the deserted hotel and listened to the wind howl as it threw itself round the old building. He shivered.
Glad we’re not out in this. Tash was right: we’re better to stay here tonight.
He decided to explore the grand sweeping staircase that wound its way from the hall up into the silent top floors. If nobody had been here for ages there might be something useful in one of the many bedrooms that led off the long corridors. Toby hesitated – hadn’t he once seen a scary movie about a haunted hotel? He shook his head and started to climb the stairs. This was no time to start being a scaredy-cat.
It was icy cold in the un-aired rooms. Everything was just as it had been left, with plumped up pillows and smart floral eiderdowns covering the beds. Clean towels hung in regimental rows next to pristine white sinks and toilets, and soft loo paper hung from the holders. This was real luxury living. After three years of barely surviving in a post-apocalyptic world where even the bare essentials had become more and more difficult to find, this seemed like a dream. Toby lay down on a large comfy-looking bed and sighed.
Wouldn’t it be great to live like this always? Maybe when I’ve rescued Dad and Sylvie we can come back here and stay for a while?
But Toby knew that his Dad wouldn’t think it a safe-enough place to live – it was too open to attack by dogs and raiders. They had thought themselves reasonably safe on the boat, and look what had happened.
Toby lay for a while then went to search the wardrobes and chest of drawers in all the bedrooms. After a good rummage he managed to find an old deerstalker hat, thick green kilt-socks and a pair of binoculars.
Clutching his finds, he ran back down to the hotel lobby. He wandered into a
games room with a pool table, darts board and even a chessboard set with dusty pieces. In the corner sat a huge TV. Toby ran his fingers through the thick dust on the TV cupboard, and then opened it to reveal a pile of old DVDs.
Hey, Transformers 2: Revenge of the Fallen – great movie! Shrek 10 – a bit rubbish that one. Some of these are ancient – a Batman movie – bit scary. And look at this: the entire series of Pirates of the Caribbean. They were Mum’s favourite, though I doubt she’d like the pirates that we’ve come across.
Then he spied one at the bottom of the pile.
“YEAH! Geronimo! The Little Mermaid!” Toby hooted and jumped up and down.
“What have you found?” asked Tash, coming into the room.
“I’ve found Sylvie’s favourite film: The Little Mermaid. I promised her I’d find it and now here it is!”
“And what are you going to play it on?”
“Ah well, that’s another problem. I also promised to find something to play it on. Still, I’ve at least found the movie.”
“Sylvie will be happy,” Tash gave him a lop-sided smile.
Well, she will be if I ever get it to her…
They went through to the lounge where Tash had been busy. Entering the room was like stepping into some magical fairy cave. From the ceiling and the beams of the bar hung tinsel and streamers that shimmered in the flickering golden light thrown by dozens of candles.
“Wow! It looks amazing!” said Toby. “You’ve done wonders! Are you feeling ok now? Can I do anything?”
“You could go and look for some crackers,” replied Tash. “And stop asking me if I’m ok every five minutes!”
Only asking! She looks a bit better though – maybe she’s got some special Russian medicine in that bag of hers?
Toby went off to the storeroom to search in some of the big cupboards where Tash had found the Christmas decorations. There were heaps of stuff there: dried flower table decorations, silver platters, creamy white damask table linen, boxes full of empty salt and pepper sets, and boxes and boxes of wine glasses. Under them was a box of somewhat squashed Christmas crackers. Toby pulled it out, and then at the very back of the cupboard he found another small box. On the side it said “Polaroid Camera – Complete with Film Pack”. He opened it and took out an old bulky object. It didn’t look anything like the slim digital camera he had once owned.
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