Jackal and Wolf

by Shen Shixi

‘What’s the matter?’ asked Flame. ‘Too shy to come in?’

  Blacktail stared in horror through Flame’s legs. She followed his line of vision. Oh, it was Sweetie, bounding up to greet her. She’d been waiting at the entrance to the cave all night for Flame to return. She’d been out of her mind with worry, and was overjoyed to see her now. She jumped up and down at Flame’s knees, licking and nipping as she welcomed her home. Flame had spent most of a day and all of a night engrossed in her scrutiny of Blacktail, and had almost forgotten about Sweetie left behind in the cave. Blacktail must have spotted her running up in the dark. He had not been forewarned, and had not been prepared for this. Jackals have a natural terror of wolves, and to feel this terror now, of all times, had completely unnerved him.

  Blacktail turned to face the other way. He could see the mouth of the cave, and his legs were bent ready to spring forward and run. From the depths of his throat came a coarse, questioning roar. ‘What kind of trick are you playing? Bringing me to a wolf’s den. What kind of sick jackal are you?!’ his growl said.

  ‘Don’t worry, you won’t come to any harm,’ said Flame, as she playfully put out a paw and pushed Sweetie over. She wanted to relieve Blacktail of any suspicion. ‘Did you see? This little pup knows me very well. I can play with her like a toy. There’s no need to worry, there are no adult wolves around here. None at all.’

  The pup hadn’t eaten for a day and a half and was hungry, and short on patience too. She rolled over, leapt to her feet, and ran to Flame. She put her mouth to Flame’s mouth, and opened wide, waiting for Flame to regurgitate some meat for her. Flame had eaten one mouse the night before, and had long since digested it. She opened her mouth and eventually called up a few small pieces of half-digested meat. It wasn’t enough for the pup, of course, who continued weaving backwards and forwards in front of her.

  Flame pushed her away impatiently. ‘That’s enough. I don’t have anything in my belly to feed you. Wait a bit and I’ll go out again and find something for you to eat.’ The pup sobbed. She felt cheated and went to hide in a corner of the cave. Blacktail could not take his eyes off the little pup. Every hair on his body bristled as he howled in terror.

  ‘Relax! This home is a safe place. There’s absolutely nothing wrong!’ Flame lay down and gave a good stretch. She put on a relaxed, laid-back appearance, doing her best to calm him down.

  Blacktail held his head and body tight as he carefully inched his way stiffly over to the pup. He scrunched up his nose and sniffed as he moved, as though trying to fathom what this strange creature was, this thing that looked like a wolf, but lived in a jackal’s cave and demanded food from a jackal’s mouth. Blacktail began to sniff at Sweetie, starting at the tip of her tail, moving on to her paws, the crook of her leg, her belly, then her back, neck and head. With their acute sense of smell, a mature, experienced male jackal can detect a hibernating snake in the earth beneath a snowdrift in winter. Sweetie had drunk Flame’s milk for so long, had spent the winter in her cave, had been subtly influenced by Flame, and her body was covered in the scent of jackal. But she was still a wolf, and it was wolf’s blood that flowed through her veins. The real scent of her body was wolf-scent. Blacktail’s fine nose sniffed straight through the jackal scent on the surface of her body, to the scent of wolf hidden deep in her coat. His eyes might deceive him, but his nose would never let him down.

  Within moments he knew: this was a wolf pup, from her external appearance right down to that particular scent. He bared his teeth, as though ready to attack the enemy, and roared madly. Sweetie might be only a few months old, and she might have only just stopped suckling, but she was a wolf through and through. When Blacktail roared his threatening roar, instead of feeling terror, she jumped to her feet, bared her saw-like teeth, and screamed back. The howling and screaming was unbearable. Flame dived in to split them apart: one adult male ranting and raving, one wolf pup having a tantrum.

  ‘Stop it. What are you trying to do? Turn this happy home into a battlefield?’

  Sweetie stopped yowling. She had grown up with Flame, and knew to stop when scolded. She headed for the stones at the back of the cave, lay down, and buried her head in the crook of her leg. She glared at Blacktail as she looked him up and down. Her eyes showed white.

