My own personal take on the werewolf. Being as vampires have been done to death and beyond by the lovely and talent less Anne Rice, I desired to write a story about living, breathing, sexy supernatural creatures!
Night Howls
Part One
After my divorce, I was feeling especially anti-social, even the company of my family members was too much; the only companionship I wanted was Cherie. Cherie is my malamute; she's big as a horse and not afraid of anything. Well, not really as big as a horse as Pelka, my cousin's horse would have pointed out could she speak. So when Jake, my cousin, offered me the use of his hunting cabin for a year, while he was out of the country, with the stipulation that I take care of Pelka, I jumped at it. Blissfully off the main roads and deep into the mountains, I would be left quite alone. To mope, my mother said, but then she always loved my ex-wife.
To be honest so did I. Ava was petite and pert and beautiful with the manners of a queen. But she was also ambitious and worldly, being the daughter of a lawyer. It was hard to go from spoiled Princess to wife of a starving artist. Oh, for a year we were head over heels in love and happy. I suppose for Ava it was the thrill of being a rebel, of living a life so much at odds with her upbringing. But as often happens, the thrill lagged and canned tuna lost its appeal. It wasn't that I wasn't making money; after all I did work in her daddy's law office. But Ava liked the high life and after a year of office life I was fed up with the legal system and aching to be back outside in the sun again.
I'm a sculptor. I carve wood. And I make some damned good money from my art, but it isn't consistent, and as any artist will tell you, the buying public is pretty fickle. I do pretty well, but it wasn't enough to keep Ava in the style she remembered when the excitement of rebellion wore off. So I suppose the break up was my fault: I quit her daddy's law firm and returned to my studio full time. And as a consequence back to sporadic paychecks and an end to the nights out on the town.
I tried to explain to my mother I wasn't hiding from Ava, I was hiding from EVERYONE. But mother being mother simply said, "why can't you work in the garage like you did as a teenager?" She couldn't see that I wanted space, physical and mental space from the things that reminded me of my marriage. Except for Cherie, I took her with me. At 23, I was feeling washed up as a lover and a mate; my marriage was broken and many of my friends were taking sides in an issue that I didn't feel had "sides' or fault to it. I wanted away, away from the reminders of happier times and away from the reminders of bad times as well.
"But it's September, Joash. You'll be gone for the holidays!" My mother had protested when I told her. But still I went.
The cabin was pretty rustic, it had running water and electricity but I would have no phone and minimal comforts, Jake warned. "Better get you a rifle and learn to use it," he said, "you're a long way from the nearest law enforcement, not to mention bears and cougars don't honor our law anyway."
"You'll have to get a wood cutting license as well," Jake continued. "But the Forest Service is pretty good about them. Helps keep the summer forest fires down."
"Do NOT mention fire to my mother," I answered. Jake had grinned; mother was notoriously overprotective of me.
An adventure, I decided, and just what I needed to jump start my carving again. My cousin explained about the generator that supplied electricity for the fridge, stove and lights. He also warned me to stock up on propane before snow flew and driving up there, I understood why. The road was dirt and mostly unmaintained. Come winter it would be impassable, I would be stuck up there. I shivered feeling cold slide down my back.
I stood outside the cabin feeling oddly free for the first time in two years. It was small, but cozy. There was a dried cup of coffee on the bar between the kitchen and the living room and a dirty pan full of ants on the stove, when Cherie and I arrived. I threw the cup and the pan in the trash outside and scrubbed every inch of the kitchen. The kitchen was paneled in oak with oak cabinets. A butcher-block table sat in the center and there was just enough space to move around it.
The main room was cozy with a soft couch and a loveseat covered in Indian blankets grouped in front of a stone fireplace. On the floor were several rugs also in Native American patterns; there were prints of the mountains on the walls. By the door was a shiny wooden gun rack. I put my new Winchester rifle on it and the boxes of ammo in the drawer below. I was hoping I wouldn't need it but I was also confident that if I did need it I could use it effectively. Another part of my adventure I had conveniently forgotten to tell my mother!
Next to the fireplace was a door leading out into a storage room. The bank of windows on the east side of the room screamed STUDIO to me! The room was about 20 feet long and 10 feet wide with windows and a hard cement floor. It would be a freezing room in the winter, I guessed. And puzzling enough for a sculptor, the only source of heat would be fire in a stove against the wall backing the fireplace. It would require an air filter to keep wood shavings down and reduce the risk of fire; I put it on a mental list of things to bring up before winter. I grinned: to burn wood and be warm or sculpt and be creative? Well, I'd worry about it closer to winter.
Back in the main room, I found that Cherie had declared a thick, furry rug in front of the fireplace as hers. I smiled; squatted down and scratched her ears. She looked up at me and licked my face.
"Nice huh?" I said. "This is our new home, Cherie."
I spent most of the first day getting everything settled. The Land Rover was full of supplies, both art and domestic. Cherie ran in and out of the cabin barking in excitement and narrowly missed tripping me several times. Her voice rang against the near mountains and echoed away into the trees. Cherie discovered squirrels in the oak just off the front porch and spent a long time ensuring they got adequate exercise running from her.
After getting the Rover unpacked, I went around to the stable. It was a big red building recently painted. My cousin usually boarded Pelka with friends while he was gone and they were planning on bringing her up in the next day or two. I was a bit nervous, I had no experience with horses, but Jake insisted that she was a sweetheart.
"You'll be riding all over the hills in no time, Joash." Jake said with a grin. "Just sit tight and put your faith in Pelka, she'll take good care of you."
I lifted the drop bar and opened the stable door; the interior was cozy and smelled of hay and horse. I looked around briefly noting the horse stuff in the small room off the main room. I searched my head for the right words, oh yes, tack room and riding tack. I hoped Jake's friend would be patient in teaching me to use it all. Especially the sled propped against the far wall, it would be perfect for wood foraging.
