Rhamin

by Bryce THOMAS

  ‘Too clever,’ Rasci thought he heard the man say under his breath, but he wasn’t sure. The look in the man’s eyes made Rasci give a sudden shudder in his sleep. With that, the picture that had appeared so real started to dissolve away like all dreams do.

  Zelda just watched as Rasci stirred and turned in his sleep. She knew not to wake him, and after a long while, he stopped twitching, fell back into a deeper sleep, and dreamt no more. She was still awake when he eventually woke.

  He felt better for his sleep, but the dream still haunted him. Silvah was already up and about washing herself and making her coat spotless as usual. Eventually, she saw Rasci had awakened and came over and lay beside him and Zelda.

  ‘Are you all right, my young wolf?’ she asked, as Rasci stretched.

  ‘I will be,’ he replied and went over to the water hole to drink. Having taken his fill he returned to Silvah and Zelda and sat beside them.

  ‘I don’t think I’m a leader,’ he stated plainly. ‘I think I am more suited to being a hanger on.’

  Silvah chuckled. ‘Yeah! Well that’s not the impression you gave us all yesterday, Rasci.’

  ‘But I’m…’

  ‘A clown?’

  ‘Precisely!’

  ‘And a good leader,’ said Zelda crossly. She could tell Rasci was having second thoughts.

  ‘That’s what I want to talk to you about, Gran. I don’t think I can do it.’

  ‘Huh! It’s already done!’ Silvah said firmly. ‘You’re the wolf! You are the chosen one. You fought and you won!’

  ‘I wouldn’t have fought any of my own pack,’ Rasci stated firmly. ‘I could never have done that.’

  ‘Rasci, you young dope,’ Zelda said, ‘You didn’t need to. The pack needed a leader and they saw one. They saw you and they’re all proud of you. They look up to you. You can’t let them down now!’

  ‘But I… I…’

  ‘I, nothing,’ Zelda snapped crossly. ‘This isn’t about you. It isn’t about me. It’s about the pack. The pack is the pack because it has a good leader. Without that we are all doomed to wander off by ourselves or in little groups. The pack needs you Rasci. And believe me, you need them!’

  Rasci sighed. His resolve had just been systematically dismantled piece by piece. ‘So what do I do now?’ he asked.

  ‘You do what you believe is right for the pack, of course.’

  ‘Right,’ he replied as if everything had suddenly become crystal clear.

  –––––––

  Some time later that day, whilst the rest of the wolves were away hunting, Rasci, Silvah and Zelda discussed the situation some more. Once again they went over what Rasci had described in his dream.

  ‘If that is right,’ Silvah commented, ‘then it sounds like that man, Petersen, intended to kill Rhamin from the very moment he saw him.’

  Silvah suggested that it might be a good idea if they met regularly to discuss the situation. They were keen to offer their willing ears if he was prepared to discuss his thoughts and dreams with them. But Rasci was still troubled. It still worried him that the other wolves might think he was still acting the fool. Dreams were not reality. But Silvah and Zelda promised to keep everything they discussed, secret. No other wolf need ever know that what he was doing was directly as a result of things he was seeing in his mind.

  But Rasci still wasn’t settled. There was something bothering him, preying on his mind. There was something he should be doing, but whatever that was, he was unable to pluck it from the air and form it into a firm proposal. Somewhere, an idea or thought was trapped and couldn’t get out. That thought or message needed processing. It was there, tickling and turning, trapped in the depths of his mind. He just hoped that he could discover what it was before it was too late.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Just thinking about leading the pack, gave Rasci a head ache. He was used to being alone much of the time and it had always given him time to think and day dream, without the pressures of following the hunting pack. But being alone was even more essential now. If he was to come up with any answers to the problem that he believed existed, he was going to have to use all his resources to find out what the problem was in the first place.

  It was fortunate in some respects that the pack knew Rasci so well. The next few days seemed like any other, with wolves wandering off alone or in small groups, hunting, playing, keeping themselves occupied. They didn’t ask Rasci for anything, and they didn’t do anything out of the ordinary.

