Stepson

Stepson(Anthony Colombo) The day dawned much like any other day in the deep northern forest. The nights were always cold even in the summer. The temperature would often dip into the low thirties, and last night was no different. Nicka had spent a fitful night. The dominant she wolf resented the fact that the alpha male had impregnated her lessor sister, a breach of pack rules and she wasn’t taking kindly to it. Now she was doing everything she could to make Nicka’s life a living hell. Shea, Nicka’s older sister, and the dominant female would nip at her sister if she came too close or force her to the outer edge of the pack. The alpha male did nothing to prevent the abuse. He had earned his right to have any female in the pack any time he wanted, what happened between the others after that was their business.

Nicka was well along in her pregnancy and often lagged behind the pack. The night before the hunt began and Nicka did her best to keep up, but soon found herself alone. This didn’t concern her much because the pack always kept in contact with one another through a serious of barks, yelps, and whistles. Wolves, unlike humans, cared for the members of the pack. Even Shea would not wantonly abandon Nicka even in her present state of mind. So, if Nicka were to get into trouble, all she had to do was call out and the others would rush to her aid. Comfortable with her situation, Nicka settled into a slow and easy walk. Her massive belly swayed gently from side to side as she lopped along trailing the pack. She was experiencing something new now. It was a strange feeling. She had never felt this way before. She seem to be at peace with herself and everything around her. She could hear the others locating themselves as they positioned for the chase, but she felt detached, unconcerned. It was as if she were in a wonderful place all by herself. Even the cooling night had no effect on her. Nicka found a patch of soft grass sheltered from the night breeze and settled herself. She could hear the noises of the other pack members like children at play, albeit their play meant life or death. She let out two soft yelps to locate herself and received acknowledgment. The pack knew where she was, and they would come to her when they were done.

The hunt lasted well into the early morning hours netting the pack two medium sized rabbits and one sickly raccoon. Nicka was given the hindquarter of one of the rabbits by her younger sister only to have it taken by Shea. Nicka was well aware of her station in the pack and didn’t challenge Shea. Nicka, lowered her head in a submissive posture while Shea stood with her fur standing straight up, lips snarled back displaying a full set of gleaming white teeth daring Nicka to do something. Almost as if in a show of contempt Nicka turned her back on Shea; eased her stocky form onto some soft grass and exhaled a soft sigh of disgust. Shea more filled with anger than hunger charged Nicka. She had every intention of doing serious injury to her lessor sister. Before she had an opportunity to close the distance between her and Nicka, however, she was hit full force from the side by the Alpha male. He either had enough of Shea’s rude behavior, or he knew that Nicka’s time was near. In any event, Shea crumpled to the ground all her breath and nearly her life spent. Nicka lifted her head to look over her shoulder to see from where the loud thud had come. It is said that these animals can’t smile but something closely resembling a grin appeared on Nicka’s mussel. Still Nicka couldn’t help feeling compassion for the obviously injured Shea. Slowly, Nicka rose and walked to the piece of rabbit dropped by Shea. She picked it up and carried it to where Shea lay. Gently, Nicka placed it near Shea’s mouth, and then moved respectfully back to her place on the small patch of grass. The gesture didn’t go unnoticed. All the other pack members and even Shea were moved by Nicka’s conduct.

Well, that was the night before, now a new day had dawned, and the sun was bringing the warmth of a late summer’s day. The rays felt good on the sore back of the very pregnant wolf. Her pregnancy was in its final stages. Her pups were becoming very still and moving lower in her belly. Her time was close. She settled in her mind to leave the pack to find a suitable den; there she would be protected from the elements until her young would be old enough to join the others.

Nicka rose slowly without looking back at the others. There was no need to see what they were doing; this was a private thing. The other members of the pack would take care of their business while Nicka took care of hers. Shea on the other hand saw Nicka leaving and followed after her. The alpha male kept a watchful eye; he didn’t want a repeat of the incident of the previous night. As Shea neared Nicka, she gently touched her mussel with her own. When the alpha male saw this he lowered his head and closed his eyes, he knew that peace existed between the two.

