Jackal and Wolf

by Shen Shixi

  By now the cobra’s mouth was stretched open, its two curved fangs threatening from the top jaw, its needle-sharp teeth glistening below. Cobra venom is so potent it can destroy almost all living creatures. Sweetie could be attacked at any moment. It was an extremely dangerous situation. In a split second, it could touch the tip of its tail on the ground, thrust itself forward, and sink its fangs in its prey. Even if she had wings, Sweetie could not escape now.

  Flame had no time to think. As though a giant hand was pushing her from behind, she put her nose to the ground, and charged towards the cobra. Sweetie leapt to the side. The second she moved, the cobra flew at her. In the split second that its long body flew through the air, Flame thrust her teeth in its neck. Any later, and Sweetie’s life would have been over.

  Jackal and cobra thrashed about in the grass. Flame had never imagined a cobra could have such strength. Its tail whipped her to the ground. Before she could get back on her feet, it whipped her again then coiled itself twice around her, squeezing her neck and chest, tightening like a noose. Flame could feel the tension in her body. She could barely breathe. She was close to suffocating, but her mind was crystal clear. All she had to do was open her mouth, and pull her sharp teeth out of the cobra. But the moment its head was free, it would sink its fangs into her. She would be snake food. Flame bit as hard as she could. It was her only hope. No matter how tightly the cobra wrapped itself around her, she would hold that bite.

  A snake’s neck is the most crucial part of its body and the cobra’s was trapped between the jackal’s teeth. It couldn’t bite back, it could only flex its spine in desperation, coil itself tighter, squeeze harder. Flame’s chest was getting tighter and tighter, her ribs were creaking, her insides were squashed and pressing together. She could barely stand it. She had an urge to vomit. Her head was spinning. It was sheer willpower that kept her going: Take one more breath, hold your bite, keep your jaws tight, you must not let that snake slip out of your mouth. The struggle continued; a desperate contest of life and death.

  Sweetie had darted off to the side, but when she saw Flame tossing and turning with the cobra, she summoned up her courage, and in true wolf style, howled and charged at the cobra. She had no experience of dealing with a snake, and she was fearless. Bold as brass, she leapt about in front of it, ready to pounce. It was such a dangerous thing to do. Most venomous snakes have to sink their teeth into their prey before they can release their poison. But cobras are different. They not only release their poison before their teeth pierce the prey, they also spit poison at them like a water pistol. They can hit an animal two or three metres away. The moment it hits them, the crystal clear venom will burn hotter than fire and destroy their hair and flesh. Unless there is a sudden rainstorm and Nature provides a free shower, they will jump straight in a river or lake, or any stretch of water, and try to wash it all off. It is even more terrifying to learn that the venom will enter the blood, and travel with it into the marrow, poisoning the nerves, causing the body to spasm and go into paralysis, and finally to die.

  There was no hint of rain in the blue skies above, and there was no pool of water among the bamboo in the valley.

  Flame held on to the cobra’s neck, watching its every move. Its mouth stretched wider and wider. It bared its two curved fangs, sharp as poisoned needles. Its forked tongue flicked in and out. This cobra was about to spit poison. Sweetie was oblivious to the danger, still howling and hopping about in front of the snake. If it spat now, at such close range and from this angle, there was no doubt that the venom would land on Sweetie’s body. The consequences were not worth thinking about. Flame lashed out furiously with her claws, sending a spasm of pain through the cobra that made it twist in agony and send a glitter of poison into the air. It brushed past Sweetie, but did not hit her, thank goodness!

  The spray of poison travelled two or three metres, drawing a pretty arc in the air before landing in the bushes. It just happened that there was a hedgehog in the undergrowth, rolled up in a ball and minding its own business. When the poison landed, the unlucky hedgehog burst into life as though it had been dropped into a pan of hot oil. It squealed frantically and, ignoring the jackal, wolf and cobra nearby, came scurrying out of the bushes, zooming about in the grass like a headless fly, almost crashing into Sweetie. She watched in wide-eyed astonishment as the crazy hedgehog ran wild, and dodged out of its way. Then it lay down, belly up, its four legs convulsing madly, and foaming at the mouth. Its squeals weakened and faded as it crossed the threshold of death. Sweetie frowned. She didn’t understand what had happened. She walked round the hedgehog trying to determine the cause of death.