Along the far side of the stable was a corral: a door in the side of the building connected the two together. Cherie slid under the fence rails and explored every inch of the corral. I laughed and yelled to her. She barked in pleasure and I jumped over the fence and chased her. Together we ran around the corral, chasing each other and having a good time, until I was too winded to do anything other than lean against the fence and pant.
For the first time in months, I was strangely at peace and happy. The divorce had taken so much out of me. I had been unable to work and unwilling most days to even get out of bed. I had needed a change. I silently thanked Jake for giving it to me as Cherie and I trudged back to the house to finish settling in. We spent the rest of the day unpacking and spreading our presence across every room in the cabin.
The bathroom wasn't much larger than the bathtub, toilet and sink, but it was clean and the window had a fantastic view of the nearby mountains. The bedroom had a queen-sized bed, a dresser and a small end table in it. There were a couple of books on the table: all westerns. I wrinkled my nose at Jake's taste in reading material and put more books on my mental list for the next time I went into town. The bed was firm and the sheets clean. A striped comforter covered the bed and I found more blankets in the top of the closet.
I had a moment of panic thinking of clean laundry, until I found a small washer and dryer in the generator room. There was a note on the washer warning that water pressure was iffy, since it came from a well, so to carefully monitor the water level when doing laundry! I wondered if the pipes would freeze in the winter. Better stock up on clean underwear!
The wolf watched the movement around the human place. Usually the humans were gone from there by the time the air turned cool. He was puzzled, and rather curious. He had been a wolf for a very long time: uninterested in The Change. A big broad male: black and gray colored with a splash of white across his face and a smudge of black under his nose like a mustache, he was still as a statue in the shade of the aspen trees. Only his eyes moved, watching the big red-headed human and the wolf kin moving back and forth between the human place and the stinking box they had arrived in. He bared his fangs at the memory of that smell. His nostrils flared, picking up information from the passing breeze: the wolf kin was a female, but he already knew that by the timbre of her bark. But the human was male. A musky, healthy smelling human and the wolf felt the pull of The Changing in him. He had been a wolf for a very long time.. perhaps too long.
By the time it was getting dark, I was beat. I made a couple of sandwiches and stretched out on the couch to eat and read. I must have drifted off to sleep because suddenly I was jerked to awareness by a howl: echoing off the nearby mountains was the sound of a lone wolf. Howling his loneliness to the world? Cherie's ears were up and quivering. She whimpered and ran to the door. I followed her and opened it just as another howl cut through the silence of the night. Goosebumps traveled down my neck and across my back and I hugged myself.
The moonlight reflected off the barn and the Rover parked close to the front porch, turning everything a liquid silvery color. The presence of the vehicle was in an odd way reassuring; I could always leave this place if necessary. The unseen wolf howled again. This time it sounded less lonely and more in tune with the dark beauty of the trees and the moon. I stood there in awe contemplating how I could capture that sound visually. I hugged myself again.
There were no more howls and after a few minutes Cherie and I went back into the cabin. I cleaned up the living room and Cherie followed me down the hall to the bedroom. I had squeezed her bed into the space between the head of the bed and the closet door; she ran to it and curled up. I scratched her ears then stripped and crawled into bed.
The boy was unsteady on his feet. He hadn't walked on two legs in a very long time. But the memory of the red-headed human male had made him curious and hungry for contact with two legged creatures. He half walked and half crawled up the steps to the door. It was locked, but locks had no real power to keep him out and he pushed the door open softly. His only concern was the wolf kin: would she bark? He hoped not, he didn't want to wake the red one. He murmured a soft sleep spell hoping he said it right. His voice was harsh from lack of use and he wasn't certain that he wasn't mixing up his languages. He sighed. Still in the half crawl, he made a circuit around the room. The red-head's scent was everywhere: musky and inviting.
Straightening up he walked slowly down the hall, using the wall for balance. He paused in the doorway to the sleeping den. The red-head was asleep and so was the wolf kin. The boy crossed the room and looked down at the sleeping man. He had been old, so very old, when this man had been born. He sighed again. The boy reached out and softly stroked the man's cheek, it was bristly and the boy smiled. He leaned down and touched his lips to the man's temple, the red-head shifted in his sleep. The boy walked around to the other side of the bed and lay down. He wondered what it would feel like to have the red one's arms around him. He smiled and his eyes closed slowly.
There were no more disturbances and I awoke well into the morning feeling strangely rested. I had not slept a full night in over six months. I stretched and shifted in the bed. Glancing casually at the second pillow on the bed, I sat up straight in shock. On the pillow was the clear impression of a head! I leaped out of bed and ran down the hall. There was no one in the living room or kitchen and the doors and windows were as securely locked as I had left them the night before. Shivering in the morning chill I searched the cabin, but there was no one there except Cherie and me. Still I had seen that impression on the pillow!
I paused in front of the full-length mirror in the hall outside the bathroom. Looking back at me through ice-blue eyes was a tall, broad shouldered man with shaggy red hair. I had been blessed with a complexion that barely freckled so there were only a couple of freckles on my nose and a light spray of freckles across my shoulders. Thick red chest hair covered my pecs and belly with a light covering of hair on my arms and legs. I wondered about growing out my beard to fit the "mountain man" image, but decided against it. I preferred being clean-shaven.
For the rest of the day the image on the pillow stayed with me. Cherie reconned around the whole cabin and the barn when I first let her out, investigating and barking. Something had been up to the cabin during the night, perhaps the wolf we had heard earlier? However we saw nothing out of the ordinary that morning or for the rest of the day. And there were no further disturbances that night or the following morning.
The third morning after arriving at the cabin I heard a noise outside. Puzzled I went to the door and stepped out onto the porch. Standing in front of me was a large black and white horse with a white mane and forelock. Startled I stepped back. Cherie barked at the horse, which shook its head and whickered.
