by Bryce THOMAS
The accomplice bent down and picked up his gun. There was a clicking sound as he moved the bolt out, back and then forward again. All the time, the gun was being raised to his shoulder. As if in slow motion, the contraption lifted in the air, its open point eventually being all Rhamin could see in front of the man’s face. The rest of the pack was peering through the still, thick leaves that hung heavily down to the ground. Although they could see into the clearing, they were out of sight and almost totally sheltered from danger behind the crest of rock. They had been watching as well, and they too seemed just as mesmerised by what was going on.
The gun fired. The sound echoed through the forest, repeating itself as it bounced from mountain wall to solid bedrock, from trees and back again. Birds, that not long before had settled nearby after the sound made by the same contraption, scattered once again in a crescendo of beating wings and vocal surprise. As the noise came from the open end of the gun, and the flame sped outwards from it, it seemed to be arcing upwards. Something hot and deadly passed over Rhamin’s head and splattered through twigs, leaves and branches behind him, showering the pack with broken dead wood. He flinched, but his amber eyes were still fixed on the men in front of him. He realised he hadn’t done what he had told the rest of the pack they must do if man ever pointed anything towards them. For some reason that he couldn’t explain even to himself, he remained on the spot, transfixed. It had all happened, seemingly in slow motion, something, some feeling or sense had told him that he should remain there, still and silent. He had seen the farmer rising from his crouching position, arm arching upwards in slow motion, his hand contacting with the gun as it fired. And, as the deafening sound died down, he heard the accomplice shout something that seemed to be an angry declaration, but the farmer said nothing. Then, after letting the accomplice settle a little, calmly, he spoke again, first to his dog that was becoming restless, rising to its feet, waiting for instructions. It settled back down, all its body tense and taut like a coiled spring waiting to be released. Then, just as calmly, he spoke to the other man. The man’s face altered as the discourse progressed. He shook his head. The farmer pointed to Rhamin who, heart calming slightly now, was still watching and waiting. There was more discourse. And then, the farmer smiled. Not at the companion. It was a smile aimed directly at Rhamin. The farmer said something to the black wolf, but it made no sense to him, and then the man gave him a wave; a sort of acknowledgement wave; a wave that Rhamin could comprehend. Rhamin lifted his head slightly as if to let the farmer know that he had understood. There was a long silence as both looked into each other’s eyes, then, still held in the farmer’s gaze, Rhamin turned slowly, hopped down from the ledge and disappeared into the cover of the dark undergrowth.
So Rhamin knew now that the farmer had forgiven him for stealing his sheep. He knew, as well, that Solin’s evil plan had not worked. He knew that the farmer’s wife or the children must have told him what had happened in their house when Rhamin stopped Solin from killing the man’s young ones. Perhaps she had been able to understand also, Rhamin’s actions on the night he dispatched Solin and his band of rogue wolves. Whatever happened after those events, Rhamin was sure that the farmer knew that the black wolf and his pack wanted to live in peace with him. It was with a sigh of relief and a much lighter heart that he and his pack departed from the clearing. For the first time in weeks, Rhamin let out a howl. He was free again in his own territory; he could communicate freely with his pack. As if released from beneath an invisible, heavy, suffocating cloud, one by one, and then together, the wolves began to howl.
–––––––
The rejoicing didn’t last long though. Rhamin calmed down his wolves eventually, for although their achievement today would have been worth starving for a month, they had unfinished business. Back in the clearing, once the men descended the mountain with their catch, the wolves could return for the remainder of the deer. Waste not, want not. Rhamin had let the wolves that were still away, and within earshot, know his position. And by doing so, he had alerted them to the fact that the all clear had been given as regards the danger they had so greatly feared.
Patiently, and with much playfulness, the pack waited, and eventually, as the day passed they began to head slowly back to the rocky clearing.
The men had made themselves a little camp fire and were sitting chatting and laughing as they cooked meat on a stick and ate. Although not yet in sight, the smell was quite appetizing, even to wolves that preferred raw meat. But the men seemed in no hurry, and so the wolves, from a distance, silently waited and watched for the men’s departure.
