The Wolf's Boy Read online

  “She would have died.”

  “That took courage,” Apa said. Something glinted in his eyes. Pride? For me? But then his expression changed. “I do not know what you have done bringing one of the wolves into our takka,” he said. “There is enough talk among the People about you, Kai. Better to take it back to its den. The People have lived the way we live forever. As have the wolves. If Tal had meant for wolves to live with humans, it would have been so from the beginning.”

  I tried to say that the imnos were our friends. That they had always followed the People wherever we went. But it came out in a croak like a scared animal.

  Ama spoke. She had come in behind us with Bu in her arms. “There is no law to be broken by keeping a wolf.”

  My father laughed. “That’s because no one has ever done it. Have you ever watched a pack take down a deer? Do you want those teeth near Suli and Bu?”

  “The wolves saved Kai as a baby. Yellow Mother never forgot him. She never hurt him,” Ama said. “It seems right to save one of theirs.”

  Sen snorted. My parents’ eyes met again. They spoke to each other without words.

  Apa was quiet. The silence between them grew. My stomach clenched like a fist. Ama settled Bu in his basket and turned to build up the inside fire. The light played on my father’s face. A little sad. Thoughtful.

  At last he sighed. “Keep it for a while, Kai, but if there is trouble, you must give it back to the imnos.”

  “Her,” I said softly. My father’s eyes flickered to mine, and the corner of his mouth twitched. Then he handed the pup back to me. She nested in my arms, warm against my chest. She seemed already to know she was safe there.

  “It will steal our meat. How can a wolf live with people?” asked Sen.

  “I will teach her to find her own meat,” I said wildly. “She will become one of us.” What had made me say that? I had no idea how to hunt.

  Sen laughed. “When it grows big and eats your share, you will be glad for me to put my keerta into its heart. Wolf fur is very warm.”

  Something hard as a stone rose in my chest. “She can keep me warm alive,” I said to my brother.

  Apa and Sen went down to the river to wash. Apa came back soon, but Sen was gone a long time. When he returned, he combed out his wet hair and struggled to knot the long part at the back of his head. “Here, let me do it,” said Ama, smiling. Sen’s cheeks flushed, but I was amazed to see him give her the comb.

  “She is a lucky girl,” Ama whispered, almost to herself, as she finished. Sen did not reply, but strode off in the direction of Mir’s takka.

  Not long after that, I saw the two of them sitting together on the great flat rock behind the immet. They were gazing out over the open land. Sen’s arm was around Mir’s shoulders.

  The evening meal was good. Along with the fresh meat, there were weeping roots roasted whole in their skins and the greens with their sharp spring taste. There were also the mushrooms, sizzled in fat rubbed on the cooking stone.

  I offered the pup a tender bit of meat. She licked at it, but turned her head, so I made more marrow gruel for her. Once she was full, I could not get her to stay in her corner. Over and over, she dropped to sleep as I stroked her soft fur. But when I turned away, the little wolf woke, crying pitifully.

  Apa grumbled.

  My brother cursed. “Maybe you should take your yipping pup and find your own den, Wolfboy,” he hissed at me.

  I carried the pup back to my bed. The little wolf nestled against me. She stretched out a foot, bumping my nose. I ran a finger over her muzzle. It was shorter than most. Her little skull seemed rounder, too. “Will you be one of the People?” I whispered to her. “Or should I be one of the imnos with you?”

  The wolf pup stirred where she was tucked into the front of my anooka. She poked her head out and sniffed the air. I sniffed, too. Storm. I scanned the sky. To the west the clouds were muddy and billowing, like smoke from rotten wood. Down along the river, the willow leaves shivered. “There will be lightning soon,” I called to the others. “We should go back.”

  “What’s the matter, Wolfboy? Are you afraid?” asked Xar. We were on the cliff trail, cutting juniper for torches. At least, I was cutting torches. Sen and his friends had spotted some ibex grazing on the tufts of grass growing among the rocks higher up and left to track them—with no success. Now they were back, hurrying. I had nearly all I could carry. I started binding the pile together. My hands were sticky with sap.

  “Women’s work,” Sen muttered.