"Oh, I'm sorry."
My head cranked around following the voice and found a young girl of about 17, standing by the porch. She had light brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and denim jacket. She came up and patted the horse on the neck.
"You must be Jake's cousin," she said looking up at me.
"Yes." I said. "I'm Joash Gardner."
"Jo-Ash," she rolled the name around her mouth like wine.
I grinned at her. "It's an old biblical name of a king."
"OH! Wow, that's cool." She held out her hand. "I'm Karleen Smithson and this is Pelka."
Karleen introduced me to Pelka as solemnly as if she was presenting the Queen. I was intrigued by the horse and the artist in me was fascinated by the ripple and play of her muscles. I wondered how she would come out in my art.
Karleen was patient with me, teaching me how to tend for Pelka. I received a crash course in feeding, cleaning and saddling her. Karleen was lighthearted and laughed easily. I found myself grinning in return.
"Remember, Pelka doesn't like the saddle girth tight around her belly and she'll suck in air to make herself fatter," Karleen grinned, her eyes dancing with mischief. "So you MUST make sure you pull the belt to the sixth hole." She giggled, "Or you'll be bouncing along and suddenly be UNDERneath her!"
I grinned at her, both of us visualizing the red-headed greenhorn upside down under the horse. I patted Pelka on the side and solemnly vowed to make certain of the tightness of my girth before leaping into the saddle.
"With my luck," I said with a grin, "I'd just keep on going over the other side!"
Karleen laughed, "I've seen that happen before!"
By the time she left, on her own horse which had been hitched to the corral fence, I had put on and taken off Pelka's saddle a dozen times, figured out the bridle, and hitched up the sled several times. I had been given a crash course in feeding, grooming and mucking out of stables. Horse 101 in three hours!
"Oh, you'll be okay," Karleen assured me before leaving. "Pelka is the sweetest girl. She'll take good care of you. Besides I'll come up next weekend and see how you're doing."
Sounds good! Thanks!" I said
I watched Karleen ride off towards the road thinking she would be a pleasant friend to have around, someone to talk to on occasion. She was good looking enough but I wasn't attracted to her romantically. After the storm of my divorce, I wasn't in any rush to put myself back into that situation again! From high up in the trees on the hillside, came a wolf howl. I jumped, startled and hugged myself again.
The wolf watched the human female leave. He growled softly. The red one was his! His tail thumped the ground and he felt a howl bubble up in his throat. Across the hills, the howl echoed. The red one looked up into the trees, but the wolf knew the human couldn't see him. With a short snarl, he disappeared into the undergrowth.
Over the following weeks, Cherie, Pelka and I fell into a kind of routine. We rose early in the morning, ate, then a short hike, often bringing in wood, returning to work in the studio for much of the rest of the day. I read a quite a bit and wandered the hills studying and sketching virtually everything: turning it over in my fertile imagination and carving the end results. We soon learned to tell when small things had changed in an area we had been in a week or so prior. On one of my trips into town I had bought several "survival" books on living in the mountains. I was reluctant to try some of the food mentioned but come spring I'd hunt up wild berries. Many nights I heard the wolf howling, sometimes close by, sometimes far away. The howl echoing eerily through the hills and I began to understand the love and fear we humans had for those creatures.
Karleen came up a couple times and we went riding and foraging for wood. She taught me about horses and I taught her what to look for in wood for carving. We became firm friends.
I made weekly trips into town to buy supplies, get more books and ship my carvings off to art galleries for sale. I also called my mother so she could have plenty to complain about to her friends at home. Mother had raised worry to an art form.
One afternoon shortly after the first of October, I was drowsing, half asleep in the saddle when a movement out the corner of my eye caught my attention. I cranked my head around in time to see a flash of brown and gray disappear into the trees. At first I wasn't sure what it was but slowly I started to think, perhaps it was the wolf. Why had he come so close, I wondered puzzled?
"A wolf?" the Fish and Game Warden asked in confusion, when I inquired about wolves on my next visit into town. "There haven't been wolves in these mountains in probably seventy-five to a hundred years. There's wolves up in Yellowstone, but we're too far south of there for wolves."
"But I'm hearing one," I insisted.
"Well..." he paused thoughtfully. "I'll make a note of it and pass that information along to the Game Wardens and the Forest Rangers in your area. Maybe it's a loner, got separated from it's pack."
I shrugged. My next stop was the library. It was a small building tucked comfortably into a stand of oak trees. For a small library it had an amazing range of books and a very active inter-library loan. I was already becoming a familiar face and when I asked where to find books on wolves, the librarian merely smiled and led me into the stacks.
Much to my surprise I discovered I was carving wolves. Not that kitschy howling wolf you see in displays of Southwestern art, but graceful, flowing images of wolves in motion. Sound given shape and dimension, emotion with solidity. There was a majesty in the pictures of wolves in the books I checked out that reached deep into my soul and came out in my carving. Wild, free, lords of the forest, neither time nor man had managed to eradicate the wolf. I was pleased with my result and so was my agent, Anna, the next time I called her.
"You have never produced anything more beautiful, Joash. Whatever your inspiration is: KEEP A HOLD OF IT! Maybe I should have moved you into the middle of nowhere years ago!" Anna said with a laugh. "And what are you doing on the phone? GO! GO! Go sculpt!"
I hung up with a laugh and returned to the Rover. The small town was sleepy on this early Sunday morning. Only the convenience store was open; I filled up the Rover's tank and bought a few things, mostly junk. I'd start stocking up for winter pretty soon, but right now autumn was lying over the mountains like a cozy, warm, chaotically colored blanket. Leaves were falling and they swirled up into the air as I pulled up by the cabin. For as far back as I could remember, I've loved the sound of dry leaves scratching across a sidewalk in a breeze or the sound of them being crunched as I walked through them. I smiled as Cherie ran around crunching leaves and barking in pleasure at being home.
