The cry traveled across the snowy tundra and washeard by a young girl standing at the door of a smallgreen house. The wooden structure sat on the edgeof an Eskimo village on the bank of the frozen AvalikRiver in Alaska. She pushed back the halo of fur thatframed her lovely face and listened. The wolf wastelling her to come with him. She did not answer.

Julie Edwards Miyax Kapugen knew the wolfwell. He had shared food with her when she had beenlost on the endless tundra. He had run and playedwith her. He had rested in her tent while she hadnursed him back to health from his bullet wounds.Now he was trying to locate her. He must not findher. He must go away, far away. After many yearsof separation, Julie was going home to her father,

•3*

Kapugen, and he, she knew, would kill the wolf.

"That is how it is," she whispered to the howler."If you come near Kapugen, he will shoot you. He islike all Eskimo hunters. He will say, 'The wolf gavehimself to me.'"

The howl rose and fell.

Julie squinted toward the distant caller. "Stayaway, beloved Kapu. I am going home."

She waited. The wolf she had named Kapu afterher father, the great hunter and leader, did not callagain. Quickly she opened and closed the first doorthat led into Kapugens house. She walked into theqanitchaq, an entry room designed to keep out thecold. Its walls were hung with parkas and boots, andon the floor stood paddles, guns, and gasoline cans.She put down her pack, took off her sealskin parkaand maklaks, or boots, and hung them on pegs. Shestepped to the second door, which opened into theliving room, and hesitated.

She thought of her childhood on the Eskimo is-land of Nunivak in the Bering Sea, and of her maid-enhood in Barrow on the Arctic Ocean. Then shethought of the day she had left that town desperateto end an arranged marriage. She had gone out onthe tundra planning to walk to Point Hope and takea boat to San Francisco to meet her pen pal, Amy.

.4.

On the tundra wilderness she had become hopelesslylost.

She tried not to think about the lovable wolf packthat had felled a caribou and saved her life. She mustput them in the past. She had found her beloved fa-ther and was going home to him.

Yesterday he had welcomed her in this veryhouse. Her heart had lightened and her burden ofloneliness had fallen away. Her head had danced withjoyful thoughts.

Her happiness had not lasted long. Within ashort time she had realized Kapugen was not thesame father who had taken her hunting and fishingwith the seasons on Nunivak.

He was not the father who had lived in grace withthe sea and land. Kapugen had changed. He had awhite-American wife, a gussak. He had radios, a tele-phone, and a modern stove. Julie could have acceptedthese things had not her eyes fallen on Kapugens air-plane pilot helmet and goggles. She had seen them onthe man in the airplane window who had shotAmaroq, the magnificent leader of her wolf pack.This she could not reconcile. When Kapugen hadleft the house, she had put on her pack and returnedto her camp along the barren river.

There, alone in the crackling Arctic night with

the hoarfrost spangling her tent with ice ferns, sheknew she must return. No matter what he had done,Kapugen was her father, and she loved him.

"We do not judge our people," she heard the Es-kimo elders say, and Julie pointed her boots towardKapugen.

Now, only a wooden door stood between them.

She opened it and stepped inside. Kapugen washome. He was seated on a caribou skin on the floorsharpening his mans knife. He was alone.

He did not look up, although Julie knew he hadheard her enter. She tiptoed to the iglek, a pile of fursstacked into a couch almost as tall as she. Sheclimbed up on it, sat, and folded her hands in her lap.

Kapugen sighted along his knife to see if it wassatisfactorily sharp. Julie picked a thread from herwoolen sock. Kapugen selected a section of bearded-seal hide and cut a slender thong from it. He tied thethong around his boot. Julie sat quietly.

Presently Kapugen looked out the window at themarine-blue sky of the sunless winter day.

"The wind has died down," he said. "That isgood."

"The stars are bright," Julie added.

"That is good," said Kapugen.

A silence followed. Kapugen tightened the boot

thong and at last looked at her.

"Did you hear the wolf?" he asked, looking intoher eyes.

"I heard the wolf," she answered.

Another silence ensued. Kapugen did not take hiseyes from her eyes. Julie knew he was speaking to herin the manner of the Eskimo hunter who communi-cates without sound. His eyes were saying that a wolfdid not give that call of friendship very often.

Julie did not answer. She studied her father.

Kapugen was a stocky man with a broad back andpowerful arms. His face was burned brown from theArctic wind and sun, and his hands were blackenedby frostbite. His hair was shorter than she remem-bered, but his chin was still smooth and plucked hair-less. A faint mustache darkened his upper lip. He satwith his legs straight out before him.

"The wolf knows you." He spoke slowly andthoughtfully.

"He does," Julie answered.

Kapugen picked up the seal hide and cut anotherthong. Julie waited for him to speak again. He didnot. He gave his knife one last hone and put it in thesheath on his belt. In one movement he rose to hisfeet and opened his arms. She jumped down from theiglek and ran to him.

After a long, comforting embrace, Kapugen liftedJulie's chin and touched the smooth olive skin of hercheek.

"I'm glad you came back," he said. "I was afraid Ihad lost you for a second time. I love you with thefullness of the white moon."

"That's a lot," she said shyly. He crossed his feetand lowered himself to the caribou skin, then pattedit and invited Julie to sit. Julie saw the question on hisface. She answered it.

"I broke the marriage arrangement with the sonof your serious partner" Her voice was very soft.

"If a man and a woman," Kapugen said in a low,even voice, "do not love, they part company. That isthe right way."

They sat quietly.

Kapugen, Julie saw, wanted to know more abouther past, but, respecting her privacy, he did not ask.She must tell him no matter how painful her memo-ries were.

"Do you not know," she asked in her gentle voice,"where I've been since that day Aunt Martha took meaway from you to attend school?"

"I only know you went to Barrow when you werethirteen and old enough to marry," he answered, pac-ing his words slowly. "I happened to meet Nusan,

•8-

your mother-in-law, in that town. She said you hadrun off and died/'

"That was a terribly sad thing for her to say whenshe didn't really know," Julie said. "I am sorry. I willtry to tell you what happened—perhaps not all—some things are still too sad."

Julie told him about her unhappy life in Mekor-yok, the town on Nunivak, her days in Barrow, hermarriage, and how deeply she feared Daniel, her an-gry husband. She recounted her days on the tundrawith the gentle wolf pack and its kind leader,Amaroq, but she could not bring herself to say thatKapugen had killed him. The words would not form.

When she was done, Kapugen lowered his eyesfor a moment, then looked up at her. His eyes saidhow much he loved her and how grateful he was thatshe was alive.

Julie buried her head on his shoulder, and hehugged her against his strong chest. This time as heheld her, she felt forgiveness run up her spine andinto her heart and mind. Kapugen, after all, was aprovider for his family and village. Eskimo providershunted.

"I am very tired," she finally said, her shouldersslumping. Kapugen brushed a strand of hair from herforehead. He lifted her in his arms, carried her to the

iglek, and placed her upon it. She sank down into thesweet, soft furs and pulled a grizzly-bear skin overherself.

"I am glad you came home, Miyax," he said, andkissed her. She smiled to hear him call her by her Es-kimo name. Like most Eskimos, Julie had two names,English and Eskimo—Julie Edwards and MiyaxKapugen. Hearing her father call her Miyax made herfeel closer to him, and she decided she would let onlyhim call her that. The name bound the two of themto her mother, who had given it to her, and to eachother. To the rest of the people she would be Julie.

She closed her eyes and slept deeply.

"Good morning, Kapugen. Good morning."Julie sat straight up in her furry bed and lookedaround. The mans voice was loud and crackly, butthere was no one in the room. Kapugen came out ofthe bedroom.

"Good morning." He spoke to the glittering CBradio on the bookshelf. "Good morning, Atik. Goodmorning." Julie recognized the name of the huntershe had met with his wife, Uma, and baby on thefrozen Avalik River. Astounded to hear him in theroom, she slid off the iglek and sat on Kapugens cari-bou skin, watching the radio and listening intently.

"Good morning, Malek," said a woman's voice."Good morning."

"Good morning, Marie. Good morning."

For almost an hour the villagers of Kangik awokeand greeted each other on their CBs. Their voicesfilled the darkness of the sunless morning with cheer.

Ellen, Kapugens wife, came out of the bedroomand, seeing that Julie was awake, greeted her.

"Good morning, Miyax," she said.

"Julie," she said softly but firmly.

"As you wish," said Ellen, and turned her back todip up tea water from a thirty-gallon plastic con-tainer. There was no running water in frozen Kangik.

Julie studied Ellen. Her bright-red hair with itsstrange curls was an oddity to her, as were her paleeyes and eyelashes. Julie found herself staring andwondering about her fathers new wife. When break-fast was over, she climbed up on the iglek andwatched Ellen at her desk. She wrote in a book,glancing up at Julie now and then as if to ask if shewas all right. Julie said nothing.

Next Ellen read a book. When lunchtime camearound she even cooked by looking at a book. In theearly afternoon Ellen phoned her mother in Minne-sota.

"Hello, Mom," she said. "I have a daughter." She

smiled and glanced at Julie.

"Yes, she's pretty," Ellen said. "Beautiful smoothskin and big almond eyes. Her hair is as black andshiny as polished ebony." Embarrassed, Julie slid backunder the grizzly fur and peered at her fathers wifeover the ruff. She wondered how this woman hadgotten so far from home and why she did not goback.

"Want to say hello to my mom, Julie?" Ellen asked.

She did not answer. Julie knew English perfectly.Briefly she had forgotten it after Amaroq had beenkilled, but now she understood every word beingsaid. She just did not feel like talking to Ellen.

Julie had been terribly disappointed to discoverher father had taken a wife from the outside. To theEskimos there are two peoples—the people withinthe circle of ice and the people outside it. Ellen wasnot from within. She moved and talked too swiftly.Her voice was harsh, and she laughed loudly like thejaeger seabirds.

Julie slowly adapted to her new life. She washeddishes and cooked fish and caribou meat for Ellen.She scraped skins and prepared them for the market,and she chopped ice in the river and put it in thecontainer to melt.

• 12

She read Ellens books when Ellen was out. HerEnglish schooling in Nunivak had been excellent. Sheread the books avidly, eager to learn about the out-side world. From time to time when no one wasaround, she would walk along the river and listen forher wolves. Once she heard Kapu, and lookingaround to see if Kapugen was outside, she cupped herhands and howl-barked a warning. Kapu replied withsilence. He had gotten the message.

One day while Julie was scraping a bearded-sealskin to make boots, a new voice came in over the CB.

"Good morning, Kapugen. Good morning."

"Good morning, Peter Sugluk," said Kapugen."You are back, are you?"

"I am back, all right," he said. "And I am pickingup two qivit sweaters Marie asked me to bring toyou." Julie recalled Uma telling her that the womenof Kangik knitted sweaters and scarves from the warm,featherweight underfur of the musk ox. Kapugen, shehad said, sold these incredibly warm clothes to mer-chants in Anchorage and Fairbanks for enormousprices, many hundreds of dollars.

"Come on over," said Kapugen, and turned toJulie. "Peter Sugluk is my business partners adoptedson," he said.

"He speaks with a strange accent," said Julie.

x3*

"It should not be strange," said Kapugen. "Hespeaks Yupik like we do, not Inupiat like the peopleof Barrow and Point Hope."

The Eskimo language has two branches. Yuk, orYupik, is spoken in southwestern Alaska and Siberia.Inuk, or Inupiat, is spoken across northern Alaska,Canada, and Greenland. Julie had learned Yupik inNunivak and Inupiat in Barrow. Although she under-stood Peter, who spoke Yupik, she could not placehis accent. She wondered where he came from.

Presently there was a rap on the inner qanitchaqdoor.

"Come in," called Kapugen, and Peter Suglukstepped into the warm room.

"Good morning, Kapugen," he said, and glancedat Julie. "You must be Julie. Good morning." Hissmile was beguiling and friendly.

Julie looked up at a bronze-faced young Eskimo.He was tall. His nose was straight, his cheekboneshigh, and his eyes were bright half-moons under darkbrows. He wore a tunic of reindeer over close-fittingleather trousers. His maklaks were of polar bear,trimmed with sled dogs in black-and-white calfskin.Ermine tails with black tips danced along the trim ofhis sleeves and boots when he moved. He looked oldto Julie, perhaps eighteen or nineteen as compared to

14 •

her fourteen, going on fifteen, years. She lookeddown at her sealskin and went back to her scraping.

"What they say is right," she heard Peter say."You are beautiful."

Julie went on working. She did not want to beknown for her beauty, but for her wisdom and forti-tude, Eskimo virtues. She did not look up until heopened the door and was gone, but she thought shehad seen him tap a toe and raise his palms in thedance symbol of celebration.

