noon peak: a wolf pack intervenes

7/25/2019 Noon Peak: A Wolf Pack Intervenes

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The Pirate Wolf

Chapter 1: Beulahs Report

Its a few hours before sunrise, and if you stand in the

forest with your eyes open, adjusting to the darkness of this

moonless night, you might notice something. There!

Movement behind the thick stand of evergreen trees off to your

left. Is it a hundred yards away? Ten?

You hear a rustle from the right. There is a bush moving,

just a little, then it stops. It sounds close. No more noise comes

from the snow-covered ground. But now you dont need to

hear it. You can feel yourself surrounded by something. A

presence that gives substance to the gloom. Your spine tingles

and your stomach shrinks.

In truth, its a good thing youre not really standing there in

the black. You would be surrounded by hungry wolves.

On they come, flowing past the trees, like water coursing a

stony rapid. They meet in glens and again separate around the

pines, never pausing, focused on a single point not far off. As

they close on their target, they spread apart, encircling around

and beyond it. They begin to tighten their group, barring

escape.

Four deer in a small clearing look up. A mother and three

yearlings. They feel the presence too late. Yellow eyes stare at

them from every angle. They shudder in panic.

Finally, a wolf, the alpha, steps forward to speak.

Hello there! he says. It is Lark, the pack leader. Have

you seen our latest trick?

At this the wolves jump toward the deer and form a line in

the open clearing. Some of them jump on top of each other,

scrambling raggedly on each others backs. They form a

standing triangle four wolves high, with Lark on top. He

somersaults to the ground in front of the bemused deer and

presents his paws in a kneel. Ta da!

One of the yearlings claps his front hooves, the other two

look at him and shake their heads. Beulah, the mother deer,

rolls her eyes. Oh, please, Lark. You stole that from the

raccoons.

Lark lowers his head to one side. Its a coincidence, I

swear it, he says. Oh, by the vie, you kids hungry? We got

some prime cutlets here. Parmesan. One of the other wolves

steps forward and shrugs off an ill-fitting backpack. Lark pulls

open the zipper and noses out a box of frozen dinners.

You stole that, too, says Beulah accusingly.

Yeah, from people, Lark agrees. Everyone in the forest

knows the code. You take only what you plan to use, and not

something already claimed. But with humans its different.

You can rob them of all sorts of things.


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Theres this small group of them camping near the

Greeley Ponds. Not using their bear box. He chuckles at this.

Humans can be such morons.

The young deer sniff the boxes curiously. Kids! Get away.Its probably chicken, Beulah says. We have other sources of

protein.

Yeah, Lark says. You just have to eat a whole meadow

of it. And you guys are pretty fast twitch, too.

It isnt proper! Beulah protests.

You could get totally jacked, is all Im saying. He tears

open the box and tosses a few cutlets to his pack. They dive in.

Ugh, you guys, Beulah says with a shake of her head.

Her three boys bend their heads and go back to munching the

new ferns starting to pop up through the receding snow. Spring

is coming earlier than usual. Hey, they didnt happen to have

any coffee with them.

You know, I didnt happen to smell that, Lark says, his

jaws dripping with half-frozen spaghetti sauce. Well send a

Scout there to see if they crack any open at dawn.

Which one? asks one of the wolves. Four of them are

named Scout, and aptly so. Theyre the ones who keep getting

the assignments to watch for people. By now its a running

joke whether the name defines the job, or vice versa.

Oh, how about Little Scout this time?

There is murmuring among the crew, but they agree. Little

Scout is now catching some sleep back at the den. All the

wolves know his reports are unreliable, if somewhat fanciful.

They suspect hes discovered the magic effects of mountain

teaberries.

Remember what he told us about the road the other day?

one of the wolves says.

Yeah, Lark says with amusement. A whole line of

trucks painted like the forest.

Like we couldnt smell these things three valleys away,

laughs another.

Ridiculous, says Marcella, the wolf packs matriarch.

Beulah looks up. No, we saw that, she states.

The wolves look up, slowly chewing the last of their

cutlets. Have you been getting into the teaberries, too? asks

Wheat, one of the larger wolf lads. He is ironically named, with

the darkest fur, almost black. The rest laugh.

We did see it. Three nights ago, Beulah says. They hadone of those spinning birds on a truck. Painted the same.

The wolves knew the spinning birds well. Their loud

rumbling shook the mountains, and their sound could be heard

long before they were seen circling like giant hawks overhead.

It couldnt be chance that several of their pack had been struck


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with metal rain whenever these thunderous contraptions hove

into the sky above them.

Little Scout hadnt mentioned it, but they had laughed him

out of the cave as soon as he started to give his report of thesegreen vehicles rolling into the valley like a train.

Are you certain? Lark asks. The pack gathers around

him. Their trust for Beulahs nose, eyes and ears far outweighs

that of Little Scout, and many of their other Scouts, for that

matter.

Tis true, she says. Her spring meanders tend to stick

close to her den, on a hillside just above the Mad River. She

saw the trucks, maybe seven or eight of them, with their

spinning bird on the largest one. I couldnt range far enough

to tell you.

No matter, Lark says to this. But have you seen them

leave?

Not that Ive witnessed, no, she says.

The wolves look at each other with fresh concern. It is

strange to see such a concerted human activity going on this

early in the season. The moon has completed more than three

full cycles since the longest night, and the road is still traveled

mainly by people in cars. These rolling boxes bear cut planks

of trees on each roof, that the humans use to slide in ridiculous

fashion down the snow-covered hillsides. Until the snows

recede completely and the trees begin to gather water from the

ground, the road is the only way in and out of the valley, at

least for the people.

If the trucks and their flying machine havent been seen

heading back down it, theyre still here.

Thanks, B, says Lark. Wheat and the rest of the wolves

nod. We need to talk with Little Scout. Quick Scout, well

need you to go find out about that coffee instead. Quick

Scout, an almost white wolf with black paws, barks and darts

out of the clearing. Wheat picks up the bag. They nod to

Beulah and run in the other direction, toward their den.

Beulah looks at her three growing boys browsing the young

fir saplings. The wolves are known to be fierce protectors of

the valley, and what bothers them should bother all. It hadnt

occurred to her to be concerned until seeing Larks furrowed

brow. She feels a new pressure, like the barely detectable

breeze before a gathering storm.

Boys, she says. Lets head back.


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Chapter 2: Little Scout

They dont believe me, laments Little Scout. He is sitting

near the entrance to the packs cave, near the head of a small

valley above Drakes Brook. The pack long ago decided to usethe human names for the valleys features. Its peaks, roads and

rivers were called words that made no sense, not nearly as

much as field between the hills or tall trees by the pond. But

the uniqueness of the names made it easier to keep straight

which field between the hills they were talking about.

So over generations the wolves learned the human terms,

and used them. They knew that a road called route forty-nine

followed the Mad River uphill into Waterville, or The

Waterville Valley. Or just Waterville Valley. Even the humans

changed the words they used from time to time.

Little Scout is supposed to be sleeping, but instead he is

sitting in the darkness talking to Robert, a fisher.

Theyre not gonna buy an idea like that, little guy, says

the fisher, to his wolf friend four times his size, though barely

out of cubhood. Not after that tale you told about the flyingdeer last fall.

I did see that, I swear it, says Little Scout.

Oh, it was a keeper, says Robert. Like an antlered

Pegasus, it must have been!

Stop. Stop it, Little Scout protests.

But whered they go? Are they just hiding in the trees?

These trucks, Robert says, in a mocking stage whisper. Look,

they might be right behind you!

Little Scout shakes his head in annoyance, while Robertrolls onto his back, stricken with laughter. Its a saving grace

that Roberts obnoxious needling so quickly devolves into

uncontrollable hysterics. Little Scout resists the urge to look

over his shoulder, knowing only the cave lurks behind him. At

least he is pretty sure. Mostly.

I saw them come up the road, but if they havent left, we

need to find them, he says. Little Scout suspects that some of

his more boring assignments are the result of one too many

reports that went unbelieved, like the time a monkey was

brought to the town library. It really happened, and it might

have been considered with interest if another Scout had seen it.

But Little Scout was the teller, and his story was treated as

pointless nonsense.

Robert finally regains his composure. Yeah, yeah, little

guy, so what are you gonna do?

If I could find those trucks

This throws Robert into another bout of hysterics. So the

intrepid Little Scout goes off on his own to find the truth, he

laughs. finding adventure and hijinks and saving the pack

from certain disaster. I love it!


