“Ethan! Ethan!” said a black crow in his croaky voice. “Ethan is his name.” Then he lifted off and quickly disappeared into the dark woods, repeating my name until his voice faded away.
“Do you hop, hop, hop?” asked Puffer, a little white rabbit with a nose that rarely stopped wiggling.
I can hop a little, I told her. But usually I just walk.
“Do you ever skip?” asked Tawny the deer.
“No, no,” her mate, Rut the buck answered her. “How could he properly skip with those legs? Am I right?”
I can skip a little, I told them. Then I demonstrated. But usually I just walk … like this. I showed them a few casual steps, and a collective “ooh, ahh,” rose up from their many voices.
“I’d say he does very well considering he has only two legs and no tail for balance,” remarked Riley the red fox.
“Oh what do you know of tails?” said Timber the beaver. He slapped at the ground with his big flat tail. “A fluff ball is not a tail. Swiftness, yes, you understand that well. But you can’t speak of tails or the type of balance that comes from keeping one’s self low to the ground.”
“Must you always brag, dear?” asked his mate, Chipper. “She was only making a comment.”
Riley flicked her fluffy tail in annoyance. “I think I know something of balance, Timmy. I could outrun you in my sleep. And as for your swimming skills … I could swim well enough, if I had a good reason.”
“Well then,” said the beaver, puffing himself up for further argument. But before he could go on he was cut off by a chipmunk.
“He has boots,” said Leafpeeker. “No paws. Look!”
“Boots,” agreed Twighopper. “Uh-huh, uh-huh. No paws.”
At that point everyone forgot about the argument between the beaver and fox, and many voices could be heard at once muttering and asking one another what on earth boots were. Then there was a deep, “hmm-hoom,” from Stomper. He raised his head with wet, stringy weeds hanging from the corners of his mouth.
“Friends, friends, listen to me,” he said through his munching. “Let me speak of what I know, and listen well. In the short time I have known the human calf, I have found that it is best to simply make friends with him, rather than to try and understand him. We are strange to him, as he is strange to us, because we are all of different species. Hmm, but tonight, the differences between us are not what matters. No. Surely what does matter is that he, Ethan, regardless of his boots and short legs, is one of the special humans. He hears our speech, and in turn, he speaks kindly to us. Therefore he is, no doubt, an ally to each of us. And so he is here tonight not only to befriend us, but to help us all. M-hmm.”
“Woo-hoo! Well said, well said,” agreed the owl. He flapped his wings excitedly. “Woo-hoo, true, true. My friend, Stomper, you sometimes surprise me. I could not have stated it better m-m-m-myself.”
The hum of many voices in agreement rose up into the night.
“I intended no ill will toward the boy,” said Timber.
“Neither did I intend to be insulting,” said Riley.
“W-e-e-e have been without an Earthkeeper for many years in these woods,” said Talon. “Many of you have never met a human. It is, woo-hoo, understandable that curiosity could get the better of some of you-hoo. But the moose speaks rightly. Ethan is our friend. That is what counts.”
Talon then fell silent. He tipped his head and then spun it around completely, as if he had heard a sound that was not yet perceptible to most of the other animals. As you may or may not know, owls can hear a pin drop. So if someone should ever happen to be dropping pins in the woods at night, there is a good chance an owl might hear it.
“Hmm, listen,” said stomper, taking a cue from the old owl.
Everyone listened silently. Far off in the dark of the mountainside, a growing sound soon became clear to us all. Sticks and brush were breaking, frozen leaves were crunching, and heavy steps could be heard thumping against the frosty floor of the forest.
“It sounds like the bear,” said Rut the buck.
“It does,” agreed Tawny. “And he’s moving fast.”
“The bear!” cried Barkrunner a second later, and jumped straight up in the air and tumbled over backwards. Regaining his footing, he began to shake and tremble all over. “Quick, hide!” he said in his next breath. “Everyone, take to the trees!” And in a blink the little red squirrel was gone.