Shea owed more than a debt of gratitude to Nicka. Nicka had taken the best that Shea could give without complaint. Finally, when Nicka was in a position to take her revenge, she could only think of the pain her superior sister was in. Jealousy does strange things to our judgement and Shea would have to do much now to repay her lesser sister. She would start by leading her to a den she had used for two litters. It was secure from predators, warm and dry. Nicka could deliver her pups in safety there. Then Shea would hunt for Nicka because Nicka was not as well fed, as a she wolf in her condition should be, Shea had seen to that herself. Now she would see that Nicka ate before even the males in the pack, even if it would cause her to be reproached by the leader himself. This latter course of action was not to be taken lightly. Shea knew that when the leader meted out punishment the end result could be the death of the offender. Be that as it may, her debt to Nicka out weighted the fear of retribution. Shea would also stay with Nicka during the delivery and for a time after until Nicka could defend the den and her young.

When they reached the den, Shea entered first. The gustier wasn’t intended as a display of dominance. Shea meant to make sure nothing was inside that could harm Nicka. As soon as Shea was satisfied, she poked her head out and motioned for Nicka to enter. There was a number of houses keeping chores to take care of before they could settle down. Most of them would be easy to accomplish and Shea saw to them while Nicka rested. The den was in relatively good shape for not having seen any occupation since Shea was last there over a year ago.

Nicka found a comfortable patch of dried leaves and pine needles in one corner of the den. After carefully arranging them to her liking she settled herself while Shea busied herself with the other details necessary for their comfort. Finally, Shea made one last check of the den to see that all was in order before she would leave to get Nicka something to eat. While Shea was overcome by guilt, Nicka thought only of the litter. Others in the pack would have made the most of Shea’s condition but that wasn’t in Nicka’s nature. All Nicka felt, at the moment, was contentment. As night progressed the den grew darker. Still the location of the den above tree line allowed the faint light of the moon to enter casting eerie shadows about the walls. Humans would have taken these shadows to resemble monsters of indescribable horror. Nicka welcomed them because of them she would be able to see if anyone tried to get in. Once-in-a-while the den would grow dark, must be a cloud passing in front of the moon, she thought. She had been with the pack when clouds blocked out the light from the moon, so this was no cause for alarm. Yet, the next time the den opening darkened; she had her first contraction. The suddenness of the pain coupled with the lack of light caused an emotion she had never before experienced, fear. In the pack there was the safety that comes with numbers, others feared the pack. This was different, and Nicka didn’t like it. She had to search her pack instincts to regain control. She was one of the lesser females that is true, but she was still a member of the pack. Fear was unbecoming of one of her kind, and while she kept reminding herself of who she was, the pain began to ease. With the lessening of the pain came reassurance and lost courage, her fear faded much as the shadows at the den opening.

Sometime later, she noticed movement outside. Struggling to her feet she prepared herself to fight off whatever it might be. As the noise grew louder and nearer, Nicka curled back her lips displaying a full set of gleaming white fangs. From deep inside her she uttered a low growl. The configuration of the den amplified the sound and anyone standing outside had to think a bear was inside. Nicka didn’t relax her guard but quieted just long enough to see if her warning accomplished its intended meaning. Instead of hearing the retreating steps of an unwanted intruder, she heard two soft yaps. Right away she knew that Shea had returned. She was glad for the company.

Shea came into the den with food. The pack had killed a deer and Shea managed to secure a large part of the left hindquarter. Nicka hadn’t eaten in almost two days. Any other wolf would have placed the blame on Shea and been perfectly just in doing so, but Nicka wasn’t that kind. She never thought of Shea as anything but her better and whatever befell her was her just lot in life. There was no one to blame, that is just how it is! Besides Shea was bringing food and judging from the quality and quantity, he hadn’t come by it without overcoming some serious protest from the others in the pack, especially the men. Shea placed the meat in front of Nicka and stepped back, a sign of respect that did not go unnoticed. Nicka was allowed to eat her fill before Shea helped herself to the leavings. Only when their hunger had been satisfied did the to lower their heads to sleep.

Shea dozed more awake than asleep, she would defend the den and Nicka, so she couldn’t allow herself the luxury of full sleep. Nicka faired no better. The contractions were getting stronger and coming closer and closer. Finally, both gave up any pretence of sleep and watched as the sun rose, then fell and rose again. Wolves don’t track time the way men do. They see the sun and moon and know the difference between the two. They experience the seasons and can tell when there is a change coming, but beyond that time has no meaning. Their lives are filled with searching for food, resting, defending territory, increasing the size of the pack, but mostly looking for food. In good times the pack might indulge in play, but even this was designed to teach the young members the art of hunting and defending. Wolves are above all practical.