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No, no. No, no, no, Little Scout says, shaking his head

violently. Lark asked me to stay here, so I will.

Ah, the loyal cub defending his packs homestead,

fulfilling his duty, and saving the pack from certain disaster.

Just. Stop.

Well, Im just saying, that works, too, the fisher says.

Hes been pals with Little Scout since they shared a log to

escape certain drowning in a flood the previous spring. The

young wolf had been venturing a bit too far from the den when

he was caught in a torrent of runoff leading to the Mad. At the

time he wasnt much bigger than Robert, and the fisher was

able to pull the cub to the bank by the scruff of his neck.

Scouts mother started leaving food from the packs raids for

Robert and his family.

She was taken by the humans before the snow fell, but the

pack continued the tradition. Robert was sort of an honorary

member, and despite the brash ribbings he gave the boy, and in

fact all of them, he and Little Scout were inseparable.

The fact is, Robert believes Little Scout about the convoy

of trucks on route forty-nine. He just doesnt want to. He

remembers full well the shuddering beast that spiraled above

the trees the day Scouts mother was killed. Its thropping,

spinning wings created vicious winds and vibrated the air in a

way that could be felt through the ground into the den. Its

constant blasts sent a rain of death and echoed across the

hillsides.

If one of those fearsome human machines is back in the

valley, as Little Scout told the pack, its too dangerous toignore.


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Chapter 3: The Sunrise Plan

Little Scout perks his ears. He stands up and looks down

the valley.

What is it, kiddo? asks Robert, then he senses it, too. The

pack is returning early this morning. Something is wrong. He

turns his head as the first wolf, Lark, rises over the headwall of

the small ravine. The other wolves soon join him.

Little Scout, youre up, Lark says. Hes clearly perturbed

by this, but also glad there wont be any time wasted nudging

him awake. He looks at Robert. Youve been keeping my boy

from his nap.

Hey, dont look at me, Lark, says the fisher. I was just

digging around for- He stops as Larks stare unnerves him.

On second thought, go ahead and look at me, thats cool.

Sorry, Dad, Little Scout says grudgingly. Im ready for

your orders, sir.

Orders? Lark says. He and the boy have had some

discussions over his reliability lately, but the cubs insolence is

frankly more grating than a few botched assignments. Okay,

we were going to send you up to the ponds to watch some

campers, but my orders this morning are to tell us everything

you know about the group of trucks you saw.

Scout jumps at this. Now, dad? he asks.

Yes, now. How many of these trucks were there?

Oh, that depends, Dad, Little Scout says. They had six

of those forest trucks, but there was a long truck with a big

round box on it, like the biggest tree trunk I ever saw.

Lark nods. Thats was probably a tanker, he says. Whatelse?

They were carrying other machines. These rolling horses.

The rolling horses, Lark says. I believe the humans call

them ATVs. How many?

I saw four, and they also had a spinning bird on a bridge

truck.

All the wolves cringe at the thought of the spinning bird.

Not much can spook a wolf, but the flying monsters are

capable of ranging deep into the wilderness and raining hot

metal on anyone caught out. Thats fearsome enough, but the

rolling horses can carry the humans up all but the steepest

trails, faster than any wolf.

If the humans have those, it means they aim to use them.

How many people do you think there are? Wheat asks.

Lark thinks about it for a moment. Their cars usually have

one or two people, but this sounds like theyre on some kind of

mission. If it were us, wed bring everyone we could, right?

Right, Wheat says. They can put four in each of them,

and the two trucks.


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Thats twenty at least. Maybe thirty, Lark says. The pack

stands in silence for a few minutes. The average groups of

people number probably four. Families, like small packs. They

tend to keep to the village and sometimes venture into the

woods, but not very far.

Small parties without pups might go further, to the

mountain peaks, and may even stay out overnight. They tend to

bring a lot of their human ritual accoutrements and

conveniences with them. On rare occasions these people even

hunt, taking one of the valleys forest residents home on the

hood of their car. But the season for that is a long way off, at

the other end of the summer.

Larger groups arrive in convoys like the one Little Scout

saw, but not of forest-painted trucks. Sometimes people show

up in vans and larger conveyances. These folks hardly leave

pavement, preferring to course in and out of their village

structures where they sit pointlessly for long periods, poking at

beeping devices or prodding a plate of meat they had no hand

in taking.

Disgusting. But this is what the pack knows of people, from

decades of watching from the hills. The group of noisy, green

vehicles is new behavior.

Lark squares up. We only have one mission right now, he

says. Information. Where are these things? What are these

people doing? What can we learn from our comrades? We need

to launch the sunrise plan.

The sunrise plan. All the wolves shudder at the sound of it.

Its dangerous. The last time the sunrise plan came to thevalley, they lost half the pack, and many of their friends. The

plan involved monitoring the humans during daylight hours.

They risked being seen, and in the case of wolves, feared. That

time, the people turned out to be building a ski resort,

something the woods dwellers thought to be the zaniest thing

theyd ever seen.

But too many sightings of wolves, bears and moose while

the sun was in the sky triggered a massacre that lasted two

summers. It led to a lot of pursuit and narrow escapes, and in

many cases, no escape at all. The wolves and their neighbors

knew the story as it had been told across generations.

Can we survive that? asks Wheat. Our numbers arent

what they were then.

Lark looks at him and bows his head only slightly. Wheat

and Marcella are the only pack members hell let question himabout a decision this impactful. That turned out to be an

endeavor that didnt concern us, and yet many died. This new

development may be targeting us.

Which is why we might need to stay out of danger, says

Wheat.


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Which is why we might need to know, growls Lark. He

is clearly finished answering questions, and he is more certain

of the sunrise plan than before. Marcella, you will bring word

to the deer. Master Scout, you will apprise Quick Scout of

these orders. Robert, we need you to call forth your specialty

and monitor the town.

Will do, Capm, Robert responds, thrusting his head and

upper body upright. Hes been sort of an honorary pack

member since his escape from the flood with Little Scout.

Lark reminds the group of the importance of certain aspects

of the sunrise plan. Let nobody follow you, and if anything

happens we wont search for you. Be back here before the

shadow of Noon Peak leaves the river.

Lark, with respect, what of Shauna? Wheat asks.

Lark nods at this. Shauna had gone west to meet with

another pack from the big valley. A great messenger, she is on

assignment to share information with packs from all compass

points. Her spring ramble is always extensive and fruitful.

Youre right, Lark says. She may have information from theriver pack we could use. Find out what shes learned, and wait

for us. We may need her to go to the packs beyond the valley.

All the wolves nod and accept their fates. It is the way of

the pack. But there is one question left, which falls to Marcella.

And who goes to Kayak, Lark?

Lark gazes at her knowingly. I will visit Kayak and his

clan, he says. And I will take Little Scout.


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Chapter 4: Shaunas News

Sunrise is a slow process in the mountains. First, the sky

begins to lighten in the east, and stars begin to disappear to the

naked eye. On a clear blue day like the one about to begin, thecolor is uniform across the jagged horizon. The mountains

themselves stay black, and under the thick spruce and fir

canopy above two thousand feet, one can barely tell the

morning is coming.

A little while later, the colors begin to lighten from dark

grey to purple, and finally dark green. The sky is light enough

to rouse anyone sleeping under a thin nylon tent, but not to

penetrate the darkened shades of a resort hotel room. Mirror-calm ponds begin to reflect the whitening sky against the black

bands of trees.

The sounds of early morning fill the village, restaurant

doors opening, propane heaters and stoves firing up, trash

collection trucks backing to pick up dumpsters of collected

refuse. Different sounds fill the void in the forested ravines,

wind and rustling branches, rushing streams, breakfast fires

crackling at campsites, the light splashing of moose shuffling

in the bog shallows.

As the first rays of sun hit the trees at the tops of the tallest

mountains, another noise joins the symphony. This one stops

the heart of anyone hearing it. The shuddering throp and

keening whine of a machine with spiraling wings, carrying men

into the sky. Its thunder echoes against the cliffs and ridge tops,

shaking the air and penetrating bones.

Shauna stops on a ledge high above the Mad River. She is

on her way across the mountain ridge west of the valley. Shecatches sight of the spinning bird circling above the dark, sharp

hulk of Noon Peak, and then back toward the village. She hears

another sound blasting from it a voice. Human-speak,

unintelligible, piercing, weak in quality but grating in pitch.

Shes never heard it used this way from one of their flying

monstrosities.