Two weeks passed. The days became turquoiseblue as the earth tilted into the sun. By the time thebloody red ball came over the horizon on Januarytwenty-second, Julie felt comfortable in her newhome and village.

One day when Ellen was teaching at the schooland Kapugen was at the desk poring over papers, sheput down her work and stood before him.

"Aapa," she said softly, "I have been gone a longtime on the tundra and I have been deep in a dreamworld with the wolves. Now I am awake. What can Ido to help you?"

"That is good, all right," he said, looking up ather. Noticing that she was studying the papers he wasworking on, he spoke.

"These papers are the records of our musk oxen.Malek, Peter, and I keep track of them for the bankin Fairbanks. The bank finances our industry."

"Industry?"

"All Eskimo villages are corporations now,"Kapugen said rising to his feet. "Unlike the Amer-ican Indians, who live on reservations under govern-ment supervision, we run ourselves like a business.Our people own stock in the village corporation andshare the profits." This did not make sense to Julie,but Kapugen seemed to think it was important, soshe listened. "The Kangik Inupiat Corporation ispretty big, all right," he said, pointing to numerals inthe book. "We have a musk-ox business, a construc-tion company, a store, and an electrical-generatorcompany. We also get money from the oil taken fromour land." She still did not comment, so Kapugenstood up and took her hands.

"Miyax, you must learn to hunt."

"I can hunt," she answered. "I can trap ptarmiganand snowshoe hares."

"You must learn to shoot a gun," he said. "Weneed you. Kangik is almost a deserted village. Many ofthe houses are empty, all right. The caribou have notcircled back to us for two years, and the people arehungry. Many have moved to Wainwright and Barrow."

•i6-

"That is too bad," Julie said.

"We are suffering/' he said. "That is how it is."Kapugen went into his bedroom. He returned with a.22 rifle and cracked open the barrel.

"Is there really so much hardship in Kangik?"Julie asked. "I met your friends Uma and Atik up theriver. Uma said that the people of Kangik make lotsof money knitting musk-ox qivit into mittens andsweaters. She said you are raising musk oxen to helpyour village; and that you are a great leader."

"Uma is cheerful," Kapugen said, and smiled. "Shewas raised to admire a leader no matter what he does."

"I understand that," Julie said softly.

"You do, all right," he said, and looked at hishelmet and goggles. "You do, all right," he repeated.Kapugens face told Julie that her father now knewthat the wolf he had shot from his plane was herfriend. He looked very unhappy.

"Food is scarce in Kangik," he said, hastily chang-ing the subject.

"Can't you fly your airplane and get gussak foodfor the village?"

"When the caribou fail to return, no white mansfood can keep us healthy."

"The fish?" she asked.

"We also need flesh and fat to survive in the

cold," he answered. "And nothing tastes so good asthe caribou and the whale/' .

Julie smiled. "That is true."

Kapugen slipped several bullets into the .22 andput on the safety so the gun could not be fired. Hehanded it to her. They went into the qanitchaq andput on their warmest clothing. Kapugen picked uphis bear rifle. He put the carrying strap around hisneck and rested the gun on his back. When Julie wasdressed, he opened the door. The cold air sucked thebreath from their mouths and swirled snow in theirfaces.

The sun was just rising, although it was teno'clock. The rosy light illuminated a dip in the land-scape that was the frozen Avalik River, and beyond itthe huge platter that was Kuk Inlet. But for the vil-lage, a cluster of little wooden houses on pilings thatkept them from melting the permafrost, all else wasbarren tundra.

Julie glanced at Kangik and held her breath. Thevillage, which had seemed so vibrant on that firstnight she had laid eyes on it, was plain and dreary.Several of the houses were packing boxes in whichsnowplows and trucks had been shipped to the vil-lages along the Arctic coast. Many were boarded upand deserted.

A dull murmur caught her attention.

"What is that?" Julie asked. "I hear it often atnight."

"The electric generator," Kapugen said. "It runson gasoline and makes electricity for our radios andstoves and lights."

The humming generator, sounding like a sleepingbear, gave a strange kind of life to the still, cold vil-lage. Julie listened for another sound. A dog barkedonce, a door squealed as it swung on its hinges, and avoice called out. The sounds were swallowed by thesubzero cold. She listened more intently. There wasno sound from Kapu.

Kapugen signaled her to follow him, and theywalked east on the river ice in the somber polarlight. After a short distance they both stopped andwatched the sun light up the treeless, blue-green snow.

"You will like Ellen, I think, all right," Kapugensaid after a while. Julie did not answer.

They went on up the river. Their footfallssmashed the ice into snow. It squeaked like glass,swirled up, and fell softly, making a trail of powderbehind them. The sun had rolled along the horizonfor almost an hour, and now it was setting. Kapugenturned to Julie.

"We will hunt foxes," he said. "Some live near the

19 •

musk-ox corral. Watch what I do. I learned to huntin my fathers boot steps. It is the best way."

Julie stepped in his boot tracks and followed himoff the river ice onto the tundra. The ice fog that hadarrived with the dawn began to thicken.

After a short hike Kapugen opened a gate, and heand Julie entered a large corral. Dark boulderlikeforms loomed in the blue fog. Eleven musk oxenstared at them. Small clouds of frozen breath hungabove their heads.

A wolf howled. Julie looked at Kapugen in alarm.

"The hunt is over," he said. "The foxes hide whenthe wolf howls."

"Ee-lie, Kapu," Julie whispered to the wolf, "stayaway, stay far, far away."

Kapugen and Julie walked home.

Ice fog erased the landscape, and it was manydays before Julie and Kapugen returned to the corralto hunt foxes again. They walked through a galaxy ofsparkling ice crystals that floated over the quiet tun-dra. Kapugen led, and Julie stepped in his tracks.

After a long walk Kapugen stopped. He fixed hiseyes on a distant spot, and Julie followed his gaze. Afigure appeared and disappeared and reappeared likestarlight on water.

"Lift your gun," Kapugen whispered. "When thefox stops moving, put the bead of the front sight intothe notch in the rear sight. Click off the safety andpull the trigger slowly."

Julie fired and missed. Kapugen walked on, turn-ing his head from right to left as he scanned thesnowscape. His gun was slung across his back parallelto the ground; his hands were grasped behind him.He was alert to the most subtle movements andfaintest sounds. Kapugen hunted like a wolf, and likea wolf he knew when there was no game. He stoppedin the corral to check the uminmaks.

As he turned to go home, he kicked back thesnow. It was not very deep, the wind having strippedthe flat tundra of snow and exposed the grasses andsedges. For this reason the Arctic tundra was a perfecthome for the grass-eating, well-garbed musk oxen.The tip of Kapugens maklak touched an ancientground birch that was only a seven inches high. Heleaned down. Around it grew bilberry, Labrador teaplants, and a few dwarf willows.

"The uminmaks favorite foods," he said to Julie,then looked at the plants more carefully. "They havebeen eaten too close to the roots. The oxen are run-ning out of wild food."

"The grasses are taller outside the fence," Julie

said. "Why don't you let them roam free?"

"So we can gather the qivit easily/' Kapugen an-swered. "And," he added with bluntness, "so thewolves will not kill the oxen."

Julie felt a flush of blood run through her. Sheclosed her eyes and swallowed hard.

"Soon" Kapugen said, "I must fly to Barrow tobuy alfalfa pellets for the uminmaks. They need morefood." He walked on. Julie placed her feet in his boottracks.

"A white fox hide," Kapugen said turning to her,"brings fifty dollars in Fairbanks."

"Fifty dollars," Julie repeated to herself, andlooked back toward the village. For the past sevenmonths she had thought about no one but herselfand her wolves. For seven long months she had di-rected all her thoughts inward toward staying alive.Now, as she walked behind her father, she knew itwas time to become an Eskimo again, a person whohelps the family and the village community.

She would not miss the next fox.

Julie not only followed Kapugen, she lookedwhere he looked, she sniffed the winds he sniffed.When he stopped and listened, she stopped and lis-tened.

A ptarmigan burst out of the snow and vanished

behind the ice cloud it had created.

"How much do they give for a ptarmigan?" sheasked.

"Ten dollars/' said Kapugen. She thought of thehuge polar bear she had seen in Barrow. His greatwhite hide must be so valuable, it could feed all ofKangik.

"How much do they give for nanuq?" she calledabove the wind.

"Nothing," replied Kapugen. "Only the Eskimoscan harvest nanuq, the great white bear, and we can-not sell him. He gives himself to us. We give him toour people. That has always been so." Julie nodded.

They arrived at a three-sided shelter in the musk-ox corral. Snow was drifted high around the sturdystructure of heavy plywood. It was roofed with cor-rugated steel.

"This is where we put the hay and pellets for theuminmaks," Kapugen said. "It keeps the food frombeing buried under the drifts."

He looked up and smiled. Julie looked up too. Asolitary bull was running toward them. She glanced ather father. Kapugen did not seem alarmed, and sureenough, when the bull was only a few yards away, hestopped. He ogled them. Shreds of qivit trailed fromhis shoulders.

■23

The bull was massive but not very tall. He barelycame up to Kapugens chest. His huge neck musclesformed a hump on his back that was higher than hishead. His tail was remarkably short, his hair so longit swept the ground like a skirt. His feet were enor-mous ice choppers. A bold boss of horn, curved tipspointed forward, met in the middle of his foreheadlike a helmet. The chunky rocklike animal bore astrong resemblance to the wooly mammoths of thepast. He snorted.

"One of the last old-time animals," Kapugen said."White men say he is a goat-antelope. To the Eskimohe is uminmak, the animal born to the ice and thewind and the snow." Kapugen held out a bilberrystalk to him. "Once," he went on, "there were mil-lions of uminmaks in northern Alaska. When the Es-kimo got guns, they shot them all. Every one.

"The U.S. government tried to bring them back.They got thirty-three calves from Greenland and setthem free on Nunivak in 1930. When that herd waslarge, they brought some calves to Fairbanks and laterset them free. We have a few wild ones on the NorthSlope now.

"The government helped me bring bull and cowcalves to Kangik to start a qivit industry."

The bull snorted and pawed the ground, then

rubbed his head against his foreleg.

"Is he angry?" Julie asked.

"He is rubbing a gland near his eye on his leg.The scent from the gland warns the herd. It is notmusk, as the white man calls it. It smells fresh andclean, like snow."

"What is he afraid of?" Julie asked.

"He is prey," Kapugen said. "He is concernedabout all things; you, me, our guns, and the odors onthe wind." Kapugen sniffed and squinted into theglaring snow. "He is saying the grizzly bear is awake."

"The grizzly bear?" Julie asked.

"Aklaq awakened last week in a warm spell," hesaid. "She has two yearling cubs and they are hungry.She has been staying close to the musk oxen, allright," he said. "That is not good. Like the wolf, thegrizzly can kill an uminmak. Uminmak is smallerthan a bear and not very bright."

Kapugen cupped his hands behind his ears.

"The herd is coming," he said, and smiledproudly. Out of a bright spot of ice glare the othermusk oxen appeared, rolling along as if on wheels andseemingly pushed by the wind. They were a sturdy,well-knit group. The beasts slowed down, hesitated,then, circling like a whirlpool, forced the yearlings andcalves into the center of their group for protection.

•//

"They are alarmed," said Kapugen, lookingaround.

"The bear?" Julie asked, afraid that he was goingto say wolf.

"I do not know," he answered.

The herd was quite close, and Julie could see thedifference between the males and the females. The fe-males were smaller, and their horns did not meet ontheir brows, as did those of the males. Both sexes hadlarge eyes that protruded from their heads severalinches. With these eyes they could see to the sides,the front, and the rear, and they could see in the darkas well as in the painful light of ice glare. The umin-maks are creatures honed by darkness, sun, and in-tense cold.

Kapugen moo-grunted.

A female left the group and came toward him.She hesitated when she saw Julie. Kapugen walkedslowly up to her making soft sounds. When she wasclose, he reached out and scratched her head.

"This is Siku, Miyax," he said. "I found her onthe tundra. Her mother had just been killed by a wolfpack. Siku was moving inside her. I opened the bellyand lifted this little musk ox onto the ice—the siku;then I wrapped her in a caribou skin and took herhome.

"I fed her on a bottle, and she lived and gave methe idea to raise musk oxen."

"Is it hard to raise them?" Julie asked.

"Not too hard," Kapugen replied. "Once, not tdblong ago, when the caribou were scarce, the people ofKangik, Wainwright, and Barrow raised reindeer.Malek was a herder. I met him and told him of mydream. He came to Kangik to join me. The state ofAlaska gave us several more oxen to go with Siku. Intime we had a herd and gathered qivit." Julie reachedslowly out and touched Siku. The large eyes rolledher way, but the cow did not move.

