Mercy
Paw prints were scattered to and fro across the glade. In places, it was dappled with black spots that would look red in any other light. But fresh snow continued to fall like silvery petals, layering a touch of beauty over the cruel evidence of the terrible battle. Soon, any evidence of what had happened here would be buried and gone.
Cathryn stepped into the glade and stopped. From a distance it might have been easy to mistake her for a bear. She remained still, watching the trees, her shoulders moving with each heavy and laboured breath. There was sweat on her brow, and weary bags hung under her bloodshot eyes. Soft flakes settled on her furs.
Ylva stood beside her, scanning the clearing, taking in the scent of soil and bark and something else; something wild and dark. Her gaze settled on the shape of the wolf lying trampled at the base of the tree. She was sure it was dead but, as if to prove her wrong, the creature moved. It lifted its head, trying to turn in their direction. The effort was too much. It whimpered and collapsed back into the snow.
‘He’s a strong one,’ Cathryn whispered, and for a moment they stayed where they were, looking from the wolf to the trees and back again, waiting to see if the bear would return.
‘Is it one of them?’ Ylva asked. ‘The Ulfhednar?’
‘A man in the form of a wolf? No, of course not. Wolves are wolves and men are men. There’s nothing magic about the half-skulls. Remember what Bron’s arrows did to them; you saw it with your own eyes.’
‘So it’s just a wolf?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then it’s cruel to leave the poor creature like that.’
Cathryn nodded once. They understood each other. There was only one thing they could do for the wolf.
Ylva drew her knife, and went deeper into the glade. Cathryn followed, but when Ylva crouched beside the wounded animal, Cathryn remained standing.
Ylva was almost overcome by the beauty and power of the wild animal lying in the snowy glade. It was larger than she had expected a wolf to be. Far bigger than Geri. Its blood-matted coat was musty with decay, and every wheezing breath released a trickle of stale air. Its narrow body was hollow from hunger but there was something powerful in its presence. There was no doubting the wildness and strength of this beast.
Before she knew what she was doing, Ylva ran her hand along the wolf’s body. She had done the same when she found Geri lying lifeless in the hut. The fur was coarse and grainy with dirt, and when she took her hand away, there was blood on her fingers. Ylva wiped it on her breeches, and held her hand over the wolf’s head. She hesitated, then gently touched the soft fur between its ears. Ylva kept her hand there as she spoke to the dying creature.
‘I’m sorry.’ She fought back tears and tried not to think of Geri as she reached around the wolf’s neck with her right hand and drew her knife across its throat. It only took one swift cut to finish what the bear had started, and Ylva knelt beside the wolf and stroked its head as its life slipped away.
When it was done, she wiped her blade in the snow and then on her breeches. She ran her hand through the wolf’s fur once more.
‘You did the right thing,’ Cathryn said.
Ylva looked up at the woman standing beside her. She was suffering. The huge Saxon who had barged into the hut last night was a shadow of what she had been. Her skin was pale, her eyes tired.
‘Your arm is bad?’ Ylva asked.
‘Yes.’
‘You need to rest.’
‘I’ll rest when I’m dead.’ Cathryn managed a smile.
‘That could be sooner than you think.’ Ylva looked at the wolf, then at Cathryn. ‘You need to rest before you die.’
‘Uh-huh, well. As soon as we get to the caves, then.’ Cathryn wiped her face and scanned the glade one more time. ‘Look.’ She pointed to three small dark shapes a few paces away.
Ylva stepped around the wolf’s body and moved closer. Now she understood why the wolf had been fighting the bear.
‘It was a “she”,’ Ylva said. ‘A mother.’
‘Protecting her pups,’ Cathryn agreed. ‘No wonder she fought so hard. But she was alone. Without a pack, no wolf could beat a bear. Not even one fighting for her pups.’
The she-wolf had burrowed a den into the base of a hazel thicket. A hidden opening that she would have used to provide warmth and protection for her pups. But it hadn’t been enough; the dangers of the forest had been too great for her, and now the bodies of her three pups lay scattered close to the den.
‘If we hadn’t frightened it away, the bear would have taken them for food?’ Ylva whispered.