I lost sight of him weaving between the feet and legs of larger animals, making fast for the nearest tree. He appeared again on the trunk of a big maple, and he did not break stride until he was twenty feet off the ground, looking back down at us all from the safety of a branch. There was a brief moment of silence as we all watched the panicked squirrel clinging to the distant tree. Then all at once, the whole crowd burst into laughter. The beavers slapped their tails and the birds flapped their wings. The owl hooted, Ginny panted, and the deep laugh of Stomper rumbled over us all.
“So much for all your brave talk of confronting the bear,” Ginny called up to Barkrunner. She then turned to me and winked, whispering, Red squirrels are big talkers.
“Ah, that’s right. Go ahead and laugh,” called Barkrunner, his tail flicking in annoyance. “You won’t be laughing when Berrybottom gets here!”
“I’d say Barkrunner has a point,” Prowler said to me once he was finished laughing. “I doubt you have to climb a tree, Ethan, but just to be safe, you’d best stand back behind Ginny. Old Berry is liable to be very disagreeable after being roused from his hibernation like this.”
“Hmm-hoom,” groaned Stomper, as slowly he began lumbering away from the pond. “Stay well behind me, little Ethan. For when Berrybottom arrives, I will stand here, between him and you. If the Earthkeepers cannot contain his fury—which I think they will—I will lower my antlers and keep him far from you. M-hmm. Mighty as he is, Berrybottom will not face a charge from me, Clodstomper, king of bulls. Mmm. No, no.”
We were not kept waiting long in suspense.
The sounds of Berrybottom bear moving through the woods drew nearer and nearer. His roaring complaints thundered out of the darkness, and I have to admit, even though Stomper was standing guard, I was a little bit frightened of the prospect of meeting such an obviously angry bear. I’d been hoping to meet one that was more mellow and passive.
Suddenly from the shadows darted two swift and silently-moving shapes. Only for a second I mistook them for coyotes, before realizing I was seeing something very rare for New England. The two darting shapes were in fact two magnificent wolves, large-footed and long-legged, coated in plush black and silver, dancing and darting effortlessly about the rough terrain. A second after the first two I caught sight of a third, a fourth, a fifth, and then everything became too busy for me to keep count.
The Earthkeepers everyone had been speaking about had returned, and they had done so in dramatic fashion.
Chapter 7
The larger shape of Berry bear next became clear thundering out from the darkness of the mountainside. By then the whole pack had flooded the open space, moving very fast but seemingly without effort, darting and circling about that huge bear like the most majestic and elegant herding dogs you could ever imagine seeing. Their wide paws struck the frozen ground without a sound, and their streamline bodies moved with such quick, efficient grace that it sometimes appeared like they were floating more than running. They took turns moving in close to the bear. Sometimes they nipped at a shoulder or a leg. Other times they simply drove him on with their growling voices, charging in and then springing away just in time to avoid an angry swipe of Berry’s huge paws.
For the next few moments all of us gathered there stood in awe of the drama playing out before us. Like many of the animals present, I had never seen a wolf in person before, and I must say that I had not prepared for the solemn, beautiful danger of their presence. All but a few of them were significantly larger than Ginny, and though they shared the same general outline of a large herding dog, a glimps
e of their eyes and their terrible fangs made it clear that these were not domestic animals. Their snarls were not the halfhearted threats of most dogs, they were loaded promises that demanded immediate compliance—even from someone as large as Berry bear.
To behold they were magnificent creatures, richly coated in their plush winter furs. But in their demeanor they were wild with an innate strength and fury that both amazed me and caused a shiver to tingle up my spine. They were the living, breathing embodiments of their proud ancestors, as well as the great forefathers of all living canines—even my wonderful Ginny.
Watching those wolves herd that furious bear was almost like watching a dance—a dance that had been rehearsed countless times over countless centuries. Though some of their doggish movements appeared playful, and their yelps sometimes sounded like friendly jests, it was clear to all of us that they were not playing a game. They demanded the utmost respect, even from a massive old bear like Berry. A few moments into their great display, even proud Clodstomper took a few steps back to give the Earthkeepers ample space to execute their dance of dominance over Berrybottom the stubborn bear.