"Siku," he said, laughing and rubbing her headroughly. "You started it all" She snorted and wentback to the herd. The uminmaks had broken theirfortress circle and were cropping grass.

"How many musk oxen do you have, Aapa?" Julieasked.

"Four bulls and seven females and yearlings. Notmany, but the herd is growing. There will be four lit-tle calves in May or June if the wolves do not getthem." He looked directly into her eyes.

Julie did not speak. She was thinking of that dayon the tundra when an airplane came out of the mistand, with the burst of gunfire, killed Amaroq, the in-telligent and kindly leader of her wolf pack.

She turned away from Kapugens gaze. He wastelling her he had killed the wolf to protect thesemusk oxen. He was thinking of his people, his eyessaid, and they added that he would do it again if hehad to.

Julie was terrified for Kapu and his pack. Wher-ever the caribou were, she fervently hoped her wolveswere with them.

The sun, which had been up for two hours, wasnow sinking behind a horizon of ice mist. It glowedsparkling red, then disappeared. The long polar twi-light entombed the top of the world as Julie andKapugen turned homeward. In the short time it tookto walk back to the village, the temperature droppedten degrees. The wind gathered force. Kapugenpulled a bit of underfur from his parka ruff, wettedit, and held it up in the gale. It bent and froze in ahook.

"The wind is from the west," he said. "Tomorrowought to be still and clear."

He pushed back his dark glasses and looked atthe sky. "If the wind doesn't change in the night, to-morrow I will fly to Barrow."

"To get food for the uminmaks?"

"If I have time. Tomorrow I must take my wife tothe doctor. "

"Is Ellen sick?" she asked tentatively.

"She is pregnant," Kapugen answered, and smiledso broadly his teeth shone white even in the dark twi-light.

Pregnant, Julie thought. A child would be born.She was both pleased and not pleased. The verythought of a baby stirred warm feelings within her,but she also knew she had found her father only tolose him again. She walked along in silence. Distantbarks sounded in the purple dusk.

"The dogs," said Julie. "I often hear them bark.Are they yours?"

"I have a team," he said.

"But you have snowmobiles," Julie said. "Youdon't need a team."

"I have snowmobiles," he answered. "But I lovethe dogs."

"I love the dogs, too," she said, thinking ofthe wonderful animals who were descendants of thewolves.

North of the town they came to a large Quonsethut. It faced a flat windswept plain that was coveredwith a long sheet of steel chain.

"Airplane iglu," Kapugen said, pointing to thehangar. Here her fathers airplane resided. "Airplanerunway," he added, gesturing to the metal-mesh land-

•31

ing strip. "I must check out the plane for tomorrow.Do you want to see it?"

She really didn't. She did not want to see that air-plane from which the fatal shots had come—ever.She still felt the pain of Amaroq s death. Inside thatiglu were the wings of a father she did not know.

She took off her mitten and reached into herpocket. There she kept the totem of Amaroq she hadcarved to hold his spirit after his death. She clutchedthe totem and felt better.

"Coming in?" Kapugen asked.

'Til keep hunting," she said. "A ptarmigan willbring ten dollars, and you can buy food for Siku."

"I have a treasure for you in there," he said, point-ing to the Quonset with a broad smile. Julie drewback. She did not want to see that airplane.

"I have ermine," he said, reaching out for herhand. "Beautiful glistening white ermine. They arefor you to make something regal for yourself." Hiseyes told of his love for her. "Come see them. Theyare in a box by the door. I was going to sell them tothe furrier in Fairbanks, but when you came back tome, I wanted to wrap them around you. They areyours."

Kapugen opened a small door in the big door ofthe Quonset and held it for Julie.

3^ '

"I must learn to hunt," she said, drawing away. "Iwill bring you a fox or a ptarmigan. Later I will comesee my treasure." She smiled and backed around thecorner of the Quonset. Kapugen went inside andclosed the door.

A wolf howled.

Julie shut her eyes and wished that tomorrowwould be clear and windless so the metal bird wouldtake Kapugen and Ellen to Barrow. A day alonewould give her an opportunity to call to her wolvesand tell them to go far away from the hunter whowould protect his oxen at all costs.

An hour before Kapugen was to depart for Bar-row, the wind shifted.

Clouds darkened the skies over Kangik, andKapugen changed his plans.

"Today we will stay home," he said, looking outthe window as a gust of whirling, blowing snowwhitened the town.

Julie's plans were also changed. She could notwarn Kapu. She nestled down on the iglek andthought about her wolves. They would be curled insnow scoops, their noses in their tails, their feettucked under them. Soon they would be as white asthe storm itself. She smiled. They would not come

33'

after the musk oxen today.

Julie picked up the parka she was making to re-place her old one and began to stitch a seam. Shewould line it with caribou fur, the best insulationknown. When it was done, she could go out in tem-peratures of fifty degrees below zero and be almost assnug as her wolves.

Ellen, who had dressed for the trip to Barrow,changed back into her qaliguuraq, the long Eskimodress that is flanked with a deep ruffle. Then sheturned on the CB.

"Children of Kangik," she said in her harshAmerican voice. "There will be school today. Do youhear me, Roy, Ernie, Edna, Benjamin, Larry? Therewill be school today. Over." She opened the receiverswitch.

"Morning, Teacher Ellen, morning," a child'svoice said. "I hear you loud and clear. School today.Out." He sounded quite happy.

Ellen picked up her lesson bag and opened thedoor to the qanitchaq. As she passed the iglek, Julienoticed her figure for the first time. Her stomach wasrounding out under her qaliguuraq. Julie wondered ifthe baby would have red hair.

At the door Ellen hesitated and turned to Kapu-gen.

"Kapugen," she said, looking at Julie, "would youask Julie if she would like to come to the school withme today? She doesn't understand English. Please tellher I would enjoy her company/'

"Miyax," he said softly, "minuaqtugvik?"

Julie shook her head to say no.

Ellens pale eyes flashed. She asked Kapugen toinsist. He smiled and tenderly kissed her cheek, butdid not tell Julie to obey.

Ellen shrugged. When she opened the outerdoor, the wind rushed in, rattling the inner door;then Ellen was gone. Julie and Kapugen sat in silence.Kapugen picked up the book in which he recordedthe items the villagers had given him to sell in Fair-banks. He opened it and then slowly closed it.

"Lets go fishing, Miyax," he said. "We can fish inthe storm. We need more fish for the dogs and thevillagers."

Julie slid down to the floor. "I would like that,"she said.

"When we have many lqaluk," said Kapugen,"we'll store them in my game cellar." Julie nodded.The deep cellars in the icy permafrost kept fish andgame frozen solid winter and summer.

"When we are done," he went on, "would youtake the dog team out to duck camp for a good

run? They need exercise."

"I would like to do that," said Julie, trying not tosound too eager. This was the opportunity to go outon the tundra and howl-bark to warn her wolves tostay away.

"I will fish with you until noon," Kapugen said ashe worked. "Then I must come back. I am expectinga noon call from the chairman of the board of direc-tors of the Kangik Inupiat Corporation."

"How do I find duck camp?" Julie asked. She ig-nored the high-sounding title of the authority thatcould bring her father home from fishing.

"The dogs know the way," he said. "The black-and-white dog with the white eyebrows is CB, thelead dog. He will take you there and back with goodspirit."

"That is good," Julie said, and put on her warmparka and boots.

In the quiet of falling snow Kapugen and Juliecarried a fish net and ice choppers out onto the riverice. With his mans knife, Kapugen cut snow blocksand stacked them into a wall to break the wind. Thenhe reopened several holes in the thick ice—they hadfrozen over since their last use. He secured an end ofthe gill net above the ice, then dropped the net intoone of the holes. He went to the next hole, reached

into it with a long hooked pole, hooked the net, andbrought it up. He secured a side of it with a stake anddropped the net again. Humming to himself, he wentfrom hole to hole. In a short time he reached the lastone and secured the end of the net to another stake.Then he went back along the line and pulled out allthe stakes but the first and last. The net hung tautunder the ice.

"My grandfather taught me how to drop a net."he said. "And his father taught him. Pass it along toyour children, Miyax. It is a good method, all right"

"I will, Aapa," she said. "I will."

Kapugen spread his caribou skin and they satdown in the snow-block shelter to watch the clouds,the white river, and the land.

After a long wait Kapugen jiggled the net and feltfish. Together he and Julie pulled them out throughthe first hole, which was larger than the rest. Aboutsixty silvery fish flopped on the ice. Kapugen tookthem from the net with his bare hands and put themin a twine bag. Julie dragged it to the ice cellar anddropped it in. Together they reset the net and sat onthe caribou skin. With sticks they had brought fromhome, Kapugen made a small fire. The white walls re-flected back the heat of the flame, and they weresoon quite warm. Julie brought out some caribou

37'

jerky and a piece of frozen whale maktak. They atequietly; watching the snow fall around them.

They chatted as they waited to bring more fishfrom the dark water beneath the ice. An aura of thefather she remembered settled over Julie, and she feltcompletely content. Kapugen made them each a cupof tea, and the long years of separation seemed tohave never been.

The snowfall became lighter and lighter untilonly tiny sparklets of ice floated in the air. Just beforenoon Kapugen returned to the house to wait for hisphone call. Julie pulled up several more catches andthen went out to harness the dogs.

She found Kapugens six Alaskan malamutes be-hind the Quonset. They greeted her warmly, thenburst into joyful barking when she took a harness offits peg on the back of the hangar. They knew theywere going for a run. Each dog had its name on itsharness and collar. She learned them before pullingthe sled into the open and attaching the line. Shestretched the line out on the snow, found CBs har-ness, and snapped him to it. Next she set the brakeon the sled. Each dog she harnessed leaped, pranced,and pulled until she stopped talking to them inYupik and spoke to them in wolf talk. She mouthedtheir muzzles to tell them she was in charge. They

• 38-

looked at her curiously and stood still. She had toyell at a dog named Minnesota, who she presumedwas Ellens dog. When that did not work, shegrowled at her and showed her teeth. Minnesotaslunk away and stopped snapping at CB.

Julie hugged one of the gentle wheel dogs, Snow-bird, then fastened his neck line to the lead. Hewhimpered his friendship. When they were all har-nessed, but before she stepped on the runners at theback of the sled, CB lunged forward with such force,he pulled the brake out of the snow. The team wasoff.

Julie ran, grabbed the sled, and hopping aboard,threw all her weight on the brake, driving the longwooden prong deep into the snow. The team came toa stop. She walked up to CB, arms out to make her-self look big and threatening. She put her mouth overhis muzzle, then looked directly in his eyes.

"I'm boss," she said. CB lowered his tail and earsin submission, then licked her face. She laughed,rubbed his ears, and walked slowly to the rear of thesled, ready to growl if CB moved. As she passed by,the team members wagged their tails and whimperedto her.

"I love you, too," Julie said, happy to be speakingto these cousins of the wolves.

When she reached the end of the line, she slowlystepped up on the runners again. CB and his teamwaited respectfully for orders. Julie pulled the brakeout of the snow but did not give a command to go.The dogs looked back at her to see what was thematter. She stood tall, her head high in the regal poseof Amaroq, who had led his pack with this silent lan-guage of authority. The dogs saw and wagged theirtails. She grinned.

"Hut," she called, and the team took off.

She halted them at Kapugens green boat to makesure she was in control. CB made a sudden lunge for-ward. Julie growled. He looked back at her, smiledwith his mouth open, and wagged his tail once. Hewas saying he was sorry he had teased her.

Kapugen, who had been watching through thewindow, saw Julie and the dogs conversing. Hegrinned with pleasure. The spirit of the wild thingslived in his daughter.

"Hut," Julie called, and CB and his team took offat a run. They soon left Kangik behind.

Through the snow sparklets Julie scanned thehorizon for her wolves. She stopped at the corral gateto see if they had been there. The snow had coveredthe deep hoofprints of the oxen. The shallow tracksof wolves would be blanketed too.

40 •

"Hut!" she called, and the sled jerked forward.Minnesota pulled to the left and the sled tipped. Juliewas about to be dumped when CB jerked to the rightand the sled dropped back on both runners again.Bending his head to the task, he set a pace suitablefor a long haul. As the sled slipped quietly out ontothe flat tundra, Minnesota looked back at Julie with awry eye.

"Ha," Julie shouted to her, "I'm still here. Youdid not knock me off." She laughed, Minnesota un-curled her tail to say she was disappointed, and CBled on, now listening attentively for Julie s commands.She did not have to give any. The sensitive dog fol-lowed the trail although it was buried under the snow.

Five miles on, CB pulled Julie and the sled intoduck camp. He stopped before a cluster of littleshacks that stood on a bend of the Avalik River.They were almost covered with drifted snow.

