The Wolf's Boy Read online

  Even Cali and Vida had come. Spitted over the coals, the entire haunch of a small horse was roasting. Cali was tending it, singing softly to herself. Vida and Hani were playing the pebble game. “Ayee, Hani, you are a shaman-girl!” Vida exclaimed as Hani lifted a das to show her which one she had hidden the pebble under. Uff trotted over to Vida waving her tail.

  I straightened my shoulders. The day had been very good. Uff’s belly was stuffed with marmot, and at my waist hung two rabbits.

  “Look, Kai,” Sen called to me. “We chased it away from the herd, running in turns, and cornered it against the foot of the cliff. Rhar said we could roast this part for ourselves. He said the older hunters could not have done it, that it takes young legs to outrun a horse!”

  I joined them warily. Xar made a play of being me, hobbling around the fire pit, leaning on his keerta as if it was my stick. Then Fin pranced after him on all fours, being Uff following me—funny, because Fin was so big and clumsy. Mir and Jyn squealed, hands over their mouths, eyes bright as sunbirds.

  Somehow I did not mind their teasing so much today. Even if I could not chase game or hunt, as the others did, even if I could not have a keerta, I had Uff.

  “Remember that time we stole the seed cakes from Ptyr’s grandmother?” asked Uli.

  “You didn’t!” said Jyn, eyes wide.

  “Oh, yes, we did,” he answered. “She may be bony as an old cow aurochs, but she can move fast! She grabbed her stick and chased us away, shrieking. She caught Fin too, and hit him over the shoulders as hard as she could, but he was laughing so hard, he didn’t feel it.”

  Uli could tell a good story.

  Then Mir leaned close to Sen, letting her hair fall across his arm. “Your lame brother is becoming a great hunter!” she said. “Perhaps your mother can sew a new sleeping fur with those two big rabbit hides he has brought home!”

  Sen frowned. “Leave him be, Mir.”

  “Will your wolf let me touch her?” Fin asked. I searched his face. Nodded.

  “She likes it when I rub her ears, like this,” I told him. He crouched beside me and cautiously held out his fingers. Uff sniffed them. She moved the tip of her tail a little and sat quietly. Fin ran his hands over her glossy fur. He was very careful. I could see him swallow nervously. When my wolf did not growl or try to bite, he laughed a soft laugh.

  Xar moved toward Uff. One side of his mouth was turned up in a smile that was not a smile. His eyes were expressionless. He reached for her. I stepped in front of my wolf, opening my mouth to say “Nah,” but Uff’s amber eyes narrowed. She lifted her lips, bared her big new teeth, and said nah herself with a sound in her throat that I had never heard her make before.

  Xar jerked his hand back. “Why do you want that ugly beast?” he asked. “She’s dangerous.”

  I could hardly breathe for my anger. “Come,” I said to my wolf, and ducked into the takka to hang the rabbits out of her reach. She followed me reluctantly, neck fur bristling.

  When we came out again, they were all sitting around the fire pit, each sipping a das of steaming broth. Sen got up and filled one for me. “Don’t listen to what he says,” he told me in a low voice. My eyes flickered to his. I smiled, and took the das from him.

  I turned to find a place to sit, and as I did, Xar slid one of his feet in front of me. I stumbled. Uff yelped, dodged, and tangled me even more. I fell forward, broth slopping out of my das—and all down the front of Mir’s anooka. It must have burned her. At least she screamed as if it had. Everyone else was laughing.

  Except my brother. He leapt at me, shouting, “Tabat one!” He yanked me to my feet. Pounded my face and gut. I sprawled back to the ground. His foot caught Uff in the ribs. She yelped and cowered against me.

  Everyone was silent. I reached for my stick. Got to my feet. Tasted blood from my lip. My left eye was already swelling. Sen’s face was white, with red splotches over his cheekbones.

  “You are not my brother,” I said, and spat on the ground.

  With Uff at my heels, I turned and made my way down the path to the river.

  The next morning, I went early to check my snares. There would be no hiding the bruises on my face in the daylight.

  Uff followed. Whining and uffing, she burrowed her muzzle into the tunnels of mice and the hollows where rabbits had hidden. She sniffed the flattened grass where the red deer had lain.