I started up the porch steps; carrying the soda I'd bought in town, and stopped dead, one foot suspended in air. Across the porch was a row of tracks! The tracks were clear as if they had been stamped there: doglike but twice the size of Cherie's.
"The wolf," I thought.
He, I assumed it was a he because of the size of those prints, had been up on my porch! My first thought was Pelka and I dropped the soda and ran towards the barn. Cherie joined me barking enthusiastically. The barn was secured, both main and side doors shut; the drop bars in place. I lifted the bar on the front door with shaky hands and peered inside. Pelka whinnied. I practically ran across the stable to her. She butted my chest with her head. I scratched her neck and withers; she shook her head and whickered in pleasure. Relief sapped me of any energy and for several minutes I just leaned against her breathing in the musky aroma of horse.
I spent the rest of the day looking over my shoulder and going to the door just to look out across the yard. Pelka was in her corral, I had been worried about letting her out but it seemed so unfair to make her stay inside. Especially as there seemed to be no threat in the wolf's behavior, it was more like he was checking up on his new neighbors!
Several nights later, I awoke in a sweat, my heart racing. From far off I heard the wolf howling, but this howl sounded like an invitation.
"Come to me" it said. My head was full of images from the dream I had been having: images of a slender, lithe, dark-haired boy. He was beckoning to me, promising to protect me. His face floated in front of my eyes: thick, dark hair and large golden eyes framed by thick black lashes. There was something wild about the boy that I couldn't put my finger on, but it attracted me powerfully!
I rolled out of bed and hobbled down the hall to the bathroom. I hadn't dreamed or thought about boys since my early teens! I was puzzled and slightly confused. Maybe it was stress or some leftover from my divorce, but the memory of the boy looking at me with those gold eyes shot frissons of pleasure across my belly into my groin.
Over the next week, I dreamed of the boy three more times. Each time I woke up surprised to find myself alone and in my own bed. The third dream had the boy in it and a wolf: THE wolf, somehow I knew it was the wolf, my wolf, as I was starting to think of him. Gray and brown with a slash of white across his face: the wolf's face overlapped and merged with the face of the boy. That image sent me running for my sketchpad and by evening I had down on paper what I wanted to carve. I knew exactly which piece of wood I wanted for it: a piece of very dark burl that I had chopped out of a dead stump and held in my hands thinking that whatever came out of it would be very special.
The sculpture took me about four days: four days of carving, sanding and polishing, but when it was finished even I was amazed. Somehow, out of that chunk of wood, I had pulled both a human and a wolf face and managed to overlap them so it wasn't a human with a snout and ears or a wolf with a flat humanoid face, but truly a combination of both: an optical illusion depending on how the head was viewed.
I slumped back in my chair and just stared at the head. A shiver ran down my back. It was the boy from my dream. I was exhausted, physically drained by the effort of reaching so deep inside myself and for several minutes I could nothing but sit there staring at the head. When was I finally able to move I stumbled into the house and into my bedroom. Falling onto the bed, my last thought before sleep overtook me was "Anna will be very pleased."
The boy balanced on the window ledge. He hadn't seen the red one all day and he was concerned. The red one hadn't left this room for longer than a minute or two in days. Whatever could have been keeping him in there? And where was he now? The room was empty. The boy stepped lightly onto the table under the window then hopped to the floor. He was steadier on his feet this time. He peered around with eyes accustomed to seeing in the dark. His heart took a wild leap in his chest as he recognized his own head sitting on a stand in the middle of the room. He circled it slowly, sniffing cautiously. It smelled of wood and chemicals. He slowly reached out and touched it, his fingers sliding over the smooth grain. He smiled softly. The red one paid attention to his dreams, unlike the majority of humans.
The boy pulled open the door into the main room and stepped inside. The red one's scent was everywhere: heady and intoxicating. There was a low growl from the hallway. The wolf kin was watching and guarding her human. The boy made a soft noise and a short yip, the kin looked confused. He approached her slowly repeating the yip. She sniffed him, the wolf smell filling her nostrils. She rubbed her head against his leg and whimpered in pleasure. The boy rubbed her ears and scratched her back. Now she knew the wolf, he would never be a stranger to her again.
The red one was sleeping, a heavy deep sleep that frightened the boy. He touched the red one's mind gently. He was all right, only exhausted mentally and physically. The boy lightly kissed his temple again. Now the red one was marked by an ancient creature, all other ancients would see it on him.
The boy left him sleeping. The kin followed him up the hall. Cherie, he had heard the red one call her. Cherie told him she was hungry, thirsty and needed to go outside. He let her out. The wolf yearned to run with her but not now. Not yet. She came in and showed him where her food was and after some experimenting he was able to get her some water as well. The boy stroked her thick fur. Not as fine as his fur but soft and beautiful nevertheless. But the boy wasn't interested in the kin. He wanted the red one.
I slept for two days straight without waking either to piss or to eat. I didn't dream either. I finally woke early in the morning as a stray sunbeam slid across my face. I stretched feeling relaxed and rested. Cherie's tail thumped the wall and she stretched up to lick my face. I smiled and rubbed her ears. I started to slide back into sleep when I glanced at my clock and saw the date. I sat up abruptly and threw the blankets back. Two days! My animals must be starved! And the doors, had I locked them before falling asleep? And what about the wolf? Had he been up to the house? Pelka! Was she all right?
I threw on clothes and shoes and ran out to the barn, Cherie as usual hot on my heels. Poor Cherie hadn't been out in two days and her first stop was a pit stop. Pelka was lazily cropping grass in the corral and must have thought I was nuts when I vaulted the fence and ran to her. I had been so certain I was going to find a half eaten horse in the corral. Pelka snorted and shook her head at me. I leaned against her breathing heavily. The rational part of my brain exerted itself and reminded me that, based on what I'd read, a full-grown horse was most likely a match for a lone wolf. Not to mention that wolves rarely went after as healthy of prey as Pelka.