  “I smell sky fire. See how fast the clouds run,” I said. “The pup smells it, too.”

  “More likely you and that beast are calling the storm, tabat one,” said Xar, chopping at a root.

  “Go back if you’re scared,” said Sen.

  “I’m not afraid, it’s just that it’s stupid to be on the cliffs in a thunderstorm.” I hefted my load, got my balance with my stick, and started down the trail.

  “I don’t hear any thunder. Tal is still holding back. We have plenty of time,” Uli called after me. He stripped branches and tossed another stem with its pitch-filled root onto his pile. He didn’t joke now. He hurried.

  I had just reached the shelter of some trees when the air went blinding white, with a crash overhead like a rockfall. Hot needles stabbed through my sabas. The pup yelped. A great wind swept around us with rain like a waterfall. More sky fire flashed. A juniper burst into splinters and flame. I scrambled under a stone ledge. The others yelled in fear as they raced past me. Their faces were blue in the flashes of light.

  Bolts of sky fire struck all around us, crash after crash. I could not think. On the slope nearby, a dead tree was hit. Far below, the storm tore through the immet. Another stab of sky fire and the takka of Xar’s family blew apart, flames devouring it.

  At last the storm passed, but I was a long time picking my way down the slippery trail. Soaked and shivering, I stared at the soggy mess of the immet. Xar and his father struggled to reset the remaining blackened poles of their takka while his mother sobbed over the smoldering ruins. As I made my way past them, they turned to stare. Xar’s father spat on the ground. Three sets of cold eyes followed me.

  The takka of my family still stood, but part of the covering had been ripped away. The frame showed like bones. My father and brother were already at work repairing it. Ama and Suli were laying bed furs out to dry. Rivers of rainwater choked the fire pit and ran along our footpaths. It was over, but I could not forget the look in the eyes of Xar and his family.

  Bu is going hunting and he kills a big cave bear!

  Bu is going hunting and he kills a big lion!

  Bu is going hunting and he kills a big leopard!

  Holding my small brother under the arms and letting his feet thump the ground, I sang to him. I did not envy those stout little legs that kicked so hard. I was glad for them. Each time I said an animal’s name, I bumped his forehead with my own and Bu squealed.

  It was the day after the storm. I was keeping him happy so my mother could work. The sun shone and things were drying out. Bu opened his mouth wide, showing four white teeth in his gums. I play-growled and he bent forward, trying to bite me. “Ayee!” I said. “You are savage, little brother!”

  “I’m a wolf pup, too!” Suli cried, throwing herself in my lap. The pup woke, and in another moment I was in a tangle of arms, legs, paws, and nipping baby wolf teeth. Suddenly Suli yelped and ran sobbing to Ama.

  “Kai, don’t let the wolf hurt your sister!” my mother cried. My father looked up from the blade he was shaping.

  “It’s just play,” I said, but my gut clenched. The pup yipped, trying to root under my chin, wanting to wrestle again. Wet nose, licking tongue, pricking teeth! “You are growing a mouth full of flint blades!” I scolded, pushing her away.

  She sat down. Now her mouth was a tiny round yowl of emptiness.

  “I think she’s hungry again,” my mother said. “I can take Bu. Suli, you are not hurt. Go feed her, Kai.” />
  After the pup ate, I found a scrap of hide. The pup bit onto it, yanking hard. I tugged back. She slid on her bottom, but did not let go. Suli begged to try this pulling game. The pup growled, and my little sister laughed, forgetting her tears.

  Later, the others watched while Suli and I played the tugging game with the pup. Once Suli pulled and the scrap of hide flew from her hand. The pup yipped. Where was it? She put her nose to the ground, snuffling. She circled away, then back again. When she came close, her tail began to wave. She searched with her nose until she found it.

  “Hold her while I hide it,” I told Suli. I hid the scrap under a mushroom basket, inside a cooking container, behind a waterskin. Each time, the little wolf sniffed and found it.

  I glanced back to find Ama smiling and Apa grinning broadly. My father ran a hand over the pup’s fur. She shook the scrap, wanting to play again. But when my eyes caught my brother’s, Sen quickly looked down and pretended not to be watching.