  Blacktail was still very agitated, darting about in the cave, and roaring. When he passed Flame, he cocked his back leg. Flame frowned. An adult jackal that still fouled the den, now that was really unhygienic. But Blacktail didn’t urinate. He yowled, and when he curled his head round to look at the inside of his leg, it had made him yowl even more. She took a closer look, and saw a bright red scar, like a two-inch worm, on the inside of his raised leg. It was a bite mark. From its size and shape, she could tell it had been inflicted by the sharp teeth of a wolf. Blacktail had cocked his leg to show her the scar, to denounce wolves as evil, and to say that he could not live in the same den as a wolf – adult or pup.

  Although Flame had not witnessed the attack, and did not know when it had taken place, it was clearly an evil wolf that had done the damage, and from the position and depth of the scar, she was eighty to ninety per cent sure that it must have happened while Blacktail was out hunting. She imagined the scene.

  He had caught a yellow muntjac or a brown-eared pheasant, but hadn’t had time to savour it before a hungry wolf had come running out of a barren ditch, and savagely snatched the prey from him. Blacktail had run for his life, but the wolf was faster than him and soon caught up with him. Not willing to let this thieving wolf snatch away his prey, he’d fought a vicious battle. But wolves are stronger than jackals, and the wolf had thrown him to the ground, and taken a bite out of his leg. If Blacktail had not tossed the prey aside and dashed into the thorny bushes, he would soon have been another pile of bones in the wilderness. Flame could see that he had palpitations just thinking about it. She could feel the hatred in his teeth.

  Blacktail glared. There was murder in his eyes. He roared a cruel, low roar. Several times he had been ready to pounce on the pup curled up at the back of the cave, and each time he had been stopped by Flame. Jackal and wolf are enemies. They are fiercely competitive. He could not imagine a single jackal in this world that would willingly live with a wolf. And certainly not this jackal. He had felt a wolf’s teeth in his leg, had been at its mercy, and had been lucky to come out alive.

  Flame didn’t know what to do. Blacktail clearly could not tolerate Sweetie’s presence – it was like having a piece of grit in his eye. She scolded herself for not having thought of it earlier. She should really have dealt with Sweetie before inviting Blacktail back to Buddha Belly Cave. But she didn’t have the ruthless heart of a wolf, and she couldn’t gobble her up. Not now. But she could take her somewhere far away, the kind of place where you have to climb a mountain to get water. She could toss her into a ravine. She could drag her to the snowy mountains, where the ice never melts, to a cave so deep that it goes on forever. But Blacktail had seen Sweetie, and was burning to charge over and attack her. Should she block his way? Should he let him do what he wanted?

  Blacktail charged over to the mouth of the cave, huffing with rage. His front legs were outside the cave, his hind legs inside the cave. He was half-out, half-in. He let out a stream of angry roars. The message was crystal clear. If she stood in his way to the pup, he would walk out of the cave forever. If she wanted him to stay, she must let him dispose of the pup.

  Flame knew that Blacktail’s demand was reasonable. Jackal and wolf cannot live in the same den. It’s one or other, not both. They are incompatible, like fire and water. There is no possibility of harmony. But could she bear to watch Blacktail rip Sweetie to pieces? She had suckled Sweetie for months. It was always going to be difficult to let her go.

  Blacktail paced up and down by the mouth of the cave for a while, and when he saw that Flame still hadn’t made up her mind, he shook his glossy black tail in rage, turned and walked out of the cave. Every step was an effort. Every roar stuck in his throat.
But he could not live in a cave with a wolf. The shadow of a wolf set his scalp tingling. The howl of a wolf made him jump and start. The smell of a wolf gave him goosebumps all over. It might still be a pup, but he would not be able to sleep at night or eat properly. He had no choice but to leave.

  Flame watched blankly as Blacktail stepped out of Buddha Belly Cave and into the narrow passage through the shrubs. It was only when he disappeared around the corner that she suddenly sprang to her senses. Had she gone mad? Had she gone to all that trouble and effort to find such a remarkable jackal, only to let him walk away? There may be plenty of jackals out there, but it is not easy to find the right one.

  Jackals like Blacktail – fit, strong, superb at hunting, loyal, reliable, willing to be your long-term mate – are very rare indeed. You could say they are the crème de la crème. But he was insistent that Sweetie should be killed, regardless of what Flame wanted. Just as gold can always be a little bit brighter, there is no such thing as a perfect jackal. Jackals hate wolves – this is completely normal and justified. Saying there is no room for a wolf pup in a jackal’s den makes sense. It was not right to see this as a flaw in Blacktail.