  Except worry. They all worried.

  But they kept it to themselves. Fear of being caught out in the open made the wolves spend most of their time hunting at night or, if hunting during daylight, they confined themselves to the forest. Whilst crossing the plain, they would be continually listening for the subsonic noise of the beating rotors and looking up into the air for the hidden and deadly danger that they feared would swoop down and continue the killing. At any time the metal bird could reappear, and at any time the man could point at any one of them again, only the next time he would not be distracted by the black wolf. They had seen what the man’s weapon could do and he would keep pointing at them and then kill them.

  Each day Rasci returned to the Darin with no further idea of what to do. He had hoped that the answer to all his problems would come to him in his dreams, but his dreams were the usual dreams of wolves. Some of them were about Rhamin and Yeltsa; some were about the farmer hunting on the mountain with his companion; some were totally incoherent with strange wolves and big cats; and some of the dreams disturbed him deeply, but still he couldn’t fathom any of them out. The more he thought about it all, the deeper the fog became that engulfed his thoughts. There was no clarity, no solution, no idea what it was that was eating away at him, day after day, night after night.

  Zelda had been concentrating on the events that had happened, thinking about them, just like Rasci. But she was old, and she did not have the worry of having just inherited the title of pack leader. She could relax more than Rasci, and when she thought of Rhamin, in her mind she saw him as if he were still alive. Several days passed before she discussed this with the young leader, for she too was confused. She had no idea why she thought that Rhamin might have survived, but she felt it, and seeing Rasci’s deep concern, she decided to tell him what she had been feeling.

  Gradually, Rasci began to piece bits of his muddled thoughts together, and somehow, some of those pieces formed the same thought as Zelda’s. Rhamin might have survived. Neither he nor Zelda could explain why they thought this, nor was there any solution springing forward that would answer the question for sure. Was Rhamin still alive? They just didn’t know. But one thing for sure, this must have been the question that had long been lodged deep in some fissure in Rasci’s mind, for suddenly he had given up seeking the problem and all he needed now was the answer.

  Perhaps this was the turning point that made him relax. He used to always relax, and enjoy life. He enjoyed being part of the pack with his companions, but also he enjoyed being alone. It was a kind of freedom. For a while, it had all seemed to have been snatched away from him. Now that he was relaxing again, he could, even though he didn’t know it, begin to work things out. That night, he slept well.

  –––––––

  Raymond Rozalski was a hard worker. His leg was almost completely healed now, and he had discarded the crutch that made him feel like an old man. Now he was itching to get back to work on the farm, which had been neglected somewhat, despite the efforts of his wife and the hired man who had worked none stop to keep things running smoothly. The farm was a huge sprawling enclosure that bordered on a region of scrub land to the west and nestled against the leading edge of several other larger and more productive farming ranges that lead up to and bordered the high snow peaked mountains a hundred miles or so to the east. The income from the farm was supplemented in the spring by taking clients hunting in the forests that sprawled along the foothills and up to the mountains in the north. This
spring, Petersen had been his last client. The attack by the bears had seen to that. Since then, Raymond had been recovering from his wounds. The little money he had earned from taking Petersen hunting would soon be spent and now he had to sell some cattle in order for his family to buy the essentials of modern living.

  He was up early in the morning. With the hired worker and his wife, they gathered six well fattened cattle together in a small pen inside the yard. He hitched a cattle trailer to the station wagon and together the three of them loaded the livestock. By seven thirty, with Ben for company, he was on his way to the cattle market, in town, eleven miles away.

