by Bryce THOMAS
‘Yes, but he’s not imaginary.’
‘Oh, isn’t he?’
‘No, Daddy. He’s real. He’s a real live wolf.’
‘Oh, well I think your mother would have a thing or two to say about that,’ Raymond said, tweaking Ben’s nose and carrying him down the stairs into the kitchen.
‘But it’s important, Daddy.’
‘Oh, is it now? What do you want for breakfast?’ Ben didn’t answer. ‘He’s a friend of Rhamin.’
‘Oh, and just who is Rhamin? Is he another imaginary friend?’
‘They aren’t imaginary, Daddy,’ Ben insisted.
‘Benjamin, you can invite as many of your friends as you like so long as they aren’t wild wolves.’
‘Good.’ Ben turned to leave. ‘They’re not wild.’
‘Hoy! Hold on a minute Buster. You have to have some breakfast before you go out to play. Your Mummy is taking you to school remember.’
But Ben wasn’t hungry. ‘I’ll have it later when Margo gets up,’ he shouted as he ran out of the kitchen. He opened the front door and skipped out into the yard.
–––––––
Rasci smiled to himself, now that he knew Ben was waiting for him. Slowly, he came out of his trance, stood up, stretched, gave a big yawn that showed all his teeth, and then scrambled under the fencing.
It was still some way to the next boundary fence and by the time Rasci reached it, he was ready for a drink from the water troughs that dotted the perimeter. As he drank, he couldn’t help recalling the night the pack raided the farm. He remembered how, in the drought, the farmer had still got a plentiful supply of water. He wondered how that had come about, how the farmer had filled the troughs so far away from the farmstead. He realised then, for the first time, just how remarkable and mysterious some men were. He wondered if he would ever learn the secrets of the farmer.
Then, his mind flashed back to that awful night again, and how the farmer’s dog had attacked the wolves and how the farmer had made the dog drop to the ground with a single command, leaving the wolf exposed to that terrible invisible hot tooth of death that the farmer’s weapon dispatched. He thought of Seth and Fayli who died that fateful night He gave a shudder, licked his lips and, determined not to be a coward, he bounded on.
The last fence was within sight of the farm buildings; those tall buildings that the pack had seen on the night of the raid; they were threatening buildings, unfriendly and stark as they loomed up head.
Rasci stopped by the corner of the first of the structures that formed one of the sides to a perfectly square, big yard that stretched to the right. There was a vehicle there like those he had seen on the land of another enclosed farm far to the east. It had huge black wheels with big lumpy ridges that made an impressive footprint, even bigger than that of a wolf. He looked around it to the left and saw the farmhouse. At the other side of the farmhouse, he could see the paddock where he had seen Ben playing with his dog. (Well, he reminded himself, where he had seen Ben with his dog in a daydream). But it looked familiar somehow, even from a distance. He looked around, seeing no movement of man or machinery. The wind had dropped. Everything around him seemed quiet and calm; too calm for his liking; eerily calm. Not even the sound of cattle or sheep broke through the deafening silence that filled his head. The pulse above his eye throbbed. His head was thumping as if some creature was banging on the inside to get out.
He took a deep breath and trotted as casually as he could across the yard towards the paddock. In the distance he could see Ben. He had seen Rasci and was starting to run towards him; a broad smile lighting up his little face. Still, Rasci’s head was filled with a booming throb that raced through his ears with every heart beat. It seemed like everything had been slowed down. Every stride seemed to carry him through the air for endless seconds. Little Ben moved the same, springing forward, one stride at a time, each one so slow that Rasci could see the tiny muscles in Bens knees flexing as his legs bent and straightened.
‘Raymond!’ a voice broke through the silence. The farmer had rushed out through the farmhouse door and was running towards the paddock.
Rasci only heard it in the background. His head was still choked with noises from the inside.
‘Raymond! Quickly! There’s a wolf in the yard. It’s heading towards the garden!’