For four days Nicka was in almost constant pain. At times the pain was so great she thought of tearing open her own stomach to let her pups out. To do so, to even let on that that was what she was thinking was beneath the dignity of a wolf, even a lowly one like her. She would say to the pain, if that is the best you can do, I can take it. Shea knew that Nicka must do this on her own. There was only moral support to offer a second wolf at a time like this was as useful as a fifth leg.

Finally, the time came. Shea could see the head of the first pup. It was coming into the world, as it should. Now Shea could help by telling Nicka when to push. This was old hat to Shea and then soon the first little girl was on the ground. Shea knew that Nicka must be the one to coax the little one to life. It was important for both to get to know one another’s sent. Nicka began to lick the still little form for two reasons: First, to clean it, and second, to get it to start breathing. Try as she might there was nothing, she could do to encourage the little creature to life. In the end there was only one thing left that must be done. Nicka knew without being told. Maybe it was instinct, but whatever you call it, Nicka knew that the little body had to be gotten rid of, and with one gulp it was gone. She settled in her mind that it was necessary because the smell would attract predators to the den. In any event it was done.

Over the next several hours this was repeated twice more, once more for a little girl and a little boy. Each time Shea watched as Nicka pulled the lifeless little shapes into her mouth and swallow them. Shea’s heart sunk deeper into the pit of her stomach. She was certain that these babies and their fate were her doing. She had treated Nicka so shabbily that the pups suffered too by paying with their lives.

Shea was so ashamed. Still, she watched as the pain of contractions continued for another day and night. Then at last the fourth pup’s head appeared. Shea held no hope for this one either. It was the smallest of the four and the hardest to deliver. He would have been cast aside as the runt if the others had survived. To Nicka, however, this was a life worth trying to save, she began to lick. Soon there was the faintest of sounds, so soft that neither Nicka nor Shea thought they heard anything at all. Still the sound, very weak, persisted, and then a clearly audible yelp. Nicka was startled by the sound. After losing the first four pups, she really didn’t expect this one to survive. Shea too was surprised and stepped closer to have a better look. The little thing was fighting for his life. He had just begun, but his fight wasn’t over. He now had to crawl a little over three feet to find the nipple that would feed him for the better part of his young existence. It was a task he would receive no help with, and it was one that could cost him his life, if he failed. He was so tiny that the distance seemed more like miles. Exhausted from the days of labor, the little pup pulled and dragged himself toward the scent of fresh milk. He pulled and pushed his tiny legs until they felt as though they would drop off. Finally, he reached the warmth of his mother’s side. When he began to suckle, Nicka’s pain all but disappeared. She looked at Shea and there was the distinct image of contentment on Nicka’s face. Slowly, she closed her eyes and lowered her head. Shea knew from what she saw that there was no place for her here. Quietly, she slipped outside the den to take up her post as guard.

Days passed and the little pup grew stronger. Shea remained on guard leaving only at night to hunt with the pack. Just before dawn she would return with her share of the night’s catch. Often what she brought Nicka was all there was, but she said nothing. The new mother had to keep up her strength to keep her milk healthy for the little one.

More often than not, Nicka wouldn’t see Shea, but she would know that she had been there. There was always food left close by. Nicka could hear her outside the den and knew that if Shea were needed all Nicka had to do was call. There was something else that was most disturbing. From time to time, the sounds of a big cat could be heard in the distance; Shea heard it too. When the cat wailed both Nicka and Shea would freeze. Nicka would whimper softly into the pup’s ear and he would hide his little head beneath the soft fur of his mother’s under belly. For nearly two weeks the noise of the cat got louder and closer. Shea was worried. If the big cat got too close the smell of the den would surely catch her attention. Shea couldn’t let that happen. She would have to take the initiative. She would use herself as bate to try to lure the big cat away. She might get lucky and draw the cat close enough to the pack. If she could involve the pack, they together would be able to chase the cat down and destroy it. One night when the cat was the closest it had ever been to the den, Shea moved out. She resorted to all she had ever learned about stealth. A shadow: a wisp of air would have been more noticeable than she was.