  The town would not stand up to that description in most parts of the world. There were white, timber board houses and a small, grey, timber framed building that doubled as school house and a dance hall, a general store and a bar that was combined with a café for hunters coming up north in the hunting season. There was a church with a modestly peaked roof, topped by a large white cross and a cattle market that was a large wooden railed corral with a small wooden stand under a three sided hut that served as an auctioneer’s podium. Cattle sales were held at monthly intervals except during the winter and, somehow, it attracted buyers from hundreds of miles away. Huge articulated lorries with cattle trailers, filed in and out of the town from the day before the sale, until the day after the last lot was sold. Beyond the town, towards the cities and beyond, thousand acre arable farms ranged toward an even bigger arable area which seemed to have little in the way of definitive borders. To birds like Corvak and from the men’s metal flying machine, just as the city looked like an endless forest of grey tall rock built structures towering into the sky, the arable areas looked like a sea of flat green endless landscape, rippling in the wind like waves on a lake. And, as the crops grew, just like the water in the lakes, the rippling waves turned the area to a moving, living organism, inhabited by submerged wildlife.

  To Raymond Rozalski, the town was a place to meet old friends and catch up on the news. The general store advertised his services as a tracker and guide, and it was through such an advertisement that he had met and hunted with Petersen. The store keeper had a young daughter called May who was about the same age as Ben, and after the sale Raymond left Ben to play with her. They had played together on previous visits and were good company for each other. Ben would soon be joining May at the school. He knew his son would be safe with her and, giving Ben a little wave, he limped over to the bar.

  Ben talked to May almost none stop for at least ten minutes. He wasn’t used to having a playmate of his own age. Little Margo was still a little small to play with. She was still under the strict supervision of her mother. Margo knew right from wrong in terms of children versus mother, but she still chose the ‘wrong’ most of the time. And after all, she was only four years old, so, while he could, Ben enjoyed May’s company. Even though she was a girl they had plenty to talk about. Ben explained that he played with Smokey a lot. Smokey wasn’t just a dog, she was his friend. He asked if May had a dog. She said she hadn’t. Ben explained that he also had another friend, or so he thought. This friend was hard to describe and he wondered if he should be telling anybody. But May seemed very interested, so he told her about his ghostly wolf friend. This friend was like a shadow. The first time he saw it, he couldn’t be sure what it was, but every time he saw it, the spirit form became a little clearer, and now he was sure it was a wolf. The ghostly shadow watched him and Smokey when they were playing in the fields, or in the garden. It wasn’t always there, but today he had seen it. Once again it was watching him. He asked May if she could see it. Wide eyed, she shook her head, making her pigtails swing wildly. She thought that perhaps she, too, could invent an imaginary friend for when she was lonely.

  During the sale, several acquaintances had spoken to Raymond, all smiling as if they knew a secret. ‘Good to see you’ve recovered,’ and ‘Sorry to hear about the bear attack,’ and ‘Are you well now?’ were all things said by people, some who he hardly knew apart from the nod of visual recognition he usually gave and received. It gave him a nice feeling that he was better known than he had thought and, after the sale, many of the cattle sellers were eager to talk to him. There was no shortage of people offering to buy him a drink, and he accepted one gracefully and settled on a bar stool. It was a dusty day and a beer would just wet his throat before driving back to the farm.

  Word had spread about his exploits. Not just that, but for some reason, there was a tale going around that he had helped the millionaire’s son capture the giant black wolf; the one with white ears.

  ‘Black wolf?’ Raymond asked, perplexed. ‘I hunt deer, you all know that.’ He removed his hat and wiped his sleeve across his brow. ‘We did see a black wolf once, but we didn’t hunt for it,’ he added.

  ‘Well, Petersen said it was your wolf! He said you had led him to it,’ an acquaintance by the name of Jethro Poulson replied, slapping him on the back and chuckling.

  ‘He didn’t say that I had taken him out hunting deer then?’

  Poulson shook his head and rubbed his stubbly chin with the ends of his chunky fingers. ‘No, he just bragged that you had led him to The Black Wolf. He called it Rozalski’s wolf. He told us that you tracked it for him. Done your reputation no end of good, I should think. You certainly kept that a closed secret, Raymond. Rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous. I bet that earned you a pretty penny!’