I hurriedly fed her and checked her water trough. She munched and whickered at me, perhaps sensing my agitation. While she ate, I gave her a good brushing, working out some of the guilt I felt for sleeping so long. Pelka twisted her head back several times and butted my shoulder or lipped at my hair. I patted her neck and promised to bring her a couple of apples next time.
I returned to the cabin feeling relaxed and recharged and ready to do some serious work. First of all I fed Cherie and gave her fresh water, both of which she wolfed down. The door out to the studio was standing open and a cold draft came through it. I walked out there and stopped in shock. One of the windows stood open and, I guessed by the leaves on the floor, had been open for sometime . I hurried over to the window and shut it, my heart pounding loud enough to hear in the quiet room. Turning from the window, my eye fell on the head of the boy/wolf. It took my breath away.
"I made that?" I asked the empty room.
There was no one there to answer, but in the wood shavings on the floor, sheltered from the blowing wind by the workbench was the print of a bare foot. Unmistakably it was a five-toed human foot, not mine, it was much too small for one thing and for another I would never go barefoot into the studio. I had too much respect for the sharpness of my tools and splinters in my hands were bad enough without running one into my foot!
I leaned across the bench to look out the window, I'm not sure what I was expecting to see outside, but there was no one there. However, in the center of the bench was another footprint, a left one this time. So now I knew how the person had entered the studio, I just had no idea HOW he had got the window open! Fear trickled down my back. Cherie, who had been nosing around the room, reached the print and gave a little woof. She rubbed her head against the floor obliterating the print completely. I stared at her. Someone HAD been in the house; someone had taken care of Cherie while I slept. But who? Who was there up here? It couldn't have been Karleen, she'd have knocked and come in through the door. I was shaking now.
Suddenly I bolted out of the studio. I was out to the Rover, keys in hand before I stopped moving. I leaned against the Rover shaking. Someone HAD been in my house and more than once! Someone had left a head impression in my pillow the first night. But who? Or what? I shivered again. Far away I heard a wolf howl, I turned toward the sound. Cherie raised her head and barked loudly. Her bark bounced off the hills and rolled off into the trees. There was another short howl, then silence. The hills were still: listening, waiting. I pushed off of the Rover. I would need a better latch for that window, I thought as I walked back up the stairs and into the cabin.
After that scare, there were no more surprise visits, though many times I found wolf tracks around the house and barn. True to Jake's prediction, we had snow by the third week of October. Cherie was thrilled and ran around chasing snowflakes and barking. I was less pleased as I stomped down a path to the barn and shoveled the area in front of the barn doors.
The morning of November first dawned sunny and clear of falling snow for the first time in two weeks. I was standing on the porch admiring the blanket of snow in my "front yard" and sipping a cup of coffee when I heard engine noise coming from the road behind the house. I was puzzled by the noise since I was certain that the road was impassable due to snow. A moment later a snowmobile pulled around the front of the house and stopped. A begoggled young man about my age hopped off and stamped his feet. He pushed up the goggles and untwisted his scarf.
"Hullo!" he said, he pulled his gloves off and blew on his hands.
"Good Morning. Not often I get visitors up here," I said, holding out my hand.
He grinned and shook my hand with a firm grip. His face was ruddy from cold but his eyes were bright green. I found myself grinning back at him. Cherie circled him, sniffing and then offered him a kiss. He laughed and scratched her ears.
"I'm Forest Ranger Dan Green, call me Dan. This is my area." His eyes twinkled in mischief.
"Come in," I said stepping backwards and opening the door. Cherie swept in ahead of me. "Have a cup of coffee."
"Don't mind if I do," he said.
Dan stomped his feet on the porch and followed me inside. Inside the cabin he peeled out of his parka and followed me into the kitchen. He leaned against the door and took the cup of coffee I offered him. He blew on it and took a sip.
"Ahh that's good." he sighed and waved away the sugar. "Nope, I'm a he man! Have to have my coffee black!" He chuckled, his eyes sparkling.
"So you're Jake Samuels' cousin? He told me you were watching the place this year for him." Dan studied me over the rim of his cup.
"Yeah, that's me. Joash Gardner," I said.
"Jake says you're an artist?"
"I'm a sculptor. But instead of stone, I carve wood."
"That's cool," Dan sipped his coffee. "But what brings you out here? Inspiration dry up in the city?"
I studied his face: it was open and appeared genuinely interested. I found myself liking him and for the first time in months I started to talk about my divorce and it's aftermath. Dan listened without interrupting. He nodded sympathetically and made occasional soft noises of understanding.
"Well, I'm terribly sorry for you," he said when I finished. "Sounds like you did the right thing though, a little breathing room is always a good thing." He grinned. "And there's plenty of room for breathing up here!"
I laughed and asked if he wanted to see the studio. He nodded and I led him out to the studio. He admired my pieces enthusiastically until he got to the boy/wolf head. He stopped and stared at it. He walked around it, then around it again. He looked up at me.
"That's amazing," he said softly. "Absolutely amazing."
"Yes," I said. "I'm not sure just where it came from but here it is anyway!"
"I'm speechless," Dan said.
"Well.." I paused. "I have been hearing a wolf howl and I guess my subconscious just put it together with a boy." I blushed. I wasn't willing to discuss with him the dreams I had of the boy inviting me to come to him and promising to protect me.
"Yeah, I got the report from Fish and Game. A wolf huh? Haven't seen one of those since the last time I was in Yellowstone." He peered into his cup thoughtfully. "Wouldn't mind havin' 'em back except for the fuss the ranchers would put up. Which reminds me!"He looked up at me and flashed that grin of his again.
