Jackal and Wolf

by Shen Shixi

  As dusk fell, it began to rain. The temperature dropped, and the harsh northwest wind blew. Little streams of rain ran in through the mouth of the cave. It felt cold and damp and dark. The two-week old pup was struggling to keep warm; the soft light fur covering her fine skin and tender flesh was barely enough to withstand the cold wind. She was huddled up in the corner, shivering, uttering little choking sounds as she tried to get warm. Flame glanced at her coldly, without an ounce of compassion. Jackals are not known for being lenient captors, nor for sheltering others from the elements. Flame settled herself in the cave, curling up in a corner, with her tail resting loosely over her neck like a warm scarf. She closed her eyes and relaxed.

  She had just slipped into that hazy half-asleep world, when she felt an itch in her ear, as though something was scratching at her skin. She opened her eyes, and, to her surprise, saw it was the pup. The stupid thing must have crept over from the back of the cave. The cold must have been too much for her, and following its instinct, it had crept up beside her. It was licking her ear, begging for warmth. Flame was so angry she turned her head away and bared her teeth in a wide grin: What, no patience? You’d rather get it over with, would you? Go on, get lost, or I’ll break your neck right now!

  But the pup huddled even closer to Flame: perhaps out of cold and hunger; perhaps because the light was too dim for it to see Flame’s vicious expression.

  What a nerve! The cheeky rascal was like a fly that wouldn’t be brushed away. Flame managed to kick it aside: Well, little prisoner, you are asking for trouble! Go on, freeze, ice over, that’ll keep you nice and fresh! The pup rolled across the ground, then got back on its feet, shook itself down and headed straight back to the warmth of the jackal. Flame took a couple of steps back, so the stupid little thing took a couple of steps forward. It was determined to get close to Flame. But Flame was not going to let a little pup force her to step backwards out of Buddha Belly Cave. It was pouring with rain outside, and she had no intention of feeling like a drowned chicken. This was just a little pup with the softest fur and not a smidgen of malice – so sweet. And, despite the events of the day, it was remarkably clean.

  By now, night had fallen and everywhere was dark. The autumn chill was beginning to settle on Flame. When her pups were alive, and the chill of the night was upon them, the three of them would snuggle up together. That was so lovely and warm. But her pups were gone, and she would never be able to curl up with them again. She was feeling so cold now, perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to let the little pup come close, warm her up.

  The little pup cuddled in. It wriggled about, tickling Flame as it tried to get comfortable. That night, the two lonely creatures slept in a warm embrace. The pup must have been hungry too, for it had smelled the milk and started to suckle.

  Flame grabbed the pup by the scruff of the neck, and gave a menacing growl through her sharp teeth. Hey, pest! Talk about giving an inch and taking a mile! Another drop and I’ll bite your head off!

  The little pup had no idea that trouble was looming. It found a teat and suckled hungrily. Flame was just about to snap her jaw shut, and send the milk-thief flying through the air. But for some reason, the power vanished from her bite, and her mouth wouldn’t close. The milk was flowing and the pup was gulping it down. In no time at all, Flame’s engorged teats were sagging loosely, and her tense mood was floating away like a cloud, giving rise to an indefinable sense of pleasure and that feeling of lingering love and laziness that mothers know. She did not want to move, she just wanted to draw that silly idiot into the dream world. Maybe she’d let the pup live a few more days, to help ease the pain.

  Flame thought up a name for the pup: Sweetie. It was a girl pup, it was edible, more a snack than a meal – a delicacy. She would save her for later, and eat her when she couldn’t find any food and her belly was empty.

  She had been quite lucky recently. Although autumn was not a good season for finding food, Flame had had a good run: she’d caught a ringed pheasant one day, dug up a rat’s nest the next, and the day after that, she’d picked up a salmon stranded on the riverbank. It was hardly a shortage of food, and there had been no need to eat Sweetie.

  When Sweetie had drunk her fill, she really was a lively, cute little thing. She darted about, a bit wobbly on her feet still, turning somersaults on the ground, chasing her tail, gnawing at her claws. She also liked to clamber over Flame. It did not take long for the pup to adapt to her new life. As far as she was concerned, Flame fed her, so Flame was her mother.