  What should she do? She was torn between the mate she had chosen, and the pup she had taken in from the forest. She was weighing up her options, considering the pros and cons. She was not prepared to sacrifice her own happiness for the sake of a wolf pup that happened to be the offspring of her worst enemy. If she did the deed for Blacktail’s sake, it would also be for her own sake. Why was she so hesitant? Why couldn’t she toss this unfathomable obstacle to one side like a bone that’s been stripped of its meat?

  ‘Please stay!’ she bleated towards Blacktail. He was about to leave. ‘Please don’t leave me, I’ll do what you want. I won’t block your way.’

  Blacktail did not want to leave Buddha Belly Cave, and when he heard Flame’s plea to stay, he turned round and hurried straight back towards Sweetie. He was dripping and drooling at the mouth. There was a glint of hunger in his eyes. He looked as though he couldn’t wait to gobble her up. A fine marriage feast! But Flame pushed him away, her claws on his mouth. She howled a few times towards the world outside. She would not allow him to do this in the cave, she would not let him turn their wedding suite into a slaughterhouse. ‘Take the pup out of the cave. You can deal with her outside,’ her growl demanded.

  Blacktail knew what to do. He needed to head for the rocks at the back of the cave, roar loudly, push his way forward and force the pup to run out of the cave. Sweetie would resist like mad, but she was small and not very strong, no match for Blacktail. She would scratch and scramble, but he would force her out of the cave, like an executioner directing the condemned to the execution ground.

  Sweetie tried to get close to Flame, but she turned to face the wall. She could not bear to see the look on Blacktail’s face. She could not bear to hear Sweetie’s tragic calls for help. She had to turn away, or she would be unable to stop herself from running over and blocking his way again. She hoped that by looking away and staring at the wall, it would be a case of out of sight, out of mind. But she couldn’t block her ears. Sweetie’s cries for help pierced through his roars and into her heart. She felt almost as faint and as sick as she had when the grey wolf was mauling her little pups in the cave.

  Oh, why was she thinking like this? Why did she have these ridiculous feelings? Last year, when she had decided not to kill Sweetie by the iron trap, her motive had been very clear. It was to keep the pup for later, to have something in stock, to fatten the pup up for when food was short in winter. Now that the little thing had finished suckling, she would be sweet and tender. The time had come.

  But Flame did not have the nerve to kill the pup herself. It was a good thing she was letting Blacktail do the job for her, wasn’t it? Sweetie was holding her back. She had become an obstruction on her road to happiness. She should feel pleased and relieved that he was removing this obstacle, this excess baggage, shouldn’t she? And given that Sweetie’s natural mother was the same grey wolf that had so cruelly killed her own pups, there was some justice and revenge in packing her off to her death, surely?

  However you looked at it, she had no reason to feel compassion. Flame was desperately trying to justify why she should not go to Sweetie’s rescue, to counteract the relentless, ‘Save Sweetie, Save Sweetie,’ that was clamouring in her head.

  Blacktail chased the little pup out of Buddha Belly Cave. Flame could hear him gnashing his teeth. She could hear Sweetie’s mournful howls. Flame’s entire body was shaking with fear. Every howl that Sweetie made stabbed her heart like an awl. She warned herself not to do anything impulsive. She had to stay calm. She forced herself to lie down and bury her head in the crook of her leg. She pawed at her ear until it was pressed flat, to block the sounds that were breaking her heart. But they were so close, and the sounds rang through the cave. There was no escape from it. She resented the fact that Blacktail had no inkling of how difficult it was for her to make this decision. He knew she did not want to see or to hear Sweetie being killed, yet he was doing it right outside the cave. Was he deliberately trying to torment her?

  ‘Couldn’t you have taken the little thing a bit further away? Couldn’t you have done it somewhere else?’ she wanted to shout at him.

  ‘Drop it,’ she told herself. ‘Grit your teeth. A few more moments and Blacktail will have delivered his fateful bite, Sweetie will have uttered her final heart-rending cry, and everything will calm down.’

  She waited with an extraordinary patience, hoping that it would soon be over. But Blacktail’s vicious tearing and Sweetie’s furious howling burst endlessly through the air. What was going on here?