Berry turned and turned until he was dizzy while the pack encircled him. He outweighed his tormentors substantially, but he could not match their speed and efficiency. In a final outburst of his rage he stood up tall on his hind legs and let forth a terrible roar. Then, seeing that the wolves were unfazed, he at last squatted down and sat back on his rump. He was greatly outnumbered, and in truth, after being chased, he was looking rather tired from his run.
“Do you yield?” asked the strong voice of a great gray wolf staring the bear in the eye.
“I yield, I yield,” grumbled Berry between his heavy breaths. “Can’t a fellow sleep around here? Leave me in peace, you noisy pack of ruffians!”
“Indeed, it is peace that I hope to leave you with,” replied the wolf. “Save your energy for your true enemies, my friend. Our cause may likely require your help.”
“Huh,” scoffed the bear, swaying his head. “I rest only because I choose to rest. No one tells me what to do.”
“Silence!” snarled the wolf, baring his shiny fangs. Along with him several of the others bared their fangs as well.
Berry lowered his head and slouched down so that he appeared like a great ball of black fur.
“I apologize for the use of blunt force,” said the gray wolf as he turned and moved his eyes over the crowd of us bystanders. His manner of speech was deep, confident and somehow polite at the same time. “It was not my desire to be introduced to you all as so.”
“Woo-hoo,” said Talon. “No trouble, no trouble. He is a terribly stubborn bear, if I must say so.”
Berry grumbled under his breath but said nothing. He didn’t even lift his head fully to look up at the owl. It was like he only wished to go back to sleep and the voices around him were preventing him from doing so.
The gray wolf then took a few slow steps toward the large crowd of us bystanders. He paused to look up at Stomper, nodding his head respectfully at the moose. Stomper did the same, groaning, “M-hmm.” Then, of everyone standing by, the wolf fixed is amber eyes directly on me.
“Hello, Ethan,” he said.
I felt a little strange hearing him say my name like that. I guess it was a feeling of embarrassment mixed with a bit of fear or uncertainty. I stood there for a second, not knowing what to say, not quite daring to make full eye contact with the wolf.
It’s all right, Ethan. Ginny said softly. Don’t be frightened. I’m right here.
Hello, I said, resting my hand on Ginny’s shoulder.
“I am called Lobo,” said the wolf. “Leader of the Outlaw Pack. Step forward, friend, and meet me properly.”
I kept my hand on Ginny’s shoulder as I began to move forward. I took small steps, feeling very self-conscious. Everyone but Berry was staring at me, but most of all I felt the eyes of the wolves resting on me, staring into me, as if they were evaluating me. I stopped a few feet before the wolf. He sat back on his haunches and continued to regard me with his powerful eyes.
“I am pleased to meet you, Ethan,” he said.
You too, I said. But I’m wondering … how do you know my name?
“Do you find it strange?” he returned.
No, not strange. I just …
“Rumors spread quickly when carried on wings,” said Lobo with a hint of humor in his proud voice. “Crows in particular can keep little to themselves.”
“Ethan!” croaked the crow at that moment, who I hadn’t noticed sitting on a branch until he spoke. “I told, I told!”
“Pay close attention to the birds, young Earthkeeper.” Said Lobo. “For they carry on their wings much valuable information for those willing to listen.”
Earthkeeper? I said. I thought you … the wolves … were the Earthkeepers.
“You are not wrong. Of the vast animal kingdom, we wolves are among the greatest travelers. By our natures we are among the best organized of wild creatures, with deep powers of memory, the keenest of observational senses, and unsurpassed cunning to sneak and avoid human detection whenever and wherever necessary. Yes, we are Earthkeepers. But you, and the few other humans like you left in the world, are every bit as crucial to our organization. Wolves are the eyes and swift feet, while humans are the go-betweens, the voices that translate the wild language to the languages of men. In that way we are both links of the same far-reaching chain.”