Julie untied the snowshoes on the sled, put themon, and tramped to one of the shacks looking forwolf sign.

uGrrf!" She froze. Aklaq, the grizzly, came aroundthe corner and snorted a warning. Clumsy in hersnowshoes, Julie ran the other way around the shed.The bear stopped and looked for her. Julie alsostopped. She now had the shack between the bear

41-

and the sled. Reaching into her pocket for sorne ofthe uneaten maktak, she hurled it over the shack anddashed for the sled.

The bear stopped to gobble the whale blubber.

"Hut!" Julie called, clutching the sled ropes. Thedogs needed no second order. They smelled grizzlybear. They ran. Julie threw herself on the sled, un-strapped her snowshoes, and climbed over the backboard to stand on the runners. She and the dogs werea quarter of a mile away from the bear when shestopped them and looked back. No longer interestedin Julie, Aklaq was digging in the snow for moremaktak. Satisfied, Julie ran the dogs on.

"Halt," Julie called before the dogs had gone an-other quarter of a mile. They obeyed, but CB lookedback at her as if to say she was out of her mind tostop when the smell of grizzly bear saturated thewind.

Julie had spotted two yearling bear cubs. Theywere digging near a den in the bank of the AvalikRiver. Kapugen was right: The mother grizzly was upearly in the season, probably because her cubs werehungry. This was not good. The huge AMaq couldeasily knock down the corral fence and take a muskox.

Julie started the team again, calling "Haw" (left)

.42

as soon as they were moving.

CB did not heed. He ran straight ahead. He didnot want to go back toward the bears.

"Haw," Julie called with great force. CB finallypulled to the left. The two front dogs pulled right.The sled wove and tipped.

"Haw" Julie growled. The team went left, but toofar. The sled tipped.

"Gee," Julie called, and dogs, traces, and sledstraightened out and moved smoothly. By this timethey were far from the big cubs, and CB held thecourse Julie had told him to take, northward over thetundra.

They were going along nicely when Minnesotasnarled at her partner, Snowbird, then lunged at herneck. Julie howled a wolf command. They stoppedfighting.

CB led his team over the snowy landscape for al-most an hour while Julie scanned hummock and risefor wolves. Kapu and his pack were nowhere to beseen, nor were any foxes or wolverines. It was plain toJulie that the only wolf food in the vast area were themusk oxen.

A raven flew overhead. Julie stopped the team towatch this messenger of the tundra. The dogs laydown panting, even though it was ten below zero.

.43.

•

- -

They bit snow to quench their thirst.

Ravens, Julie knew, were the first to find wolfkills and share the banquet with them. Eskimohunters knew this and would follow the large blackbirds to find wolves. Julie guessed this flying birdcould see fifteen miles in all directions. Since he wascircling and flapping, he must not have sighted a wolfkill; he would be flying in a straight line to the food.The raven was fluttering and diving, which meant hewas hunting lemmings. Julie was discouraged. For atleast fifteen miles in all directions there were nowolves. She turned back.

A roar reached her ears as over a rise in the land asnowmobile appeared. She waved.

The driver pulled his vehicle up beside Julie'ssled, but it was not until the man pushed back hisdark snow glasses that she recognized Atik.

"The weather has turned nice," she said. "Are youhunting?"

"I am scouting for caribou," he said. "The femalesshould be coming to Kangik now. They come aheadof the bulls. They will calve on the tundra in May."

"Did you find any?" she asked eagerly.

"There are no caribou from Kangik to Anaktu-vuk, more than two hundred miles away," he said. "Ihave just talked to David Bradford, the Alaska Fish

and Game man. He told me that. He brought his he-licopter down near me. He said he heard the beepingof one of the radio collars he puts on moose to learnwhere they go."

"Where was the moose?" asked Julie with someexcitement.

"There was no moose" he answered. "The collarhad fallen off. He found it on the ground. Some-times that happens, he said."

Julie scanned the frosty horizon.

"Do you think the caribou will come to Kangikthis year?" she asked.

"They will not come. It is too bad," said Atik."Kangik will suffer."

"When I first met you on the river," she saidhopefully, "I told you o{ a small herd I had seen. Didyou find them?"

"I never did," he said. Julie was surprised.

"I saw their tracks," Atik said. "They disappearedin the drainage passes."

"Did you see any wolves today?" she asked.

"David Bradford saw a pack from his helicopter,"Atik said.

Julie's heart beat furiously. "Where were they?"

"Not far from here. He said the leader was a bigblack fellow."

47'

"Kapu," Julie said under her breath. "Did he sayhow many wolves were in the pack?"

"He said eight."

"Eight?"

"He saw the black wolf and a white one and threedark-gray and three light-gray wolves."

The white one was Silver, she said to herself. Thethree light-gray wolves would be Zit, Zat, and Zing,the now-grown-up pups. The dark-gray wolveswould be Nails and Sister, but who was the thirddark-gray wolf, Julie wondered. Had Kapu taken amate? It was, after all, time for pups.

Atik saw that the sky was magenta and turningblue-black. The sun was below the horizon. The longtwilight was over and night was upon them. He nod-ded to Julie and sped off.

CB watched him go and then looked at Julie.

"All right, CB," she said. "Hut!" She sent themstraight out on the tundra again. She smiled at the ea-ger dogs, who kept looking back at her wonderingwhy she was not going home.

"Were circling the bears," she called. Then after ashort while she shouted, "Haw," and brought themback to the riverbank. CB joyfully broke into a run.The only sound as the moon came up was the swishof the runners and the panting of the dogs.

.48.

Julie threw back her head and reveled in the coldbeauty of the night. She was worried, though. Herwolves were nearby and the only food for them wasmusk ox.

The wolves did not call during February, March,and early April. Julie relaxed. She took their silence tomean they were hunting caribou in the BrooksMountain Range, about eighty miles south. But justas Atik had predicted, this also meant that no cari-bou would come through Kangik again this year.That was not good news. The families that neededfour or five caribou each year to sustain their liveswere leaving Kangik and moving in with relatives inbigger towns. Others were wandering in search offood as they had before white men came to Alaska.Atik went to the coast and brought back a walrus forhis family. Malek made plans to go whaling on thesea ice.

One morning Peter came to Kapugens house andJulie answered the door.

"Kapugen is in Fairbanks/' she said.

"That is too bad, all right." Peters dark browsstitched together. "Malek and I have been invited tojoin a whaling crew in Wainwright. I had hoped Icould leave the musk oxen in Kapugens care for sev-

eral weeks. I see I cannot. He is gone and Malek isleaving today." He turned to go.

"I will take care of the uminmaks,,, she said. Hespun around quickly.

"Would you?" His even teeth shone white againsthis bronze skin as he smiled broadly. "The villagersare hungry for maktak, Miyax," he said. "They needthat good whale skin and blubber to lift their spirits.They all will thank you if we are lucky."

"Go along," she said. "I like to be out with theoxen on the tundra, and I know what to do. Kapugenhas taught me."

"Ee-lie," he said, and lifted his arms in celebra-tion. He ran off as swiftly and lightly as a tundrabird.

When he was gone, she wondered why she hadnot corrected him when he had called her Miyax.

That very afternoon she took over the musk-oxchores. It was a pleasant day. She hitched the dogsto a sled load of hay and alfalfa pellets and rodeout to the shelter. She counted the herd, as Kapugenalways did, and noted that the grasses were thrust-ing up through the rotting snow. Then, according toKapugens routine, she drove the dog team around thecorral to make sure none of these hardy beasts withtheir muscular bodies had damaged the fence. Finally,

50-

work done, she turned the dog team east and ranthem along the riverbank. The air was so cold, thefrozen breath of the dogs left a long white vapor trailbehind them.

At duck camp she stopped and listened for Kapuand his wolves. She heard nothing.

"They are gone," she said happily, then added,"Stay away, dear Kapu, stay away."

As she mushed home free from worry, she feltlike a wolf running great distances for the pure joy ofit. The wind blew back her wolverine ruff, and sheleaned forward and sang her qimmiq, or dog, song.

"Wise qimmiqs, brave qimmiqs,Run with your tails up.Run with your tails up.When wind bites and cold numbs,Run with your tails up.Run, qimmiqs, run,In life's stormy weather,Run with your tails up.EeAie, eeAie, eeAie, eeAie. La, la, la la."

The dogs wagged their tails in rhythm to thesong and now and then looked back at Julie andsmiled.

51'

Ellen closed the school in mid-April. The hunt-ing season had begun. The parents who had not goneto the coast for whale and seal had taken their chil-dren inland to duck camp. The waterfowl were re-turning from the south in long black ribbons. Everyhalf hour or so a band of thousands and thousandsof eider ducks passed over Kangik, skimming lowalong the ground and over the houses as they mi-grated home. Julie would watch them, her head back,her eyes half closed, and she would wonder whatmagic brought them back each year.

On a sunny day in May, before the sun came upto stay for three months, Harry Ulugaq drove up toKapugens house on his three-wheeled motor bike.He brought a basket for Kapugen to sell in Fair-banks. It was made from fine strips Harry had cutfrom a piece of bowhead-whale baleen, the long, nar-row filters in the whales mouth.

"The museum would like this," Kapugen said af-ter admiring the glow of the very black baleen andthe symmetry of the work of art. "But I can probablyget more from a collector—perhaps thirty-five hun-dred dollars." Harry nodded. He was one of the lastbaleen artists on the Arctic coast and knew well thevalue of his craft. But this day he had more excitingmatters on his mind than money. After Kapugen

5^ '

listed the basket and its worth in his book, Harrywent to the window and pointed toward Kuk Inlet.

"We have good luck," he said as Julie came up be-side him. "A southerly storm has brought millions ofsmelt to the open water at the sea end of Kuk Inlet."His eyes twinkled. "Lots of fun."

"Lots of good eating," Kapugen said. "I have afine market for smelt. Lots of Barrow families find ita treat."

When Kapugen had seen Harry Ulugaq to thedoor, he returned to Julie and Ellen.

"It s time for us all to go fishing," he said with abroad grin. "Smelt fishing is good fun, all right."

"Who will feed the musk oxen?" Julie asked.

"I fed them well today," said Kapugen. "We willnot be long. The grasses are growing fast in the newsun, and they will find much to eat."

"Good," said Ellen, getting down the campingfood box. "I'll pack enough food for a week. Kapugen,get the tent and sleeping skins."

Smelt camp was lively. Families slept in tents andmingled outdoors. Julie fell easily into the rhythm ofcommunity life. She and the older children helpedlift the nets, clean and split the fish open, andput them on drying racks. Two or three days later,when the fish had dried in the sun and air, they

•53*

helped pack them in boxes.

When the tide came in, Julie went to the shore towatch the glistening clouds of smelt swim in from thesea. When the tide turned, Julie and her friendswould walk down the beach with the ebbing water tofind the deep pools where thousands of fish weretrapped. They would throw nets over them, and themen and women would hurry from camp to help pullthe fish out of the water and up to the drying racks.

Between tides, the young people raced snow-mobiles out on the tundra or drove them back to theKangik store for gasoline and staples. SometimesJulie rode with them, but she preferred to paddle theumiaq along the edge of the ice that filled the upperinlet and watch the snowstorm of birds nesting anddefending territory. Julie also watched the sidestreams to see if the graylings, Kapugen s favorite fish,were spawning in the shallows yet.

At fish camp no one looked at watches. The sunwas up almost twenty-four hours each day. Childrennapped and ate when they felt like it. The adultsslept when the tide was in and fished when it wentout. Between work and sleep adults and childrenplayed one-foot-high kick—a game played by kick-ing a fur ball on a thong hung one foot above theirheads. They rolled kayaks and chased each other like

•54*

wolf pups. Harry Ulugaq organized a baseball game,and then everyone danced away the rosy hours beforethe sun set briefly.

When the winds changed, the smelt did not re-turn to the Kuk Inlet. Tents came down, and barrelsof the dried fish were loaded onto snowmobiles andtaken home to game cellars or to the Quonset to beflown to Fairbanks and Barrow.

That evening a radio message came from the Es-kimos in Anaktuvuk Pass. They reported that thecaribou of the western herd were moving northwardon the easternmost border of the great circle theytook from south to north to south. They would notcome through Kangik. Hearing the final word, manyfamilies went out to the coast to hunt seal and belugawhales.

On May tenth, the sun did not set. The NorthPole had tilted full into the sun for the next threemonths. The white fox turned gray-brown and theptarmigan became splotched with white and blue-gray feathers to match the snow-and-grass-mottledtundra. The pretty white-and-black snow buntingsreturned from the south and hopped through the vil-lage streets. Feeding them bread crumbs made a goodexcuse for Julie to run outside and up the river shoreto listen for her wolves. They did not call.