"The reason I'm here is not to empty your coffee pot." I grinned at Dan and he grinned back, and then went on speaking, "I came up here to warn you about reports we have received of a cougar in the area. We THINK it's a female, which may mean kittens somewhere, or at least youngsters. Keep your eyes open and beware."
I swallowed and nodded. "Jake warned me about animals."
"Yeah, well it was their home first, so..." Dan's voice trailed off and he stared into his mug again.
"I'll be careful," I said. "I have a rifle and I'm pretty good with it." I held up my hand as Dan opened his mouth to speak, "but I'll take care and try not to put myself into the path of a cougar!"
He nodded. "You wouldn't believe how many guys we get up here that think just because they can hit a paper target, they are qualified to stand up against 100 plus pounds of charging cat!"
"Wow" I said. I was half hoping I'd get to see the cougar: from a safe distance, I was no fool, only an artist looking for inspiration.
Dan stayed and chatted for about another hour. We both drank several cups of coffee and discussed everything from snow to politics. I found myself liking him quite a lot.
"Say, you don't have a radio up here, do you? Phones won't work but a good CB will keep you in contact with the Ranger station if need be or the Smithsons down below."
"No I don't. I guess I'm not quite as prepared as I thought," I said with chagrin.
Dan patted me on the back. "It's okay. I'll drop one by the next time I'm up here."
I started to protest but he assured me that it was no bother. I made a mental note to pay him for the radio when he brought it. Dan bundled back up and I followed him out onto the porch. The sun was warm and the snow sparkled like tiny diamonds. I squinted against the light.
"Just be careful, okay Joash?"
"I will," I promised.
I watched Dan disappear around the side of the house with a sudden feeling of loss. For a minute I was tempted to run after him and invite him back. I'm lonely, I told myself. But deep down I wondered if that was the real reason. I had been, for lack of a better term, attracted to Dan. I shook my head in confusion- I had been married after all! I couldn't be gay! And while my marriage had failed, it wasn't because I didn't love her or couldn't have sex with her! I returned to the studio to take some of my frustrations out on a chunk of wood.
November came and went with the speed of the wind. I managed to get into town on Thanksgiving and called my mother. She was relieved to hear from me and her relief went almost instantly into hysteria when I told her the roads were nearly impassable and not to panic if I didn't call again for a while. I listened to her rant and then cry and finally to beg me to come home.
"I am home, Mom." I said simply.
The week after Thanksgiving I met the cougar. Cherie and I were lying on the floor in front of the fireplace, Cherie drowsing and I reading. Suddenly the quiet of the night was shattered by a blood-curdling scream that brought both Cherie and I to our feet instantly. It sounded like a woman was being beaten in our yard! But what woman would be up here and at this time of night? The scream was repeated. I ran for the door stopping only long enough to grab and load my rifle and grab the powerful flashlight I kept by the door. As I opened the door Cherie surged past me and ran out into the yard barking. The scream was repeated from behind the barn. From inside the barn I could hear the sounds of hoofs. Cherie ran towards the barn and I followed, my rifle ready to fire.
I came around the edge of the building and stopped. Framed in the light was the biggest cat I had ever seen, this cougar had to be almost 120 pounds! I swallowed and backed up. Cherie barked and the cat screamed again. I dropped my gun and clapped my hands to my ears. This close the scream drove deep into my ears and rattled me all the way to my toenails.
After a moment I realized I was standing in front of a full-grown hungry female cougar completely unarmed! Instinct told me to just stay still and make no sudden moves. Slowly I eased my foot forward and pulled the gun to me. The cougar screamed again and lashed her tail. Cherie snarled, baring her fangs. The cat's tail snapped and she disappeared into the darkness. Cherie started after it but I called her back. That cat would make a meal out of my girl!
Cherie and I did a cautious recon around the barn but the cat was gone. I opened the barn door and went in to soothe Pelka who was sweating and shaking in fear. I stroked her neck and spoke softly to her. Remembering Karleen's cautions about letting her get chilled after sweating, I found a towel and wiped her down. Gradually she calmed down and butted my shoulder with her head. I gave her a good rub down and a brushing.
"From now on, it's in the stable by dark for you m'girl," I said with a laugh.
"Well that's a new one for me," I thought, "imposing a curfew on a horse!"
As I stepped out into the night, a wolf howl cut through the night. He was close tonight, I thought. A breeze brushed my cheek, light as a finger stroking my skin. I shivered. Another howl rolled out of the darkness, softer, gentler, a loving howl. I waved in the direction of the sound.
"Sweet dreams to you to," I whispered.
The wolf had followed the cat to the human place. He disliked cats immensely. The wolf waited in the shadows watching the cat, she wanted into the horse place. She wanted the horse. The horse was part of the red one's pack, the wolf would never consider her food. The cat was loud tonight, the wolf thought with disdain. Hunger was making her careless.
Suddenly the red one appeared: he had a bright light in one hand and a gun in the other. The wolf hadn't lived so long without knowing what a gun was and he retreated a little further into the shadows. But he was afraid, afraid for the red one. He was very brave, this human, but very unwise to startle a cougar. The wolf waited. The cat screamed in defiance and the kin, Cherie, he was pleased to remember her name, barked loudly in return. The cat crouched and the wolf tensed up, but the cat slipped into the darkness leaving the red one and the kin behind. The red one went into the horse place and the wolf waited.
When the red one returned outside, the wolf howled in pleasure at seeing him again. The red one stopped: listening. The wolf howled again softer this time, the man turned and waved his hand and then spoke. His voice tickled the wolf's ears, a deep strong voice, the wolf was pleased. He disappeared into the darkness.
The following afternoon, Dan appeared on his snowmobile. He brought me the radio he'd promised. I was out in my studio; I heard him and looked up as he drove past the windows. By the time he got around the house I was waiting on the porch.
"I should buy me one of those things," I said, gesturing to the snowmobile.