More commonly these devices spray out death. Mainly for

her pack.

Her trip across the gap was fruitful. It is clear the winter is

ending, and its recess is even further along down there in the

big valley. Her pack lives in a much smaller trough of land

between mountains, drained by a smaller, if lively river, and

encircled almost completely by mountains and notches

impassable to most human conveyances.

It wasnt always this way. Generations past told of a systemof smoke-belching chains of rolling steel boxes on tracks that

led deep into the ravines and across the gaps to the east. The

humans used it to kill half the forest and drag the trees away to

build more of their shelters elsewhere. Shauna has been outside

the valley, and knows that there are such shelters in even

greater size and numbers. They arent taking trees from her


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home range anymore, but somewhere, other packs forests are

still being plundered.

The humans rolling boxes cant get out of the valley by

any other way than route forty-nine, far below the ledge whereShauna stands now. It will be this way until they open the

gravelly road on the other side of the mountain they cleared for

their snow-sliding. It is still deep with crusted and gritted snow.

Too deep for the human contraptions.

The humans have named many of the peaks for other

people who came before. Some of the people who bore these

names were known to the wolves of their time. Some werent.

The only names that made sense in a wolfs estimation were

Noon Peak, directly south of the human settlement, and the

pyramid mountains on the other end.

The spinning bird makes its way out of view behind the

mountain, but not out of earshot. Its blaring vocal cacophony

still carries across the valley, and now Shauna notices another

activity. Below, the lights of human vehicles are streaming

along the roads in close formation. Theres a frantic energy as

many of them escape their paved clearings and line up to head

for the one road out of the valley.

Shauna realizes the road crossings wont be easy if too

many of these rolling boxes come along. Daylight is nearly

upon her now, and she needs to be in the valley of Drakes

Brook. She jumps down from her ledge and follows the nearest

path down.

Shortly before the river crossing, she comes to a meadow

cleared by the humans. Overhead pass thin black lines, likeropes drawn between the tall branchless trees the people have

buried into the ground long ago. Shauna notices that several of

them hang limply against the towers, their bare ends lying inert

on the ground. The wolves learned long ago to stay clear of

these broken ropes, as certain to stop breath as the metal rain

they use in the hunt.

She crosses the river underneath one of the human bridges.

By the next full moon, this river will be deep and fast with

brown floodwaters, but the full thaw has not yet arrived.

Shauna reaches the bank and ducks behind the brush near the

road. The lights of one of the rolling metal boxes begin to flash

around the uphill bend. She races across and lurches into the

trees on the other side.

Something to the right catches her eye. Two dark human

conveyances sit in the middle of the highway, their lights

black, and four humans stand in front of them with firesticks,

their hunters tools. Shauna feels shame at her failure to notice

this before she crossed, but it is clear they didnt notice her. Or

at least they didnt react. She can feel by their energy that

theres a tension, and it is directed beyond her, at the

approaching lights.


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As the vehicle rounds the turn into view, the two trucks in

the middle of the road click on, flooding the area with light. Its

as bright as the sun itself, directed at the vehicle. A second

rolling box appears behind it. The first reaches the men

standing in the road and stops. Its progress is blocked by the

two larger machines, and the men with their metal firesticks

surround it.

Shauna sees a human step out of the vehicle. Another is

pushed into the box by someone on the other side. Theres a

clamor of human barking and baying and finally, a blast. She

looks around the bushes near the road to see one of the people

laying in the road. Even at this distance she can tell that life hasleft it.

She sees other rolling boxes approaching, slowing as they

near. Suddenly, the second machine reverses course and turns

toward her. Its lights blaze across the brush and trees as it

reverses once more, falling across Shaunas muzzle for an

instant, and with a screech of its wheels, races back toward the

village. The next vehicle does the same.

Shauna watches as several more of these rolling machines

turn and flee as the four men begin walking up the highway,

bellowing their strident voices and blasting their dark black fire

sticks into the air. One of them sends several blasts into the sky

each second. She can sense the rising fear, and almost hear the

eruption of human hearts beating themselves out of their

chests.

Shaunas job is to range far, meeting other packs and clans,

gathering and delivering news. The sharing of information is

important to all who reside in the valley. She turns and heads

up the ravine of Drakes Brook by the quickest possible route.

She has news.


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Chapter 5: Kayaks Counsel

In the predawn hour, Lark and Little Scout cross the dark

ridge known as Flat Mountain on their way to visit the den of

Kayak. They hear the throbbing echo of the spinning bird as itcircles round and round above the village across the ridge.

Though they cannot see the infernal machine, they know it is

unlikely that any of the valleys residents will be asleep for

very long.

The whole valley lay in darkness, enduring the cacophony

of the whining machines spinning wings and growling

engines, accompanied by the keening, shrill voice of the

humans speech trumpeting forth from it.

Kayak resides in a cave high on the other side of Flat

Mountain, above Lost Pass. His hibernation season is coming

to an end, though Lark and Little Scout both know his first few

days awake will find him irritable and severely hungry.

And thats if he's awake already. Woe to those whose task

it is to roust the great bear from his slumber. Lark stands before

Kayaks den, hoping it hasnt fallen to him.

How long are we to wait? asks Little Scout.

As long as we must, Lark answers. It has long been

custom to summon any bear by patiently waiting near the

entrance to his den, without malice or urgency. Finally, there's

a shadow in the den entrance, as something shoulders its way

forward. A large bear shuffles toward the opening and groggily

looks at Lark and his son.

I've been wondering when you would approach, he

finally says.

Lark and Little Scout bow their heads, showing deference

to the Great Bear. We humbly seek your counsel, says Lark.

We have been monitoring the human activities in the valley,

and we wonder if you know of these events.

You seek my counsel? Or my protection? asks the bear.

Kayak is the leader of a clan of bears that dominates the valley.

He has held the position for as long as Lark or any other wolf

alive can remember. The story of his name comes from his

tendency during the trout run. Instead of standing atop the falls

waiting for fish, like an honest bear should, he prefers to sit on

his duff, appearing much like a human in one of their river

boats.

None would relate this story in his presence, though

throughout the valley it was agreed. In fact, Kayak now rises to

sit on his rear haunches, towering above Lark and Little Scout.He regards them carefully. They are not enemies, though

friendship is likewise not an accurate description of their

relations.

It is true we seek your help, says Lark, Whether your

witness, your wisdom, or your might.


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Then it is pleasant to greet you, Lark, says Kayak. And

you, Scout. Youve grown a great deal since the leaves fell,

though I suppose thats an obvious thing to say. Given the

urgency of recent events in the valley, I propose we dispense

with our polite pleasantries and get down to brass tacks. He

chuckled at his use of the human term, though he had little

notion of its meaning.

Have you known of the humans affairs, asks Lark.

I woke only yesterday, Kayak replies. But others in my

clan have let me understand the goings-on below.

Do you know where theyve hidden their machines? Lark

asks.

Kayak looks toward the sky as if studying the waning stars.

Come with me, he says, lowering to his four legs and

summoning the wolves with shake of his considerable neck.

Lark and Little Scout follow the bear to a promontory on the

high ridge, from where they can see the lights still flickering in

the valley. The sunlight is just hitting the top of Tecumseh

Mountain, and the spinning bird is a black shadow flying abovethe village, its voice blaring as its lights graze back and forth

across the village.

You see those structures there? Kayak says as he eyes a

group of buildings halfway down the slope. Thats where they

used to stage their disruption of the woods in times long past,

and where theyve hidden their intent this time. You would

have been aware, had your pack not been off rehearsing its

circus maneuvers. Some of my kind know from circuses the

terrible limits these humans will go to. What they'll do to us,

they'll do to each other doubly so, and from the words they

spray forth from their spinning bird, it is clear they mean to do

so.

You can identify their words? Little Scout asks.

Listen, Kayak says. You dont need to understand their

words to discern their meaning.

Indeed, from here Lark can feel the nervous energy of the

men below. He can smell the fear as people collect in front of

their dwellings to hear the imperious words shouted at them

from the fearsome creature hovering above. He sees the flicker

of lights as some scramble into their rolling boxes and race for

the road leading out.

At this, the sound of the humans flying contraption arises,

and Lark can see it coming towards them as if summoned. Lark

and Little Scout duck into a thicket of logs, while Kayak the

bear steps forward, as if in defiance, daring the people on thisflying machine to see him.

Remain calm, Kayak says. We will protect you. Your

needs will be regarded. He turns to Lark and Little Scout. It

isn't exactly what they say, but it is the nature of it.