•55*

One clear day in late May Kapugen arranged totake the airplane to Fairbanks to attend a meeting ofthe corporation officers and the bankers. He care-fully wrapped Harrys baleen basket, a lovely sweater,and the pelts of the four white foxes that had giventhemselves to Julie, She had skinned and preparedthem for the market after making the meat into stewfor her family. She asked Kapugen to buy musk-oxpellets with the money they brought.

"That will help the industry/' she said, still some-what unsure of what she was talking about.

Julie was fishing when Kapugen, the furs and arti-facts in a pack on his back, came down to the rivershore to speak to her. The constant sun had softenedthe ice, and it was too dangerous to stand on andfish. The breakup was imminent.

"Miyax," he said, "my plans have changed. HarryUlugaq is very ill. I am taking him to the hospital inBarrow." He walked a few steps closer. "I am worriedabout Siku. I checked her this morning. She is bawl-ing and her calf is not due for many weeks, I think. Icannot stay to help her."

"I will go to Siku," Julie said, and followed himinto the house. Ellen, who was enjoying music on hercassette player, turned down the volume to listen toKapugen tell her that Julie was going out to the corral

• 56-

to check on Siku. Then he turned to Julie, gave herpills to relax his favorite ox, and showed her how tomake Siku swallow them.

"And Miyax," he said as he crossed the room,"you had better walk. It is almost forty degrees, toohot to run the dogs."

He hurried out the door, and Julie and Ellen werealone. Ellen watched Julie pack the medicine; her ulu,the woman's knife; needle and thread; and a change ofclothes.

"I would like to go with you, Julie," she said inbarely understandable Yupik. "I need the exercise."Julie listened to Ellen labor over the words, and al-though Julie could have easily told her in English tocome along with her, she did not. She still did nothave it in her heart to speak English to Ellen. Shenodded instead.

Ellen dressed warmly in many sweaters, her parka,down pants, and fur-lined sealskin boots. It was stillMay, but the weather often played tricks.

Julie opened the house refrigerator and stowedcheese and bread in her pack. Since she did not knowhow long Siku might be in trouble, she also packed alarge quantity of dried caribou from the jerky barrel.Then she rolled up a caribou skin to sit on and tiedit to the bottom of her pack. Finally she took down

57'

Kapugens mans knife from the wall and slid it underher belt. She hung her gun across her shoulder.

"Itqanait" (I am ready), she said and hurried outof the house.

They watched Kapugens plane take off and headinto the sun, and then, side by side, they walked theriverbank. The river ice had cracked like a jigsaw puz-zle and was beginning to move. It heaved andcreaked.

"The breakup is late this year," said Ellen inEnglish. She had to talk even if she thought Julie didnot understand. "Kapugen said it will be viciouswhen it goes.,,

As they walked, Julie pointed to a king eider duckon the ice. He was a gorgeous bird, with his orange-yellow-and-green head and black-and-white back."Qinalik," Julie said. Ellen repeated the word three orfour times. A white-fronted goose was feeding in theslushy water in the reeds. "Niglivik," said Julie, andEllen repeated that.

When they arrived at the corral, Siku was stand-ing near the shelter. Her fur was rumpled and herlarge eyes were glazed. Julie ran to her and gentlyrubbed her head and back while speaking softly toher. The ox wobbled and stumbled forward. Her bigknees buckled.

"She's ill," Ellen said. "She mustn't die. We needher so."

Julie glanced at her. Ellen had spoken with greatfeeling.

Quickly Julie took off a boot thong and, tying itaround Siku's neck, led Kapugen's favorite animalinto the shelter. Ellen spread hay for her. Siku wentdown on her knees, then rolled to her side with amoan. Her huge cloven feet plopped heavily to earth.

Julie spread the caribou skin and indicated toEllen that she should sit down. Then she took one ofthe extra woolen socks from her bag and rolled it inthe snow. She placed it inside her parka. The snowquickly turned to water, and she dripped it betweenSikus parched lips. The animal drank and lay still.Julie opened Sikus mouth, placed the pill on thelarge tongue, and held her mouth closed as Kapugenhad instructed. Siku swallowed the pill. Julie gave hermore water.

Ellen put her hand on the ox's large belly. "She'sin labor," she said, surprising Julie with her expertise.Siku lifted her head, rolled her eyes, and lay still.

For an hour Julie and Ellen watched her strain togive birth until she could strain no more. The calfwould not be born.

Julie thought of Oliver Ahgeak, who, like Malek,

•59*

had been a reindeer herder in his youth. He was stillin the village. He would know what to do.

"Oliver Ahgeak," Julie said, pointing to Siku,then gesturing to say she would go get him.

Ellen nodded and Julie turned to leave. She drewback. A dark, sinister cloud was rolling down uponthem.

"Hilla, the weather spirit/' Julie said in Yupik. "Ithas turned against us. This is a storm to be dreaded."Knowing Ellen did not understand, she pointed tothe cloud. Ellen, who had seen many bad storms inher three years in Kangik, looked at this one anddrew in her breath.

"You can't leave now," she said. "What do wedo?"

Julie was on the move. She drew Kapugens knifefrom her belt and tramped to the lee side of the shel-ter, where the last snow of the season was packedhigh and hard. With consummate skill she cutblocks. They were about three feet long and twowide. They were almost six inches deep. Workingquickly, she stacked them to make a wall on the openside of the shelter. Ellen, seeing what Julie was doing,took the blocks from her as she came around the endof the shelter and stacked them. Swiftly, Julie usedmore snow as a plaster to keep the wind from blow-

•6o-

ing through the cracks. The wall went up. Whenthere were but two more bricks to lay, the windstruck with such force the wall buckled, but held.The gust brought snow so dense that Julie could notsee the shelter although she was right beside it. Feel-ing her way with one hand, she rounded the cornerwith a last brick and crawled inside. She sealed thewall with the block.

They huddled in the gloomy shelter. Even theconstant sun could not penetrate the blackness of thestorm.

"How long will this last?" Ellen murmured toherself and listened to the shrill wind. Julie pattedmore snow against the inner wall, then took from herpack a small jar of the whale blubber she used togrease her ulu and gun. She made a wick for the jarby cutting a slender bit of cloth off the bottom of hershirt and lit it with a match from her pack. The tinylight flickered, almost went out, then drew oil andbrightened. The shelter glowed and warmed. Ellensmiled gratefully.

The wind thundered against the north end of theshelter and Julie looked anxiously at Ellen. Her facewas amazingly calm.

Siku bawled weakly.

"We've got to deliver this calf," Ellen said.

•6i-

"How do we do it?" Julie asked in perfect En-glish.

Ellen stared at her. "You speak English."

"Yes."

Ellen frowned perplexedly, but Julie told Ellenwith her eyes that she had come to like her. Then shelooked down at the cow.

Water flowed from the birth canal and Sikugroaned. Ellen got down on her knees; Julie knelt be-side her.

"The calf is coming out rear feet first," Ellen said."That's the wrong way. It'll never make it, and neitherwill Siku."

The wind shook the shelter. Fine bits of ice siftedin through the snow bricks despite Julie's caulking.They settled like flour dust on everything.

"ril cut her open, like Kapugen did to hermother, and take the calf," said Julie.

Siku tried once more to deliver the calf. Hertongue rolled from her mouth, swollen and darkpurple, and she gave up and lay still. Julie picked upher ulu.

"In Minnesota," Ellen said, "we reach into thewomb and turn the calf around." She tore off herparka, rolled up her sleeves, and plunged her handdeep into the womb. Julie was astounded. Siku lifted

•62-

her head, then relaxed her abdomen.

"Hobble her feet so she wont kick," Ellen said.Julie removed her boot thong from Siku's neck andtied her rear feet down. When Siku thrashed, Julie layacross her neck and whispered soothingly into herear.

Perspiration poured from Ellens face as sheslowly but correctly turned the calf. Its forefeet ap-peared, then its head.

"Help me to get Siku up on her feet," Ellen said.Julie slid off the uminmak s body and, reaching underher shoulders, lifted the laboring Siku to her feet. Asshe arose, the calf slipped from her body onto thehay. Siku wobbled and sank back, exhausted.

"A girl," Ellen said. "Good. Unclog her nostrilsof mucus."

Julie cleaned the calf s nose; Ellen blew into hermouth. The calf sucked in air and breathed. She wasfully formed and fat. Apparently Kapugen had thedelivery date wrong. Julie reached into her pack forher extra shirt and wiped the calf dry. It got to its feetand wobbled to its mothers side. She arose slowlyand the calf nursed. Julie and Ellen looked at thenewborn and relaxed.

"Its gotten awfully cold," Ellen said. "I hope thelittle thing makes it."

•63.

"She will," said Julie. "She's a musk ox. She wasmade by a storm."

Ellen smiled. Shivering, she pulled out a redbandana, wiped her hand and arm clean, and put onanother sweater and parka.

The wind gusted, blasting more fine snowthrough the cracks. Julie picked up the whale-blubberlamp and held the flame near the block seams. Theheat melted the snow, which quickly turned to iceand ceiled the inside of the wall.

In a short while Siku delivered the afterbirth.

"She will eat it," Ellen said. "It gives her proteinand vitamins."

"That will take too long," Julie said. "There is agrizzly who travels this area. She would knock downthe fence and our shelter for such food."

"In a storm like this?"

"It is nothing to her. She has two yearling cubs tofeed," Julie replied.

"What do we do?"

"I will take the afterbirth outside the corral," Juliesaid, and put on her parka.

She wrapped the afterbirth in hay, pulled out thebottom snow block, and crawled out into the storm.The wind stung her face with snow darts. A powerfulgust knocked her to her knees. When she struggled

•64-

back to her feet, she could see nothing but snow—no ground, no sky, no up, no down. She was insideHilla, the all-white weather spirit. She could not evensee her knees. She would have to crawl. Crawlingwould make a deep trough that she could follow backto the shelter. She put the bundle in her parka,touched the totem of Amaroq, and moved out intothe storm. Finally, she found the gate and threw theafterbirth as far as she could.

Then she turned and dropped to her knees tocrawl back. The trough she had dug was not there. Inone instant the wind and falling snow had leveled it.Julie shivered even in her caribou-lined coat. She hadabsolutely no idea which way to go.

"Ellen," she called.

No answer.

"Ellen!" The wind stopped her words before theycould leave her mouth. She turned her back on it andlet the wind carry her voice on its speeding journey.

"ELLEN! ELLEN!" No reply. Ellen, she real-ized, could not hear her over the shrieking gale.Knowing better than to move, she waited until therewas a lull in the wind screams.

"ELLEN! ELLEN!"

"Julie, where are you?" The voice was so faint, shecould not tell from which direction it had come.

"Shout, Ellen, sing! I cant find my way back."

"Julie. Julie. JULIE," Ellen shouted over and over,and Julie, hanging on to the sound as if it were arope, crept forward. Her head hit the snow wall. Shepulled back the block and crawled in.

"You look like ugruk, the seal," Ellen gasped,brushing snow from Julie's parka.

"I guess we are not going anywhere tonight," Juliesaid. "And maybe not tomorrow night, either," sheadded.

The hours crept by. Julie and Ellen stomped theirfeet to keep themselves warm, ate dried caribou, andhuddled against Sikus warm body. The roar of thewind grew ever louder.

"Hilla will not go away," Julie said.

"What do Eskimos do now?" Ellen asked. Shepatted the calf, who was curled beside her mother.

"We sing and we eat and we wait," Julie said. "Wedo not move."

"I am shivering," Ellen said.

"Sikus skirt is long and very warm. Wrap yourhands in it and blow on them." Ellen tucked herhands and feet in the incredibly light and warm fur,and she stopped shivering.

They sat quietly in the cold gloom. Finally Ellenspoke.

•66-

"You speak beautiful English, Julie," she said. "Idid not know that"

"I lost my English voice on the tundra," Julie said,"when Amaroq, a noble black wolf who had be-friended me, was shot. He saved my life."

"He saved your life?"

Ellen looked as if she would like to hear the story,but Julie could not bring herself to speak about it.Someday she would tell Ellen about Amaroq, some-day when she could tell the story without crying.

"Anyway," Julie went on, "the truth is my knowl-edge of English came back to me when I saw Kapu-gen's house, but. . ." She looked at Ellen.

"I understand," she said. "I am glad you ve de-cided I'm okay."

"You are. You are," Julie said, her eyes shining.

In silence they warmed their hands and feet onSiku and listened to the wild raging storm. Thewhale-blubber lamp glowed. They did not close theireyes.

Long hours later Ellen sat up.

"Do you know the words to 'The Far Northland/Julie?" she asked.

