Street Shadows

by Claire Gilchrist

  “Hey!” Pica was impressed. He may be small but he was clearly more agile than her.

  “Hey,” he said cockily, smiling and then bringing the ball back up the hill. “Want to race?”

  Pica hesitated. She knew that she wasn’t supposed to interact with strange coyotes. “Who are you?”

  “Scruff. I just live in the forest over there.” With his nose, Scruff pointed at a large forested area on the far side of the golf course. Pica sniffed him carefully and realized that she recognized his smell from the boundary between the golf course and the forest, where her family’s home territory ended. She was surprised — her parents hadn’t told her that there was a family with pups her age nearby.

  Pica knew that other coyotes could be dangerous, but this one didn’t look too scary. His thin torso was covered by a patchy, grey-brown fur coat. He had several tufts of brown fur that stuck straight up between his ears, giving him a goofy look. He held the golf ball in his mouth, his eyes asking her to play with him.

  Pica smiled back. She liked the look of him. He looked fun, and she was eager to try her speed against his.

  “Fine. Let’s go.” She watched as he dropped the ball and it began to tumble away from them.

  “Ready, set, go!” she yelled as she pushed past him and raced after the ball. She felt an impact as he collided with her from the side, trying to gain positioning, and they both ended up somersaulting down the hill, missing the ball entirely. As soon as her body lost momentum, she jumped up, searching for the bright white object. She blinked a few times, her vision blurry, then noticed a spot of white behind him. She took a huge leap, clearing his body and reaching for the white with her paws. She felt only grass, and looking more closely, saw that it was just a patch of white flowers.

  “You lose!” he laughed from behind her.

  “Fine. Best of three!”

  Pica was headed back up the hill, Scruff on her heels, when suddenly an alarm bark rang across the hillside. It was Taba, her older sister from a previous litter, and her bark was sharp and angry. Pica looked down the hill guiltily and saw her whole family at attention, tails raised, staring at her. She could just make out a low growl, probably her father, Lamar.

  She turned to Scruff and poked at him with her nose. “You’re not allowed here. You should probably go.”

  Scruff smiled at her. “All right. Thanks, it was fun, though. Maybe see you around. What was your name?”

  “Pica.”

  “Okay, Pica. See you soon.”

  She watched him lope back toward the forest that marked the boundary of her family’s territory. She couldn’t believe that a coyote so young and scrawny would be allowed to come and go so freely. Would he be in trouble, too? Before she could think more about it, she heard her mother, a distant but angry bark.

  “Pica. Get back here. Now.”

  Pica knew she was in trouble. Sighing, she headed back to the den, stopping to tuck the golf ball beneath a bush along the way so she could find it again. She loped back as slowly as she could, putting off the inevitable lecture. She arrived in front of her parents and dropped her tail submissively. Her ears pressed back against her head as she dropped it low.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You have no idea of the danger you just put yourself in.” Lamar’s voice was stern.

  “But he was just small and —”

  “Pica,” Gree cut her off, “Lamar is right. You don’t know anything about that other coyote. You can’t talk to him, and you have to let us know if he ever crosses that line again.”

  “But he’s not dangerous!” Pica argued, not understanding how the fun little coyote could represent a danger to her.

  “He might be — how do you know? Coyotes outside our family are never our friends. That is the rule.” Gree’s bark was angry now. “From now on, don’t go so far away on your own.”

  Pica sighed, turning away. Suddenly, she felt her mother give her a sharp nip on her side. She yelped in pain.

  “Pica, are you taking us seriously?”

  “Yes, Mom,” Pica responded quickly. “I just … he just … seemed nice.”

  Her mom looked at her sternly. Then, frowning, she asked, “Pica, is your eye still bothering you?”

  “A bit.”

  “All right. Go back to the den site and rest up. You have a big hunt tonight and you’ve already had a lot of excitement today. I’ll be over in a minute to wash your eye again.”