What are they defending the people from? Little Scout

wonders aloud.


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As with all humans, I suspect their words and their

meanings are diverged, Lark says.

It is true, answers Kayak. They mean not to protect, but

to control, and even now I can sense that not all are going toobey.

The flying device moves toward them for another moment.

The shadow of the mountain will keep them hidden, but Lark

sees the sunlight expanding down the shoulder of the big

mountain across the valley. A loud blast echoes from the

depths of the valley to the west, and the giant metal bird

suddenly veers off toward it.

Then it is time for us to return. I thank you, Kayak, he

says. If we act, will you lend assistance?

Kayak regards him carefully. You said you seek my

counsel, Lark. Mine is to stay far from these men. It may in

fact be time to migrate elsewhere. Wherever these people are

known to clutch such power over their fellows, only death

follows. We should not find ourselves in the path of this

juggernaut.Lark nods and gestures to Little Scout to follow him off the

ridge. Kayak lumbers into the brush without another look back.

On their way down the mountain, Little Scout asks his

father, What assistance did you ask Kayak for?

I have not yet determined a course of action, Lark states.

But this new activity by the humans requires a response in

kind.

They return to the den to find that others in their pack havecompleted their missions, though Robert has not returned.

Quick Scout reports that the party at Greeley Ponds did indeed

have coffee, though it couldnt possibly matter now. The

campers themselves were gone, their tent torn through and their

gear strewn about. Master Scout and Quick Scout had to range

far out of their way to avoid humans setting a picket on the

Livermore Road.

Marcella reports that the deer are scattering by separateways outside the valley, and this surprises nobody.

There is a rustling in the brush near the den. All the wolves

turn and bristle, baring their teeth, but after a moment they are

cheered by the arrival of Shauna.

I have news, she says.


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Chapter 6: On The Run

Robert is a fisher. Not a fisher cat. The inconsistency of

human monikers is one of the things that irritates him, though

he knows it shouldnt. He is what he is, regardless of what thehumans call him. Other things that irritate him include the

spider webs across his morning browsing paths and human

refuse clogging the streams and trails, especially if its empty.

Being a fisher means his presence around the village is

tolerated, even expected, by the humans. His ability to gather

information around the town is a thousand times that of the

wolves, whose presence is wholly unwelcome. Even the jogger

he encounters simply emits a quick yelp of surprise and tracksa path around him without slowing.

Robert emerges from the undergrowth behind a human

restaurant. Its big metal box containing trash from the previous

nights visitors is commonly unguarded and easily breached.

This morning, he sees a man standing near a truck and two

rolling horses, with a firestick strapped to his back. There is

another human, or maybe two, sitting inside the cabin.

The human looks in his direction, then back at the door to

the building as another man walks out, himself bearing a

similar tool. It looks a lot like the devices used by hunters,

though the season for fearing them lies on the other side of

several changes of the moon.

From what Robert can make of their bantering, they are

about to head up to the ponds beyond Flat Mountain.

At that moment, the air is fractured as a huge metal beast

shudders to life and climbs above the trees. It soars over thevillage and a voice begins to bellow from it. Robert can barely

make out the words, but the humans can. The people by the

rolling machines exchange a slap of the hands. Robert sees the

jogger, now standing in the road just beyond the entrance to the

buildings paved meadow. The men dont notice him before he

lunges into the woods nearby.

The men hear the rustling bushes, and look. Robert quickly

pounces back into the bushes and takes a glance back at thehumans. Theyve turned away and are climbing onto their

machines.

What it is about these extraneous activities that interests the

men, Robert can never figure out. Their hunting, traveling on

rolling conveyances, and building of shelters makes sense. But

the ludicrous snow-sliding, forest-walking, and running up and

down the roads in the darkness bears no fruit. These endeavors

lack any logical utility.

The people on their four-legged metal devices start up the

things with a grating howl, and roll quickly into the forest

beyond the open lot, where their carriages spin showers of mud

into the air. Robert sees the jogger look out of the woods, and

duck again as the truck rolls out onto the road and past him.


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The chopping, screaming bird overhead circles and continues

to shout at the people now emerging from their buildings.

Some are starting their rolling boxes and careening out to

the road before the truck can pull ahead to stop them. Robertcan feel their frantic energy. Whatever is going on, the humans

are aligning into clans. In times of crisis, the valleys denizens

have been known to do the same thing. It never goes well for

one of the clans.

The spinning bird heads off in another direction, and there

is a lull in the action. Robert sees the jogger skulk out of the

woods and dart off toward a group of buildings, much faster

than his earlier loping. Robert decides its time to follow suit.He would have liked to rifle through the garbage, but the sun

has started to drench the hillsides. He heads off back to the den.


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Chapter 7: Spreading It Thin

Robert returns to the den and finds the pack waiting for

him. Shauna has arrived from her trip over the mountains to the

west, and the tale she recounts is the most harrowing ofanyones. The wolves are shaken by the tale of humans laying

siege to the town, killing over territory.

And now Robert, what news? Lark asks, after each of

them have had a chance to digest Shaunas report.

Robert tells the story of the jogger, the people in the truck,

and the two who rode away toward the Flat Mountain Ponds.

By the absence of its chopping din, it is clear the flying beast

has been still for several moments.

Weve learned where theyve been hiding, and the extent

of their brutality. Whatever these humans are up to, Lark says,

theyre closing off all the routes from the valley, not just the

road.

We know they brought in a tanker for their rolling

machines, so they mean to keep control for awhile, says

Wheat.

But for how long can they maintain this without

supplies? Shauna asks.

Thats a good observation, says Lark. Theyre setting up

bases in every pass. I propose we do the same.

The wolves look at each other. What? Wheat asks.

Sorry, Lark, but arent we spreading ourselves thin?

Well need to eat, and rest, and figure out how to

intervene against these men, Lark says. We cant do all threefrom here.

Wheat speaks up. Lark, Im with you, no matter what, but

it seems these people are only acting against other humans. Is it

our place to get involved?

Lark looks at all of them. He knows this feeling is popular

among the pack. In fact, he isnt convinced that wolves have

any business bothering to thwart the humans.

Do you remember the tales of what it was like before this

town was peaceful? Lark asks. Men were here to cut down

every tree and build their long stretches of steel through the

mountains.

We know it was like this, Lark, says Wheat. Those men

tore out the woods. By all accounts, the place was a wasteland.

But our kind survived that. Well survive this.

We almost didnt survive that, Marcella says. She steps

down from the ledge just above the entrance to the den. Tis

true those men took to the woods to build their smoke-belching

machines and clog the rivers with trees, but their firesticks

were turned on our fathers. Our survival depended on retreat.

Hiding. Like dogs, not wolves. We are not dogs. Are you?


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Wheat backs away at this. No. I suppose not.

Marcella stands before the pack. Whats going on down

there has never happened in our lifetimes, but it has happened.

As surely as these men have turned their weapons on eachother, theyll begin to notice us. And our comrades.

As if on cue, the pack can hear the crack of a firestick

somewhere in the distance. Then another.

If there is a time to stop these humans, it is now, says

Lark. Shauna, your recollection is still fresh, and should be

heard by the packs outside the valley. Go to the settlement

beyond Flat Mountain. If the humans are headed that way, that

may be how they plan to keep themselves stocked. Set up a den

and get some rest. Wheat, join her.

Wheat lowers his head at this. Got it, Lark, he says.

The rest of us will rest here and set out tonight. We are

spreading our pack thin. But so are they. Their success relies

on a network, a supply line, and constant communication. We

know how to do that. Better than they do.

The wolves nod and consider Larks plan. This is the first

time he has led the pack through a crisis. It seems possible that

his plan may escalate the situation for them, or it may be the

best course of action to resolve it.

There is no way to know. It seems the only way out of this,

is through it.


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Chapter 8: Beyond The Ponds

Wheat and Shauna head into the boggy meadow around the

Flat Mountain Ponds, beyond which lay the human towns to

the east, where people arent hemmed in by the valley. Itsclear that the humans are up to something brash. Theyd seen

people do harm to each other, many times more violent than

anything their own kind could do. But this is new. Its

organized, like an entire pack gone rabid.

Of course, such sickness soon causes its victim to be cast

out, and death follows. This outfit has already lasted too long

for that. Shauna and Wheat are off to find whether this

behavior is happening beyond the ridges.

What do you suppose these people are up to? asks

Wheat.