"No," Julie answered, laughing at the title. "Pleaseteach me. This is the perfect place to learn a songwith that name."

Ellen cleared her throat.

"It's the far northland that's a-calling me away,As take I with my knapsack to the road"

Julie's eyes twinkled and she clapped her hands toher mouth. "What's next?"

It's the call on me of the forest in the north,As step I with the sunlight for my loai!}

(jo on.

"By Lake Duncan and Clear WaterAnd the Bear Skin I will go,Where you see the loon and hear its plaintive wail.If you're thinking in your inner heartThere's swagger in my step,You've never been along the border trail."

"Teach me, teach me," Julie cried.

By the time Julie had learned the chorus and allthe verses to the song, Ellen was nodding and sheherself was very sleepy. She checked Ellen to makesure her face was not freezing, then curled up againstSiku and dozed.

The storm roared on and on. Julie and Ellen didnot know how long they had been in the shelter orwhat day it was. They would open their eyes, listen to

the wind, melt snow for tea, take a bite of cheese andbread, and close their eyes again. Ellen did not com-plain. The warm Siku and Julie's insulated wall werekeeping them from freezing to death.

When Julie saw that Ellen had awakened duringa furious blow and could not go back to sleep, sheventured to ask why she had come to the NorthSlope. Ellen rolled up to a sitting position, huggedher knees, and stared at the cheerful whale-blubberlight.

"Like the song says," she began, "it was the farnorthland that was 'a-calling me away/ When I gotmy masters degree in education from the Universityof Minnesota, I saw a newspaper ad for a teacher inan Alaskan village. I could think of nothing more in-spiring than that. I applied to the North Slope Bor-ough, was interviewed, and got the job. I was sent toKangik." She looked up at Julie. "Believe it or not, Iliked it."

"Was my father here then?"

"He was here. We met the day after I arrived andsoon fell in love. It was that simple. I called home andtold my mother I was marrying an Eskimo."

"What did she say?"

" Is he kind?'"

"What did you say?"

•69-

'That's why I love him!" Her face softened andthen she smiled. "When I married Kapugen, I had noidea I would face so many hardships, even though Igrew up on my grandfathers farm in Minnesota."

"Minnesota has trees," said Julie.

"And all that goes with trees: flowers, warm sun-shine, hot and cold running water, flush toilets, bath-tubs . . ." She looked into the yellow flame. "Yet I donot want to go back, and particularly now that I amgoing to have an Eskimo child."

"Yes," said Julie confidently. "He will be happierhere. We like Eskimo babies of all shades, and espe-cially with red hair."

Ellen laughed heartily. "Maybe hell have blackhair and red eyelashes." That made them laugh evenmore.

"Did Kapugen have the corporation when youmet him?" she asked.

"Kapugen was just starting the musk-ox businesswhen we married. The corporation paid for his train-ing as a pilot. The only way to do business on theNorth Slope is by plane. We lived in Fairbanks dur-ing his training. He returned several times to Nuni-vak to find you. No one except Aunt Martha knewwhere you had gone. And she was dead. No oneknew what had happened to you. Kapugen came

•70-

home depressed and discouraged from each trip. Hewould talk endlessly about you and how you andhe would hunt and fish together after your motherdied."

Julie listened to this story about a man and a littlegirl he could not find. It seemed like a folktale aboutpeople she did not know.

"On a trip to Barrow last fall," Ellen went on,"Kapugen happened to meet Nusan, the wife ofNaka. She told him that Naka was dead. Then shesaid with bitterness that you had just run from yourmarriage to her son, Daniel, and gone inland. Shesaid you had died on the tundra."

"He told me that," said Julie. "But what then?"

"When Kapugen came back from Barrow, hekayaked up the Avalik for almost a week to grievealone. Then he came home. 'That is how it is,* hesaid. It cannot be helped.' And we decided it wastime to have a baby." Julie bowed her head, over-whelmed by the knowledge that she had been soughtand talked about all this time.

"You must know the joy he felt when youknocked at his door," Ellen said.

"And to think I almost did not come back," Juliesaid softly. "When I realized he had killed Amaroq, Icould not bear to be with him."

•7i-

"I didn't know he killed your friend."

"It is still very hard for me to understandKapugen," Julie said, her eyes glistening. "He did noteven use the valuable fur."

"Wolves kill oxen," said Ellen.

"Is that his reason?" Julie asked softly.

"I think it must have been," she said. "He wasworried about wolves at that time."

"But the other man? Who was he?"

"A gussak who had paid him well to take themboth wolf hunting. White hunters hate wolves. Theykill the caribou and deer they want."

Julie sighed and leaned against Siku. Ellen turnedover on her side. The wind shook the shelter, andsnow sifted down upon them. The little calf was rest-ing and the mother was breathing quietly. They allfell asleep.

After a long time had passed, Julie was awakenedby a change in the wind song. It had lost its rage. Shepulled back a snow block and looked outside. Shecould see.

Ten snowy musk oxen stood in a circle around theshelter, their soft brown eyes upon her.

"Friends," she called, taking down another blockand carrying pellets to them, "you have a new clanmember."

•72-

As she crawled through the opening, she ob-served the sky.

"Ellen," she said, "there's no light to be seenwhere the sun should be. I think we are here for a fewmore days." Ellen did not say a word. Julie scrambledback into the shelter, took out the cheese and bread,and melted tea water in a tin cup over the whale-blubber candle.

"Can you teach me more songs, Ellen?" she asked.Ellen had many more to teach her. They sang thehours away.

Many hours later the interior of the shelter grewlighter and lighter. The wind stopped shrieking. Juliestuck her head outside.

"Ellen," she called exuberantly, "the sun is shin-ing. We can go home."

Siku and her calf, whom Julie had named FarNorthland, watched Ellen and Julie tear down thesnow wall and let in the sunshine. As Julie and Ellenran toward the gate, Siku and Far Northland fol-lowed them. The herd rubbed their eye glandsagainst their forelegs, and the mother and calfsmelled this message of warning. Siku nudged hercalf and turned back toward the herd. Her long furswung around her feet as she walked slowly into thesun sparkle. The oxen gathered around her and

•73*

looked long and steadily at the new baby.

Singing happily, Julie and Ellen opened the gateand started out across the hard, wind-pounded snowIt squeaked under their footsteps and boomed asif they were walking on a drum. In a short distancethey came upon strewn hay and the claw marks whereAklaq had found the afterbirth. They looked at eachother knowingly and plowed down the river trail.

Three wolves howled, first one at a time, then inunison. Julie's heart beat wildly. "Go away, go away"she cried inside herself. "Go away."

Ellen was singing and seemed not to have heardthe voices. Julie touched her Amaroq totem andsqueezed her eyes tightly shut.

Kapugen came home two days after the stormended. He had stayed the extra days to give HarryUlugaq time to recover from the appendicitis opera-tion so he could bring him home.

He was hardly in the door before Julie began totell the story of Ellen and how she had saved Sikuand Far Northland. Kapugen stared at her, not hear-ing what she was saying.

"You are speaking English," he whisperedhoarsely. "You have not spoken it since you camehome." She nodded, and her already-rosy cheeks

74'

brightened with the excitement of it.

"Then I am forgiven," he said.

"Forgiven?" Julie wondered what made him saythat.

"Forgiven for marrying a gussak," he said.

Julie smiled and ran to Ellen and took her hand.

"I love her," she said. "She is my aaka, my motherand my friend."

"I am glad, all right," he said. "I am glad."

"I am glad, all right, too," said Ellen. "I know Iam strange to you, Julie, but thank you for thosebeautiful words."

"Minnesota has fine people," Julie said, andsmiled.

"They are fine, all right," Kapugen said, touchingEllens red curly hair. "Look at this—it is so fine itstands up and curls." Kapugen constantly found hercurls a source of wonder. He was quiet as he woundone around his finger.

Julie sensed he had more to say. When Ellen hadgone to the bedroom, he walked to the window andback several times. Finally he took Julie's hands in his.

"And am I also forgiven for killing the wolf whosaved your life?" he asked.

"How did you know you killed my Amaroq?" sheasked after a long pause. "I did not tell you."

•75'

"The wolves told me," he replied, and she knewthat was true.

Julie blinked and looked at the floor. "It hurts mythroat and lungs to speak of Amaroq." She lookedup. "But I love you."

"Then I am forgiven?" he asked again. Julielooked into his face a long time as she reached backto the voices of her past. "We do not judge our peo-ple," she finally said. "I love you."

Kapugen placed his cold-toughened hands oneach of Julie's flushed cheeks and tipped her face un-til their eyes met. She saw the sorrow he was feelingfor her, but she also saw that he would do it again ifhe had to.

Over their thoughts they heard the spit andchime of running water. Snowmelt was the harmon-ics. It was tinkling off the roof, out from under thehouse, down the windows, and over the land to theriver. The storm spirit had gone, and the unendingsunlight was turning the snow and ice to water. Theocean, the tundra, the rivers were coming out of theirfrigid strait)ackets. Yesterday the ice-stilled AvalikRiver had buckled with a boom and fractured intomillions of pieces. Abetted by water flowing off thetundra, the river had flooded its banks and washurtling ice and snowmelt seaward toward Kangik

•76-

and the inlet. The breakup was here.

A moaning roar sounded close by, and above thenoise a voice was heard.

"KapugenJ Your boat!"

"Your boat, Kapugen!"

Kapugen rushed out of the house. Julie and Ellen,who had heard and come running, found the ice-filled river almost at the door. It had picked upKapugens motor launch and would have carried itaway, had not Peter been passing bv. He had grabbedit bv the bow and was pulling it landward. Kapugenleaped from the doorstep and pulled too. his bootsankle deep m flowing ice and water. Suddenly ahouse-sized chunk of ice rose like a whale from theriver and rolled toward them.

Julie saw she was needed and splashed into thewater. She grabbed the gunwale across from Kapugenand she., too., heaved. The boat was jerked landward.Then the huge ice block rose and fell. It created awave almost as high as a man. Peter saw that it wouldcarry off the boat and wrapped the rope around oneof the posts that held Kapugens house above the per-mafrost.

Julie saw the wave too. let go of the gunwale, andran, but Kapugen did not. His back was to the wave.It lifted him off his feet, and, losing his grip, he was

•77'

swirled into the water. Ellen ran to Julie and clung toher in horror as Kapugen was swept away.

Peter grabbed another rope from the boat and ranbeside him, looking for a chance to throw it to him.Swimming crosswise to the current, Kapugen waspushed landward.

Ellen covered her eyes. "Dear, baby," she said."Lie still. Lie still. It will be all right/'

Another swell lifted Kapugen high and dumpedhim on an overturned fishing shed. He clung to itwhile the wave ran out and back into the river; thenhe leaped to the beach and ran.

"Nangaun!" he cried in praise, lifting his arms.

Julie did not begin trembling until Kapugen wasalmost back to them. She hugged Ellen, only to findshe was shaking too.

Not Kapugen. He was laughing. His clothes weredripping and his wolverine ruff was wet but notsoggy. His hair was plastered against his head. Heslapped Peter on the back and said something, andPeter laughed, too.

"Why are they laughing?" Ellen asked in shock.

"You must have a sense of humor to live in theArctic," Julie said. "Eskimos laugh. Its the best way"

"At prank jokes," Ellen said. "Not at death"

"At death," said Julie. "Its the best way."

Kapugen and Peter pulled the boat far up onshore; then Kapugen changed his clothes and put onhis rubber breakup boots. He joined the villagers,who had come running when they heard the river hadtaken Kapugen and given him back.

Atik and Uma arrived. Umas little son, Sorqaq,whose English name was Perry, peered over hershoulder. He was inside her amaunnaq, the woman'scoat designed to carry babies and toddlers. A beltaround Umas coat at her waist kept Perry from slip-ping to the ground. He stood up on it and lookedout. A wind hit his face, and he slid down against hismothers warm body.

Malek came running, and behind him cameMarie, the storekeeper.

"Aaya," Marie said to Kapugen. "You must haveoffended the spirit of the river. She did not take you!'The friends laughed.

Marie was joined by her husband, Ernest Adams,a famous walrus-tusk carver. His grandfather hadbeen a Boston whaling captain who had settled inWainwright and married Anugl, the best bootmakeron the Arctic coast. It was Anugls father who hadtaught Ernest to carve ivory.

Julie studied Ernest Adams, for he was both Es-kimo and gussak. His skin was lighter than Maries

•79'

and His face more elongated, but he had the dark eyesand broad, high cheekbones of the Eskimos. Ernestsappearance was not exceptional. Many Eskimos hadwhite fathers or grandfathers, and recently some hadbeen born to white mothers. More and more womenfrom the lower forty-eight were coming to the Arcticto teach, practice medicine, and take a variety of jobs.Several, like Ellen, had married native men, stayed,and raised families. Julie looked from Ernest toEllens full figure. She was excited about the littlechild who would soon be among them.