For several hours the whole world grew still. There wasn’t a sound inside or outside of the den. There were none of the usual night noises. The pack was silent. The birds were silent. Even the sound of the wind in the trees was gone. It was as if Nicka and her pup were the only two beings left in the world. On some still nights Nicka would hear the heavy panting of Shea just outside the den opening and be comforted, but even that was missing tonight. The only sensation Nicka had was the warmth of her pup against her body. The little thing next to her had no fears. He rested quietly because mom was there, and she wouldn’t let anything bad happen.

Nicka jerked her head erect with a start, as the silence was broken. There was a whine or a howl that sounded a long way off. The sounds seemed to be coming from a creature long dead, and suddenly returned to the living. The beast, Nicka, was convinced it was prowling the earth looking for revenge. The sound was so frightening that Nicka’s muscles tensed, preparing her for the attack. So violent was her move that her pup let out a yap. Even with his eyes still closed, he began to frantically search for a safe spot to hide.

The initial sound was followed by a horrendous commotion. There was an awful fight-taking place not far from the den. Howls, wails and screams of pain filled the night air. Nicka recognized the voice of Shea, but the other she couldn’t identify, it was a stranger to her. Shea’s voice was angry, not her hunting voice. It was a hateful voice; Nicka knew this one because she had heard it before. She was able to tell the difference between the soft apologetic voice Shea used when hunting and the angry one she used to use on Nicka.

When the pack hunted, they followed the teachings of the Great Mother Wolf. In the beginning of the world, she taught her people to respect all living things. She said that all things must live and for this reason some lived on grass and others needed meat to survive. She impressed the meat eaters that they must never take a life unless that life was needed to sustain their own. She also told the meat eaters that they must explain the necessity for the taking of a life. It was for this reason the wolves apologized to their prey before killing it. There were no apologies, no softness, no understanding in either voice. Neither seemed to be the least bit concerned with a kill to sustain life as a kill to eliminate a despised enemy.

The battle raged for a very long time. For wolves time is measured in the rising and setting of the sun. There is a day and a night, nothing in between. Still, while Nicka wasn’t able to understand the concept of hours and minutes, she knew that Shea must be near the end of her endurance and there was nothing she could do to help her sister. Wolves hunted in packs, so their strength is in numbers. Individuals are able to sustain bursts of energy for short periods of time. They can run like the wind, but not for more than a mile or so. Nicka calculated that Shea had run much more than the distance of the entire pack on its best hunt. How could she keep this up, thought Nicka?

Nicka had no way of knowing; not being there herself, but Shea was losing the fight. At first, Shea was able to hold the big cat at bay. Her strong teeth made several deep wounds on the cats neck and back. In some places the cat’s blood flowed freely. On the left foreleg of the cat Shea had managed a fears gash. So deep was the wound that the cat had to take great care to protect it from further attack. The big cat tried to conserve her strength by going on the defensive hoping to spend the wolf’s strength before hers gave out. In this manner the cat used only enough energy to fend off the advances made by Shea. Shea on the other hand had no choice. If the cat would not come to her, she had to go after the cat. This was not a battle that had any other outcome than the death of one of them. Shea knew if the big cat lived, she would find the den, Shea had to kill her what ever it took.

Shea saw the cat’s posture as cowardly. She didn’t understand the strategy used by the big cat. Shea knew that the cat had to go, and that she had to make it happen. Attack and be repulsed and attack again. The cat seemed to be getting stronger as Shea’s strength faded. Shea’s fatigue was evident, and the cat was ready to take advantage of it. At first Shea was able to advance on the cat and avoid contact with her massive paws, but as she tired the cat started to make contact. Each time a blow landed Shea was dazed. She would stagger back, regain control and advance again. Each time she moved in the blow landed with a little more severity. Finally, the cat’s knife sharp claws began to dig into Shea’s hide. The deep cuts and loss of blood all took their toll. With one final mighty swing, Shea was flung lifelessly to the ground. To her credit, Shea never let the big cat hear a whine or whimper. Shea was a proud wolf and died with grace and honor but only after she gave a good accounting of herself.