  Meanwhile, the battle between Flame and the cobra had reached a stalemate. The frenzied struggle had taken a lot of energy, and both sides were nearing exhaustion.

  Which side would make the next move? Although Flame’s teeth were in the snake’s neck, they were not in the crucial part at the centre, but just off to the side. While this prevented the snake from putting its fangs into her, it was not enough to send the snake to its death any time soon. Similarly, although the cobra had coiled itself around Flame so tight she could hardly breathe, its strength was waning, and it would not be able to squeeze the life out of Flame. Both were in imminent danger. Both were a hair’s breadth away from death. But who could hold out the longest? It was now a battle of wills. The first to give up would cede victory to the other. It was a strange contest, in which the slowest would win. The one with the strongest stamina, the one whose life withered the slowest, the one who refused death’s embrace, would be the final winner.

  Flame understood the situation only too clearly. Her very existence was at risk. She had a fifty-fifty chance. Of course, she had a strong instinct for survival. As long as there was breath in her body she would not give up this desperate fight. But the cobra’s will to live was equally strong. As long as it could breathe, it was determined that the battle would continue. They had reached a mental stalemate as well as a physical one. Flame’s chest was getting tighter and tighter. She was finding it harder and harder to breathe. There was not enough oxygen getting to her brain, and she was having moments of dizziness. She could not hold on much longer.

  Sweetie howled and launched another attack. This time, she didn’t plonk herself like a fool right in front of the snake’s face, but crept round the back. She attacked its tail, tearing at it with tooth and claw. She was a clever little thing. She’d learnt from the hedgehog incident that she had to dodge the poisonous spray. She was learning fast how to deal with a cobra. She would be a great hunter in the future.

  Sweetie grabbed the cobra’s tail, and ripped it savagely with her teeth. But her wolf claws were still young and soft, and her bite was not strong enough to be effective. As hard as she tried, she could not rip through the smooth skin of the snake. And though she knew how to bite, she could only make tiny pinprick impressions in the snake’s tail.

  A snake’s tail is the least important part of its body. Attacking a snake’s tail is a waste of time, because even if you rip the whole thing off, you will not do much harm to the rest of the snake. But Sweetie was young and inexperienced, she was new to hunting, and had never fought a cobra before.

  The cobra was like a rope coiled two and a half times round Flame’s body. The last half was slipping off, the tip of the tail winding about in the air, desperately trying to dodge Sweetie’s claws and teeth. Distracted, the cobra eased its grip on Flame. The burning pain in Flame’s chest began to abate, and the feeling of suffocation seemed to ease. Her courage and confidence began to return.

  The cobra twisted the lower half of its body into a coil, and swept it off to the stony ground at the side, as though it could no longer bear being tormented by Sweetie, and wanted to bury its tail under the stones. But Sweetie wasn’t giving up. She pursued the snake’s tail with a howl.

  All of a sudden the tail uncoiled and lashed out like a whip, a thick piece of muscle cracking through the air and whacking Sweetie on the n
eck, sending her head over heels. This was a tricky, calculating cobra. Even its sneaking, cheating tail could play the game.

  Sweetie turned a somersault on the ground and leapt back to her feet. She bared her teeth and flashed her claws, and went for the snake’s tail again. It seemed that the cobra really did have eyes in the back of its head, because every time she drew closer it whipped its tail and sent her sprawling. One particular swipe sent her head first into some rocks, stunning her. It took her a few moments to get back to her feet. Her neck was out of alignment, and although her eyes looked straight ahead, she staggered about as if she were drunk, as though it were hard to walk in a straight line. Two steps to the left, three to the right, stagger-trip-stagger-bump. Yet she still had that tenacious look about her. She was going to pounce on the snake’s tail again.

