The Wolf's Boy Read online

  Apa.

  Angrily, I brushed away a tear. I will not cry. I will do this.

  With a round stone, I tapped the flint as I had watched my father and brother do so many times, searching for the place where it would split. All the while, I listened carefully for any sign of dark spirits. But if they objected, they held their tongues. In my heart now, I knew that what I was doing was right. The People, the headman, my parents, were good. They had meant to do what was right.

  But they had been wrong.

  A person should do what he was able to do. A one-legged bird could hunt and live. A cripple with no name could make weapons and use them. Tal had shown me. I will do this!

  At last, I saw a tiny crack forming. I struck now with the heavy end of my antler tool. The rough shell of the flint broke away in a curved flake—glossy, gray stone inside. The next flake was bigger, but split off badly. Ayee! A wasted piece. I made a lot of mistakes, but at last, I managed to coax several long flakes from the core piece. There was not much of it left.

  I took up the best of the big flakes, handling it carefully. Wrapping it in a scrap of hide to protect my fingers, I pressed the tip of the antler tool against the edge. A flake snapped away. Another. Bit by bit, I worked the smooth, sharp flint into a shape like a pointed leaf. I turned it over in my hand. Not like my father’s—but not so very bad.

  I worked faster. Exhausted. I cut the notch in the shaft. Fit the point to it. Bound it tightly in place with wet sinew.

  There.

  I turned the keerta in my hands, sighted down the length of the shaft, tested the strength of my lashing. It was sturdy, lethal—and beautiful in the fearful way of weapons.

  “See!” I said, showing it to Uff. “We will hunt and we will live!”

  One thing more. I would carve my sign. My hand moved, then stopped. Not my wolf. She was too much like a person. The carved wolf for Suli was different—a plaything. One could not make a sign that was the image of a person. It would be wrong.

  Then I knew what to do. With the tip of my work blade, in the thawed earth beside the fire, I made lines until I was satisfied. Two wings. Each with the inward curve between shoulder and elbow of a fish eagle. A single set of talons, open, ready to grasp prey. Strong. I studied it. Nodded. Then I picked up my keerta and carved it into the shaft. Tal speaking through my hands. My sign.

  I pulled Uff close, felt the warmth of the fire on my face, gazed at my keerta. I was very tired, but at last, it was done.

  When I crawled to sleep, I was stiff with cold. Uff squirmed around in a circle to settle herself, as she always did before going to sleep. I pulled her close so that her head rested beneath my chin, grateful for her warmth. Then I checked to be sure my keerta was within reach. I had a weapon to protect myself. No, I had two weapons.

  I had my keerta and I had my wolf.

  I am still alive, I thought. No other beast—no Ice Man—had sniffed us out and attacked in the night. I crawled from my warm nest, Uff scrambling out behind me. She stretched and shook the leaves from her fur, tasted the air. It’s a good world! Let’s get going! she said with all of herself. I ruffled her shoulder fur and shared a travel cake with her.

  As I chewed my portion, I thought of Vida.

  She had never mocked or teased me as the others did. Last fall I had made a tiny basket of fine, perfect rushes for her. It was just a plaything, the size of a bird nest. I filled it with crow berries and left it in the crook of a pine root near the great hearth, where we once played. I had known she would find the gift there and might guess where it came from.

  My thoughts returned. Now I must learn to throw my keerta. Hardly believing it was real, I reached for it and closed my fingers around the shaft.

  There was a rotten stump in an open place a short distance away. A white-and-brown fungus like a brush hen’s tail grew on it about three hand-spans from the ground. Not good to eat, but a very good target.

  I started at a distance that a boy half my age would stand. Little boy! Ayee, I was mocking myself! At least there was no one else here to mock me. I could miss the entire stump as many times as there were days in winter—which after that first morning I was pretty sure I had done—and no one would laugh. I tried to remember just how I must place my feet. It was not easy. I raised the keerta, pulled my arm back…Steady…With the other arm, I balanced my weight and reached for my target. It was as if the reaching arm told the other where to throw. Now! The keerta flew a distance and then skidded sideways through the frozen leaves and thin snow cover.