The sudden silence was deafening. Nicka knew instinctively that something was wrong. She could feel the den’s security had been compromised. She realized her weakened condition would not allow her to defend herself let alone her pup. She had to move. Now wolves are not the kind of creatures most think they are. They are not all of one mind, the mind of the alpha male. On the contrary, they can and do think for themselves. Nicka’s opinions were never considered important by the pack because of her station. She was expected to do as she was told. Still, she had thoughts of her own. Some she felt were better than her betters, but she never voiced her opinions over the objections of the more dominant members of the pack. This situation was different. Shea was gone and her pup’s life depended on her. Her plan was a simple one; she would take her pup to a second den. A den she had found but opted to use the one shown her by Shea because Shea was the dominant female. It wasn’t as nice or secure as this had been, but the cat might not know about it. She knew how to cover her scent so that the big cat wouldn’t be able to follow. Nicka wasn’t concerned about the welfare of Shea, because if Shea was OK, she knew where the other den was and would find them, and if she wasn’t Ok it didn’t matter.

Nicka carefully poked her head out of the den opening for a look around before she made an attempt at moving her son. There was no sign of anyone. Unlike the two-legged creatures that often moved through the forest, wolves don’t rely on sight alone. She sensed a presence, and her nose was telling her the big cat was very close. Her nose also picked up the odor of blood. Shea had hurt the cat, Nicka thought. Hurt or not, Nicka wouldn’t chance the move. She pulled her head back into the den. She whimpered instructions for her son to remain quiet and wait till she returned. When she was satisfied, he would do as he was told; Nicka left.

Slowly, cautiously, Nicka crept into the night, hoping to see the cat before being seen. As Nicka neared the high brush about twenty feet from the den entrance, she heard a whine that turned her blood to ice. The big cat had her scent and was closing in on her. Nicka turned in time to receive a massive paw on the right side of her head. The blow stunned her. Her legs turned to rubber. She fought to regain control of her body before the cat positioned herself for the kill. As Nicka struggled to distance herself from the cat it was not in time. Another blow landed sending Nicka end over end. Nicka tumbled almost fifteen feet to the edge of a cliff. She scratched and pulled but to no avail. Nicka slipped over the edge. She dropped nearly two hundred feet crashing through the branched of a very large pine tree. The heavy impact with the branches knocked the wind from her lungs, knocked her unconscious and saved her life.

When Nicka regained consciousness, she lay on the ground below the cliff’s edge. Above her was the pine tree with several broken branches. As she stared into the sky, the realization of the what had happened to her came crashing in on her with tremendous pain. She checked herself knowing full well that injuries could mean the difference between life and death. Broken legs of ribs meant death. She would lie where she was for days slowly starving to death. To her great relief, she found that while badly bruised, she was all in one piece. Her ribs, however, were another matter. She was sure that at least two were broken. She was able to breathe but only in short gasps; trying to take deep breaths was too painful. Her recovery might take a day or two, but she would be able to rejoin the pack.

For now, standing was impossible. Nicka pulled herself to the base of the large tree that had saved her life, she would need to draw upon its strength if she was to survive.

Through the long days and endless nights, Nicka’s thoughts were of her son. At times the pain was intense, but nothing, not the pain nor the freezing rain of early winter could blot out the feeling she had to get to her son. Four days had passed and Nicka was still feeling the effects of her encounter with the big cat, still the safety of her son meant more than her life. The last time he had anything to eat was hours before she left to defend the den, if he didn’t get something to eat soon, he would die, that is if he wasn’t already dead. She pulled herself up. Her legs barely supported her weight. Her ribs throbbed. She could hardly breathe. Each step was an agony all its own. The ground she might have covered in minutes a few days ago now took hours.

Forced to stop frequently by pain and fatigue, night had pasted and the new day reached its mid-time before Nicka reached the den. The smell of the big cat was strong; so strong that Nicka feared another confrontation. She couldn’t even hope to give a good accounting in her present state. The mother’s concern for her young, however, drove her on. Cat or no, she would do whatever she could for her pup.

