Wolf Road, page 4
Tuuli needed to clear her head. Despite the slow progress that day, there was still plenty of light left in the sky. She helped Jutsa and Remi set up a basic but roomy tent, and then finally broached the subject of going off on a hunt again. Jutsa shook her head, but didn’t say anything. Remi grudgingly agreed.
‘We know you need to be more independent,’ he said. ‘And you know that we think you’re very capable. But just remember that you’re still learning. Be careful, and be back before dark.’
Tuuli couldn’t stop herself grinning with delight.
She untied her lighter darts from her pulk – two antler-tipped and two stone-tipped – and re-tied them into a sling so that she could carry them on her back. Then she set off, with her longer, stone-tipped lance in her hand.
‘Bring back something good for dinner!’ Wren yelled after her younger cousin, while helping her mother and brother get their own tent set up for the night, dragging animal hides over a basic, yurt-like frame.
Tuuli waved.
‘I’ll try!’ she said. Then she headed for the hills.
TRACKS IN THE SNOW
Orange sunlight was streaming down the valley. Tuuli picked her way along the bank, through low willow and alder, then found a scarp to follow upwards, just beyond the limestone cliff. With no unwieldy sled to pull behind her, she could move quickly and quietly. She paused every now and then to listen for rustles and calls. She looked for tracks in the glistening snow.
Finding the fresh, three-toed prints of a ptarmigan, Tuuli followed them up onto the hillside. The last few were flanked with feather-presses like many-fingered handprints – one, two, three wingbeats then the bird had been airborne. It had flown away fast enough to escape becoming Tuuli’s dinner. Up among the larches, she spotted a capercaillie and crept up on it until she could throw a lance at it. Her aim was strong and true, and the bird fell, the lance piercing its breast. She picked it up, leaving a crimson smudge behind on the snow, then followed the footprints of fox and pine martens, but never saw their owners. She saw the large, deep prints of what was either a bison or an aurochs, which made her nervous – she didn’t want to tackle one of those on her own, not today. But they were old prints; she knew she didn’t need to worry too much.
Eventually, as the sunlight reddened and deepened, she was heading home with the capercaillie and a brace of hares – not a bad haul – when she came across diminutive pawprints. There were lots of them, fresh-looking and frantic, running in arcs up to the sheer edge of a cliff. Tuuli listened hard, but couldn’t hear their owners. Her heart was thumping in her chest. She was still some way from the camp, and wanted to get back there as soon as she could.
Then she heard a strange, small noise somewhere between a yowl and a whimper. It was coming from the cliff edge. She looked around, checking for wolves. The larch and spruce up here were sparse enough and she was sure they were nowhere near. Now she laid down her weapons, and the bird and hares impaled on a lance, and knelt down carefully near the crag’s edge. She pushed her hands down through the snow to feel the rock beneath, making sure she was supported. Then she lay on her belly and inched forward until she could look over the precipice.
Something was moving down there. She could see a bundle of fur twitching in spasms. An animal had fallen off the cliff, and whatever it was – it looked hurt. This one would be easy to dispatch, if she could reach down to it. But what was it? A small fox? Maybe even a wolverine? It had stopped making a noise now.
Tuuli shifted a little further forward, sending a slab of snow first sliding gently and then crashing down. A few stones fell after it, bouncing then burying themselves in the drift beside the animal. She grabbed a lance and stabbed it down, but it waved in the air, a few feet above her prey. Could she climb down a little? There was a strong-looking birch growing out of the cliff just below the furry bundle, which had probably stopped the animal falling all the way down.
It was a long drop. The birch grew up almost parallel to the cliff. Could she push against it to get down there? Deciding to give it a try, she tied her lance to her belt, slung her hide bag over her shoulder, then cautiously pushed snow away until she was pressing her hands onto firm ground at the top of the cliff. Moving her body sideways, she let a leg hang down, and shifted her weight until she was dangling off the crag. The larch trunk was alongside her and she pushed a foot back against it, testing its resilience. It bore her weight. Bracing herself between the rockface and the birch trunk, she lowered herself down very slowly.