  It was hard to shake the black feeling I had against my brother. It had kept me awake for a very long time, wishing that I could run away with my wolf. If only we could live by ourselves. But we would both need to learn to hunt before we could do such a thing.

  There must be a place in this world for us.

  Maybe I wasn’t looking. One moment he was not there. And then he was. The shaman, Moc-Atu, appeared out of the shadows as if by some magic. I stared at him with my mouth open like a fish. Even Uff was wary. She came to me, tail tucked, and pressed herself against my leg.

  It was whispered around the fires that Moc-Atu had lived nearly five tens of winters, but no one really knew how old he was. He lived by himself at the outskirts of the immet. His skin was like leather that had been folded over and over and left for many seasons in the wind and sun. His anooka was thin and shiny with wear, with patches over patches at the elbows. His hair and beard were twisted into braids the color of old snow.

  “Wolfboy.”

  Was it a question or just a thing to say?

  “Boywolf.”

  I tried to speak, but no sound came from my mouth. The shaman tilted his head and laughed, wheezing slightly. The braids of his hair whispered with the tiny shells tied to the end of each. A big spiral shell hung around his neck. It was like none of the little mussel and snail shells found in our river.

  “Is there something wrong with your tongue as well as your foot?”

  I shook my head. My mouth was dry as cracked earth. “N-no. It’s just that I didn’t see you at first.”

  His stick was clenched in a hand like a dried-up bird claw. It was hazel wood, with an owl’s head carved on the top. I had seen with my own eyes the tiny living owl that sometimes flew to his shoulder when Moc-Atu stood on a rise at twilight chanting prayers to Tal.

  He raised his stick and pointed it at me. “You must look more carefully, boy-with-no-name who is called Kai. Our headman has spoken to me. There is talk among the People about your wolf.”

  My eyes flew to his then, even knowing the horrible thing that would happen when I looked directly at him. “What do they say about her?” I whispered. It was not just that the eyes peering out from under the wrinkled forehead and shaggy brows were two different colors, or even that the blue eye stared up at the sky while the dark eye seemed to pierce my spirit.

  He did not answer for a moment. Then, the blue eye did its terrible dance. It rolled wildly. Right. Left. Up. Down. I felt light-headed. I clutched the handle of my own stick so that I would not fall. The old man threw back his head and laughed again—the thin, wheezing cackle. His braids echoed the sound.

  At last, when he had caught his breath, he leaned toward me. The blue eye settled beside the brown one. “Rhar fears you and your wolf.”

  “Me? How could…?”

  “He fears tabat. The People say that you were born with tabat and should not have lived. Now they say that you bring more evil with the wolf. They fear misfortune.”

  Moc-Atu took a step closer. He was frightful to look at, yet he did not smell fearful. He smelled of herbs and juniper smoke.

  I noticed now that his staff had more than the owl’s head carved into it. Something like icy fingers seemed to brush down my spine. The head of the owl sat on the shoulders and body of a man.

  Owlman.

  Manowl.

  I took a deep breath. “Uff is good!” I said. “I think Tal led me to her. Tal wants her to walk beside me. She will not hurt the People.”

  “She will not hurt a person who does not hurt you,” said Moc-Atu. He reached out one of his claws and stroke
d Uff’s head. She had relaxed now and faintly waved her tail. It was the first time an adult person besides my mother or father had touched her. The shaman’s blue eye wandered, then suddenly stopped moving and focused directly on me again, seeing side by side with its brown mate. “You are strange like me. You are other.”

  I could not think of anything to answer. It was true. I was strange. Having a wolf follow me wherever I went was strange. Did people fear us as they feared Moc-Atu? Were we both other?

  “Listen to your wolf. She has much to teach you. It is your power. When you have learned, the pictures you draw and the music of your osa will come alive with that power.”

  Moc-Atu turned and walked quickly away. I stood, stunned, staring after him. How could he know about my pictures and my music? He went along the gravel path, away into the dancing shadows and light of the willows, faster than I could walk. And then he was gone. He had walked so fast for one as old and bent that I thought perhaps Moc-Atu’s staff was just for show.