The cat smell was even stronger in the den. As Nicka’s eyes grew accustomed to the nearly dark interior, she found it empty. There was no cat and worst of all no sign of her young son. There wasn’t even any indication that the cat might have destroyed the pup. There was evidence the cat had used the den to deliver her own young. OH, great mother. She didn’t want to fight Shea or myself. All she was doing was what I had done earlier. She was just looking for a safe place to bring her young into the world. Why haven’t we learned to talk to one another? Thoroughly drained, Nicka dropped to the floor of the den.

It was nearly a week later when the pack found Nicka. Her condition was dreadful. She had given up and was as near to death as one could get and still be alive. The women of the pack busied themselves caring for her. The men, led by the alpha, stood guard and did most of the hunting. It was many days later before the alpha felt that Nicka was well enough to be told of Shea’s fate, and the task was assigned to one of the superior sisters.

Nicka was told how they found what was left of Shea. Judging from the surroundings, Shea had put up a gallant fight. Shrubs and even some small trees had been uprooted and knocked over. The pack had found large amounts of blood all around the area. Nicka could hear the pride in the voice of the teller. There was no sadness; there could be none for one who died so bravely. If one brought honor to him the whole pack was honored. Shea’s actions were such that even the alpha male commented about them boastfully. There was a strange thing about the condition of Shea’s body. The big cat didn’t take of the body for food. What had been removed was taken by scavengers. Nicka told the pack the cat wasn’t hunting.

Now the big cat, which was called Leona by others of her kind, watched as Nicka tumbled over the edge of the cliff. There were no feelings in the cat. She was hurt and tired, so the killing brought neither satisfaction nor joy. She thought only of the hour and how near it was to the birth of her young.

Slowly, she entered the den. The scent of Nicka still hung heavy in the air. Leona quickly glanced around and saw nothing that posed a threat, so she settled against one wall to provide some support for her injured back. She hadn’t been off her feet very long when the contractions started.

Unlike wolves, cats are solitary creatures. They live together when they are young and then their mother chases them away. The only other time the cats come together is when its time to mate and then only as long as it takes for the female to get pregnant. Now Leona was on her own. She wasn’t sure what would happen as this would be her first litter and unlike Nicka there was no older sister to help. The only thing she could be sure of was that her body hurt from her wounds and now from the pains of childbirth. This was to be the start of a very long night.

Two days and three nights passed before the actual time of birth came. Leona delivered two girls both stillborn. She had the wolves to thank for this outrage. If they had left her alone her children would be alive and well. She hadn’t come looking for them. They were the aggressors not her. This was their fault.

After doing what she had to do, the lack of sleep and the pain of her injuries and childbirth proved too much for her. She closed her eyes and fell fast asleep.

While she slept the small mound of fur hiding in the shadows began to stir. He remembered his mother’s warning, but hunger was something his small stomach would not let him ignore. Besides there was the air carrying the smell of fresh milk. It didn’t smell like his mother’s, but there was no doubt it was milk. The little pup’s eyes had not yet opened. His nose was another matter; it was fully functional and served well to guide him to the source of the odor. He moved like an inchworm close to the ground. The scent grew stronger as he closed the gape between himself and the smell. Finally, he was there. He began to suckle. The taste wasn’t the same as his mother’s, but it was sweet and filling. He settled in for breakfast, lunch, and dinner after all he had missed so many meals, why shouldn’t he catch up now?

Leona woke with a start. She was being touched the way she had expected her children to touch her, but this couldn’t be. Am I dreaming? No, this is not a dream. Who has such gall too dear such a thing? All her body was stiff with pain. It was a chore to lift her head high enough to see what thing had the audacity, the brazen impudence to help him or herself to a nipple that was obviously not theirs in the first place. After much effort trying to shift her weight without disturbing the interloper, she saw a tiny ball of fur. A wolf pup, she thought with contempt. I’ll kill the little beggar! I’ll send him to his mother! Then, reality! His mother! That must have been the wolf I killed outside this place! She was only defending her young and the other must have been trying to protect these two! OH, what have I done? They meant me no harm.

Something happened to Leona; something only a mother could understand. The thing at her nipple wasn't hers but he was hers now! She would raise him as her own. She would teach him the ways of the cat and the wolf, as she understood the latter. She couldn’t give him back his mother, but she could take her place and be the best mother she knew how. Would a wolf do the same for a child of hers? An interesting thought but of no real concern to her because she was the cause of this little thing’s plight and she owed the debt and cat’s repaid their debts.