Somewhere, a dog barked. The sound got through to Rasci. He turned his head. In the distance, he could see a face at a bedroom window. He could see a woman, dressed in white, with a very pink face. She was yelling and screaming. She was saying things to Rasci but he didn’t understand them. The language was foreign to him. But then, suddenly, he understood. It was the body language; a universal language that, with only a little understanding, can be interpreted by all species; like the warning bark, the welcoming look in the eyes, the aggressive snarl. This woman was threatening him; he had no doubt in his mind about it. She was waving something at him. Or was she pointing it? Rasci’s head was still pounding. He couldn’t focus his eyes properly. He was still drawn towards Ben and the small paddock at the side of the house.
‘It’s after Ben. Oh Raymond! Stop it! Stop it!’
But the words just sounded like a moderately pitched screech of varying syllables. ‘aicy ahhhuum!’
Then he heard Raymond’s voice. ‘Ben!’ the man called. ‘Ben, where are you? Come inside now!’
Rasci recognised the word. Ben. It was Ben! His dream hadn’t been just wishful thinking. He had told Zelda and Silvah that the boy’s name was Ben. A warm feeling of relief began to flow through Rasci from the toes up. He realised that his conversations with Ben had been real.
Again, the farmer called out. ‘Ben, come to me.’
Ben didn’t answer. He was running up the paddock towards Rasci.
‘Ben, come here now!’ his father shouted, sternly.
‘It’s Rasci, Daddy! It’s Rasci!’
‘No it isn’t,’ Raymond shouted angrily. ‘Come here now!’ His voice was harsh and firm.
Ben stopped and turned towards his father. ‘Daddy, it's Rasci, my friend!’
Raymond was running towards his son. ‘This is a real wolf Ben!’ he shouted as he scooped up his son and faced the wolf broadside on. ‘Come on then!’ he called to Rasci. ‘Get a mouth full of my foot!’
‘No, Daddy, it really is my friend. I told you he was coming! Don’t hurt him!’
His father ignored him. Holding Ben under his left arm, he stooped down and picked up a piece of rock with his right hand and threw it with all his force.
Rasci had stopped. He was trying to tell the farmer that he was there to see his son. He was woofing words that the farmer didn’t seem to understand. Neither did the words of the farmer make any sense to him. The rock hit Rasci square in the chest.
‘Oomph!’ he gasped as the rock bounced off his thick coat. Another rock glanced off the side of his leg. He howled with the pain.
‘That’ll teach it!’ the farmer bragged to Ben.
‘It’s not who you think it is Daddy! It’s my friend Rasci.’
‘It’s that damned killer wolf! Maria, get my gun!’
‘I’ve got it!’ Rasci heard the woman shout, but still none of the words made any sense to him.
A shot rang out, filling the air with the sound of thunder. The inevitable, invisible tooth cut into Rasci’s outer fur, the thick guard hairs that overlie the softer inner coat, and travelled on past the top of his shoulder blade. He could feel the heat as it sliced his skin on its way to the fur on the other side of his shoulder. He ran. He swerved. Another invisible tooth cut into the ground beside him as he dodged and weaved his way around a tractor. There was another loud crack followed immediately by a thud and a loud hissing, blowing sound as another invisible tooth cut into the rubber tractor tyre. Amidst a flurry of dust, the wounded tractor slumped down to one side
‘Oh for goodness sake Maria!’ Rasci could hear the farmer shouting as he disappeared behind the shelter of the corner of the vast building
that lay alongside the yard. He could hear words escaping from the farmer’s lungs that sounded expletive.
The feeling of safety was short lived as the pain in his leg began to make it throb. Behind him, beyond the corner of the building, he could hear another familiar sound; a growling, deep throaty sound like he often heard back at the Darin. It wasn’t the sound of a wolf. It was the sound that Lexa made when she was play fighting with Ramusan. For a second, his heart lifted, but then he realised it wasn’t his own wolf dog, his beloved pack comrade. It must be her mother. He limped on. The growling sound emerged from the cover of the building. He had a fifty yard start on the dog but he was limping badly. Wolves have long thin legs. Their limbs carry little flesh. The rock that had hit his leg had hit the bone. There was a trickle of blood running from the wound. It dripped from his knee in slow motion, each droplet sending up a corona of dust as it hit the dry ground.