It was a calm warm afternoon, too calm for Rasci. He liked to act the fool and bounce about playfully. But now he was constrained to wolf-like behaviour. He had to be quiet and wait. But, wait as he may, he still fidgeted uneasily. A couple of times, Rhamin reprimanded him for his restlessness, but Rasci couldn’t explain it. He was a clown of a wolf, but nevertheless, he was a wolf at heart, and patience is inbred to all wolves. But Rasci wandered about restlessly, muttering under his breath, shaking his head, then settling down and sighing heavily. While all the other wolves rested, he out of them all remained alert to any slight noise from the forest.
Except Lexa. She had been thinking about the dog she had seen. She also had things on her mind. And when the noise came, she was awake and alert. She heard the sound but it was one she didn’t know, or at least it was a sound she could not remember. But Rasci knew what it was. He had heard it before. Lexa’s ears were forward. She was about to bark but Rasci checked her. ‘Shh’ he said quickly; and then quietly, ‘Rhamin! Rhamin, are you awake.’ It was almost a whisper.
Rhamin stirred from a deep sleep. He had relaxed this day more than he had done for months. A heavy cloud had seemed to have been miraculously lifted off his shoulders. Today, he was happy. It was one of the best days in his life. ‘What is it, Rasci?’ he said, taking in a deep breath to revive himself to consciousness.
‘Master, we have trouble.’
Rhamin sprang to his feet. ‘In what way?’
‘Rhamin, I hear the bears. I am not mistaken. They are coming down the mountain.’
‘Where are they heading, can you tell?’
‘They are only just above the clearing, if I am not mistaken. I suspect that they have smelt the men and their food.’
And Rasci was right. As Rhamin stirred the rest of the wolves into action, there was another sound of the man’s gun, but this time amidst a greater commotion than they had heard in a long time. It took little effort to work out what was happening. Bears hibernate over the winter months, losing up to one third of their body weight as they sleep. The winter had been long and hard. The fat reserves that bears build up before hibernating run out eventually and, come what may, they have to wake up and find food. Only, the food that bears depend on most when they first awake is the wild berries, rich in sugars and high in energy. But they need fifteen kilograms of berries a day to build up their strength and start to gain weight. This spring they were not likely to achieve that target. The wild berries were just not there. They had either not been produced in large enough numbers during the unusually dry summer, or they had been consumed by the other smaller creatures who themselves had to survive the winter. Those creatures too, after the long winter, had to build up their strength once again. They too had families to rear if their species were to survive. This year’s salmon had not yet commenced their run up the rapids of the mountain rivers after their three years at sea. That part of the food chain was due soon, but was still to come. In the meantime, the bears were starving. Now they were prepared to attack and kill anything including humans for food. There were two men and a dog. But more than that, there was a dead deer. All told, there was meat enough for a feast. The two men were no longer at the top of the food chain. As far as the starving bears were concerned the men, their dog and the deer were definitely in the food chain.
Rhamin’s ears took in the sounds as, in his mind, he pictur
ed what was happening. ‘I can’t let the bears do this!’ he exclaimed, uncertain why this particular man was worth getting into a fight for. ‘I must go and see what I can do.’ He looked around at his followers. ‘I’m not asking any of you to follow me. You make your own mind up. But I know, for me, it was meant to be.’
‘Me too,’ said Rasci, surprisingly serious this time. Rhamin smiled at his young companion. Saying not another word, he turned and bounded up towards the clearing. It took less than a minute to reach the spot from where they had watched the men and as he travelled, he heard sounds that made his coat hairs stand on end. There was the sound of a dog, not barking but snarling and yapping and then yelping. There was shouting by one of the men and another gun shot, followed by a clattering sound as the gun fell onto a hard rock floor. Then there was the sound of a man yelling in pain and growling.
And then Rhamin broke into the clearing, silently running towards Bortag, the biggest of three bears that he could now clearly see.