The big cat’s milk was rich, and the pup grew large and strong, even his thick fur wasn’t thick enough to hide his massive muscles. When he stood, sat or just lay on the ground his body looked as if it were ready for action. By the end of his first year, he and his stepmother were hunting elk. On one occasion his mother was being attacked by a male black bear. The beast outweighed the two of them by a hundred pounds at least. Still his size meant nothing to the wolf. He saw his mother threatened and that made his blood boil. He charged the bear hitting his chest like a shot from a cannon. The impact knocked the bear staggering backward. Then before he could regain his balance, the male wolf had a death grip on the bear’s throat. The bear twisted, jerked, and even tried to dislodge the wolf by smacking him against a tree trunk. It was only when the bear was nearly dead that the wolf relaxed his hold allowing the bear to escape. To the questioning look from his mother, he said, “well, I made my point, didn’t I?”

On another occasion a male cat became interested in Leona. He was intent upon possessing her over her objections. Her stepson heard her protests and ran to her aid. He flew at the male cat hitting him near his spine between his front and hind legs. The force of the blow sent the two-rolling end over end in a cloud of dust. When the dust settled the two men stood facing one another. The big male cat was about twenty yards from the wolf. The lion beard his teeth and let out a roar that echoed off the garnet walls of the near by mountains. The wolf wasn’t intimidated. He lowered his head, raised his eyes, curled back his lips, and made a sound never heard before. It wasn’t wolf and it wasn’t a cat. The sound had no description known to man or animal, but there was no mistaking its effect on the lion; his blood ran cold. Slowly, the wolf inched his way closer to the cat. The look on his face said, stand and die you fool. Terror increased inside the cat until he had no choice but to run for his life to the shelter of the forest.

There was no place in their range that they were unknown. They didn’t walk; they strutted their heads held high. Even outside their territory their fame was known. All who crossed their path gave way with heads lowered and tails between their legs in respect. Those foolish enough to challenge them met with an untimely end and the wolf grew bigger and stronger.

Life was good for the young wolf. He had his mother, and he was happy. In the forest, however, it is Mother Nature that dictates the changes in seasons and moods. She rules with determination and the feelings of a young wolf have no bearing upon decision with regards to the peoples of her woods. Leona sensed the need to rid herself of the company of her adopted son. It was her time again. She would have to chase him away so that she might once more create a new life of her own kind. This was the way of the cat and most other animals. It wasn’t the way of the wolf, and her stepson didn’t understand. The separation wouldn’t be easy but separate they would.

The young wolf was on his own for the first time in his life. Now he would hunt by himself. He would have to establish his own range because his mother made it clear that he would not be welcome in hers anymore. The property rights, even in the forest, were closely guarded. Trying to establish himself would not be an easy thing. He would have to fight for every inch of ground if he were going to be able to call it his own. He would have to take what he wanted from someone else, and there would be no one to help him. He was alone.

Life without mom wasn’t really that bad. He was free to do as he pleased. There were no set routines. He could go where he liked and do what he liked. He had seen other wolves from time to time, but he made no attempt to contact them because he thought of himself more as a cat than a wolf. Besides, he was still young in animal terms, and his need to be with those of his own kind hadn’t come up yet. When it did, well that would be soon enough.

This time of freedom was a time that others living in the forest came to know, and in some cases fear him. The reputation he established with his mother was still fresh in the minds of the other creatures in the wood. All who saw him yielded ground to him. None opposed him. He took pleasure in dealing with those that thought themselves better than the other animals in the forest. He knew that killing to survive was necessary, and like others he was taught the lessons of the Great Mother. He knew to take a life must be with humility and reverence. For this reason, he would not countenance the arrogance of a few. He often interceded on behalf of the weaker creatures and became well known for his sense of justice and fair play. Compared to him, only man seemed to be devoid of feelings in the forest.

It was now the summer of his fifth year. He was still very young as wolves go. He had come into his time. He had to seek out his own kind. The cats wanted none of him. He hadn’t even seen Leona for three years now. For all he knew she might be dead. He would return to the place of his birth. There was a pack there that he might join; it was worth a try.