"Yeah, they are great for getting around," he said with a grin. "Just make sure you know where they are and aren't allowed."
I gestured to the door and offered him another cup of coffee. He smiled and accepted. I was pleased to have company; I hadn't realized how lonesome I was until he showed up. He followed me in with a sigh of pleasure.
Dan set up the radio and showed me how to use it, all the while balancing a cup of hot coffee in his left hand. I told him about the cougar and he went pale. I was oddly pleased to see his reaction.
"I've never been that close to a cougar! At least not without there being bars between us. She must have kittens to feed if she's getting that close to people." He paused and looked deep into his mug. After a moment, he looked up at me.
"You will be careful, won't you?" He asked softly
"Oh yes," I replied. "I have no interest in messing with her. However, I will defend myself and protect my animals."
Dan nodded, "I would expect no less."
I blushed and looked into my own cup. I wasn't sure exactly what I was feeling but it was making me feel suddenly shy. To cover my embarrassment, I started to talk about how much I was enjoying being at the cabin and how different it was from winter in the city. Dan laughed and we talked for quite a while and drank several more cups of coffee before he left.
Over the next two weeks, I heard the cat scream several times. But usually it was far away. I made certain the barn was secure; much as I hated doing it, I started chaining the barn doors shut so a paw couldn't raise the bar. I was determined to keep Pelka safe. On the nights the cat didn't come around I heard the wolf howling. There was something almost defiant in the howl. I had the feeling, standing on my porch, that he was warning the other creatures of the night to stay away!
A new snow about a week before Christmas finally rendered me completely cut off. I couldn't get down the road in the Rover and the snow was nearly as hard for Pelka to walk in as it was for me. I talked to Dan for a bit on the radio and he promised to get up to visit as soon as he could, but he was swamped with Park Service duties and wasn't sure when that would be. I was pleased anyway; I had a small gift for him. I also had one for Karleen, who promised to come up soon as some of the snow melted off and her horse could get up the road. So I was feeling very alone, one night just dozing on my bed, when a sudden crash from the yard brought me flying down the hall to the door. Cherie shot out the door when I opened it and I heard the cat scream and then Cherie barking.
I swore softly. The crash I had heard was the woodpile under the lean-to next to the barn: the cat was trying to get into the barn. I've never dressed faster in my life and in no time was running across the yard to the barn, loaded rifle in hand. Cherie was barking and as I got there she leaped at the cat. The cat swatted at her and slid down the woodpile some more. She screamed in anger. Cherie leaped at her again. I was afraid of hitting Cherie if I tried shooting the cat. I turned the gun around and swung the butt at the cat. It bounced off her shoulder rattling me all the way down my back.
The cat slid down the woodpile some more. Cherie snarled and leaped. The cat's paw caught her and she squealed in pain and rolled across the snow. The cat scrabbled at the wood trying to regain its balance.
"Cherie!" I yelled and ran stumbling through the snow to her.
Cherie wasn't badly hurt and was on her feet by the time I got to her. The cat meanwhile had managed to get to solid ground. She stood there looking at us, her tail lashing in anger. Cherie started barking again and the cat hissed in fury at her. The cat's back was to the barn door and I could hear Pelka crying in fear inside.
I pulled Cherie down the yard toward the corral. I was hoping maybe we could get the cat to run if its back was no longer against the door. I really didn't want to kill the cat, but I wasn't sure that I would have any choice in the matter. The cat crouched and snarled. Suddenly it leaped! I jumped backwards and slipped in the snow, landing hard on my right hip.
"Holy!" I thought. "Well this is it!"
I lifted my gun, I wasn't going to be able to shoot it but I was hoping to jam it into the cat's throat. Cherie lunged toward the cat when suddenly out of the darkness burst a furry cannonball. It was the wolf, my wolf and he hit the cat sharply in the side. The cat screamed and twisted around trying to get at the wolf. She landed and skidded on the snow. Both Cherie and the wolf were on her before she could regain her footing. The cat screamed in pain and anger. She twisted around and reared up. Cherie tumbled across the snow, then leaped to her feet barking.
The wolf had also been knocked off. He stood panting, his teeth bared and shining in the light from the house. He was a big, broad shouldered creature, easily weighing 100 pounds or more. He was more than a match for the cat, even though the cat had the advantage of longer front legs and sharp claws. He growled a low noise that made the hair on my neck rise, then leaped and sank his fangs into the cat's shoulder. The cat reared up screaming. I covered my ears again as pain shattered through my head. The cat shook her head swinging the wolf around liked a dishrag. Cherie leaped at the cat's flank and the cat screamed as her teeth sank into the tender flesh. The cat gave her head a snap and sent the wolf flying.
The wolf was back in flash. He snarled and leaped between her paws aiming for her throat this time. But the cat wasn't falling for that; she swung her paw out and caught the wolf who howled in pain. Cherie leaped at her and sank her teeth into the cat's paw. The cat screamed. My gun was unless in such tight quarters and I was afraid of shooting Cherie or the wolf but I swung the butt at the cat again. This time it connected with her head: the percussion from the blow threatened to dislocate my shoulder and for a minute my hands were numb.
The wolf leaped on the cat again. She twisted her body around trying to bite him. I could see blood flowing from a half dozen places in her sides. Cherie moved in again and the cat's paw caught her and sent her arcing across the yard. Cherie howled in pain and hit the ground lying very still. My knees wobbled and I thought I was going to puke. My girl! My Cherie. I stumbled to her and dropped into the snow beside her. She was breathing hard and whimpering. I cradled her head, tears running down my face.
Looking back at the cat and the wolf, all I could see was gold and gray twisted around each other. I heard the cat screech and she reared up again. The wolf growled and leaped again. This time the cat caught him in the side and he flew across the yard with a howl of pain. Like Cherie, he hit the ground and didn't move. Cherie struggled to her feet and stood shaking and growling.