  Later that day, as the sun was setting in the west, Flame stood by the bushes at the entrance to the cave, pushing them apart to let the early winter sunshine inside. It was a pleasure to bask in the sun and watch Sweetie’s silly antics, a welcome release from the pain of solitude and loneliness.

  Sometimes, when Sweetie helped herself to milk, Flame would feel a surge of warmth, and a fuzzy light-headedness. She would lick the pup tenderly. But even as she did so, she wished she could stop herself. How could she have these feelings for the orphaned pup of her enemy? How could she behave in such a perverse way? It was not normal; it was repulsive.

  She tried to tell herself that Sweetie was a snack, a special snack like a cake that needs to be handled carefully. This was the only way Flame could reconcile her behaviour.

  Three weeks passed by in a flash. Sweetie was an active little thing now. She had put on weight and a glossy sheen was appearing on her downy fur. Flame’s plan was working: the pup was filling out nicely. While the pup would have made just one meal before, now she would be enough for two days. And the flavour would be so much more intense.

  Chapter 4

  Winter was approaching. There was a sudden drop in the temperature. The snow line moved down the mountain, and after several falls of snow with flakes the size of goose feathers, the land was covered in a thick white blanket as far as the eye could see.

  Flame was a red jackal. Her red coat was the same colour as the rich red earth of the mountains, and the same colour as the blazing red mountain flowers in the summer. But this camouflage does not work in the snow. For jackals, winter means famine.

  At last, the sky cleared. Flame was able to step outside the cave and go looking for food. She went to the spruce forest, and in a clearing spotted a muntjac brushing away the snow to graze at the grass. She crept towards it, following a hidden gully in the snow. But before she could get halfway, two red-breasted parrots flew up from a branch and circled above her head, flapping their brightly coloured wings. When she moved forward, they moved forward too, making a commotion, like sentries sounding the alarm.

  Alerted to the danger, the muntjac looked up, glanced towards the gully, gathered its senses and ran off. Within moments, there was no trace of it. It infuriated Flame to see her prey slip away like this. She stretched her neck to the sky and howled at the red-breasted parrots. If she had wings, she’d chase after these rascals, and pluck them one feather at a time. They’d soon be ugly, featherless birds! Too bad she didn’t have wings of her own. There was nothing she could do about them, so she howled for a while, then hung her head in dejection and walked away.

  At midday she came to the foot of the mountain. Luck was still throwing opportunities her way. She had just spotted a snow rabbit below a tall tree, gnawing away at fruit that had fallen to the ground. Jackals love to chase after snow rabbits. If they go after wild boars, sheep or cattle, then their chances are slim. Mice, frogs and small birds are easier to catch, but there’s not much meat on them. They are pocket-sized, barely enough for a meal, let alone a feast. But snow rabbits are ideal: they are timid, they don’t put up a fight, and there’s no need to worry about them biting back or harming you unexpectedly. They weigh about ten to fifteen kilograms – a perfect size. If you’re not too greedy, then one snow rabbit can last a couple of days. They’re low in fat, high in protein; nutritious and tasty. The only snag is that snow rabbits can have two or more burrows. How many times had Flame chased after a snow rabb
it, and been close enough to pounce on it, only to find that it had disappeared underground? It was only after careful searching that she would spot a burrow hidden in the bushes or below a clump of earth.

  After falling for this trick a few times, she now had some experience at catching snow rabbits. She had had to adapt her usual hunting technique; with snow rabbits she couldn’t just spot her prey and chase after it until she got it. She had to wait and watch from a distance, and try to determine where the burrow would be.

  Being nervous animals they scamper off as soon as they sense the wind blowing in the grass, or a flock of swallows pecking for grasshoppers. When they are scared, they prick up their ears and listen to the sounds all around, their legs bent ready to spring into action. At exactly this moment, if you see a snow rabbit turn its head, you know it is preparing to run off in that direction, and you can get a pretty good idea of where the burrow is. If you block its way to the burrow, then your attack will be successful.