  I held my breath, waiting many heartbeats without moving. Tal did not strike me dead. Nothing happened. I went to my keerta and picked it up. Hobbled back to my throwing line. Threw again. Clumsy—Suli could throw better than that!

  “Arggh,” I said in exasperation after limping across the clearing many times to fetch my weapon. “I couldn’t hit a mammut if it was fast asleep, lying on its side, next to you, Uff!”

  Uff opened her mouth wide and spilled out her tongue in a wolf grin.

  “You are laughing!”

  She waved her tail.

  Over and over, I flung the keerta. Over and over I missed. My cheeks burned with anger. I wanted to break the keerta, burn it as my father had done with Sen’s. Miserable thing that would not fly where it should!

  Still I kept on throwing.

  Again.

  Again.

  Then—thunk!

  I stared in amazement. My keerta quivered, its point firmly embedded in the stump, barely a hand-span from the fungus. “Hah!” I shouted, so that my wolf leapt up with a surprised Uff!

  Then I backed up a few paces and threw again. I knew that in one day, I could never learn the skill of throwing a keerta like a hunter of the People, but I did not stop. Many more times, the keerta skidded, bounced, and flew wrong. But finally, I was able to hit the stump over and over again. With each throw, I pried the point gently from the soft wood and tested the binding of sinew. Tonight I would make another point in case this one broke. This one must do for today.

  By the time it grew too dark to see, my arm shook so much I could barely raise the keerta to my shoulder. But three times, with a shout of triumph, I had hit the target.

  The next morning my muscles were stiff. I rubbed away as much of the pain as I could. I set a few snares, then went back to the stump. Now I stood a proper distance away. You have grown up, little Kai! At first it seemed I was back to the beginning.

  What had I heard my father tell Sen so often when he was discouraged? Throw until you can do it without thinking. A hunter becomes his keerta.

  After a while, the keerta began to sing. It flew more truly with each throw. By the end of the day the fungus was gone and the stump looked as if a woodpecker had torn away the mossy outside, opening the white heart.

  The third morning, when I stretched my shoulders and throwing arm, the muscles felt different. I gripped my upper arm. Still sore, but harder. My forearm was stronger, too. My shoulder had fire in it, as if it were made for this.

  I must hunt now.

  We continued onward. I had no idea where I was going. I just wanted to keep moving. I was in the land of the Ice Men, but now I had a keerta and I could throw it. I shifted it in my hand, still getting used to its heft. But how would I travel with it? A whole person could have jogged over the thin snow, balancing his keerta in one hand. How would I manage both stick and keerta? I could not give up either. I tried a few steps. Struggled for balance. Then quickly, I knew. Instead of carrying the keerta in line with the ground, I used it as a second stick to lean on. I could move faster this way. I could have used a keerta a long time ago, I thought grimly.

  I could not travel fast, from sunup to sundown as the hunters of my people did. But I would go as far as I could. Maybe the Ice Men would not bother a single human person. I had nothing to steal. I would keep going. The stream wound through open land now. Birds chittered in the clumps of willow shrub. A raven called overhead, playing in the wind, following m
e. If I brought down game, it would sound the kill cry to call the sky pack. “I’m doing my best!” I whispered to the great black bird.

  My wolf trotted effortlessly, tail up, as if she was saying, This day is good, Kai! Suddenly, she plunged her face into the snow-covered bracken and spooked out a big hare. There was a fast chase, snow flying. I clenched my keerta, watching helplessly. Too far to throw it. She was not swift enough to catch the hare. It would get away from her. Then I saw.

  I whistled sharply. The chase went on. I whistled again and suddenly Uff knew as well. Bring it to the keerta!

  With a burst of speed, she turned the hare. It sprinted back to me. I was ready. My keerta caught it cleanly so that it kicked its last before I could reach it. I grabbed it up by the ears, holding it over my head. Uff leapt about, snapping at it.

  “You and I are a pack,” I told Uff, ruffling her fur. “Together, we will eat.” I did not say live, but I was thinking that. Really, it was the same thing.