  Now Suli held the piece of hide over her head. The little wolf crouched, opened her mouth, and yapped, “Uff!” Then she said it again, “Uff, uff, uff!” until Suli tossed it to her. The pup pounced and carried it off with her tail in the air.

  “If she’s to be one of us for a time,” Ama said, “I think she must have a name.”

  “We can’t call her Kai,” said Sen. “We already have a good-for-nothing pup. This one will grow into a ferocious hunter!”

  “The imnos don’t attack people!” I said. Still, I knew what my father would do if she hurt any of us.

  “What name will we call you?” I asked her.

  The pup did not hesitate. She yapped again.

  “Uff!” repeated Suli.

  Ama laughed. “I think she has told you her name, Kai.”

  “Uff,” I said softly.

  The pup who had named herself Uff watched whatever I did—as if I were her Tal. The thought made my chest hollow. I could hear Apa-Da’s voice in my head, as if he were still beside me, reciting the words told by the fires of all time. I knew them like breathing.

  Tal is in the seeds that become great trees and in the mountain peaks that bite the sky. Tal spits fire, roars, and flings rain. Each new sun is Tal. Tal is in the earth and among the stars. Tal is fire that eats wood to give the heat of summer in winter, blackens the land, yet is the green that lives again.

  I might be her Tal, but Uff was not afraid of me as the People are afraid of our Tal. Fearlessly she nipped at my legs or chewed on my stick. “Ayee! You are a clinging bramble, like Suli,” I told her. Uff nipped my fingers and tried hard to chew my nose off. But if I yelped, her ears went down and she stopped.

  My little wolf spoke, but not in words. She talked with her ears and tail and also in yips and uffs—demanding, humble, or happy.

  One day my brother and his friends went duck hunting. It was not easy to creep close enough to hit the birds. When spooked, they would fly, quacking, down the river, leaving only a feather floating on the water. But Sen brought down two. Ama stuffed each with herbs and weeping roots, wrapped them first in leaves, then clay, buried them in a pit of coals, and let them roast all day.

  By evening the smell of roasting duck made it hard to think of anything else. Everyone’s mouth watered as Ama finally dug them out of the coals and broke away the covering.

  “That was good hunting, Sen,” said Apa, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. Sen grinned with his mouth full. I pressed my lips together. I wanted to say that the meat was stringy and flavorless. But it was not. It fell from the bones in tender chunks.

  “Apa-Da loved a roast duck,” said Ama. “I once saw him eat a whole one himself when there was plenty.”

  “And then he would belch,” said my father, chuckling. “Such a belch! I think everyone in the immet could hear it.”

  “I think the birds were frightened off their roosts,” said Sen.

  “And the horses on the grassland thought a lion was after them!” I added. We all laughed, remembering.

  Suddenly, Uff lunged for my duck leg. I saw my father’s eyes flash our way. I chewed a mouthful until it was soft. Then I fed it to Uff with my fingers. She was crazy for this new food. She trembled all over, ears pricked, tail quivering. In her hurry to gulp it down, she tried to eat my fingers, too. “Ow!” I pulled my hand away. There were two small drops of blood on my knuckle.

  Suli immediately spat out her own mouthful of meat for the pup. Soon my sister had to be told to eat some of her food herself. Now Apa frowned. “I think you must take her back to the pack before long, Kai. A grown wolf eats much. The time will come when we cannot spare any meat. You remember last winter?”

  I stared at him. The words cut my heart. How could I send Uff away?

  “But she doesn’t know how to hunt,” I stammered.

  “How do you plan to teach her?” my father asked. I opened my mouth. Closed it again. I had no answer. My brother shook his head as if I was a crazy person. I wanted to hit him. Hard. But I knew my father was right. Each of the People did a share of work to keep us all alive. Even Suli helped scrape hides and pick berries. I did my part, though it was not the part I would have chosen. What could Uff do for the immet?

  Yes, I remembered last winter. I wished I could forget it. I held Uff close now, staring at the fire, as the bitter memory filled my head.