  She truly was a brave little thing. Flame felt a warm current filling her heart. If a fierce adult carnivore was attacked over and over, its spirit would be dampened, and it wouldn’t have the courage to continue the attack. But Sweetie tripped and fell, and then picked herself up and started again. Her sole motive was to rescue Flame from the stranglehold of the cobra. She dared to fight, she dared to battle. She was not afraid of anything. Flame had taught her well. The cobra’s tail swung back and forth, until its last little bit of strength was used up. Although it still seemed to split the air, it was now as soft as a hank of silk floss. Sweetie caught hold of it and bit. There was not much resistance.

  With jackal and wolf united against it, the cobra’s position was obviously weakened. It was now lost and confused, rolling about on the ground. With the last of its energy it coiled its tail around the little pup, and squeezed so hard that Sweetie’s eyes went white. The pup tried to call out, but she couldn’t. The harder the snake squeezed Sweetie, the looser its grip over Flame. With her paws tightly over the snake’s soft belly, the jackal seized her chance. She released her bite, let the snake’s smooth neck slip just a little, then snapped her jaws shut round the central part of its neck. It was a kind of teasing juggle as she repositioned herself. This time, her bite was accurate and lethal. Her sharp fangs pierced the most crucial part of the snake’s body, the ‘seven inches of life’ where the head meets the neck. The snake’s mouth sprang open. Its eyes looked as though they would pop out of its head as it writhed about in the air, then fell to the ground like an old rope.

  Flame and Sweetie, mother and daughter, tucked into a well-earned feast. Sweetie gave her body a good shake, straightened her coat, raised her snout to the sky and howled, rejoicing in their victory. Although you can’t eat a snake’s head and internal organs, its meat, skin and bones are all rare delicacies, on a par with fresh porcupine. But there was no need to spend any more energy on the porcupine: Flame and Sweetie would enjoy delicious cobra today. On their first hunting trip together, they had saved each other’s lives, and killed a cobra, the king of the snakes. If Sweetie was her own flesh-and-blood daughter, rather than a wolf pup, it would truly have been an occasion to celebrate.

  Life would be so wonderful, thought Flame, as she feasted on fresh snake meat.

  Chapter 10

  One afternoon, Flame took Sweetie hunting on the west bank of the Guna River. They were in luck. They had just followed the bend of the river when they spotted a bharal taking a drink. It was a beautiful looking creature, like a large sheep with those distinctive horns that seem to grow in a V-shape on the top of its head, and a coat as red as the rhododendrons on the mountain side.

  Bharals tend to live in flocks, usually in groups that are related by blood, like an extended family. There might be fifteen to twenty in a small group, and twenty or more in a large group. But there is an exception. When a young male has grown his horns, he will leave the group and live for a year or two on his own, free to do as he pleases. He learns to live in the wilderness and the jungle, to sharpen his nerve and his will, and in doing so becomes a mature, strong adult.

  The bharal taking a drink at the river was clearly a young male that had recently grown his horns. He was full of life and youthful pride, but lacked experience – easy prey! Flame and Sweetie made a two-pronged attack. Sweetie came charging out of the forest, feigning attack, howling and yowling, baring her teeth and showing her claws. As she caught his attention from the front, Flame crept up from behind, then leapt at him, clamping her teeth into his leg. He was about the size of a small calf, and really quite strong. He leapt about frantically, and after a struggle, broke free and hurtled off into the foothills of the snowy mountains.

  Flame and Sweetie chased after him. The rugged foothills are not easy territory, and they would give the bharal a scary race for his life. Flame had every confidence in this hunt. If a bharal runs like the wind, then jackals and wolves run like lightning. The jackal’s strength lies in its ability to give chase over a long distance and then attack. It can run fifteen or twenty kilometres without having to stop to catch its breath. It has more stamina than a bharal.

  Although the bharal had sustained only a slight injury from Flame’s bite, the skin was broken and was bloodied. The wound must have hurt as he ran. He was still losing blood, and wouldn’t be able to hold out for much longer. He would run out of energy and collapse on the ground. Another victory for Flame. It was just a matter of time until she would be eating delicious bharal for dinner.