  For many days, Uff and I traveled along the Forbidden River, moving up toward the mountains. They were jagged white teeth in the distance. Wolf teeth. The teeth of the world. If the land was forbidden, the spirits seemed to be looking the other way. I saw no sign of Ice Men. I also saw less game. At night I set snares, but caught little. The travel cakes were gone. I began to be hungry.

  All along our route now were huge boulders and rocky outcroppings. The river ran faster as the land rose higher. I built brush takkas to sleep in. Each night by the fire, I rubbed my twisted foot. My right saba was worn nearly through. I combed the woolly under-fur from Uff’s coat with my fingers and stuffed it into the saba to keep my foot dry. My body ached for meat.

  I had to find deer soon.

  The mountains were all around now, huge and brooding. Sacred Tal. I caught glimpses of them through the snow-laden firs. They came together to form a narrow pass. Here a great blue sheet of ice loomed like a sleeping bear. I would not go up there. That was where the grandfathers had said the Ice Men lived.

  It began to snow, covering the ground as deep as my knees, and still falling. Uff snuffled, sneezed, and raced in circles, but I began to struggle. She filled her belly with mice, but I was empty. A hunter would make snow-walkers. It would be a puzzle to figure out how to strap one to my twisted foot. Still, I knew I must try.

  I found a clump of willows and hacked off some branches. There was barely room to sit up inside my shelter, but at least I was warm. Uff squeezed in beside me. Using my snares and the remainder of my sinew, I made a pair of snow-walkers. Tomorrow I would hunt again.

  I woke to a strange blue darkness. Was it still night? What had happened to the day? I pulled the branches away from the opening. We were buried in snow. “Dig, Uff!” I cried. Together we tunneled into the blinding sun. It was well up in the sky. I caught my breath. Ah! With its thick fur of snow, the world was…other.

  I had to tie the snow-walker on my bad foot so that it cut painfully. There was no other way to make it stay on. Apa would have figured out something better. I tried a few awkward steps. I did not sink into the drifts. Uff spooked, dashed away, then sidled back to me.

  “You can run over the snow,” I told her, “but for the deer, things will be different.” I was right. Before the sun was very much higher, Uff stopped. Her nose quivered. I caught up with her, panting. With no food, I was weak. Stalking now, creeping, Uff led me to a clearing. I scarcely dared to breathe.

  Uff turned to me, questioning. Gripping my keerta, I crawled after her on top of the snow.

  I am a wolf now. A wolf of the People.

  We worked our way closer. Uff knew to approach from downwind. I had not taught her this. At last, I saw movement through the trees. Looming antlers. A small herd of reindeer trapped here by the deep snow. They were feeding on lichen growing on the spruce branches. Uff trembled. Looked at me. I grasped the loose skin at her neck, holding her back. Wait.

  A big female moved slowly toward us, ears twisting nervously as she fed. I had to get closer. I could not miss. She took a step. I wriggled forward. The deer’s head came around. Ears questioning. She stamped once. The other deer turned. I froze.

  After a time, the reindeer went back to feeding.

  I eased myself closer. Everything in me cried Now! I was shaking all over. I could not do this. You have to do this. The deer was no more than ten paces away, partly hidden by branches. Very slowly, I drew my arm up. Steady.

  Tal, please give me this.

  I flung my keerta. There was a soft thump as it hit her squarely between the ribs. She reared, bleated, tried to run. But Uff was away from me now. My wolf threw herself at the deer’s throat and brought her down. The deer crumpled to her knees, blood running from her mouth.

  It was over.

  I turned my face to the sky. Thank you! It was not a blood kill, but it was a hunter’s kill—swift, clean, and much meat. Together, my wolf and I had done this.

  By the time darkness fell, the snow had stopped. Long into the night, I sat savoring tender chunks of roasted meat with my wolf beside me. I cut the two longest teeth from the deer and carefully bored holes in them. Then I stitched one to each shoulder of my anooka. At last, I took out my blade and cut the long hair away from my face. I burned it in the fire for Tal.

  We moved on. Winter deepened, but we were not hungry. I had dried much of the deer meat and cached the rest in a snowbank covered with branches. I could go back to it if I needed to.