  The cold time had been endless. All of our storage pits were empty. We boiled lichens, old bones, scraps of rawhide, hoping for signs of thawing weather. But the winter went on. My belly felt sucked against my spine. My dreams were all of roasted meat, fresh greens, duck eggs. When she climbed into my lap for comfort, the bones of Suli’s little bottom were sharp. She and Bu whimpered day and night.

  When food is scarce, the old people will sometimes offer themselves to Tal so that a younger belly may have their share. Apa-Da’s eyes had grown so weak that I had to help him find his walking stick and his drinking das. He joked and called me old man too, because we both used sticks to walk. My throat hurt and my eyes stung now with the remembering.

  As long as he was able, my grandfather did what small tasks he could. But at last he could not grasp his tools. Ama and I fed him as if he were a small child. Apa and Sen had to help him rise to his feet to walk. Once I saw Sen brush tears away. Our Apa-Da had always been there, telling stories, playing his osa, working flint and leather.

  One night, while we slept, Apa-Da dragged himself to his feet. He left his warm bed furs behind and walked out into the night naked, and alone. The next morning, my father followed the tracks. He came back with his eyes streaming. He took Ama in his arms and said in a rough voice, “Your apa has walked to the world beyond.”

  Apa-Da’s share of food kept Ama’s milk flowing for Bu. It kept Suli alive until the early spring when the reindeer herd came up from the south once more.

  At last we heard the cry, “The deer are coming!” At first, I saw just a brown smudge at the edge of the world. Then heads came out of the dust as they approached the river crossing. They were not beautiful and fat as they would be in the fall. Their coats were faded and worn bald in places. They had no antlers. But they were beautiful to us. I held Suli up to see. “Soon you will taste meat again,” I told her.

  “Let me join the hunters!” I begged my father, “It’s not so hard to kill a deer as it comes up out of the river.”

  His face went rigid.

  “At least let me carry your extra keerta!”

  “Nah and nah, Kai,” he said in a choked voice. “Do not even think of it! We can’t afford tabat to blacken this hunt.”

  I watched as Apa and Sen gathered their weapons.

  I watched when the hunters took deer as they came out of the river. That was all I could do—watch. Then I went back to my work with the women, hands blistered from slicing meat to dry in the smoke of the willow twig fires.

  The reindeer herd splashed across the river for two days. We worked hard. Skins pegged out on the ground and racks of drying meat made it difficult
to walk through the immet. Soon the herd would disappear into the north. We would not follow. Ice Men were there.

  And suddenly the reindeer were gone.

  Now, as Uff gnawed on a duck bone, my heart twisted. I could not lose her, too. If only my grandfather could have waited for the reindeer herd. But one way or another, a hunter, even an old one, gives life to his family. One day, even Bu would keep a family of his own alive. The People must live. Each of us knew this thing. We did not need to speak of it. Now we had meat. But the time would come when we would not.

  “You cannot play with the wolf pup all the time,” Ama said, but she smiled as she handed me a waterskin to fill. I reached for my stick. Uff’s eyes caught the movement. She was up, ready to go.

  “Alright,” I said to her. “You’re big enough to see the world for a little while.”

  The path to the river was stony. The pup balked at the steep places. She cried until I helped her. Still, she would follow. After a few steps, she grew bolder. She scampered from rock to rock. Then suddenly, she was going too fast. Her feet tangled. She tumbled over herself, yipping. But in a moment, she found her feet again. She opened her mouth in a little wolf grin and galloped after me once more.

  We reached the sandy place beside the river. Uff lunged for my waterskin. She latched her teeth into it, hanging on with all her strength. “Nah, Uff!” I tugged it away before she could make holes in it. She was excited now. She ran at my ankles. I had seen wolf pups playing with sticks. “Play with this, Little Bah,” I told her, breaking off a branch and giving it to her. She seized it in her teeth and pattered along behind me.

  The girls liked to come to the pool in the river where waterskins were filled. Usually they ignored me. But when they saw Uff, they hushed and stared.

  “There’s the wolfboy with his pup!” I heard Mir say in a loud whisper. I was glad Sen was not there to hear her.