The cat was also shaking and panting. Cherie took a couple wobbly steps towards her. She snarled and with a lash of her tail turned and limped out into the darkness. I grabbed up my gun and flashlight and limped after her. She disappeared into the darkness of the nearby trees and I wasn't fool enough to chase her. I hobbled back to Cherie.
Cherie was nosing the still wolf. A lump formed in my throat.
"Oh God, no," I whispered. "Dear God NO!"
Almost as if he had heard me, the wolf suddenly jerked to its feet. He stood panting. His fur was matted with blood, his and the cat's, and his sides heaved as he struggled to breathe. I started towards him and he growled, a low growl that sent chills down my back.
"Easy boy," I said softly and stepped forward again.
He growled again, louder this time and I was close enough to see the wildness in his eyes. Pain maddened, I decided and I backed up slowly. He had taken on a full-grown cougar; I had no doubts about his ability to take me down. He shook his head and throwing it back let out a long howl. The sound was pure triumph, the howl of victory. It echoed across the hills and disappeared into the night. The wolf turned and started away. Cherie ran to him and he turned to her and growled. She backed up and he limped off into the night.
The wolf hurt in every fiber of his body, but he had saved the red one. Pain pounded through his blood stream and his only thought was that he needed to sleep. He needed to rest. He wasn't sure he could get to his den with what little energy he had left, but he had other hiding places. The red one approached him speaking softly. The human's voice was gentle but the wolf instincts were in control and he growled at him "Leave me alone." The wolf threw up his head in triumph and howled. He howled for all the world to hear: he had driven the cat away and protected his pack. He started to limp away. The kin ran to him. "Leave me, take care of him," he growled. The kin whined in assent and backed up. The wolf limped off into the night. He needed sleep and he needed to hide, he was badly hurt. Very badly indeed.
Tired and aching in every muscle, I dragged myself into the barn to check on Pelka. I was afraid she might have hurt herself in her panic. She was unharmed and through a blur of pain I wiped her down. She butted my shoulder and whinnied repeatedly. After finishing in the barn, Cherie and I limped up to the cabin. I was tired and sore and almost unable to move, but I was worried about Cherie's injuries becoming infected. Somehow I managed to get a hot bath started and her into it. I washed her: scrubbing the claw marks to remove any trace of dirt or blood. With the last bit of my strength, I cleaned myself and then crawled into bed.
I woke quite late the following day and except for the bruises down my right hip, I would have thought the night before had been a dream. I checked Cherie over and hugged her. There was a gash across her nose, but fortunately the claws had missed her eyes. Also fortunately for her, she had her winter coat and the thick fur had protected her from the cougar's claws. My girl, she had been ready to lay down her life to protect Pelka and me. I hugged her again. I fixed a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs because I was starving; after eating and feeding Cherie, I headed out to the barn to tend to Pelka.
I stood at the site of the last night's battle, my mouth literally hanging open in shock. The ground was a churned up circle of snow and mud with blood staining the snow rusty. My stomach rolled up and I staggered over to the fence and emptied its contents into the corral. Turning around, I saw Cherie sniffing the mess. She looked at me and started whining.
I walked over to her and stroked her ears. The tracks of the cat and the wolf were spread out in front of me. I moved around the circle, images of the last night's fight running through my head. My booted foot slipped and I steadied myself with a hand against the ground. My hand came away muddy and sticky with blood. My stomach rolled again. I limped up to where I last saw the wolf. A trail of bloody tracks led off into the woods. I stared up the track and then turned back to the barn and the mess in front of it. I looked back up the track.
"Come on Cherie!" I yelled, straightening up. "We can't just leave him out there to die! Not after he saved us!"
I sprinted for the house, Cherie hot on my heels. Suddenly I wasn't as sore as I had been: my aches were washed away in a flood of adrenaline. Inside I dug my backpack out of the closet and raced for the bathroom. I threw several towels into it and the first aid kit, I had found in the linen closet. I wasn't sure what first aid for a wolf would entail but it was better than nothing. Into the bag I threw food and several bottles of water for me. I filled a plastic serving bowl with dog food and sealed it then shoved it into the pack as well. I also grabbed several blankets; I would replace them if they got ruined. On my way out the door, I grabbed my rifle and a box of ammo which I shoved into the pack as well.
Cherie and I ran to the barn, carefully avoiding the battle circle. I was certain the wolf would go deep into the woods where the Rover couldn't get to him, but Pelka should be able to get me to wherever he was holed up. And holed up he was certain to be, I had read enough about wolf behavior to understand that. He would be hiding waiting for his injuries to heal. Quickly I saddled and hitched Pelka up to the sled. I threw the blankets onto the sled with my pack and jammed my gun into the saddle holster: I was praying I wouldn't have to use it for any reason.
Pelka shied when she got to the scene of the fighting and I hurriedly led her past it. Cherie was nosing the spot where we last saw the wolf; she looked up at me and woofed softly. I squatted down and scratched her ears.
"Find him, Cherie! Find the wolf!"
She licked my face and leaped forward. She ran up the track about 100 yards then turned and barked at me. I grabbed the saddle horn and leaped onto Pelka. Gathering up the reins, I tapped her sides with my heels.
"C'mon Pelka, let's go find a wolf!"
Pelka neighed and started after Cherie at a swift, smooth pace. The cold air brushed my face and I leaned forward. Pelka followed Cherie up the track. I shifted in my seat impatiently. I would find him! I would save him, I owed him that. He had pulled something artistically out of me that I hadn't known I possessed and I owed my life to that wild creature and his howl.
October 21, 2004
Well, golly, I had it all written and then in that half time before completely falling asleep the wolf walked in and started to talk to me. So I added about three more pages of narrative. I'm not sure about the shifting narrative but It was interesting to try to get into the head of a werewolf. AHHHWOOOOOO!
Revised July 8, 2006