I see, I replied, though I didn’t really understand how someone like me could be compared to someone like Lobo. As I stood there contemplating his words, I found that as usual I was at a loss for my own words.
“And you,” Lobo said to Ginny. “I take it that you are Ethan’s companion and guardian?”
“You are correct,” Ginny answered. “But more so I am his companion by choice, not merely a guardian. I am called Ginny.”
“The love between you is obvious to me,” said the wolf. “It is a special bond you both share. I thank you, Ginny, for your devotion to this boy, as well as your efforts to get him out to meet us at such an unusual hour.”
“It was not easy, I admit.” Ginny said. “But now I fear that the work ahead of us will be much more difficult—maybe even impossible.”
“What causes you such fear?”
“Everything,” Ginny said. “I fear for everyone present here tonight, and also Ethan’s parents. Do you understand the human customs regarding money?”
“I do,” Lobo said. “It is one of many human customs we must strive to understand.”
“Well,” Ginny resumed, “understand that for Ethan, money is hardly an issue. He is yet too young and innocent to be corrupted by the matters of human affairs. But to his parents, with each passing day, the situation of their money becomes more of a problem. They are good and decent people, kind, not greedy. But even so, they require money to sustain their lives and this land. They cannot keep the inn—the place they reside which also they gather their income from—running without money. This land is coveted by other humans who are not content to let the land be as it is. So you see, the news is bad for everyone.”
“That is my understanding also,” said Lobo. “There is someone present here who is connected with the covetous humans you speak of. Maxwell,” he said in a louder voice. “Come forward if you are here.”
From the crowd of animals stepped a housecat who I had not noticed before. He was an orange tiger cat, quite fat, and stepped slowly toward myself, Ginny and Lobo. I suspected—or maybe I was just hoping—he might sound something like Garfield when he spoke.
***
“I thank you for the long trip you made to join us tonight,” Lobo said to the cat.
“Oh,” said Maxwell as he sat down, “don’t mention it.” Unfortunately he didn’t sound like Garfield. “I make sure to get some exercise at least once per season, whether I need it or not.”
Lobo nodded politely to acknowledge his joke. Maxwell blinked his eyes at me in that nonchalant w
ay cats have, then resumed speaking.
“If I heard you correctly from the back of the crowd, yes, Ginny is speaking the truth. The humans who house me have much of the thing called money. On the mountain we are standing afoot of they collect the money from other humans, and they do this in exchange for temporary use of the mountain. The paying humans then partake in a sort of activity which I don’t pretend to understand. They hurl themselves down the steep hills with nothing but sticks attached to their feet. If all goes well, and they survive the trip without any broken bones, they turn right around and go straight back up the mountain again for another try at hurting themselves. It’s all crazy, if you ask me. Of course, no one usually asks me much of anything.”
“Hmm,” groaned Stomper. “It sounds to me that the humans are even stranger than I first suspected. M-hmm.”
“Strange isn’t the word for it,” said Maxwell. “Nothing they do makes any sense at all. They are unnecessarily loud all day long, even when it is clear that I’m trying to sleep. They speak to each other in flat tones, which I don’t mind as much, but then proceed to speak to me in terrible high-pitched, silly voices. And if that wasn’t bad enough, then they go and put their faces close to mine—so close that they tickle my whiskers—and make terrible kissy faces and sounds with their lips.” He shuddered. “No, strange isn’t the half of it, big moose. They are outright insufferable beings. If they didn’t feed me so well, there’s no way I could justify sharing space with them.”
A hum of laughter rose up from the crowd of animals. The loudest laugh of all came from Bandit the raccoon. Prowler stared hard at his brother, but said nothing to him just then.
It’s called skiing, I said when the laughter died down. What you described is something people do for fun. People ski at my house too. You all know what fun is.
The Earthkeepers Page 7