  “Aw, Mom, it’s fine,” Pica said quickly, dreading her mother’s rough tongue on such a sensitive area.

  “It’s not fine, Pica. You need that eye to heal or you’ll never learn to hunt properly. Go now, I’ll be there soon.”

  Pica knew she couldn’t push her mother any further, and walked back to the den area, curling up under a bush to wait.

  THREE

  STANDOFF

  Scruff

  Scruff crouched, frozen, in the long grass. His front paw was raised and he listened intently, ears pointed at a spot a few steps in front of him. Above the soft breeze and bird calls, he heard a faint scratching noise and the sound of little feet crumpling the soft grass. He placed his paw carefully on the ground in front of him, barely breathing, and took another step forward. Curling his claws into the soft, loamy earth, he inhaled the faint smell of a rodent. He heard a small rustle behind him and smelled Jagger. Aware of being observed, he felt an urgent need to prove himself. Inhaling and exhaling slowly and deliberately, he pushed all the other sensory information into his periphery. He needed there to be nothing in his mind except him and the mouse. Using each nostril independently, he homed in on the position of the rodent. He heard a small squeak, which further gave away the mouse’s location. Then, with a sudden tensing and releasing of his hind leg muscles, he sprung high into the air. His front legs were fully extended and his claws were splayed wide. He landed with both paws firmly on the mouse. Dropping his head, he grabbed it in his mouth and killed it triumphantly with a quick shake of his head.

  He heard Jagger’s gruff voice behind him. “Not bad. Killing rodents at three months is better than most pups.”

  Scruff turned, swelling with pride as he began to eat the mouse. He was glad that Jagger had been there to witness his successful hunt. Ever since he had been rescued from the crows, Jagger had taken care of him, supplying almost all of his food and protection. After carrying him off into the forest, he had deposited the weak little pup in a safe spot underneath a bush, and found food for him. He delicately chewed the food up and regurgitated it so the pup would be able to eat it. He watched over him for the first few days with great concern, and it wasn’t until two weeks later that he began to be sure that the pup would survive.

  Scruff didn’t remember much of this time — it was all a blur of pain and hunger. That experience had deeply bonded him to the larger coyote, though, and he could not forget that he had a debt to repay. He still wasn’t sure why Jagger had taken him in — he had been completely useless so far — but he meant to show him as soon as possible that he was able to contribute. Hopefully one day he could pay back the debt for his life.

  Finishing his mouse, Scruff noticed with disappointment that Jagger had moved on. He moved around restlessly, feeling the return of a familiar sense of loneliness. He lived with a feeling of emptiness inside him most of the time, missing the family that he couldn’t even remember that well. Jagger was reliable, but was a solitary male and didn’t like hanging around and talking much.

  Looking for something to do, Scruff set off along the edge of their forest territory, following a narrow, overgrown path that ran between the forest and the hillside, up to a large housing subdivision. There was too much daylight to forage for food near the houses, so Scruff slid behind a bush at the top of the hill and peeked out the other side, looking for the Hillside Pack.

  Dane and Kai were far below, roughhousing in the shade of the hot sun. Pica was pouncing on insects, and he smiled at her intense concentration. Sage and the adult coyotes must
be asleep under some bushes, because he couldn’t see them. He was beginning to know this family well now — it had been two months since he first met Pica, and he watched them often. A few times, Pica had snuck away to play with him at the top of the hill, careful to return before her parents woke up. Once, she had brought her brother Dane along, and they had all played together. These were the only times that Scruff got to laugh and play, and he wanted more.

  He had started to wonder if maybe the hillside adults were relenting about his presence on their territory. Even though his scent must still drift down from time to time, they hadn’t issued any more alarm calls. He closed his eyes, fantasizing that he would one day be allowed to hang out with the whole family, hunting and playing with them.