Shauna is silent. Shes seen the menace of humans up

close, having been on her mission on the other side of Thornton

Gap, to meet with packs on the other side of the big river.

Wheat knows shes seen a lot of strange human activity in her

travels. There are highways and towns over the ridges north

and west that dwarf the little village in the valley, and the

violence of the people seems to increase with the size of their

settlements.

A voice comes from the trees behind them. Theyre

preparin, thats what it is. The wolves are startled. They turn,

half-growling, ready to pounce, when out steps a tall moose

from the brush onto the trail.

Shauna and Wheat relax. Henry! Wheat says. Youll get

yourself mauled sneaking up like that, you know. He doesntdare say killed, knowing he and Shauna are no match for the

old bull.

Throw fur some other time, we can, says Henry. This

runnin monkey escapade is out of your league. Out of all of

ours, way I see it. He barely stops chewing whatever green

thing hes just pulled out of the bushes.

What are you talking about? Shauna asks.

Well, you know how we load up for winter? Henry says.

Thats what the monkeys are doin. Cept the winter theyre

plannin is a good deal longer.

What does killing each other have to do with that? asks

Wheat.

The big moose eyes the two wolves. Neither of them have

lived half as long as him, and theyve never seen a true winter,

like the one a decade before. That was a winter to remember,

though few wanted to. Nobody in the valley talks about it, but

not from shame or guilt as much from familiarity. Everyone

knows the details, so theres no point in rehashing the horror of

that spring.


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- 21 -

I forget youre uninitiated, he says. I hear the talk when

theyre in the woods. Theres a color to it. Theyre not all the

same, you know. Oh, they all complain. But about different

things. Some grouse about their leaders, their things. You know

those rolling boxes of theirs? Cars, they call em. Those are a

problem. The trees they used to hack down? They still do, just

elsewhere. The other monkeys, mostly the hunters, they

complain about the other ones complainin. They all got a fear

in them, about their valley. Its bigger than ours. And it seems

to be gettin worse. I seen this comin. Trouble is, I think were

ridin the flood with em.

Wheat and Shauna look at each other. So what are wesupposed to do? Watch them kill each other? Wheat asks.

Dont see as we have much choice- Henry says, stopping

suddenly. They all hear it. One of the human ATVs is heading

up the trail leading into the meadow. Or maybe two of them.

The wolves and moose stand dumbfounded. Normally

theyd already be bounding into the trees, but the morning's

events has driven them toward a dangerous curiosity. These

men coming up the vale might offer some clues about their

aims.

You want to learn somethin? Heres your chance. says

Henry. He trots into a pine grove, beckoning for the wolves to

follow suit. They head back toward the mountain. A few

minutes more pass before the buzzing machines lurch into the

meadow. There are two, each ridden by a human. Shauna can

see their colors now, their garments a mottled green, like the

rolling horses they ride. They carry their firesticks strapped

across their backs.

They reach the edge of the pond and stop. There is some

pointing and gesturing to the lines of trees around the edge of

the marsh. By their behavior, it is clear they mean to choose a

place to camp. One of the men turns to look toward the stand of

trees where Shauna and Wheat duck behind a boulder, and

suddenly freezes. His eyes lock in their direction, and he

reaches over his shoulder to remove his firestick. Quickly, the

other human reverses his machine and brings it around, lookingtoward the wolves.

The man lowers his firestick toward the wolves. Wheat and

Shauna freeze, knowing the sunrise plan may have fulfilled its

potential for disaster. Their legs press the ground like coiled

springs, ready to launch at the slightest twitch from the men.

The humans havent yet moved from their perches upon the

rolling horses.

At once, there is a scream from a brushy knoll close to the

pond, and the two men jump. It is Henry, rushing toward them,

calling out with a hollow, high-pitched wail that sends shivers

down Wheats spine. How Henry skulked around the men so

quickly, hell have to find out later.


22/39

- 22 -

Without considering their next action, which normally

would be to take off into the woods to count their luck

elsewhere, he and Shauna do something completely outside

their nature. They charge.

The human with the firestick turns to see the massive bull

moose coming at him, and jumps from his machine. He runs

back down the trail, and is quickly knocked on his muzzle by

Henrys kicking front legs. He drops the stick and hobbles to

his feet as Henry lowers his huge head and lifts the man into

the air. Falling onto a boulder, he smashes his head and rises

once more, blood now streaming from a deep gash. Henry

kicks at him again, and soon the human no longer moves.

Shauna races at the other man, who throws his rolling horse

into gear and suddenly yells as it lurches backwards into the

pond. It drives deep into the muck at the waters edge, and

whines as its wheels spin, throwing water and drenching the

man. It digs itself a divot in the mud and flips sideways.

The wolves are nearly upon the man. He jumps from the

vehicle and runs through the mud and reeds, his firestick

slapping against his back. As Shauna lunges at his neck, he

turns and staggers backward, pulling a smaller firestick from

his belt. He fires, and Shauna falls to his side with a yelp of

pain.

Wheat is already in midair, and strikes the man in the back.

He snaps his jaws on the mans forearm, feeling a click and

hearing a searing scream. He lets go and jumps in front of the

man, now pulling himself through the mud with one arm, still

clutching his firestick. He aims it at Wheat, and the wolf

bounds out of the way just before he fires it. There is no blast,

only a click. The device is fouled by the mud.

Wheat backs away and noses Shauna. Her breath has left

her. Henry ambles toward them, his quarry subdued, and

stamps the dirt, snorting steam from his nostrils. The human

laying on his side in the mud smiles, throwing his firestick to

the pond. He vocalizes something as Henry and Wheat move

closer. They share a glance as the man climbs to his feet. His

arm is smashed and gushing blood, and they watch him stagger

away toward the only machine left upright.

Henry moves to block his path, and they recognize the

humans expression of understanding. He laughs, and trudges

off toward the village, holding his arm and watching Henry and

Wheat behind him. When he nears the edge of the woods, he

breaks into a jog.

Wheat nudges at Shauna again. He looks at the ground, not

knowing what to think.

Not long enough, she lived, Henry says. Tis a shame in

any case, but those monkeys werent aiming for this.

They pointed their arms right at us, Wheat says in

protest. Look at what theyve done to Shauna.


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- 23 -

But not with a hunters device. Opportunity. Thats all it

was, Henry says, nodding toward the human machine. These

humans werent hunting. Theyre equipped for some kind of

blockade.

Wheat looked over the equipment piled on the rolling

horse. The humans had lugged a lot of food and other materials

that clearly werent the tools of hunters. They would have

made too much noise and thrown off too many scents for

people trying to hunt.

Youre right. Its a siege. Thats what Shauna saw on the

road, says Wheat.

If theyre closing the valley, this would be a way out,

Henry states.

Wheat raises his head and squares himself, the way Lark

would do. I have to continue with Shaunas mission, to find

out whats happening beyond the ridges.

The moose looks balefully at him. If youre suggesting we

get involved-

You said it yourself. Were in this flood with them,

Wheat says angrily. Whatever it is. Just while Im gone, let

the pack know whats going on here. And keep this pass open.

He wheels and begins to trot off toward the villages to the east,

beyond the ponds.

Will do, alpha, Henry replies. When Wheat stops and

looks over his shoulder with a snarl, he backs away. Very

well, Wheat. Were all in the flood.


24/39

- 24 -

Chapter 9: Change Of Plans

If you stand among the hardwoods a little while after

sunset, theres a rustle in the branches, just beginning to sprout

their new leaves. Soon, the hollow echo of the valleys walls

will start to dampen as soft green foliage fills the landscape and

soaks up the breeze. The spreading canopies of maples and

birches will soak up the rains, drip wet with dew and filter the

suns rays from the soft ground, itself returning the damp

warmth of rising saplings and vivid grasses with the immutable

onset of spring.

But now, all of that that remains beyond another cycle of

the moon. On this evening, a clear blue day is ending, and thebillowing grey clouds coursing overhead from the west bring

the threat of cold, drifting rains and winds that will whip the

trees and scour the mountaintops. An echo in the valley retains

a cold, sullen resonance that seems to ring as if the hillsides

themselves describe a bell in which every creature, branch, and

falling stone is the clapper.

As the moon is slowly obscured, the hairs on your neck

stand on end as an open-throated call rises from somewhere in

a ravine below Noon Peak. A wolf. It is answered by another

call miles to the east, beyond another ridge, somewhere in a

broad marshy bowl which the darkening hillsides enclose

almost completely. There, the stars reflect on the calm open

pools that collect the crashing streams tumbling from the hills,

where brooks and rivers begin to cut their routes downward

into valleys far away.