Tuuli was almost down to the ledge when the little animal, its body half-hidden in the snow, lifted and twisted its head round to look at her. Now she made the connection between the circles of pawprints at the top of the cliff and this animal. It was a wolf pup, not much more than three moons old. Here was this vulnerable creature, looking up at her with a mixture of hope and fear. She could kill it easily. Its meat would last a day or two, and its thick, soft fur would make good gloves, perhaps even a hood. But she had enough food already, and she didn’t need new mitts. Killing this helpless animal seemed like an ungrateful act when the Earth-Mother, Ama, and the spirits of the forest had already let her take three lives that evening. If she left it, it would die anyway. Perhaps she could at least end its suffering. Or help, somehow. The wolf pup clearly couldn’t move, or it would have done so by now. Tuuli represented its only way off that ledge.
The light was fading fast. Wolves howled again. She cowered a little at the noise, but it was some distance away. Making up her mind, and bridging between the birch trunk and the cliff, she lowered herself down beside the pup. Steadying herself with one hand gripping the birch tree, she let her bag slip off her shoulder, and reached towards the small wolf. It pulled its lips back, baring its sharp little teeth at her. And now it tried to move, flailing with its front paws, edging away, pulling a damaged back leg along behind it.
Suddenly Tuuli slipped. Her mouth and nose plunged into snow. She lifted her head and gasped for air. But she was safe – still holding the birch with one hand. The pup twisted round towards her face, half buried in the snow. Tuuli closed her eyes, half expecting the snap of jaws and those pin-sharp teeth to be buried in her cheek. Nothing happened. Then she tentatively opened her eyes. And the pup’s face was right there. Not growling, not nipping. Just looking at her. It seemed that they both exhaled at the same time, their two puffs of breath-mist mingling in the air.
Snapping into action, she grabbed the pup’s good back leg and pulled the little body towards her before lifting it deftly into her skin bag. Desperate not to lose her balance, wedging herself against the tree, she tied up the neck of the bag and slung it over her head and shoulder again. Its contents writhed and scrabbled and tried to bite. But the pup could not escape, and with her animated bag swinging from her back, Tuuli climbed back up onto the crag. The bag was making curious, howling-growling noises. She hoped the wolf pack wouldn’t hear it.
It was completely dark by the time Tuuli dropped back down the ridge to the riverside camp. The wolf pup was now quiet in her bag. Three small fires burned in front of the lean-to tents against the rock-shelters. Remi came to meet her, looking slightly cross.
‘I was just about to set off to find you,’ he said. ‘It’s too late to come back. You know that, don’t you.’
‘I’ve brought meat.’ Tuuli showed him the bird and hares, skewered on a lance.
‘Well, we’ve eaten,’ replied Remi, a little gruffly.
Jutsa was sitting by one of the fires. Tuuli went over to her, but she said nothing, staring into the flames. Tuuli was sorry to have laid more worry at her feet today. She leaned over and pressed her lips and nose against her mother’s hair, and a hand on her shoulder. Jutsa reached up to place her own hand briefly over Tuuli’s, but didn’t move her gaze or say a word.
Tuuli moved down to the third fire, where Aunt Starra, Wren and Kuba were sitting.
‘Hungry?’ she asked.
Kuba’s eyes lit up.
‘Oh, yes, we’ve only had dried reindeer and dried fish and my stomach is shrinking!’ he wailed, melodramatically.
‘How about a hare, then?’ said Tuuli.
Kuba was delighted.
‘I’ll do it, I’ll do it,’ he said with undisguised glee, pulling one of the hares off the lance, and taking out a small stone knife to skin and gut it. He pulled out the liver and ate it raw. In no time at all, he’d got the meaty carcass suspended from an angled stick, roasting beside the fire. While he was busy with the hare, Tuuli showed Wren the bag.
‘More meat?’ asked Wren.
‘Touch it,’ said Tuuli quietly.
Wren prodded it then leaped back as the bag tried to kick her and bite her.
‘Hern’s horns! What is it?! It’s alive…’
‘It’s a wolf pup!’ hissed Tuuli.
‘Nooo!’ whispered Wren. ‘But how?’
‘I’ll tell you – but I need you to help me with it. Its leg is hurt.’