  That night I dreamed of wolves—black shadows that came pouring into our takka as we slept—as many as the salmon swarming up the river. They ripped open our baskets and devoured our food. Then I saw that a wolf had found my grandfather’s osa and was playing it. The People gathered to listen.

  Suddenly it was me playing and Uff singing beside me. My breath was strong, the notes sweet and clear. People came in a huge gathering, faces without counting, shining in the firelight. Then the People began to howl. And suddenly, they were not people. They were wolves. All those voices together, singing with my osa.

  I woke then to the sound of the yellow pack’s moon song. Uff was awake also. I could just make out her shape in the dark, sitting up, head turned to the side, ears pricked. She was quivering all over. Pulling her head to my shoulder, I whispered, “That is the imnos. You were born to them, but you are part of my pack now.”

  Summer was the full time. The days passed quickly as my wolf pup grew. But winter would come again. There was much I loved about winter—the world gone white, nights of songs, stories, games. But the cold time could be cruel. I looked often at the empty spot by the fire that had been my grandfather’s place. We were all very careful not to sit there in case his spirit wished to visit.

  Often now, my brother went to see Mir in the evening. Then I would take out Apa-Da’s osa and play it as best I could. Sometimes when I managed to make a few notes sing, I could feel my grandfather beside me.

  We gathered and stored as much food as we could against the time when game would be scarce and the plant world sleeping under the snows. But Uff did not understand. How could she know what lay ahead? The world she knew had always been warm and fat and easy.

  Summer faded. Now came the salmon, running in their own great herd up the river. The stone weirs had tumbled apart since last season. There was much splashing and heaving, many shows of strength, lifting and hurling rocks back into place. Rhar hefted a boulder nearly as big as his chest. Fin dropped a smaller rock on his foot, making his toenail turn black.

  I could not kill the fish, but I could help drive them into the traps. It was wet work, with much shouting. Crows and ravens fought over the piles of leavings. It was also smelly work, rank with willow smoke and fish stink. The boys were fierce in their killing of the salmon. They yelled in triumph and notched the shafts of their fish keertas with each one they took. Sen’s had many notches.

  After a while, my knees were bruised and bleeding from falling on the wet rocks. I stopped to watch the fish keertas flashing like a storm of sky fire. My fists clenched. If I could not run easily through the shallows, driving the fish, I could swim. I would drive them in my own way. I slipped into the deep pool downstream and plunged after the dark shadows of the salmon. It was a green, cold, rushing world under the water, but I liked it. Here, I was not crippled. My arms and one good leg drove me forward. I was a bird flying. I came up for a breath, shook the wet hair from my eyes, dove again, breathed and dove, until I was tired.

  When at last I came out, I found Uff curled on top of my clothing, shivering hard. Her eyes were white with fear. She did not understand what had happened to me. I crouched beside her. My teeth chattered. The hot sun on my shoulders was good. “Don’t be afraid,” I told her. “I may not be a good walker, but I’m a very good swimmer. See? I’ve come back to you.”

  The moment she knew it was really me, Uff leapt on my chest, yipping. She was crazy with relief. She nipped my nose and slapped my cheeks with her tongue. Then she raced away and back to me in a wide circle. At last, she rolled onto her back, showing me her belly.

  The next time I came out of the river to warm myself, Uff was not there. I looked up and down the gravel bank. There was no half-grown wolf anywhere to be seen. Suddenly I heard women’s voices scolding, shrieking, “Ayee! Ayee!” A crash, the sound of splintering wood. A commotion by the fish racks. I yanked my kanees back on and made my way quickly up the path in time to see a long rack, laden with rows of drying fish, lurch and topple to the ground. Women struggled to retrieve fish from the smoking fires. Ama chased my wolf, swinging a willow branch over her head.

  I saw Uff sprinting away with an entire split salmon in her mouth!

  “Nah, Uff!” I yelled.

  But she didn’t listen. I followed, stumbling, panting. She streaked away to a safe distance. Then she swallowed her prize before I could come close. How could I tell her that the curing fish were not for her? There, on a rock in the sun, Suli and Hani sat feasting on their own stolen fish. They picked the sweet flesh from the bones, the rich oil dripping down their chins. Nobody minded. But a wolf pup was not a child.