In the three years since his stepmother sent him away, he had covered nearly a thousand square miles, and in all that wilderness he remembered only that one pack. There was an attraction to them that he could not explain. They had to accept him; he would make them accept him.

The summer was hot in the forest. The heat made walking seem longer. The winter snow was gone and the streams were only paw deep. He stood in the stream trying to cool his feet enough in the hope that in that way he might cool the rest of his body. For some time now he had seen signs of the other pack. They were near. He knew that even as hot as he was it was not safe to relax his guard. Packs don’t take kindly to an outsider, especially one intent upon joining them, or at best stealing one or more of their women. He reasoned that if he couldn’t join them, he could start a pack of his own. The water was cool and the noise it made passing over stones was distracting. It was so peaceful here. Suddenly, he tensed. His ears twisted first one way and then the other. He had heard something. Whatever it was it was close, and coming in on him from three sides. The first attack was lightning fast and from the rear. He took the full force of the blow with his backside. Using the others’ momentum, he lowered his head and raised his hindquarters. The move sent a blackish-gray thing sailing over his head and crashing onto the exposed rocks of the creek in front of him. The animal rolled to a stop nursing his right foreleg. He was unable to stand on it, but he knew it wasn’t broken. He would think twice about being the first to charge this newcomer again. The second attack came from the side. Unlike the first wolf this one came in screaming and yelling in his most furious voice. His strategy was based upon the fact that his brother failed using stealth. He might be more successful scaring the fur of this new wolf. It didn’t work. For all his bravado he received a massive paw on the top of his head driving him mussel down into the stream. His nose slammed into a rock just below the surface sending lightening streaks of pain through his entire body and out the tip of his tail. With both of the bravest wolves down, there had to be a change in strategy. Into the clearing stepped the alpha male. He was showing all his teeth. His ears were raised in a show of contempt. The fur on the back of his neck was standing straight up. A lesser wolf would have chosen retreat as his best option, but not the young male. He had a purpose, and he would not leave until he accomplished what he had come for.

As the forest grew quiet, the two wolves were about five yards apart. The young wolf tossed his head back with a defiant air and let loose his blood chilling whale. Instantly all knew the voice. It was legend come to life. Here in the flesh was the heart of all the tails told to scare the young pups into obedience. The alpha male stopped dead in his tracks. His look of anger faded to one of shock. He now had a dilemma staring him in the face. He was too important to the pack as their leader to show how he really felt and he was too scared to tackle the younger male without the support of the pack. The others stood around waiting for the alpha to act. Quickly, he changed his expression once again, being careful not to give any indication of anger lest the new wolf misunderstand. Slowly, he began to circle the young male. In the most dominant fashion, he could muster. Then in a non-threatening voice the alpha male asked, “what is it you want in my territory?” The intruder only watched the alpha male with a look of quiet scorn.

The stand off lasted almost an hour. Neither wolf gave ground, and the tension continued to build. Soon one or the other would make a move. A move everyone was sure would leave only one standing. But, without warning the alpha stopped. He had reached the limit of his patients. If this young upstart wouldn’t talk, he would have to put an end to him. The muscles in his legs tightened in preparation to spring. He was about to act on his plan when a soft voice from near the rear of the pack said, “son?”

The sound of the word echoed of the canyon walls in its meekness. All eyes turned to see who said it. Nicka repeated the word and stepped into the clearing. The young wolf’s mind raced through a library of sights sounds and smells trying to identify this woman behind the voice. She slowly approached the much larger male with her tail between her legs, her ears down and her head lowered to signify a submissive posture. She whimpered, “son?” He looked so familiar, but she wasn’t sure, after all he was only a pup the last time she saw him.

The hair on the large male relaxed. The look of contempt was gone. There was a hint of a smile. Her scent and her soft voice sparked memories long repressed. He was a child again. He was home. Nicka lay on the ground with her belly up exposed to his powerful jaws. There was no danger. He knew her. “Mother? Is it really you? I thought you . . . I was told you . . .”

“I know my son. I know.”

The pack gathered around him. He was welcomed as an equal and in time became the leader. To this day all know him, and when men talk of the great wolves, they refer to them by his name, Lobo.

Joel Kiula

05/25/2024

This is a good story. Worthy the read, thank you for sharing.

This is a good story. Worthy the read, thank you for sharing.

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