They both moved back towards Wren’s tent, where there was still just enough firelight to see what they were doing. Kuba was distracted cooking the hare, and Aunt Starra was sitting beyond the fire, in a world of her own. Across the river, the fires of the other camp blazed, and they could even hear some singing.
The two girls muzzled the pup with a hide strap, then Wren held the little wolf as Tuuli felt its broken hind leg. It wasn’t too bad – fractured, certainly, but not smashed. With something to hold it in place, it would heal. She went off to find the materials she needed and came back with a straight, unworked piece of antler, just the right length to fit below the pup’s hock. Then she used a thin, wet hide strap to wrap it and hold the antler splint in place.
‘That’s going nowhere,’ said Wren with admiration.
They unmuzzled the little wolf and gave it some hare meat, which it snapped up greedily, and carried it down to the riverbank, holding its nose to the water to get it to lap some up. But it was still trying to snap at them, so they had to muzzle it again. Not too tightly, just enough to keep them safe from the pin-sharp teeth.
‘But I don’t know where to keep it tonight,’ said Tuuli. ‘It’s too risky to leave it outside. And Mama and Papa are already furious with me.’
‘So come and sleep in our tent,’ offered Wren. ‘I’m sure they’d be happy with that. And you can tell them about the pup when they’ve thawed a little in the morning. Though I still think they’ll make you turn her out!’
Jutsa and Remi were happy for Tuuli to have a sleepover with Wren – it wasn’t that unusual an occurrence, anyway. Kuba fell asleep very quickly after his meal of roast hare, so they didn’t even need to share the secret with him that night. They had to tell Starra, though. She disapproved, and frowned at them, but didn’t have the energy to argue with the two girls.
And so Tuuli curled up that night under furs, next to Wren in their rock-shelter tent, with her hand resting on her muzzled and hobbled wolf pup. ‘You’re mine, you are,’ she whispered as she closed her eyes, and the little wolf growled half-heartedly back at her.
THE FIRST FISH OF SPRING
Tuuli woke next morning, surprised to find the warm, furry body of the wolf pup snuggled up against her. She stroked its head, and the pup whimpered a little.
‘You poor thing,’ she whispered. ‘Now, if I unwrap your mouth, you’re not going to bite me, are you?’
She started to unbind the pup’s muzzle and it pawed at her while the strap of hide came away. Then it licked her hands. Tuuli managed to get the strap tied around the pup’s neck, while it continued licking – but not biting – her. Pulling the hide covering of the shelter out of the snow to create a gap just wide enough for her, she crawled out. She moved cautiously, not wanting to wake Wren, Kuba and Starra, or to be seen by anyone else in the tribe. The sky was just lightening, the sun about to edge over the horizon. All the tribe were still dozing in their tents – all except Tuuli and her little wolf.
Starra’s shelter was the last in the line, so Tuuli could quickly escape from the camp. Hugging the limestone cliff and turning a corner, she was soon out of sight. The wolf pup trotted along just behind her, walking fine on its splinted hind leg. But Tuuli kept a firm hand on the hide strap. She put some distance between them and the camp, then tied up the pup while she went to wash herself in the river. Then she came back and, opening a pouch hanging from her belt, offered the pup some dried reindeer meat, which it devoured.
They sat together, high up on the riverbank.
‘You’re a very pretty wolf,’ Tuuli told the pup. She rubbed it round the neck and ears, and the pup bit her hands and wrists – playfully and gently. It wasn’t trying to hurt her. It had sandy grey fur on its head and back, paler legs and muzzle, and gorgeous amber eyes.
‘What are you going to do if I untie you?’ asked Tuuli. As if in answer, the pup sat down, pushed its nose in the air and gave the cutest baby-howl.
‘Shhhh!’ hushed Tuuli. ‘If you do that, they’ll hear.’ She looked nervously back towards the camp. But they were well out of sight of the others, and hopefully out of earshot too. Looking over to the far bank, she could see a couple of fires had been lit and people were starting to move around. They were too far away to make out any details, though. Presumably Poz and the grumpy uncles were over there, somewhere.