  The bharal followed its instinct for survival. It darted into the dense undergrowth, climbed up the steep rocks, leapt across deep ravines. It was trying to lose its pursuers, but the blood from its wound dripped to the ground, leaving a clear trail. Flame simply followed the trail of flesh blood. She couldn’t go wrong. She did not take her eyes off him.

  At first, Sweetie stayed close to Flame and they pursued the bharal side by side. She had kept up for a while, round the mountain promontory and over two barren ditches. But the longer they ran, the slower Sweetie became. She fell further and further behind, until there was quite a distance between them, and her howls became fainter and fainter. Flame was not going to stop the chase and wait for her to catch up. It was such an opportunity. The bharal was coming to the end of its road, and she didn’t want to let it get away. She wanted a bharal for dinner, not a bubble of air.

  The main thing was to keep pace, stay in pursuit, and seize her prey as soon as she could. Anything else was of secondary importance, and could wait until she had caught the bharal. She chased it for another two or three kilometres, until they reached the Gamar grasslands. Flame pounced. The bharal was so exhausted it was foaming at the mouth. It didn’t take long to finish him off. Flame rammed her teeth into the bharal’s throat and clamped her jaw shut. Within ten seconds, he had suffocated and died.

  It had been a long chase, and Flame was tired. She lay beside the bharal, panting and catching her breath, waiting for Sweetie to catch up with her, so they could enjoy the feast together.

  She waited and waited, but there was no sign of Sweetie. She could not hear the familiar wolf howl in the quiet of the mountain wilderness. Flame climbed a small hill to gain a better view. She looked all around, scouring the landscape. There were forests, ravines, grasslands and bushes as far as the eye could see, but no sign of Sweetie. Flame threw back her head and roared. There were a few echoes, but no response from Sweetie.

  The evening sun was setting in the west, and the purple haze of evening was seeping over the grasslands. It was getting dark. Flame couldn’t go on waiting, feeling like a fool. Perhaps Sweetie had fallen so far behind that she had lost sight of Flame and headed back to Buddha Belly Cave? Flame was hungry. She bit open the bharal, gobbled down its heart, liver and insides, its internal organs still warm from the kill. It was the sort of thing a jackal drools over in its dreams. But she had grown used to eating together with Sweetie, and without the little thing by her side, even the best supper in the world would have tasted sour.

  After scoffing down the bharal’s insides, she bit off one of its legs, to take back to Buddha Belly Cave for Sweetie. She dragged the rest of t
he bharal into the lush forest, buried it in some tree roots, and covered it with leaves, so that other animals would not come and steal it. The bharal was too heavy for Flame to carry the whole thing back home. This was the only way she knew how to store food. She’d wait a day or two, until she was hungry again, then return to eat some more. When it was safely hidden, she took the leg in her mouth, and hurried back through the mountains to Buddha Belly Cave. Every so often she stopped, put the leg down and gave a couple of roars. She was looking out for Sweetie. But no answer came.

  It was already dark by the time Flame reached Buddha Belly Cave. She was expecting the little thing to come bursting out of the shadows, to jump up and greet her. But her expectations fell flat. Buddha Belly Cave was calm and quiet. There was no sign of Sweetie. She called out a few times. The only reply was a vague echo from inside the cave. She sniffed about at the entrance, but could not find a fresh trail for her. The wolf had not come back to Buddha Belly Cave by herself. Flame had lost her while chasing the bharal. Where could she be? Had she headed off in another direction? Had she come across a wild rabbit, played chase with it, had so much fun that she’d forgotten the way home? Perhaps she’d grown tired of chasing the bharal and slipped off to lie on the grass in the sun? Flame lay at the entrance to the cave. With her head facing out and her tail facing in, she gazed out at the night. She was looking forward to seeing her.

  The stars twinkled in the dark sapphire sky, highlighting the mountain peaks and tall trees. The white glow of fireflies shimmered in the grass, a pretty line flickering in the darkness. She could hear an owl hooting in the distance, and a pangolin rustling about in the bushes in front of Buddha Belly Cave. From up in the trees came the sound of branches cracking in the night. Sweetie had still not come home. Flame was wistful. She had been waiting a long time.