Another woman joined the group, greeting Ellen.Her six-year-old son smiled shyly, and Ellen turnedto Julie.

"This is Benjamin, my student/' she said. "AndBenjamin, this is my daughter, Julie." He smiled shylyat Julie and ran to Kapugen. "I am glad the river gaveyou back," he said to him.

"You bet," answered Kapugen. "I'm too nasty. Itdid not want me." Benjamin laughed, picked up astone, and threw it at the water.

"Bad river," he said. "I punish the river." Kapugenlaughed and, picking up the little boy, put him on hisshoulders as Peter walked up.

"The water is rising close to your house," Peter

-So-

said. "Should we tie ropes to it and try to save it?"

Kapugen jounced Benjamin playfully. "The worstis past/' he said, pointing upriver. "When I was flyinghome this morning, I saw that most of the tundra issnow bare and there are no dams of ice to breakloose."

"Did you see the one that brought this flood?"

"I think I did, near duck camp, but I do notknow. The one I saw did not look so big. Thebreakup plays pranks."

The river began to recede, and the villagers weretold they were not needed to save Kapugens house,but no one went home. It was sunny and warm, al-most forty degrees. Everyone was happy to be out-doors. A snowbird trilled a cascade of sweet notes,and Julie turned to find him. The bird flew off withseeds in his beak.

"Its summer," exclaimed Julie. "The snowbirdsare feeding their babies."

"Its summer," cried Benjamin, and slid downKapugens back.

"Its time to celebrate," said Kapugen. "I broughtback a big sack of flour from Barrow. We'll makeEskimo doughnuts."

"I have whale meat and maktak," said Malek, who

had just returned from a successful whale hunt. Agreat cheer went up.

"Maktak," Benjamin shouted, and danced in acircle. "I love maktak better than candy."

"Kangik will have a whale festival, Nalukataq,"Malek said. "It is time to share."

"How many whales did Wainwright take?" Atikasked.

"Five. That is their quota this year," Malek said."It is not enough for everyone, but it cannot behelped. We cannot take more than the whaling com-mission permits us."

"Why?" shouted Benjamin. "I love lots and lotsand lots of maktak."

"We want the whales to live," said Malek, "sothat you, your children, and your grandchildren willhave maktak."

"And Nalukataq, and blanket tosses," addedMarie.

"Where is the blanket?" asked Atik.

"In the back of the store," Marie said. "Comehelp me get it—everyone come help."

"A blanket toss, a blanket toss," said Benjamin.He met his friend Roy, and together they jumpedinto one puddle after the other as they made their

•82-

way down the pebbly street to the church. Other chil-dren were running and splashing in every puddle theycould find on their way to Nalukataq. It was puddletime for the Arctic children and for Julie. She had onher breakup boots and was standing m a deep pool,kicking water and laughing. Puddles were a rare treatm the Arctic.

Nalukataq was held on the grounds in front ofthe church. The church was primarily a communitycenter for the villagers, since the minister came toKangik only a few times a year. Today it had becomea community- festival ground.

The river roar was a backdrop for the activity7.Coleman stoves were set in a circle, and pots of waterfor cooking put on to boil. Malek pulled his sled ofwhale meat and blubber into the midst of the cooksand celebrants and cut the long slabs of meat intochunks for the pots. He carved the delicious skin intosmall bites with a strip of blubber on each—this was themaktak. Then he carved the fluke into thin slices.Taktuk, his wife, would distribute the fluke in a cere-mony that some elders said was four thousand years old.

Only about fifty- people remained in town, but inless than an hour every house was empty and the fes-tival was in full swing. The sealskin blanket was

•83-

spread on the ground. Marie served duck soup, andUma and Taktuk passed out the raw maktak. Fourdrummers put up a band shell of caribou skins. Theytuned up their round flat drums, which were onsticks like lollypops, and sat down on furs, theirbacks straight. Harry Ulugaq, who was still weakfrom his operation, was helped to the drum stand.He was determined to play and sing.

The first ponderous beat of the whale-liver-skindrum sounded. It gave a special sound for the openingof Nalukataq. Julie and Ellen hurried home to makethe Eskimo doughnuts Kapugen had promised. Juliehung her wet mittens to dry on one of the woodenbeams that held Kapugens kayak near the ceiling.

"How do you make Eskimo doughnuts?'' Ellenasked.

"I don't know," Julie said, laughing. 'Til go askMarie—she should know." She ran off and returneda few moments later, grinning sheepishly.

"You put fifteen handfuls of flour into a bowlwith some water and sugar and let it ferment for fivedays. Then you roll it, cut it, and cook it in deepwhale oil"

"Really?" Ellen said, and winked. "Eskimowomen have a big sense of humor, too. Let s do it theMinnesota way." She took out a large pot, opened her

cookbook, and told Julie to read off the ingredientsas she mixed.

Julie read and thumbed through the book be-tween directions.

"What is apple pie?" she asked.

Ellen looked up with a start.

"I thought everyone knew," she said. 'Tm alwaysforgetting that I'm in the Arctic. Apple pie is to thelower forty-eight as maktak is to the North Slope.Gussaks love apple pie. They have to, because every-one says they do." She laughed and dumped the mixon the table, patted it, then flattened it out. "WhenNalukataq is over, I will bake you an apple pie."

"What are apples?" Julie asked. Ellen threw upher sticky hands.

"I will never get used to no trees," she said. "I stillthink I can run out in the backyard and pick apples.Its a delicious fruit that grows on a tree." Ellens eyesglistened, and Julie knew she must be homesick. Sheremembered how she had felt in Barrow when some-one talked about Nunivak. Minnesota was even far-ther away.

The drums throbbed, and voices rose in rhythmicsong. Ellen showed Julie how to cut the flatteneddough into round circles with a drinking glass andput a hole in the center with the mouth of an empty

•85-

pop bottle. After she tested the oil, they dropped inthe doughnuts three at a time.

"When they are brown, lift them out with thisstrainer," Ellen said. She began opening cans andmixing an enormous bean salad.

Kapugen came in to get his Eskimo yo-yos, twofur-covered bags on two strings, for the yo-yo contestand picked up a doughnut cooling on the rack. Heturned it curiously.

"Minnesota doughnut," said Julie. Kapugen tooka big bite, said "Ummmm," and took another.

"This needs salmon to make it really good," hesaid.

"Salmon?" said Ellen, horrified, but Kapugen didnot hear. He had hurried outside and opened hisgame cellar, a twelve-foot-deep square hole in thepermafrost. He climbed down the ladder into theeighteen-degree atmosphere and came back intothe house with three huge salmon.

"And now to celebrate the great whale," he said,putting the fish in a bag and slinging it over hisshoulder. Julie carried the doughnuts in a largebucket, and Ellen brought the salad. The Kapugenfamily joined the celebrants to the beat of the tundradrums.

When the villagers had gathered, Taktuk stoodon her family's sled.

"Anyone here have a husband and three children?"she called.

"Me," called Marie, and ran forward laughing.

"A precious piece of the flipper for Marie,"Taktuk said, handing her a prized morsel. Everyoneclapped as Marie ran back to her stove.

"Anyone here with a gold tooth?" Taktuk called.

"Henry, Henry Smith," everyone shouted, andpushed a nimble little man into the center of the cir-cle. Taktuk called for many more people by spouses,numbers of children, color of parkas, sizes ofbreakup boots.

"One more piece," she finally called. "Anyonehere who loves Kapugens Julie?"

"I do," a young man called instantly.

"I do," Kapugen and Ellen called simultaneously,but too late. Peter Sugluk was dancing out into thecircle to claim the prize.

The schoolboys leaped and laughed and the girlsgiggled. The adults smiled and told jokes. Juliestepped behind Kapugen and buried her face in hisattigi, the summer parka, then peered around him.

Peter took his large slab of flipper and, holding it

•87-

high, walked over to Ellen and presented it to her. Hewas dressed in his traditional clothing, a reindeerparka with wolverine trim.

Peter bent his knees, took a wide stance, andstamped his toe. The drummers picked up hisrhythm as he danced into the center of the circle.

Peter danced lightly and gracefully. He held hisarms out as he beat a complicated rhythm with toes,arms, and body. He shot an imaginary spear into thesky. He skinned a mysterious animal, scraped it, andwrapped it around his shoulders. He moved so nim-bly, he seemed more like a fox hunting in the snowthan a person. Finally he stopped and bowed to thevillagers.

"As you know," he said in Yupik, "I am gratefulto my adopted parents, Malek and Taktuk. I nowdance for them."

Peter danced like a reindeer coming across thetundra, like a flock of snow geese speeding over thesea ict, like a seal, like a whale, like a herd of caribou.His hands, feet, and body were as graceful as theivory gull. No one had ever seen such dancing before,and they watched with rapt attention, Julie amongthem.

Then he beckoned to her. She hesitated. Kapugenurged her into the circle, and with a smile she began

•88-

to dance. She held up her hands, wrists bent, thumbstucked, and danced while Peters feet kept time. Shedanced a woman's dance she had learned in Nunivak.When her dance was done, she bowed and Peter per-formed another mans dance, ending it with swift,complicated footwork. Then he walked over to Julieas if to claim her.

"Where did you learn the dance?" Julie askedshyly. "Its very wonderful."

"Siberia," he said. "That is my home."

"Siberia?" Julie at last knew why his accent wasdifferent. He came from far away. "How did you gethere?" she asked. He took her arm and walked withher to the blanket for the blanket toss.

"With the Siberian Yupik Dancers," he said. "Wehave been dancing in Barrow and Kaktovik in Alaskaand Kraulshavn in Greenland. I come from Provi-deniya, Siberia. We are all one people, you know, wewho live around the North Pole. I speak Yupik. Youspeak Yupik. We hunt and fish. You hunt and fish.Nations make borders, cultures do not. I am here andwere dancing the same steps although we never metbefore." He leaned over and picked up a side of theblanket. Julie took a firm grip, as did the other vil-lagers.

"Where are your dancing friends?" she asked

■8o-

when everyone had a place around the sealskinblanket.

"They have gone home. Our visiting time was up.I liked it here. One day I met Malek. He told meKangik had musk oxen and that he needed help withthem.

"I told him I knew about them. We have muskoxen on our side of the Arctic Ocean, too. So that Icould stay, Malek and Taktuk legally adopted me,and I have been very happy."

"Siberia," Julie repeated.

"We Eskimos were cut off from each other by thewhite mans politics for so long," Peter said grippingthe blanket more tightly, "that we each forgot theother was there. Not our dances and languages. Theyremember six thousand years back. It is very exciting."

"Hup, hup," called Kapugen, and the villagerslowered the blanket to the ground so Benjamin couldstep onto the center of it. Carefully everyone lifted itup, then down, moving the blanket in a rhythm.

"Up!"

Benjamin flew fifteen feet in the air, pumping hisfeet and moving his arms to keep his balance. Hehung in space a moment, a bright figure in a blueparka with white trim, then came pumping down. He

*9°*

hit the leather blanket and went flying up again.Three times he sped up into the blue sky and down.Then everyone rested.

After Benjamin, Edna Ulugak was tossed. Shesped like a little bird and made graceful movementswith her arms to much cheering. When she was tired,her big brother was tossed.

The blanket toss went on until everyone whowished had flown up and down like a bouncing ball,perfecting their poses and twists at the top of theride. When there were no more volunteers, the blan-ket was put away for the night.

Julie gave Peter a Minnesota doughnut. He put iton his finger, danced a doughnut dance, and ate it."Strange," he said. Marie gave them maktak on paperplates, and they sat down on the ground to eat.

"Yurnmm," Peter said. "Just like home."

"One thing you will find that is not like home,"Julie said, "is that on this side of the Pole we dontsay we love someone unless we do."

"We dont either." Peter said. "I love you." Helooked at her. "In Siberia we know right away whenwere in love. Over here it seems to take longer. Toomuch white-man influence. American white men waituntil they go to school, get a job, have a house. When

.91

they are old men, they fall in love."

Chewing on her maktak, Julie thought of Danieland her marriage to him at thirteen. She thought thewhite men were right.

The sun dipped low and then started up the sky.It was very late. Noticing that Ellen was packing up,Julie got up to help her. Peter arose.

"Julie," he said, taking her arm and walking heraway from the crowd, "I also wanted to talk to youabout your wolves."

She cried in terror, "You know about them?"

"I do."

"How? How?" she asked.

"The wolf," he said, as if she should know betterthan to ask, "speaks to you of friendship."

"Kapu is a wild wolf," she answered tartly."That's all." She ran toward Ellen.