  Snow rabbits have short front legs and long back legs, and while they can run so fast they seem to fly, they don’t have the stamina to cover long distances. Without a burrow to dart into, they can’t cover the open land before them. Before long, it would be foaming at the mouth and would drop lifeless to the ground. On the other hand, jackals are renowned for their stamina. They can run as fast as a snow rabbit, and can keep running.

  On this day, Flame’s plan of attack was working well: the snow rabbit was forced to run and the jackal was hot on her tail, sure her dinner was in the bag. As soon as the snow rabbit realised it couldn’t take refuge in its maze of a burrow, it made a split second decision and ran for its life. The gap between the snow rabbit and Flame narrowed to less than twenty metres. Flame had chased the rabbit to the side of the mountain, and it was now forced to run down a steep slope. Its short front legs and long back legs are perfect for running on the flat, but not for running on slopes, and certainly not for running downhill. One little slip would knock it off balance and send it rolling down the mountainside, to be battered black and blue.

  Flame knew victory was in sight, and was looking forward to a good meal. Sure enough, the snow rabbit was struggling on the downhill slope. It managed about four leaps before it began rolling like a snowball. It was time to go and get the rabbit. Flame speeded up.

  There was a ridge of snow ahead, just a little taller than Flame. Normally, such a low ridge of snow wouldn’t have been a problem for Flame; with her agility, she could be over it in one easy leap. She readied herself for the hurdle, but her body didn’t work as she expected. Although she put all her effort into the jump, it wasn’t enough to clear the ridge. Her four legs felt as stiff as wood, they caught on the ridge, and she crashed to the ground. Fortunately, there was a thick layer of snow, and she wasn’t hurt – but she felt a bit dazed, and there were stars before her eyes. The snow rabbit rolled on for a good twenty metres before hitting a grassy clump. It hurriedly picked itself up, switched direction, and ran off towards some bushes on the horizon.

  Flame was anxious. If the snow rabbit led her into the dense thicket, and she had to go after it all over again, it would be too much. She could see that the rabbit had hurt its leg while tumbling down the mountainside, and couldn’t run properly any more. That would slow it down to the speed of a pangolin, and if Flame got to her feet and gave chase she’d be able to catch up with it before it reached the bushes.

  She tried to stand, but her legs bent like fresh willow. The moment she was up, her legs gave way beneath her, and she fell back into the snow. She knew it was hunger that caused her to be like this. She hadn’t eaten for two days and was so hungry her head was spinning. She was seeing stars before her eyes, and her body felt incredibly weak.

  Flame lay back in the snow, catching her breath and watching the snow rabbit as it limped into the bushes. For the snow rabbit, this was a remarkable turn of events: it had escaped the grasp of a jackal. It was a close shave that was worth celebrating. For Flame it was a disaster. She had practically had the snow rabbit in her mouth but it had broken free, leaving her half-dead with hunger.

  She lay there for a while, catching her breath. She sunk her nose deep into the drift and crunched through a couple of mouthfuls of clean snow, as she desperately tried to summon enough strength to stagger home. Right now, if a tortoise walked out in front of her, Flame wouldn’t have the energy to keep up with it. If she spent any longer out here, she would either lose her footing or keel over from hunger. She’d die of starvation.

  Night was falling and she needed to go home. At least Buddha Belly Cave would be a bit warmer than out here. She’d almost forgotten about the lovely snack that was waiting for her there.

  Flame dragged herself back towards the cave, groaning at the effort. Behind her came the sound of light footsteps pawing through the snow. She swung back her heavy head to take a look. A pair of snow foxes glistened in the dim light of the evening. They were about fifty feet away, creeping up on her and waiting for their chance.

  Snow foxes are only found in the mountains. Their faces are more pointed than ordinary foxes, and their fur is thicker. Living in the cold regions above the snow line, they have adapted to their habitat, and their fur is a silvery white colour, hence the name ‘snow fox’.

  Flame wanted to test them out. She speeded up a bit, and the two snow foxes speeded up too. When she stopped, they stopped. This proved that the two snow foxes had not come to this place by chance, they were following her on purpose.