It is Wheat, now arising from his rest in a hollow near the

bog, hidden from the track, the two rolling horses the humansleft behind, and the body of his friend Shauna. As he returns

the howl from his packmate, who he realizes is Red Scout, he

knows they expect to hear a reply from Shauna. It will not

come.

There is another call. Wheat replies, then pauses, revealing

a gap of time for Shauna to fill, but there is only emptiness. He

howls once more. There is a chorus of calls from the far valley,

and the tale is told.

The men have not returned. But Wheat knows they are

unlikely to leave behind their machines. He has seen humans

abandon a great deal of gear. They leave bags, mostly laden

with their fabric covers and other unusable clutter, and

sometimes food. Hes seen them leave tents and items that

beep and blink in garish colors. But for such a noisy device,

with its ability to transport men so swiftly along the trails, to

stand mute for a full period of daylight, has never been subject

to Wheats witness.

Wheat knows his job. He is to keep watch over this marshy

valley until given further instructions by Lark. Knowing of

Shaunas loss, it is likely that he will be joined on this evening,

probably by one of the Scouts. Wheat watches the stream while


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- 25 -

the moon floats higher, until the clouds drift in to hide its

reflection from the pools. The stillness of the water is riffled by

winds, briefly gusting and driving the forest to a low whisper.

In the waning light, he sees Henry appear on the far side ofthe bog, accompanied by Wilma. Soon, Beatrice also emerges

from the trees several leaps away. The three moose catch

notice of Wheat, now sitting well upwind at the edge of the

field. They nod and dip their muzzles to the mud. Wheat rises,

looking away, then moves toward the human vehicles. They

deserve a more thorough inspection than what he was able to

give them earlier, when his greater priority was to find a den.

The two machines remain where they were left by thefleeing man. One stands in the trail, and two bags hang open

behind its saddle. One held seeds and grains of a sort, and

Wheat can smell evidence of something richer. A few

unopened bags of dried chicken, broccoli, and carrots have

been pulled to the ground by rodents, who were unsuccessful in

liberating the contents. There are also a few stems of

unidentifiable meats the men eat. Lark and many of the pack

love these, though Wheat finds them sour.

Further down the trail, toward where the first man lay on

his belly, is the long firestick. He dropped it part of the way

while running from Henry. Wheat has seen many of them, but

has never had an opportunity to inspect it closely. It is no

longer than a cedar sapling, and as straight. A strap connects to

it in two places, and its coloring is too dark to blend in with the

land even in the twilight.

The second machine still lay on its side partly submerged in

the muddy edges of the bog. Wheat smells something foul here,and suspects it is the same residue causing the color-riddled

film on the water. Somewhere under the murk is the solid metal

firestick, shining in the moonlight and alienating the confused

trout. This is not a place to dip the muzzle. He moves on.

There is a stir in the meadow. Henry and the other moose

lift their heads. It isnt the return of men. Wheat recognizes the

approach of Lark and Little Scout just before they emerge from

the trees behind him. A third trace on the air tells him they areaccompanied by Robert.

Lark stops at the edge of the woods and Wheat goes to him.

This spot is essential, Wheat, he says. We know from

Robert that it is considered equally so by the humans. This is

the closest Lark will come to praise. He looks around the

meadow and sees the two human devices sitting by the bogs

edge. Beyond, he sees Henry, Wilma and Beatrice ambling

back into the trees.

There were two, Wheat tells them. Soon after we

arrived. One was put to end by Henry, and the other has run

that way. Wheat nods in the direction of the town. His

firestick never left his back, but he used a smaller one to finish

Shauna.


26/39

- 26 -

This is unfortunate, Lark says. Shauna carried news

from the western packs, and was our envoy to the east. Now

well have to put that off until we can secure this route.

Where else are these humans setting camp? Wheat asks.Well learn that by the morning, Lark tells him. Red

Scout is down valley along the roadway, watching the blockade

the men have set up. Quick Scout is at the Greeley Ponds

again. Master Scout is heading toward Livermore. Rye and

Claris will patrol the Gap, and Marcella holds the den.

Are they setting camp alone? Wheat asks, perplexed. He

already thinks the plan has too many holes in it for the pack to

manage.

No. The news of Shauna gave us pause, Lark says. If

something happened here, it may be pivotal to their plans.

We kinda think theyre coming back, Robert adds. Lark

gives him a sharp glance.

Wheat is often amused by the fisher. Robert often takes

advantage of his special role with the pack, and Wheat wonders

if someday Larks patience will wear thin. Its agreed in my

view. The humans are going to regroup and put their focus

here, Wheat says. But when? Why didnt they come back

today?

Thats what I am hoping to learn, Says Lark. So I am

heading to their base on the other side of Flat Mountain. With

Robert.

But this bog, if they come back, Wheat begins to protest.Ill need assistance.

Little Scout will remain with you, Lark says. He nods to

Little Scout, who until now has been sitting quietly, monitoring

the valley around them for any movement.

Wheat nods, but mostly by reflex. Lark is giving him an

extra set of paws, but not a shred of experience in maintaining

a picket in such a wide valley. And he knows there will be no

short effort expended in correction of the cubs errant

frolicking.

Lark notes this hesitation. Is this acceptable? he asks.

Very well, Wheat answers. I have a den. There is food,

by the machines.

I have no doubt youll excel, he says. This spot will be

reinforced if need be.

Thanks, Lark.

He turns to Robert. Weve got to move along. Remember,

stick by the trail. I will range to the west of the ridge, and well

report above their base before the moon sets.

Sure thing, big guy, Robert says. Little Scout laughs,

earning a sharp ear flick from Lark.


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- 27 -

Listen to Wheat, Lark says. He and Robert both turn and

head down valley, toward the village.

Wheat sits sullenly watching them go.

This doesnt look all that bad, Little Scout says. Did youbump into Old Henry?

He never said words about her, Wheat answers. Just

how unfortunate it is that he had to change plans.

Little Scout looks at him questioningly.

Shauna died to protect this valley, and this pack. And he

just brushed her aside.

Little Scout bows his head at this. He realizes Wheat is

right. Im really sorry about Shauna. My dad is, too. Trust

me.

Wheat looks at him, then moves off toward the machines.

Lets eat. They have that jerky stuff you like.


28/39

- 28 -

Chapter 10: A Shot In The Dark

I saw nobody back that way, Robert reports when Lark

meets him at the edge of the woods near the human base. I

followed their tracks the whole way through Lost Pass.

Nothing.

Likewise, Lark replies. But I didnt expect to see

anyone up on Flat Mountain. What do you make of this place?

The human base is a depot of metal buildings housing the

machines they use to clear roads of snow and build new asphalt

meadows. It is surrounded by a steel wire fence made of links

and topped by a spiral of powerfully sharp metal wire. Devil

wire, they learned to call it. Lark knows the razor-like metal

well from a previous foray, when he and some bobcats were

practicing their hide-and-pounce tactics near here. He found a

stretch of the devil wire discarded in the woods, and still has

the scars on his hind leg from struggling with it.

Theyve been standing there the whole time, Robert says,

nodding to the two humans standing inside the fence. Neither

of them were the ones he saw riding off toward the bog the

previous morning.

Ive seen their lights from the ridge. More humans are

coming up the valley into the town, but nobody is being

allowed out, Lark says. This is where theyre running it all.

Below the depot is a network of human byways and

dwellings extending partway up the hillside. Its where the

most of the stayovers those who live in the valley through

the winters spend their time. They seem to spend much of it

sitting in their nearly identical buildings, drinking and staring

at blinking panels and beeping devices.

Lark continues, Their dens below here are dark tonight. I

think someone has shut off their machines.

Didnt Shauna say she saw their lines down? Robert asks.

She did. These men have disabled the wires we see along

their route forty-nine, Lark responds. Yet they are able to

bring their own light.

The corral the two men are standing in also hold several

metal structures, two more of their rolling horses, and several

of their other machines. At the far end of the lot is the spinning

bird, sitting silently, waiting to be taken to the sky to rain metal

and fire against the valleys residents. Its tasks have mainly

been applied to containing the humans within the village, but

Lark knows it can be pressed into use against his kin just as

readily.

The entire lot is dark, except for lights of blazing white thetwo men bear on their heads, and a strip of yellow beaming

under the metal door into the largest building. The men have

been talking, barely audibly, for as long as Robert has watched

them.