  Of course jackals and wolves fight, but this was a full-size, full-strength jackal fighting a little pup that was barely eating solids yet. It should have been a clean, swift solution. Blacktail was an exceptionally fine jackal, and could resolve the matter easily and decisively. So what was all this fuss about, all this thrashing about? The tearing and the howling continued. Flame was on tenterhooks. She didn’t want to see what was going on, but there was such a strong force calling her that she ran out in spite of herself. What she saw changed her life. Forever.

  Maybe Blacktail wanted to get his revenge on the wolf, to avenge the bite wound on his leg, or to get some fight practise on a living target, or to display his extraordinary hunting skills, or maybe there was some kind of inferiority complex at play, because what Flame found was the most vindictive game of cat-and-mouse. Sweetie was lying belly up on the ground, her fragile neck stretched back. One bite from Blacktail would finish the business. But he was not biting; his blood-red tongue was licking the arch of her neck. Sweetie was rigid with terror. Her eyes were bulging, and her shrill whines were awful to hear. A hideous smile had broken out on Blacktail’s face, a manifestation of callous satisfaction.

  Then, by some miracle, the little thing managed to break free from beneath him. She ran back towards Buddha Belly Cave. She was used to thinking of the cave as her home, as a safe place, a refuge. Blacktail didn’t hurry after her. His jackal face looked on with mocking ridicule. When she was almost at the cave he let out a thundering, menacing roar and, like a flash of lightning, sprang to catch her just as she reached the mouth of the cave. There was more gnashing and tearing, forcing the pup to turn tail and run. Her last glimmer of hope was fading, like a bubble vanishing into thin air. This was the cruellest mental torture.

  The pup tripped and fell. Not ready to give up on life, she picked herself up and ran. Blacktail leapt high in the air, and knocked her over as he landed, whipping her up with a flick of his glossy black tail. There was no more tearing of sharp claws and gnashing of teeth. As she struggled to find her feet, he sprang again, whipping her up. Up, down. Up, down. Stop, go. Stop, go. It was a heinous game of death by torture.

  Flame could not bear to see any more of this. Yes, jackals are carnivores and will scoff the fur with the flesh. They have to kill to get meat. The
y have to kill so that they can go on living. In this sense, it is understandable that they take the lives of others. But jackals do not kill for fun. Killing is not entertainment. Each time Sweetie slipped through his claws, she would try to run for Buddha Belly Cave. This made Flame even more uncomfortable. Sweetie never ran anywhere else. In her mind, Buddha Belly Cave was her home, and when trouble strikes the first thing we do is seek the shelter of home. Flame knew that for a young animal, home means mother, that mother means a warm home, that a warm home means a kind mother. Mother and home mean the same thing.

  In other words, Sweetie thought of Flame as her mother: a mother who would save her, someone she could trust when disaster struck, someone who would be there for her. Yet Flame, under emotional blackmail, had tacitly agreed to her being the wedding entertainment for Blacktail. Her emotions had swung in the opposite direction. She should be ashamed, so ashamed that her heart ached. If Blacktail had done the job at lightning speed before she’d had time to cover her ears, and Sweetie had died without any pain, then she could probably have dealt with it. But to torment the little thing like that was intolerable. Flame had fed her like a mother and she did not want her to feel any pain as she died. Blacktail’s giddy expression and teasing behaviour was totally unnecessary. It was obscene and offensive. Intolerable, absolutely intolerable.

  Flame stood at the mouth of the cave, a witness to his violence, the flames of anger surging in her heart. Sweetie had spotted her. She struggled to break free from Blacktail and run to her. This new confidence came from a combination of survival instinct and unconditional love towards her mother. Blacktail would probably see from the fire in her eyes that something was not right. He would bring this deadly game of cat and mouse to an end, turn her over, open his mouth to bite her leg, then tear her limb from limb.

  Flame was like a volcano ready to erupt. She could not tolerate any more. Finally, she exploded, thrusting herself towards Blacktail. She hit him from behind and sent him crashing to the ground. He was taken by surprise, caught off-guard, and tumbled over head first. He picked himself up, shook off the dust and dirt, and stared at her in stunned surprise, as though looking at an unreasonable monster. Then suddenly there emerged from his mouth a sarcastic, mocking, accusatory sound followed by a furious roar, ordering her to let him pass. The wedding feast was not over yet. He had not finished his meal.