  In the snowy mountains, when one carnivore tails another, it can only mean one of two things: either it’s waiting for the first one to catch its prey, so it can share in the spoils; or it’s stalking the other predator and will attack when the time is right.

  The beautiful snow foxes had clearly noticed she was about to drop from hunger, and they were ready to pounce on her.

  Now snow foxes are smaller than jackals, and don’t have their sharp claws or teeth, nor their courage. They are lower down the food chain than jackals. But these two snow foxes had somehow decided that Flame could be their prey. Flame was incensed with rage. She longed to howl and hurl herself on to those snow foxes, bite off their furry ears! But she knew that getting angry would not solve the problem, that flying into a rage would just worsen the situation. She was so sapped of strength that if she were to run fast, she would manage no more than seventy or eighty metres before collapsing to the ground. If she were to chase after those two loathsome foxes, she would exhaust her last ounce of energy, and with it, her last chance of fighting back. It infuriated her to think that those two snow foxes creeping up on her like ghosts had the upper hand!

  In the dangerous wilds of the forest, strong and weak are as opposite as black and white. In some circumstances – such as old-age, hunger, illness or injury – they can change places. The strong can become weak, and the weak can become strong, throwing the natural order of things into disarray, and the relationship between hunter and hunted is turned upside down.

  Flame’s belly was empty, and it was an effort to walk. Her paws sank in the snow as if it was mud, and it was an effort to pull them out. Then her front leg caught in a vine buried in the snow, causing her to stagger and fall. She heard the snow foxes shrieking in anticipation as they crept forward, their wicked eyes glistening with delight. They stopped about ten metres from her, watching every move. Twice Flame tried to get to her feet. But her leg would not do as she wanted, as though it was not part of her body, and she keeled over again, unable to find her feet. The snow foxes had little to fear now, and inched closer to Flame. Their motive was clear.

  Flame was determined not to become lunch for the snow foxes. If only she could eat something, even a mouse would do, it would give her the strength to show them what for. Although she would be outnumbered two-to-one, she would not lose. When you take into consideration a jackal’s strength, its claws and teeth and its will power, of course one jackal could take on two snow foxes. At least she wouldn’t lose.

&
nbsp; But right now she was so hungry she couldn’t even walk, and it would take a miracle for a mouse to walk straight into her mouth. But no mouse would be so stupid and that miracle would never happen. And if she were to plunge straight into battle with the foxes, there would not be a happy ending.

  Flame didn’t have the strength to fight them to the bitter end, nor the speed to outrun them. If she ignored them, they would come closer and closer, and the situation would go from bad to worse. Their greedy eyes were fixed upon her; there was no way they would let her go. They would follow wherever she went, up the snowy bank, or out on to the grasslands, until she could no longer walk, and eventually collapse in the snow. Then they would launch their attack, going straight for the jugular. They’d drink her blood and eat her flesh.

  Somehow she had to turn the situation around, destroy any notion that she could be food for snow foxes. They were like vultures, waiting for the opportune moment. She had to get them off her back.

  Her best option right now would be to scare them into retreating. She would stage a counter-attack. She would muster up all her energy and leap out at them with an earsplitting roar, show she was on the attack. The snow foxes would see she was not weak with hunger, that she was not a few breaths away from being lunch. An adult jackal, strong, healthy, bursting with life; an awe-inspiring creature that was not to be messed with. The idea was to intimidate them, convince them of the danger in pursuing her – persuade them to retreat. Could she do all this? Could she really trick them into believing?

  She was already faint with hunger, having just spent all her energy chasing after the snow hare. She had no idea if she could howl so ferociously, or whether she had the strength to stage an attack. What if her howl turned out to be a pathetic wail, and her vicious attack was more like an irritating jerk? What if she couldn’t do it? If she slipped? Or went soft and squidgy like rotten fruit? What if she was trying to be too clever, and ended up exposing her weak points? The snow foxes would know where her weakness lay, and would come up and fight her tooth-to-tooth and claw-to-claw. Foxes are very intelligent. They would recognise a fake cry instantly. They are cunning creatures, very difficult to outwit. If Flame was going to turn this situation around, she would have to come up with a truly brilliant plan.