Bortag hadn’t seen Rhamin; the lens of his right eye was white and coated in an opaque glaze. Rhamin knew the bear would not forgive him for that. But one of Bortag’s companions, a female, did see the black wolf bounding towards the mêlée. It was only slightly smaller than Bortag, but both bears were thin. This bear was standing over one of the men. There was blood on its jowls. As it saw Rhamin it spun around to face him. Rhamin kept on going. He was heading directly towards Bortag and was not going to be distracted by the other bear as he took off. He landed squarely against the shoulders of the big bear, sinking his teeth into the thick coat on its neck. Now, Rhamin could see the farmer beneath Bortag, stabbing with a knife at the bear’s carpeted underbelly. It stumbled forward, off balance, away to one side of its victim. The farmer, like his companion, was covered in blood, but immediately, freed from the bear, he scrambled to his feet and ran to a crevice in the rocks where his gun had fallen. But Bortag just turned and, regardless of Rhamin, shook him off and went after the man again. Rhamin knew that the big bear had not really understood what had hit him in the back. Bortag had only one thing on his mind and, with single minded determination, nothing was going to stop him.
Before Rhamin could recover his balance and attack Bortag again, the other bear was upon him, but at that moment, Rasci sailed through the air, grabbed the female bear by the cheek and, with the momentum of his weight, and with teeth clenched on the bears face, he spun its head around. Rasci had taken it totally by surprise, knocking it off balance and wrenching its gnashing teeth away from Rhamin. It fell awkwardly in a sitting position and then, effortlessly, it rolled back onto all four feet.
More wolves came into the attack. Vela, Jual and Goma appeared from nowhere. They must have heard the wolf calls earlier and now they had found the pack in full battle mode. They seemed to work as one as they, with Rasci set out a well rehearsed system of bite, tear and leave go, none getting in the other’s way, all returning time and time again with such ferocity that the female bear had no chance to take on Rhamin. Once again, the big male bear was almost upon the farmer who had failed to recover his weapon which was now securely wedged down a crack in the rocks. He turned to face the oncoming bear and was knocked off balance by the force of a huge swinging paw that hit him squarely on the side of the head. Huge jaws closed only inches from his chest as the bear snapped at the tumbling victim. Rhamin grabbed the offending limb, but despite his weight, the bear shook him off like a loose branch. It was Ramusan that made the decisive move. He had circled around the bear, and getting the full attention of the huge animal, who could now see him through his one good eye, the young wolf went for the one vulnerable spot. The bear desperately tried to protect its eye as Ramusan snapped his strong jaws onto Bortag’s upper eyelid, ripping with all his weight behind his leap, and then letting go before the bear’s savage jaws could swing around to catch him. As Bortag’s head swung round in pursuit of Ramusan, Lexa closed her jaws on the bear’s windpipe, throwing it off balance. To stop it hitting Lexa with the full force of its paw, Rhamin grabbed the bear’s right arm and, as it went over on its side, Natan and Depni grabbed the bear’s left arm and shook and tugged at it with their powerful jaws. Lexa remained clamped on the bear’s windpipe, slowly starving the big creature of the vital oxygen it needed to remain conscious. Now the bear was fighting for its life. It had to get the pack of wolves off it and to do so it fell forward on its belly and began to roll over and over on the hard rock floor. Lexa had to let go of her hold on the animal’s throat as its weight landed squarely on top of her; but instead of crushing her, it pressed her into a hollow crevice. Likewise, the others had to get out of the way of three hundred kilograms of rolling bear. Had the bear been at full weight and without a thick coat, Lexa would surely have been crushed to death, but luckily, the bear’s neck and not its solid chest landed across her body as it spun over her. Freed from clinging wolves, Bortag got up, shook himself as if he had just been for an afternoon swim and roared as he set off into the thickest part of the forest. The female bear had already given up the fight with the rest of the pack and had been swinging wildly and defensively at her attackers until she saw Bortag take his leave. With a final roar of defiance, she followed her mate and disappeared out of the clearing.