  “That was bad!” I scolded, when at last I caught Uff. I grabbed her by the ruff of fur around her neck and shook her. “The fish is for winter. It is for people, not for wolves. You had a rabbit from my snares this morning—isn’t that enough? Apa will make me send you away if you steal our food!” Uff crouched and tucked her tail. She stared up at me anxiously, but even so, she could not help licking the taste from her lips.

  I saw now that Xar had come up from the river behind us and seen the whole thing. He was dragging a heavy load of salmon, spitted through the gills on a forked stick. One of the big, gleaming fish still thrashed and shuddered. He had not bothered to kill it.

  Holding his fish keerta up to his ear now, Xar listened as if it were speaking to him. His eyes grew wide. Then he nodded and grinned at me, but it was not the smile of a friend. “My keerta whispers that she is tired of fish,” he said. “She would like to taste the heart of a thieving wolf.”

  Sucking softly on the empty space in his gums, he sighted along the shaft of his keerta at Uff. I could not keep my eyes from going to the bone point. I put an arm protectively around my wolf, shielding her with my body. “If you hurt Uff, I will…”

  “If I hurt her, you will what?” Xar did not need to remind me that I had nothing but my hands and my work blade to fight with.

  “Kai, you cannot let the wolf steal from us!” It was my father, breathing hard, angry. He had come running to see what had happened. But his anger was not all for me and my wolf. He turned to Xar and grabbed the stick of spitted fish from him. Swiftly, he snapped the neck of the salmon that was not dead. “What kind of hunter does not kill his prey but hauls it back to the immet still flopping?” He spat the words out as if they tasted bad in his mouth. “A hunter kills quickly. He honors the life taken.”

  Xar turned to leave, but not without a grin at me and a shake of his keerta.

  I did not meet my father’s eyes. I made Uff follow me to a place downstream, away from the fishing. There had to be some way to get her to hunt her own fish. “Look,” I said to her, trying to make her see the dark shapes of the salmon finning their way over the pebbled shallows. “There is meat for us all in the river.” She squirmed in my arms, trying to turn back toward the fish racks. She had grown so big I could barely hold her.

  Then I remembered something I had watched Torn Ear do for last year�
��s pups.

  I scanned the surface of the water until I spotted a killed salmon that someone had missed. It floated toward us. “Uff, see this!” I set her down, waded in, and grabbed the fish. “See!” I said again. I held it out to her. Then I plunged it back into the water and shook it so that it splashed and seemed alive again.

  Now Uff saw.

  Her tail stiffened. Her ears came forward. I let the fish drift toward her. At the last moment I snatched it back and shook it again. Uff crouched in the shallows. Water dripped from her belly. Her eyes were locked on the salmon. Once more, I made the fish seem to swim. Uff trembled all over. I let it go. With a great splash, she pounced and came up with the salmon in her jaws. She shook it so that if it were not already dead, it surely would have been. She carried it to shore, tail high. I stumbled after her. “You did it!” I cried.

  Uff shook herself now, getting me even wetter. Then she snatched up her fish again and trotted off with it, tail waving in the air. “Eya, it’s yours,” I called after her. I couldn’t believe it. She had done it. I sat down, suddenly tired, and watched her eat.

  Now that she knew how to catch the fish, Uff joined in the drive. She stalked the shadows in the river. Over and over, she plunged her muzzle under the water to snap at them. Now and then, she caught one.

  Some of the men stopped to watch. They laughed and pointed. “Look,” I called to my father as Uff waded to the shore, dragging a thrashing salmon between her front legs. It was so big she stumbled over it. She killed it, carried it up the bank, and lay down to eat it.

  Apa nodded. “That’s good, Kai.”

  It had been a good day, but that night there was more happiness. Sen did not eat the evening meal with us. Instead, he ate with Mir’s family. He came back late. Ama put down her sewing quickly. Apa raised his eyebrows. My brother’s smile was very big. There was something in his eyes, his face. He seemed to be shining with joy that could not be held inside.