‘It’s a bad winter, and getting worse. Everything’s hungry, child, and that includes you and me and the people following us.’ Cathryn looked up at the sky. ‘The fresh snow will cover our tracks. Maybe someone up there is looking out for us.’
‘I don’t think the gods are helping me,’ Ylva said. ‘It feels more like they’re punishing me.’
‘Well . . .’ Cathryn sighed. ‘The bear’s gone, I think. Time to move.’ She trudged back towards the place where they had left the horse, but as Ylva turned to follow her, she spotted movement by the trees. Her first thought was that the bear had returned, but when she saw the movement again – small and dark against the white snow – she realized what it was. One of the wolf pups had survived the attack.
‘Let’s go.’ Cathryn beckoned for her to return to the horse.
The pup was a different colour from its mother – black, with a teardrop of white on its chest. His coat still had the fluffiness of a pup, and Ylva guessed it was five or six weeks old, but the way it behaved was different from the way Geri had behaved at that age. It was more alert, and steadier on its feet.
‘I won’t hurt you,’ Ylva whispered as she approached.
‘What is it? What are you doing?’ Cathryn called to her. ‘We have to go.’
Ylva ignored her. She got down on her haunches and held her hand out for the pup to smell her fingers, but it jumped back, dodged around her, and ran straight to its dead mother.
Ylva followed it, crouching as the pup huddled against the she-wolf’s stomach. It nuzzled against its mother, then sat upright and opened its mouth just enough to show the tip of its pink tongue. Ylva was so engrossed in watching its movements, already forming plans for the pup, that she didn’t notice Cathryn approach from behind. The first she knew of it was when Cathryn reached down and grabbed the pup around the neck. She pushed it hard against the ground, grunting as she placed one knee across the squirming animal to hold it in place so her hand was free to draw her knife.
‘No!’
Cathryn put the blade against the pup’s throat and looked at Ylva. ‘It’s the kindest thing; it won’t survive alone out here.’
‘No.’ Ylva grabbed Cathryn’s wrist, hating the feel of the woman’s skin under her fingers. ‘Please.’
The pup was small and vulnerable and alone. Its mother was dead, but it was wild and fierce, with a will to survive, and the potential to grow into something special. When she looked at the pup, all Ylva could see was Geri. And herself.
‘It will never replace him,’ Cathryn said. ‘This is a wild animal, not a dog. You can’t keep it.’
‘You’re wrong.’
‘How d’you think you’re going to kill the three-fingered man?’ said Cathryn. ‘If you can’t even mercy-kill a wolf pup.’
‘It’s different.’ Ylva twisted Cathryn’s hand, trying to pull the knife away. ‘I can keep him alive. I can look after him just like I looked after Geri when he was a pup.’
‘There’s no looking after a creature like this. It’s a wild animal.’ They struggled against each other while the pup squirmed under Cathryn’s knee, and when Ylva saw she wasn’t strong enough to take the knife, she did the first thing that came into her head; she took advantage of Cathryn’s awkward position and the state of her broken arm. She shoved her shoulder into Cathryn with enough force to unbalance her and knock her sideways into the snow.
Cathryn collapsed hard and awkward, grunting with pain as she landed on her right side. Her broken arm took the full weight of the fall. The pup slipped away from her and scrambled back to its dead mother, pressing against her belly for the last of her warmth. Ylva regained her balance and stood up, looking down at Cathryn lying in the snow on her right side. ‘I won’t let you kill him.’
Cathryn closed her eyes tight and let out a long breath. When she tried to breathe in again, her face contorted with pain. ‘I think . . . I’m going to need help.’ And there was something in the tone of her voice, in the effort it took for her to speak, that drove an icicle through Ylva’s heart.
‘What is it?’ She stepped back, running a hand into her hair. ‘What’s wrong? Is it your arm?’
‘No,’ Cathryn said. ‘Worse.’ She rolled to her left, holding her hand to her side. ‘This is going to be trouble.’
Cathryn’s knife was not lost in the snow beneath her. It was right there, piercing her cloak, and firmly embedded in her flesh.