Limping so badly, he knew he couldn’t outrun the dog. It was like a nightmare, fleeing from an ever approaching enemy through thick tar. He glanced over his shoulder.
Smokey floated over the ground, unimpeded. As she closed in on him, he spun on his heels and faced her. ‘I came to talk to you and Ben,’ Rasci shouted desperately, hoping the dog had not become so close to man kind that it had forgotten the basic language that bound dogs and wolves from way back in their common ancestry. The big dog skidded to a halt. ‘I need your help,’ Rasci said again, this time more calmly, but desperate on the inside to say something to temper the dog’s attack.
‘What are you doing on my territory?’ the dog demanded, racing forward, hair bristling on her back and shoulders.
Rasci suddenly felt a surge of relief as he realised that, despite a strong dialect, the dog spoke reasonable wolfish, but he hadn’t prepared any answers. He hadn’t expected to have to explain himself to a dog. ‘I know Ben. I know he calls you Smokey. I am a friend of The Black Wolf,’ he rattled out, one statement following rapidly after another.
‘The Black Wolf?’ She skidded to a halt.
‘We were on the mountain and fought the bears with you.’ There was a flicker of recognition in Smokey’s eyes. ‘You were there?’ she demanded.
Rasci nodded. ‘We saved Ben’s father. But he thinks I am another wolf called Solin, the one that attacked your cattle.’ Smokey’s coat unbristled. She came closer to Rasci and sniffed at his coat. ‘You’re not him,’ she said, lifting her head and looking Rasci straight in the eyes. ‘I remember that wolf.’
‘Well he looks different now,’ Rasci explained. ‘His ears have been torn to shreds.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes,’ Rasci went on, trying to keep Smokey talking. ‘You’ll definitely recognise him at a distance, if you see him again.’
‘So why are you here? I’ve no more pups to steal. The bad wolf saw to that.’
Rasci looked over Smokey’s shoulder. Soon, the farmer would be appearing. If he had his weapon, Rasci knew that he wouldn’t miss. He thought quickly and spoke faster. ‘Look, Smokey, I have to go or else your master will kill me. I didn’t come here to steal anything, to kill anybody or anything like that. I came to ask you and Ben for help.’ He turned and began to limp away. ‘I’m not going to fight you,’ he said as Smokey trotted alongside him. Her head was up and her ears, even though they were flopped over, were pricked forward. ‘I am leaving in peace.’
‘I reckon I owe you one,’ Smokey panted. They were running faster now, side by side. ‘Those bears would have killed us all if hadn’t been for you.’
‘Smokey,’ Raymond Rozalski called. ‘Smokey, come!’ They were a good three hundred yards away from him.
‘I’d better go back,’ Smokey said, slowing.
Rasci stopped and looked back, thankful to rest his painful leg. The farmer was standing with his hands on his hips. ‘Smokey,’ he called again. ‘Come, girl.’
‘It was my leader Rhamin that led us to save you,’ Rasci said.
‘Rhamin?’
‘The Black Wolf.’
‘I see.’
Rasci sighed. He watched as he saw the farmer walking briskly towards them. But, he wasn’t carrying his weapon.
‘And it’s Rhamin that needs your help. He needs Ben’s and your master’s help.’
‘Why?’ Smokey glanced back at her master. He called her again. She lowered her head. ‘I’ll have to go,’ she said.
‘Wait!’
But Smokey turned and headed back to Raymond Rozalski. Rasci sat there for a minute while she trotted towards him. Raymond scratched his head and spoke to Smokey. He pointed at Rasci. Smokey looked back at the wolf and then looked up at her master. Raymond spoke again and then bent over and patted Smokey on the shoulder. He straightened up and looked towards Rasci. Rasci stood up, gave the farmer one last glance and limped away.