We should move in closer, Robert says. See if we can

tell what theyre saying.


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- 29 -

Lark shakes his head. We dont want to be seen skulking

about, he says. Better they know nothing of our interest

here.

Cmon, just for a few minutes. Let me go in and listen to-

Robert is interrupted by the arrival of another vehicle. The

men open the gate and it enters the yard to stop by the building.

Two more men step out and take a large box, one of the

unnatural bins they use. Not wood, not metal, but something

else. Normally they use a cover to keep out the weather, but

this has none.

What are they carrying? Robert asks, as the men below

start jabbering to each other.

Lark sees a pile of devices in the bin. It looks like a cache

of the blinking things theyre always clutching in their hands.

The men are pointing and sweeping their arms across the

valley below while they yammer on. They laugh about

something.

They talk on those things, Robert says. Are they trying

to keep everyone from using them?

Theyve been letting other humans in but not out. That

must be why theyre blocking the passes, Lark says.

I dont get it, Boss, Robert says.

They want to keep the humans outside the village from

knowing whats happening here.

At that instant, a loud bang is heard from the darkened

village below. Lark and Robert duck back into the trees and

watch the men turn to look down valley. There is a chattering

voice from the devices on their belts, and two of them hop into

the truck and head down the road.

I should follow, says Lark. He turns to see that Robert is

eyeing him expectantly. Sorry, someone needs to stay here

and watch the base.

You sure? Theres nothing happening here, Robert says.

But something will, and when it does, we need to know

the pattern. Lark doesnt need to say anything more. His gaze

locks with Robert and the fisher crouches back. Lark is right.

One thing about humans the valley dwellers know, is that if

you watch long enough, their patterns will be entirely

predictable. Roberts observations could be essential to

understanding what is going on.

Lark heads off through the woods along the roadway, three

more men emerge from the building and get into a truck. The

spinning bird stays at rest, for now.


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Chapter 11: The Will Of Men

This is boring. We should go raid the campground or

something, Little Scout says excitedly. Like normal times.

Wheat bristles at the shoulders hearing this. He swallowsthe shard of beef jerky in his maw. You know this isnt

normal times, kid.

Scout lowers his head. But my dad would want us to carry

on without these humans changing our ways.

Your dad, Wheat growls, would want you to do exactly

as he demanded. Me, too.

You mean set up camp and wait? Were doing that.

Yes, we are. And well do more of it before the moon

sets, says Wheat.

Little Scout noses into the bag of trail mix the humans

lugged all the way up into the marsh. He wrinkles at the smell

and turns away. Why havent those men come back for their

rolling horses? he asks Wheat.

They will. As soon as they figure out what to do with us,Wheat says. Hes familiar with the way humans manage

themselves in the forest. Theyre impulsive and stupid. Ive

seen many a man walk along their trails, whistling and

clomping along with thick, heavy covers on their paws. They

wake up every woods dweller within a days browse.

And its true, in the woods men are like a circus act rolling

into town, creasing the silence as marching bands and parades,

with balloons flying overhead and clowns doing their

somersaults. Wheat would have no idea what a circus is, but it

would fit his notions of mankinds wilderness behavior

perfectly.

Wheat continues, There is little danger in their

foolishness, but when man takes his time, as these humans

seem to be doing, theyre much more of a menace. When they

concentrate their effort, they can outwit even us. Only death is

the outcome.

Do you mean like last summer? Little Scout asks.

Wheat is quiet, and turns away.

Well, Wheat? Scout asks again. Is it going to happen

again?

Almost sure of that. Weve done too much already,

Wheat says. The humans seem to be following other plans yet,

but they know what happened here, and theyll react soon

enough. Larks stirring up our packs end.

Thats my father, Little Scout snaps. His young belly is

incapable of delivering the depth necessary for a true growl,

and Wheat only laughs.

Yes, he is, Wheat replies, and hes made a mistake

going into the village. Down there a fisher, a fox, even a bear is


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a regular thing. But when those men see your father. A wolf.

At their toes. Theyll turn that bird of theirs from terrorizing

their own like, into another campaign on us. Its happened

many times before, including last year.

There is a shot heard far off in the valley, from the

direction of the town. Wheat and Little Scout recognize the

sound. Its a firestick for certain. He looks up from the

manmade machines theyve been inspecting. Wheat gazes

back, eyes glowing in the dim moonlight.

You see, if Larks gone and gotten noticed, its a fair

prediction the humans will gather against the pack. That may

have been their next volley.

Scout sniffs the crisp breeze. Hes learned to recognize a

storms approach. My father always told me there was no

rhyme to their actions. Theyll do what they do and take what

theyll take, and they have no purpose.

Of course theres purpose, when their eyes lose that dull

glaze. They can turn in an instant. Look into a mans eye, and

you can see fear, you can see rage, and then you see purpose.

Ive seen it when I was He stops, his voice trailing.

When you were what? Scout asks.

Shhh, Wheat growls in a low whisper. Did you hear

that?

The noise Wheat heard was indiscernible to human ears,

but he caught it immediately through the breeze in the branches

and the riffling pond. Voices, like a low mumble, from deep in

the notch leading to Drakes Brook. He hears it again, and this

time Little Scout notices it, too.

Cmon! Wheat says, and darts into the trees back to his

den. He doesnt wait for Scout to follow, knowing the young

wolf is sharp enough to need no further prompting. Little Scout

darts through the brush right behind him.

From the den, perched in the lee of a cliff on the shoulder

of Flat Mountain, they can see the expanse of the boggy

meadow below. They watch as the white beams of headlampsemerge from the trees and begin to play across the grasses, and

finally set a course toward the machines.

There is something else. With the men, the wolves sense

another creature. Like their own kin, but tamed by eons of

alignment with men. A dog. This newcomer is far less

menacing, but in ways, presents a new danger.

Little Scout and Wheat stiffen when they catch the scent.

The hairs on their shoulders stand. All of their senses are

energized.

You see? Wheat says.

See what? Little Scout wonders.


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Robert went through Lost Pass. Your father went over the

mountain. But the men came around the mountain on its sunset

side. And they came at night.

And they have a dog.

Yes.

Scout considers the unexpected cunning of all this. They

watch as the beams of light reach the machines and stop. The

beams spray light around the edge of the pond as the men lift

one of the machines from the muck and then start the other

one. Its high-pitched growl echoes across the valley. The dog

barks. Every woods creature is surely awakened.

But that would mean these humans know our patterns.

Little Scout says with a shudder.

Wheat nods. Then you understand. It is a fearsome thing,

the will of men. What theyve just done here thats purpose.


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Chapter 12: Fugitives

The village is quieter than Lark can remember. None of the

human vehicles meander along the roads, swerving with the

intemperance of their drivers, as they normally do at this hour.

At the close of the typical human day of sliding around their

cleared mountain slopes, they take to revelry in their gathering

dens. This ritual closes with a lot of sliding around on the

highways instead.

On this night, there has been no revelry. Lark keeps as

close to the road as he can, without being spotted by the men.

He knows of several trails that lead to crossings, but every one

of them means a compromise. It adds a measure of time tothread his way through the undergrowth of the darkened wood,

but staying out of sight is imperative.

Lark passes behind houses, each of them dark, showing no

sign of occupation. Some are open to the night, their doors torn

or removed completely. Vehicles stand empty along roadsides

and in driveways. Some of them have caromed deep into the

gullies away from the hardtop. These sit devastated with scars

given by the boulders and trees on their paths. One even

remains running, its lights fading to a dull yellow.

To Lark, these open dwellings and conveyances invite

larceny, or at the very least exploration. The pack could feast

for a week on the entrails of a well-stocked coldbox found in

these human dens. But a wolfs sense of irony is keen enough

to understand the ease of an opportunity is equal to its danger.

He leaves the open houses be.

In the center of the village is a large pond, created by man,

alongside one of their largest structures. Lark chooses a

narrow, well-wooded spot to cross the hardtop, and gets as

close as he can to the building. A long bridge, wide enough for

two of Larks pack to cross together, reaches from the far bank

to where he crouches behind manicured junipers and azaleas.

The dark shadows of men move slowly alongside the

structures walls, carrying their firesticks low at their hips.

Voices are heard from the dens inside. Sometimes shouts and

irate tirades, but mostly whispers.

There is a great deal of anguish here. Lark cannot decipher

the human speech, but he can sense it.