The third younger bear, had fled as soon as Rhamin appeared, but Rhamin only realised why it had not stayed to fight when Charka and Bamar appeared, panting heavily, grinning with satisfaction. What Rhamin had noticed through the corner of his eye as he pounded towards Bortag was the man’s dog repeatedly attacking and retreating from that other female bear. Now, Charka and Bamar explained how they had joined in to attack that bear and, with the farmer’s dog, chased it off into the forest. The bear had been wounded by the second man’s weapon, not fatally. But the wound had tempered its enthusiasm to fight, and with the help of the wolves, the dog had seen it off. The dog, however had refused to join them on the way back to the clearing, but had made its own way back to its master where she now lay guarding him, not sure what the next move would be by the wolves. She was clearly perplexed. She only knew the wolves as her and her master’s enemy, and her only thought now was for the safety of her master.
The farmer was bleeding badly from his left leg. As he sat against a tree, legs stretched out straight in front of him, he reached for his knife and cut a strip of material off his badly torn shirt. Padding it against the gaping wound on his leg he took off a belt from around his waist, wrapped it around the top of his leg and tightened it.
As the wolves milled about after the heat of battle, clearly excited by their victory, Lexa suddenly struggled free from the hollow on the rocky ledge. She jumped up and barked as loud as Rhamin had ever heard her bark. It resounded around the valley until, fading away, silence returned as all eyes turned towards her. She barked again, this time not loudly, but to tell her pack that she had found the second man. He had fallen off the ledge when the bears attacked, but remarkably, he was practically unscathed. A gash on his shoulder, a few scrapes and grazes on his hands and face bore witness to his fleeting encounter with death, but otherwise, he remained intact. Remarkable as well was the fact that he seemed oblivious to the presence of the wolves. The one he seemed to notice was Lexa, who was similarly, singularly interested in the man. Stiffly, the man walked over to his hunting companion and, giving the farmer’s dog a pat on the shoulder, he knelt beside its master and began to help to dress his wound.
Rhamin looked on with deep interest. He had never had such a close encounter with man kind. As the farmer began to recover from the trauma of his injury, and was regaining some of his spent energy, he noticed Lexa milling about in the excited pack of wolves. He turned his head and looked down to make sure his dog was beside him and then looked back up again at Lexa. Rhamin watched his face. He was recalling what happened at the farm when he stole the farmer’s pups and the farmer was obviously recalling the same moment. The farmer smiled, and despite being in obvious pain, he shook his head and began to chuckle. His
companion tried to calm him, thinking that the wounded man was becoming light headed from loss of blood, but the farmer spoke to him in reassuring tones. He was wounded, but he was happy. He could return to his farm with a story for his wife and two young children. Somehow, Rhamin could sense the joy and relief in the man’s manner. They both had a story to tell. But little did either of them know that it was only the beginning.
Part 2
No More the Fool
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Apart from a pestering bluebottle, there was no sound.
Rasci slept soundly in the shadow cast by the laden branches of the big willow. The fly landed on his ear which he flicked in an auto-response, still fast asleep. The pestering insect buzzed off towards the remains of the deer that he had killed in the early hours of the morning. Now in his fifth year, Rasci was a mature member of the Rhamin pack, and for the last three days he had been hunting alone. During the night, he would head back to the Darin with a full stomach and a haunch of meat for Zelda. Her age was finally telling on her and she travelled very little with the other wolves now. He would, as usual, have to chew the food up for her first. It was the least he could do for the frail old wolf that had taught him so much.
Raymond Rozalski slept too. He was still recovering from the wounds that he had received from a bear, whilst hunting deer in the mountain forests. It was mid afternoon and he was resting with one leg on an elm rocking chair whilst reclining along a stout bench in the shade of the veranda of his farmhouse. In the background there were noises; his wife, giving a farm worker instructions what to do; their four year old daughter, Margo, singing and playing in the kitchen, experimenting at mixing some flour with water and dog biscuits and watching the resulting gooey substance cling stubbornly to her fingers. Somewhere in the distance Ben, their five year old son, could be heard calling to Smokey. They were all the usual noises of life; youngsters playing, birds singing, insects flying by or scurrying past.