CHAPTER TWENTY
It was going to take him days to get back to the Darin. He stopped more times than he could count, each step a struggle, and each stride getting harder as he limped on. His leg was badly bruised, but his ego was pulped. As the day progressed, he considered what he was going to tell the pack? ‘I went to the farm and got stoned and shot!’ or ‘I went to the farm but they weren’t in.’ That sounded better, but how did he get his injuries? He had a deep cut in his front upper leg, a badly swollen knee, a gash across his shoulder blades in the skin on his back and a groove in his fur where the woman’s invisible tooth cut its way into his coat at one side and carried on, unimpeded, out at the other. ‘I was walking through the forest when…’ No. that wasn’t right. ‘I was visiting the farm to talk to Ben…’ That sounded like he knew the farmer’s son personally. None of the pack would believe that. Besides, he had never met Ben. He got within thirty or so yards of him, that’s all. ‘Well, the idea was to get help to save Rhamin…’ Only, they didn’t know that there was a good chance that Rhamin was still alive. He wished now he had told them about his dreams. But, then they wouldn’t have believed that either! ‘I was passing by the farm, you know, the one that we raided, and I happened to come upon the farmer who threw rocks at me…’
Phew. This was going to be a nightmare, never mind a dream. He blew out his cheeks as he settled down to sleep. The first night of his journey home was about to begin. The dreadful day was behind him and a night’s sleep would make it easier to think. His pounding headache had been replaced by sheer fatigue. He found a covered hollow beneath the roots of an old stag headed oak tree. He felt safe there. What Roxana had said was still rattling about somewhere in his head. ‘There is danger about,’ she had said. It made Rasci uncomfortable, and whatever the danger, he was in no fit state to fight. Even Solin would make little work of him if he were to challenge him. And the feeling of being watched seemed stronger somehow.
–––––––
‘It was Rasci, Daddy, not the bad wolf.’ Ben was crying. ‘You hurt Rasci!’
Ben was sitting at the kitchen table. His father sat beside him, his arm around his son’s shoulder. His mother was sitting opposite, face flushed and still rather breathless. ‘You nearly got yourself killed today, do you realise?’
‘He’s not going to kill me. He’s a friendly wolf.’ He wiped a tear from his cheek and looked up at his father’s face. ‘Like the ones that saved you Daddy.’
‘He was a grey wolf, Ben,’ his father responded. ‘He looked like the one that killed the cattle. For all we know, he was the same wolf.’
‘But he wasn’t. He’d come to see me.’
‘We were afraid for you. Whichever wolf he was, he had no business lurking about in our yard.’
‘But I told you… this morning, I told you…’
‘It’s no good, Ben,’ his mother broke in. ‘A wolf ’s a wolf,’ she said crossly. ‘We would no sooner let you near a wolf than we would let you near a stray dog. They can’t be trusted. You hear? They can’t be trusted young man. Pretend that you have a wolf friend by all means, but we will not let you go near a live one.’
‘But I have a proper wolf friend Mummy. I’m not pretending.’
‘If you don’t stop this now, then you’ll have to go to your room. It’s already too late to take you into school. You will be made to sit in your room all day. Do you hear me?’
‘But…’
‘I’ll keep him with me,’ Raymond said, getting up from the table and taking a hold of Ben’s hand. ‘He’ll be all right in a while.’
‘I don’t know where he gets it from. I really don’t!’ She shook her head and picked up a tea towel from the table. Busily, she wiped the table top, standing as she reached to the furthest side. ‘I really don’t know,’ she muttered.
Raymond ushered his son out of the door and into the front garden. It wasn’t a busy garden, with lots of flowers and neat little borders. It was just a square of wild pasture, with a few climbing roses propped against an old criss-cross trellis that was attached to the wall at each side of the door of the house, and some golden marigolds in a patch by a crazy stone pathway that led to an old oak plank bench. The rest was long wispy grass that seldom got mowed. It made a good place for Ben and Margo to play safely away from tractor wheels and dangerous farm machinery. It was a good place to talk. ‘Now then Ben,’ Raymond said, lifting Ben up to his chest and walking over to the bench. He slid his son down to the ground and sat on the planks. Holding both of his son’s hands, he looked him in the eyes. ‘I realise now that the wolf that came today was not the bad wolf.’
Ben looked back at the kitchen door. His mother was nowhere in sight. He looked back at his father. ‘Rasci isn’t a pretend wolf, Daddy.’
‘I could see that.’
‘But you tried to kill him!’
‘No, Ben. Your mother tried to kill him!’ Remember my tractor tyre?’