  There was more game here. Uff understood now what my keerta could do. We hunted well together. I thought perhaps I had come far enough. I would find a sheltered place, get more deerskins, build a proper takka, live in it until spring. It was the first time since I had left that I’d thought about the time when the world would grow warm again. Ha! There was very much more winter to get through before then. Still, spring. I grinned. Maybe we would live to see it after all.

  I kept looking over my shoulder. I was very far north now. I sniffed the air carefully, trying to pick up any scent. Several times I stopped to look around. Was something or someone watching us? Uff, too, was uneasy. She paced behind me, hackles half-raised, tail stiff.

  One day there was a break in the cold. The air had warmed, so I unlaced the front of my anooka. Ahead was an opening in the trees. As I stepped into it, a thundering roar came. I looked up. A wall of snow, trees, and branches snapping, churning, rumbling toward us.

  Uff scrambled desperately away.

  The river of snow took me. It carried me, fighting and clawing, spinning, up, down, gone. Choking me.

  Suddenly it stopped.

  There was no sound. I couldn’t move. Pain in my right arm. I tried to breathe, but couldn’t. I was suffocating. I opened my eyes to half-light.

  I was buried.

  I would die now.

  My mind drifted. I was moving through walls of stone toward a fire somewhere deep in the earth. I saw pictures. Red spots, and then zigzag lines. A great black-and-white aurochs bull. A bear. A black bird. An owl. A running horse. Why a horse? My brain could not think of an answer.

  Scratching.

  Digging.

  Whining. Scrabbling.

  Just when I felt myself going away forever, claws raked my face. A hot tongue washed my nose. There was sweet air.

  “Uff!” I said aloud. But my voice was a whisper. She clawed at the snow. I tried again to move. My left arm found its way free. I helped her dig. It took a long time. My right arm could not help. If I moved it, a sound like a wounded hare came from my mouth.

  “Dig,” I begged Uff, through gritted teeth. But she did not need to be told. She was wild-crazy to have me out of the snow. When they were finally free, my legs were as dead as frozen meat. I beat on them with my good hand. At last blood flowed in them once more. Somehow my pack-basket was there in the snow beside me, mostly in one piece.

  I looked at my arm. My throwing arm. I saw the way it was bent between elbow and wrist. Finished. An arm broken like that would heal crippled and
useless. There would be no more hunting, no more reindeer. I laughed bitterly.

  The leg and now my arm. I had thought Tal was on my side. So stupid. Tal had not smiled on me. No. Tal was playing with me. Tal had let me think I could live—only to batter the life from me slowly, as a cave lion toys with a wounded bird. It seemed absurd now. I had fought my way out of the smothering snow just to die a slow death of pain and hunger. I staggered in a circle, clutching my arm, face turned to the empty sky, weeping, furious. What more can you do to me? I drew my work blade. Do I have to finish it myself?

  All things try to live. Apa-Da’s voice was inside my head. Without intending it, my hand opened. I dropped the blade into the snow, fumbled after it. Could not find it again. Uff licked my face. I tried to push her away, “You should have let me die!” I screamed at her. But she would not stop tugging at the sleeve of my good arm, trying to get me to leave this fearful place of churning, smothering snow.

  There was the head of my stick. I tugged it free and got to my feet. I managed to thrust the bare hand of my broken arm inside my anooka so that it would not freeze. Well. Maybe I could get back to my last camp. Perhaps there were coals left for fire. With one arm, I could not make a new one. I had meat for a few days. Then the night beasts would eat me. I fumbled for the pouch at my neck where I had put the bloodstone powder. At least I could die with my face to the south and my family. Apa, Ama, Sen, Suli, Bu.

  Vida…

  I wavered.

  Blackness.

  A smell woke me. It was too much work to open my eyes. I tried to think what it might be. My head felt as if it were packed with woolly fur. There was a familiar scent of roasting deer meat, but there was this other, puzzling odor. Animal, but not any creature I knew.

  There was another puzzle. I wasn’t cold. Was this death? But I could feel the warmth of a fire. Pain in my right arm. I moved the other and found Uff pressed up against my side. My wolf. My good wolf. My friend. I was not dead.