  His stomach growled. He was still hungry. He smelled a vole in the meadow, not far in front of him. His ears perked up, and his mouth began to water. Voles were stockier than mice, and their flesh was sweeter. He had only caught one once, because there weren’t many in his forest territory. He felt his body become more alert, and his muscles twitched with excitement. He looked down the hillside again. Still no sign of the adults. The others were all absorbed in their own activities. Surely, they wouldn’t notice if he crossed deeper into their territory to quickly catch a vole. He would retreat with it as soon as he had caught it.

  Slowly, his body rose, and he began to stalk the rodent. He breathed in the warm air, happy to be doing something. He took a few tentative steps into the meadow and paused, waiting for the next clue. He picked up the sound of the vole again, and continued toward it gently. The other sounds and smells of the hillside dropped away and his world narrowed. All of his senses were trained on the animal. For minutes, nothing happened. He took a few steps closer. Then, he heard a warning squeak, and the vole took off down a hole.

  Scruff bounded over to the hole and snuck his snout in, inhaling the musky rodent smell. He sighed. Voles were excellent diggers, and once they went back into their holes, it was virtually impossible to catch them. Suddenly, he halted. Something was wrong. He looked up, and stared straight into the eyes of the adult male from the Hillside Pack — Lamar was his name, he remembered from Pica’s stories. The tall and imposing male was standing a short distance away, holding an aggressive, dominant stance, with his tail and hackles up.

  Looking down at the young pup, Lamar said sternly, “You trespass. You are not allowed on our hillside.”

  Scruff took a few steps backwards, tail down, ready to run, and then froze. As the coyote’s scent hit him, something jogged his memory. Darkness, the sounds of growls outside of his den. His mother, growling. And this growl. He tilted his head to the side, confused. But before he had time to think about it, Lamar took two steps toward him.

  “This is not the first time that I have warned you to stay away. It’s time —”

  His voice was abruptly cut off by a thunderous growl from behind Scruff. Jagger stood at the edge of the hillside, his hackles high and his eyes glaring.

  “Lamar,” he snarled. “Are you threatening my pack-mate? Don’t you have anything better to do than terrorize a ten-pound runt?”

  “Jagger.” Lamar’s growl was equally threatening. “You know that this is my territory, and I’m prepared to defend it.”

  There was a tense pause. No one moved. Scruff felt his chest constrict, and he couldn’t breathe. Jagger glanced at Scruff. “Leave. Now. I’ll find you later.” His voice was a command.

  Scruff glanced at him, and saw the serious look in his eyes. He glanced between the two coyotes for a few more seconds, and then turned and ran back down the hill along the path, relieved to be returning to the forest. As he left, he turned his ears backwards, straining to hear, wanting to know what was happening. But all he heard were low growls, and it was impossible to make out what they were saying. He felt guilty for having started this confrontation — what if something happened to Jagger, when he was only trying to keep him safe? He arrived at the spot in the forest where Jagger usually slept and lay down in the shade, breathing hard.

  Only a few minutes passed before Jagger returned, limping slightly. Scruff yelped and jumped up and touched noses with him, sniffing over the rest of his body to make sure he was otherwise unhurt.

  “What happened? Are you okay? What did he say?”

  Jagger gave a long sigh, lowering himself gingerly beside Scruff. “He tried to jump at me in the end, but I dodged him and ran away. I put my paw in a bit of a hole but I think it will be fine.” He paused, and added bitterly, “I don’t understand why he is so concerned about you — you are clearly not a threat to his precious family.” He took a few long breaths, then looked down at Scruff with concern. “Scruff, you shouldn’t have been there today. I haven’t prepared you as I should have. You need to know that the Hillside Pack could be dangerous to you — to us. You need to stay on our side of the line.”

  Scruff dropped his head. “I’m sorry. I just — I like watching them play.”

  Jagger sighed, “It’s okay. He was overreacting anyway.” He hesitated, then continued. “You know, there is something that you should know about him. About them.”

  “What?”