  Raymond’s face hardened. ‘So what was he telling you exactly?’

  ‘That you showed him The Black Wolf. He couldn’t believe it was so friendly!’

  ‘I showed him the wolf?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘He didn’t mention anything about it saving his damned life or anything like that then?’

  Poulson removed his hat and put it on the bar. He scratched his head. ‘Well he did tell us that it had helped you fight off three grizzlies.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And it’s in his father’s safari park or something now. Drawing in customers right left and centre, by all accounts. Until he got The Black Wolf, his father had seriously considered selling the whole shebang, animals, parkland and all.’

  Raymond just nodded silently as he sipped his beer. It was warming up. He had lost his thirst. The conversation carried on in the background, but he hardly heard a word. Something had struck him hard in the gut; a feeling of defeat, a feeling of betrayal; not just of him but by him. Without another word, and watched by all the men around him, he drank up and left.

  Ben was outside, playing with May and a couple of other children that had come into town with their families. His father walked over to him, picked him up in his arms, and gave him a big hug.

  ‘What’s the matter, daddy?’ asked Ben, seeing his father had a tear in his eye. He put the palm of his little hand against his father’s face.

  Raymond sighed. ‘Oh, nothing my son.’ He squeezed him again. Then he said goodbye to May and carried Ben to the station wagon. He spoke very little on the way home.

  Back at the farm, as they got out of the station wagon, Ben thought he saw the shadow in the corner of the yard, the same shadow that had been watching him in the street outside the bar in town. But when he turned his head, the shadow wasn’t there.

  Rasci woofed and kicked in his sleep. Once again he was dreaming. Zelda was asleep when he woke but Lexa was awake in the corner of the cave, guarding the cubs. He nodded to her in a way that told her she was doing a good job; after a long drink he left without waking the old wolf.

  ‘There has to be an explanation,’ Rasci said to himself, as he broke into his usual loping stride. He wondered if his dreams were capturing something real, or were they just comforting him, creating something he longed for? His life wasn’t getting any easier. Just as he had established that there was one big question that needed an answer, namely, was Rhamin alive? It had opened a passage to a flood of other questions. He was hoping that Zelda would be able to explain to him what his dreams were about. Why was h
e dreaming of men? Why was the dream so real that even the language was clear and understandable? How could he watch Ben and his father in two different places at the same time? At least, spending the day alone had helped him identify the questions, but he wondered just how many more there remained to be asked. For the time being, however, all he needed were the answers to the questions he had already formulated, and on his own, he was at least able to think about them without any of the distractions of responsibility.

  As the day drew to an end, and the dark clouds from the west began to smother the sky he felt an urgent need to talk to Zelda. He loped on, skirting the edge of the trees that led to the forests and the mountains. Above him two vultures hovered on a thermal, watching, waiting for some sign of death. Rasci looked up at them. There would be no carcass for them today. What little food Rasci had caught, he had eaten. Now he had no time to hunt. He was anxious. Feeling angry that the world had suddenly changed and become a complicated place, he needed to get back to the Darin.

  But he did stop for a while. Holding his head in the air, he howled. He howled to let those back at the Darin know he was coming. He howled, because if there were vultures about, then his old friend Corvak might be somewhere near. Then, hearing a distant howl from the direction of the Darin, he headed home well before the sun began to set.

  Outside the cave, Rasci passed Lexa. She was teaching the cubs how to hunt mice. They greeted each other gladly, then, leaving them play hunting, Rasci, with his mind distracted by other things, strode on towards the cave. Zelda was lying down beside the opening. Silvah had fed her and her sightless eyes were closed. But hearing Rasci approaching, she lifted her head, opened her glazed eyes and woofed. Rasci woofed back, prompting the old wolf to push herself up onto her feet. Her long thin legs seemed to wobble for a moment and then, wagging her tail, she squeaked a delighted greeting to Rasci and trotted unsteadily towards him.