A group of men suddenly emerge from the building,

carrying something heavy. The large white cloth they bear

nearly drags along the pebbled path. A deep red bloom collects

and grows around its middle, and Lark does not mistake the

smell. The men struggle to drag the cloth to the edge of the

pond, where they release it. Exactly the object Lark expects to

see rolls into the calm water - a human. A female.

Lark senses something else, and finds his suspicion

confirmed when two dogs exit the building. Huskies. They

immediately sense him, and turn their heads across the pond,

growling. The men holding the tethers lurch forward as they


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pull angrily against their restraints. Suddenly, one breaks free

of his masters grip and drives headlong across the bridge.

Flushed out, Lark bolts from his hiding spot. The men on

the other side are shouting now, and the other dog is set free.

Lark darts along the ponds edge and heads back toward the

road crossing. The dogs reach the end of the bridge and

accelerate through the snow. As Lark dives into the woods

across the highway, they are only seconds behind.

The men come running well back of the huskies. Lark hears

a shot ring from a firestick. There is another bang, then

shouting. No more shots come while Lark runs through the

woods behind the human dwellings.

The dogs are keeping pace, and the men will easily be able

to follow his tracks. Lark knows he must break his pattern. He

sees a shattered entrance into one of the houses, and races

across the clearing into the open doorway.

He is in a dark enclosed space, paneled in the false wood

sheets the humans enjoy building their dens from. Lark jumps

into a cavern where risers climb to the chambers above. This is

an opportunity. He reaches the top of the steps and crashes

forward, tearing open the large silver casing that contains the

humans food.

As he hears the dogs enter the space beneath, he lunges into

the box and collapses the metal racks. Bottles full of every kind

of sticky liquid hit the hard, slick floor and explode across the

room. There is no meat, so Lark lashes at the second door. He

is rewarded when ham, chicken, and steaks tumble out, sliding

to the feet of the two large huskies standing in the doorway.

Lark is larger, but these two are well trained. They growl.

In the open lot below the window, Lark can hear several

humans running toward the house.

He has one advantage. He is untrained. Lark has never been

rewarded with beef cuts for barking on command. These dogs

are not wolves. He can feel their confusion as they drool over

the meats. He raises the fur on his collar and bares his teeth.

The huskies are terrified, but they stand firm. They mimic

Larks display, and rather pathetically, he notes.

Lark lowers his guard and fades back, lowering his head. A

submissive maneuver. The dogs are thoroughly confused, and

as they move toward him, Lark noses the meats. A large roast

rolls toward the dogs.

The quality of their training is top-notch. The huskies

ignore the food and move closer. Lark can hear the men

entering the house, stumbling in the darkness below. He rises

once more and bristles, growling this time with terminal

menace.

The dogs cower. Their choice is clear. Attack and die, or

stand down, and feed.

As they hesitate, Lark turns and bolts for the far end of the

building. He dives through an open window and heads for the


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end of the lane. Beyond this human neighborhood is the head

of a ridge leading to Flat Mountain.

Behind him, he can hear yelling as the men prod their dogs

into action. He can also hear their yelps, as whatever the men

use for prodding are employed. How grateful to not be a dog,

he thinks.

Lark dodges into the snowy woods and heads for the side

of the ridge. He passes an open clearing where the men have

been robbing the woods of their trees. As the wolves of the past

told it, the men once denuded the valley much more completely

than the limited stands they work now. The damaged

streambeds and scoured hillsides still show the marks left bytheir unbound culling of the forests.

Near the head of one of the clearings, Lark passes a small

hut, not a human dwelling, but a small metal structure they

haul around on wheels. He notices something. A sound. He

stops in the open lot near the building. There are smells here

that dont belong. He hears a voice inside the metal box.

A door opens, and a man steps out. He holds a firestick.

Lark can hear another voice from inside, then two, and a small

human head pokes from the doorway. It is one of their cubs. A

female. Her blond hair curls below her shoulders, and Lark can

easily make out the redness in her eyes. She has been

whimpering like a fox kit. The man hastily blocks the door and

kneels to the small creature, whispering.

In the distance, Lark can hear the dogs barking. His tracks

lead right to this place. He knows he can escape if he moves

now, but he stands frozen in the middle of the lot.

The man hears the dogs, and turns away from the building.

Suddenly, he stops and stares firmly at Lark. Their eyes lock.

Wordlessly, the man nudges the cub inside the door, and a

human female looks out through the opening. She follows the

mans gaze to the wolf, and is about to open her mouth wide,

when the man holds up a hand, extending one finger before his

lips. The woman draws the child inside, into the darkness.

These humans have escaped capture, Lark realizes. He

cannot lead the men here. With a slight bow of his neck, heturns and heads back along his track. Behind him, he can feel

the mans gaze following. He hears the dogs drawing closer.

They are on a collision course now.

Lark runs straight back along his track until he can stand to

close the gap no longer, and drops into a ravine leading toward

Lost Pass. The dogs are louder now, and he can sense them as

they pick up the new trail. Lark leaps across the stream and

scrambles up the far bank. The dogs have reached the top of

the ravine, and he hears another shot ring out, but it is not a

firestick. Instead, it sounds like a loud tap.

It rings out again, and something grabs Larks right hind

leg. He rolls over and howls in pain. The grabbing sensation is

accompanied by something else, not pain, but equally


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debilitating. He gathers his feet and runs again, hobbled by the

tug of a wire, much like the devil wire he found himself

entangled in a few years past.

Lark looks back. There is no wire, but he sees the huskies

rising to the trail, mere yards away. He jumps to his feet and

starts hobbling along. The dogs are upon him. This changes the

game.

Lark leaps at the neck of the first dog. The husky ably

dodges away from his snap, and the other dog takes a sharp

bite at Larks hind leg. Lark sweeps his rear claws across the

face of the second husky, and it whines as it rolls into a small

rivulet by the trails shoulder.

The first husky recovers and bravely lunges at Larks neck.

This is a mistake. Lark ducks and lashes his open maw at the

neck of the poor creature. His jaws snap tight, with a power

nearly triple that commanded by the dogs, and his teeth sink

deep into its fur-covered skin. The warm blood gushes from its

rushing veins, but the deal is done. The dogs life is finished

with the snap of its neck.

The second husky climbs to its feet and hobbles toward

Lark. Lark is about to turn and race for the ridgetop, when the

men climb out of the valley and strike him with a stretch of

wires. The sharp metal spikes burrow into his skin, and he feels

them, but their pain is obscured by something much more

devastating.

Larks entire body is stilled as a thread of agony courses

from the wires, filling his body from the tip of his tail to his

eyes. He cant think of a way to identify exactly what it is. It

burns, but is not fire. It freezes him, but is not ice. His muscles

seize, and he shakes, lying and kicking on the ground. He can

see the dog pulled away, its tether in the hands of one of the

men. The man with the wires steps over him. The pain strikes

him once more.

Then he can see nothing else.


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Chapter 13: Gathering Snows

Robert has waited long enough. The dark grey sky over the

Tripyramids has begun to lighten, and the winds have picked

up. The crisp breeze has become a cold, grating gust, a last

gasp of winter. Flakes of snow begin to blow across the open

lot below his thicket in the brush.

Lark left while the moon was still in the sky, but it is long

gone now. The black clouds toward the valleys sunset end

have obscured its passage, but its silver glow no longer strains

to break through the storm.

Robert is nothing if not loyal. Lark commanded him to

hang back and watch, and thats what he will do.

Even when he heard barking in the valley far to his left, he

stayed in his makeshift burrow. When he heard the shots of

firesticks on the mountainside, he remained still. When he

sensed a calm break in the actions of the men, he ambled out of

his hiding place and looked around, but never let the fenced lot

below leave his view.

Its quiet now, and Robert returns to his burrow, where hemust decide whether to strike the vigil. He cannot. Lark told

him to wait, and he will. But there is little doubt that the

barking and shouting he heard had something to do with his

patrol.

It might have been a mistake, Robert knows. The pack is

careful to never let themselves be seen in the village, and

certainly not during daylight. Lark must return soon, or much

of what they have built over many turns of the sun will be

dashed like debris against the banks of the flood.

Robert remembers how it nearly came to pass the previous

summer, when a member of the pack was caught in one of the

mens snares. A devious device. They appeared throughout the

lower valley, anywhere within a half-days walk for a human.

It became obvious what and where they were. They were

always near a trail cut by the men, and always near where men

noon peak: a wolf pack intervenes

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