  “Well, it has to do with your parents.”

  Scruff felt his body constrict and something squeezed his heart, hard. He waited, unable to tear his eyes away from the older coyote. Suddenly, he realized that he knew what Jagger was going to say. The smell. The growl. He waited for confirmation.

  “I probably should have told you earlier. I just wasn’t sure how. Or when.” Jagger paused, sighed, and then continued. “You’ve always been curious about what happened to your family, and I told you that they all died of illness. Well, with your father, that was true. He got an infection all over his body, and it eventually killed him. After that, your mother was on her own. She was already weak from giving birth. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but Lamar and Gree — that’s his mate — they took the opportunity and killed her.”

  Scruff sat still for a moment, stunned. “I don’t understand — why?” His voice was barely a squeak.

  “Territory. The golf course and hillside aren’t big enough for a pack of seven. They wanted more space.”

  Scruff looked at him, still confused. “How do you know all this — were you there?”

  “No, I wasn’t. Before, I didn’t have my own home territory, but this area was part of my hunting range. I knew your family pretty well, and I could see how sick your father was getting. Then, I didn’t see him anymore. A few days later, I came across your mother. She was dead, and Lamar’s smell was all around. It was pretty clear what had happened.”

  Scruff was having trouble speaking. His voice came out scratchy, and he felt like he didn’t have enough air. “All this time, and I didn’t know, and …” He couldn’t think of anything else to say. It hurt because it all made sense. He had smelled Lamar there, outside the den, when his mother was still alive. She must have been defending them, telling him to go away. He must have waited for the right opportunity, and then — he couldn’t continue the thought.

  Scruff jumped up and paced away from Jagger. He felt suddenly furious. Whirling back at him, he glared at him. “Why are you telling me this now? Why didn’t you tell me before?” He thought back to the number of hours he had watched over the Hillside Pack, wishing he was part of their close-knit family. The whole time he had been ignorant that they were responsible for the death of his own family.

  Jagger looked at him gently. “Scruff, I’m sorry. You’re so little, I didn’t want you to be so upset and angry. I didn’t want you to do something dumb like try to get revenge on them before you were ready. You’ve always been quite stubborn and I wanted to make sure you were old enough when you learned the truth.”

  “I’ll kill them.”

  “I knew you would want to. But you are still too young. Get stronger, have patience, and one day I’ll help you get your revenge.”

  Scruff sighed and walked over to him, licking his chin. “
Thanks, Jagger.”

  Jagger looked at Scruff with a long, calculating look, replying, “Remember, I’m here to help.”

  FOUR

  THREAT

  Pica

  Worried, Pica watched her father and mother return back down the hill from the shade of the bushes where Taba had made her and her siblings hide. She hadn’t been able to see much of what was going on, but Taba and Gree were both very worried, and just a moment ago, Gree had gone to see if Lamar needed help. She had only been gone a minute when they both returned. As he approached, Taba gave the all-clear bark and all of the pups catapulted themselves into the open. They surrounded Lamar, pelting him with questions.

  “Who was that?”

  “What did he want?”

  “Why was he in our territory?”

  “What happened?”

  “Quiet.” Lamar stopped them with a short bark. He glanced at Gree, pausing before continuing.

  “We probably should have talked to you about this before, but we weren’t sure that it was going to become a problem.” He paused again, exchanging another glance with Gree. Pica wondered what they were saying to one another with their wordless looks. Finally, Lamar began to explain. “The coyote who trespassed onto our home territory is named Jagger. Before he adopted Scruff, he was a solitary male whose hunting territory overlapped with ours. Of course, he stayed clear of our home territory, but when we were hunting in our larger territory, we crossed paths with him a few times. He mainly avoided us.

  “Things have been changing quickly this year. The biggest difference is that he started defending the forest area as his home territory. Usually, solitary coyotes don’t defend a home territory, but he has formed a sort of pack with that little pup, and now they are around a lot more often.”