Now the pup had lain down on the wet snow and was pawing at Tuuli. She stroked its furry belly, and it stretched out its legs, while making contented little growling noises.
A small flock of snow buntings that had been foraging at the river’s edge suddenly took to the air, with a noisy chatter. Tuuli looked up to see what had startled them. Someone was coming. The wolf pup jumped up, and Tuuli instinctively tightened her grip on the lead. But it was only Wren.
Wren didn’t call out to Tuuli. She quietly made her way over to her cousin.
‘Morning!’ she said. ‘You’ve taken off its muzzle?’
‘It doesn’t seem too bitey,’ said Tuuli. ‘She doesn’t seem too bitey.’
‘Ah, so she’s a “she” now and not just an “it”,’ commented Wren. ‘Can I stroke her?’
‘You can try,’ replied Tuuli.
Wren cautiously brought her hand close to the wolf’s nose, let the pup sniff and lick her hand, then stroked her soft head.
‘It’s very cute,’ she said. ‘So fluffy!’
‘She,’ said Tuuli. ‘She’s cute. Here, give her some meat.’ And she handed Wren some more of the dried reindeer from her pouch.
They played with the pup some more. Then Wren asked Tuuli, ‘So, what’s the plan?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you’ve mended its, I mean her, leg. She’ll survive now, if you let her go.’
Tuuli looked askance at her cousin.
‘I don’t want to let her go,’ she said.
‘It’s a bit different from birds and voles, though, isn’t it?’ pointed out Wren.
Sometimes children would catch birds and small rodents in snares and traps and bring them back to camp, where they’d keep them as pets for a few days before either releasing them or making them into a meal.
‘My papa said his papa once caught a wolf pup,’ said Tuuli.
‘But did he keep it?’ asked Wren. ‘I’ve never heard of anyone doing that.’
‘I think he did… for a while,’ replied Tuuli.
‘What if she bites someone, though? What if her pack comes back for her?’
‘She seems really friendly, doesn’t she? Now she’s forgiven me for putting her in a bag and muzzling her last night. But I might try to keep her secret a bit longer. Can I stay with you a few more nights, do you think?’
‘I think so. But we’ll have to tell Kuba.’
* * *
When Wren brought Kuba along the riverbank later that morning, to see Tuuli’s secret, he couldn’t contain his excitement.
‘HERN’S HORNS!’ he yelled. ‘You’ve got a wolf!’
‘Shh!’ said Wren. ‘We don’t want everyone to know. You’re very lucky to be in on the secret.’
‘Can I touch it?’
‘Her,’ corrected Tuuli. ‘You can touch her but be very calm. Put your hand out first.’ Tuuli guided his hand towards the pup’s snout. She snapped and bit him.
‘Ow!’ yelled Kuba. ‘So there’s a reason no one catches wolves!’
He nursed his hand, and inspected the damage. The pup’s pin-sharp teeth had just pierced his skin.
‘She’s only playing,’ said Tuuli. ‘She could bite you really hard if she wanted to.’
Kuba didn’t look convinced.
‘Give her some meat,’ said Tuuli, ‘and then she’ll be your friend.’
She gave Kuba some of the dried reindeer meat and he very gingerly fed it to the pup. She was still very hungry, and took it eagerly.
‘Now try stroking her,’ said Tuuli. Kuba did, and this time, the pup didn’t nip him. Gradually, he got more confident, and soon he was stroking her ears, neck and back. The pup lay down, rolled over and wriggled around. He rubbed her belly.
‘I’m going to try untying her,’ said Tuuli.
‘Are you sure?’ said Wren. ‘She might just run away.’
‘She might. But she’s friends with us now, and I suppose we should give her a choice.’
Tuuli untied the hide strap from the pup’s neck, and stroked the wolf’s head with both hands.
‘Stay with me,’ she breathed.
That afternoon, Wren, Tuuli and Kuba stayed by the riverbank. And the pup kept close to them. And when hunger eventually drove them back to the camp, the pup came with them.
Wren and Kuba went into their tent first. Starra was inside.
‘Is it all right if Tuuli stays with us again?’ asked Wren.
‘She’s still got the wolf pup, then?’ said Starra.