"Julie." Peter caught up with her and pulled heraside again. "Kapu and his pack killed a musk ox lastnight."

Julie spun around. "No," she cried. "No, hedidn't. He is in Anaktuvuk Pass with the caribou."

"The grizzly knocked down the fence," Peter saidsoftly and slowly. "I drove her far inland with rifleshots in the air. While I was gone, the wolves camein. They were leaving the carcass when I found them.

They ran off. I fixed the fence and waited to see ifthey would come back. They did not/'

"No, Peter, no," Julie cried. "Kapugen will killthem." She ran off a few steps and came back.

"Please don't tell him," she said. "I must do it"

^ Jmh

':■ <>#&&£

Tart ii

amy,the wolf pup

Julie felt as lost as she had been in the blindingsnowstorm. She stood motionless thinking of whatKapu had done. The drummers were putting theirdrums away, leftover food was being toted home,and sleepy children were being carried off to bed.Kapugen and Ellen were teaching Benjamin, Roy,and little Edna Ulugak the foot and arm movementsof the caribou dance, but Julie saw none of this. Shecould see only the terrible fate of her wolves.

She did not even see Peter, who was walkingbackward watching her. In the hazy sunlight of oneo'clock in the morning he looked as if he had beencast in an orange bronze.

Julie walked to Kapugens rescued boat and satdown. She stared at the raging river. The water hadabated, but huge blocks of ict roiled up, boomed,sank, and reemerged far downstream. The roar of the

*97

breakup was comforting. It was a sound wall that iso-lated her from the now-sleepy merriment of Kangik.She could concentrate on what to do about herwolves.

Kapu must have puppies now, she thought. Hewould not go far from them, and so she laid a plan.

Into her consciousness came the crackle ofKapugens CB.

"White Fox Base," she heard. "This is WainwrightRescue Base. Do you read me, Kapugen? Over."

Julie sat quietly thinking of Kapu. The call wasrepeated again before she shook her head and hurriedinto the house. She flipped on the CB.

"Wainwright Rescue Base, I read you. Kapugen isnot here. Over."

"White Fox Base. This is Search and Rescue call-ing. Emergency. Emergency. Can you get him? Over."

"I will get him. Out." Kapugen was a member ofthe Search and Rescue Team of the North Slope. Hewas needed. Julie ran.

She found Kapugen, Ellen, and Uma dancing inthe sunlight near the church. The children were gone,and Uma was showing Ellen how to move her feet toperform a special chorus of the woman's dance. Ellenwas following her steps with great artistry. Julie ranup to Kapugen.

ioo

"Aapa" she said, "Search and Rescue wants you."Kapugen stopped dancing and, taking Ellens hand,hurried home with her. Julie followed slowly, think-ing up words to tell Kapugen about Kapu and themusk ox.

When she entered the house, Kapugen was get-ting into his flying jacket.

"Not good news," he said. "A lawyer and his wifefrom Barrow are lost in the sea. Before the storm theyheaded out in their boat for Kuk Inlet. No wordfrom them since. I am flying out to see if I can findthem." He stepped to his CB and flicked it on.

"Malek," he said into the speaker, "Kapugenspeaking. Do you hear me?" A pause.

"I hear you, Kapugen, but not too good. I amsleepy. Over."

"Clear your head, my good co-pilot," he said,"and meet me at the Quonset. Two people are miss-ing in the sea. Out."

He snapped off the radio, kissed Ellen, and pat-ted Julie's cheek.

"ril be back," he said.

"Aapa." Julie ran to the door with him. "I havesomething I must tell you."

"Later, later," he said, and rushed into the coppersunlight of the small hours of the day.

101

"He must find them," Ellen said to Julie's back."This country has more than its share of tragedies."

"That is how it is" Julie said, and climbed upon the iglek. Ellen went into her bedroom and pulledthe blinds so she could sleep. The dogs barked,Kapugen's airplane took off, and Kangik was quiet.Nalukataq was over.

Kapugen was gone two days. When he returned,he was somber and thoughtful. He stopped by thestore to tell Marie and a few shoppers that he hadlocated the boat upside down on a lonely beach. Itwas empty. The lawyers log book said he had turnedaround when he saw the storm that had trappedJulie and Ellen. It overtook him. The shoppersshook their heads at the news. They knew whatHilla, the weather spirit, could do, and they weresaddened.

For the next week Kapugen was in and out of thehouse and too busy to either talk to Julie or go to thecorral. He and Malek flew back and forth to Barrowon legal matters for the lawyer s family and over thelonely beaches and capes searching for their bodies.Malek turned over the management of the herd toPeter.

Julie waited for a chance to speak to Kapugen.She read some new books she had found when she

102

had helped Ellen clean the schoolroom for the sum-mer. She fished, fed the dogs, and checked the corralfence. In the late afternoon she would go out on thetundra and note the tracks of the mammals and theactivities of the birds. She was practicing for the planshe had devised.

The uminmaks were shedding great swatches ofqivit as the season changed. Peter came by the houseto ask Julie to help him gather it. She accepted, eagerto fill in the time until she could speak to Kapugen.When they were done, she would go out on the tun-dra and listen for messages from her wolves.

Two calves were born one afternoon, and Julieran all the way home, her black hair flying behind.

"Ellen," she said with great excitement, "FarNorthland has two new friends."

"Two more oxen," Ellen said, smiling. "Verygood. Very good. We will soon have a herd largeenough to make this industry pay for itself." Sheopened the record book and wrote down the births."Were they girls or boys?"

"They are both females," Julie replied.

"Good. That means more little ones."

"Lets celebrate," said Julie. "I will catch you achum, the best salmon. They are beginning to comeup the river from the sea."

•103

"Splendid/' said Ellen. 'Til cook it the Minne-sota way."

It did not take Julie long to catch the fish. She fil-leted it with deft movements, then watched Ellenstuff it with herbs and dried fruit her mother hadsent.

"Julie," Ellen said, straightening up after placingthe fish in the oven, "I've been noticing the books youare reading. You are much too advanced to go toschool in Kangik next winter"

"I am?" Julie said. "That's too bad. I would liketo be a student here."

"You can be a student," Ellen said, "but not here.In a year or so the North Slope Borough will build ahigh school in Kangik, but until they do, the boroughsends Kangik high school students to Barrow, An-chorage, or Fairbanks. You can then go on to theUniversity of Alaska or even to the lower forty-eightto colleges and universities there."

Julie listened attentively.

"If you are interested," Ellen said, "I will get anapplication for you."

"I will think about it," Julie replied without en-thusiasm.

"You would not be alone," Ellen urged. "Therewould be other young Eskimos your age. You would

• 104 •

go to dances and basketball and volleyball games/'

Julie was quiet. Ellen tried harden

"One of my students graduated from the An-chorage high school last year. He will go to the Uni-versity of Alaska in Fairbanks this fall. Wouldn't thatbe fun?"

"What do the students do after they are edu-cated?" Julie asked.

"Most come back to the North Slope," Ellenreplied. "One is now the Superintendent of Schools.Another is a banker. Another from Barrow is an ex-pert on the Ifiupiat language and she s even compiledan Ifiupiat dictionary. There is a lot to be done withan education up here. The Eskimo want to keep theirculture and at the same time learn more modernskills like using computers and libraries."

Julie sat as still as a hunted rabbit. A week and ahalf ago she would probably have asked Ellen to gether an application. Today she could not. She had acontract with her wolves. She must save them.

Ellen turned on her symphonic music. She servedthe salmon.

"Shall I apply for you?" she asked.

"I must think." Ellen, sensing Julie was up againstsome emotional wall, walked over to the calendar.

"Your little brother or sister will be with us on

105 •

the fifth of July, the doctor says. We'll talk aboutschool after the baby comes." They ate quietly, listen-ing to the wind rattling the windows accompanied byEllens music.

"Ellen," Julie finally said, "I am very selfish. I havenot made a present for my little paipiuraq." Shescraped the dishes and put them in a pan of dishwater.

"I sew well," she went on. "I once made beautifulparkas for Nusan, the wife of Kapugens serious part-ner." Julie pulled on her rubber breakup boots. 'Tilwash the dishes when I come back. I want to go tothe Quonset. Kapugen gave me his white ermines. Hesaid they were for me. He said he wanted me to makesomething beautiful for myself out of them. But I amgoing to make the baby a glistening white parka ofermine." She put on her attigi. "I am not so selfishanymore," she said.

"You have never been selfish," Ellen replied.

Julie smiled shyly and hurried outside into thecool sunshine. A soft wind was blowing from the dis-tant ocean. The tiny sedges and reeds along the riverwere sheltering geese and ducks on their nests. Outon Kuk Inlet, now a deep blue-green, men andwomen in fishing boats were catching the firstsalmon and whitefish that were on their way inlandto spawn and lay eggs. The whale, duck, and seal sea-

• 106 •

sons were over; the fishing season had begun.

Splashing through the mud puddles, Julie de-signed the ermine parka in her head as she skippedand ran to the Quonset. She did not see Peter untilshe was almost upon him.

"Julie," he said, smiling. "I was coming to findyou. I saw your wolves."

She stopped still. Her eyes did the speaking:Where! they asked.

"About forty miles up the Avalik," he answered."They were carrying food."

"Good. That means they are feeding a mother.They are at a den."

"That s what I thought."

"How many adults did you see?"1 hree.

"Three," she said. "Do you think you saw themall? Atik saw eight in the winter."

"The winter has been hard on wolves. No food.Some have probably starved."

She bit her lip. "I must go to them. Forty miles isnot far enough for a wolf. They will be back for an-other musk ox." She started to leave.

"Can you join me at the shelter?" he asked. "Thefourth calf is about to be born, and the cow is actingstrangely."

• 107 •

"I will join you later in the day," she said. "I amon my way to get ermine from Kapugen's fur pile inthe Quonset. I am going to make Ellens baby a beau-tiful coat."

Peter smiled and looked at her over the top of hisdark glasses.

"I love you," he said. "Do you love me?"

"Peter Sugluk," she said. "I must finish highschool and college and get a masters degree in Yupikand Inupiat before I can think of being in love."

"Has Ellen been talking to you?"

"She has."

"Ellen has been talking to me also," Peter said. "Ihave applied to the University of Alaska."

"You are going to school?" Julie asked, andlaughed. "You are full of surprises." She put herhands on her hips. "I don't know what to think aboutyou."

"Yes, you do," he said, taking her around thewaist and swinging her off her feet. He circled twicebefore he put her down facing the Quonset.

"Now go get the ermine for the baby present," hesaid. 'Til meet you at the shelter."

Julie caught her balance, then ran around thechurch and up the trail to the Quonset. Stepping in-side, she peered back at Peter. His white attigi flapped

■io8-

as he ran. He was a gvrfalcon speeding to its roost.

I like him, Julie said to herself. That's ah. But she didnot take her eves awav from him until he was out ofsight.

It was midnight. The plane engine droned offm the distance, grew louder and lower, and finallycut out. Julie listened from her lglek and waited.Kapugen and Ellen were returning from the doctorm Barrow. Julie had not slept since the midnightsun had colored the tundra orange, for this was theday she would tell Kapugen that Kapu had killed amusk ox. .Almost a week had passed since the inci-dent. She was frightened but determined.

Ellen came m the door first and passed the lglekon tiptoes., assummg Julie was asleep. She crossed theroom m her stocking feet, winding her red hair onthe top of her head. When it was all pulled up andtied., she dipped a pan of water from the thirty-gallonplastic container beside the refrigerator. Ellen took along drink of cold, fresh river water. Since thebreakup the people of Kangik could once again diptheir water from the Avalik.

Ellen brushed her teeth oyer an enamel basin andthrew the water down the kitchen sink. At last shewent into the bedroom.

• 109 •

Julie listened to the water run down the sink pipeand splash on the ground under the house. She heardit trickle away. This was a sound of summer. Thesink water was no longer freezing in a glass cone un-der the house.

Kapugen opened the doors and came in. Juliewiggled to the edge of the iglek.

"Aapa," she whispered, "I have something to tellyou." She was almost eye to eye with him.

"Ee-lie, pretty Miyax," he said, and winked. "Soyou have a love?"

"Aapa," she said, ignoring him. "Please be seri-ous.

"Ee-lie," he said, and kissed her cheek. "Is it thatyou want to get married?" He brushed back a strandof her hair.

"Aapa, Aapa." Julie slid off the iglek and stoodbefore him. "I want you to listen to what I have totell you with a soft heart."

Kapugen looked puzzled. "Don 11 always?"

"The wolves killed an ox "

The cheerful twinkle left Kapugens eyes. After athoughtful silence he turned and went into theqanitchaq. He put on his flying jacket and picked uphis wolf gun.

"Please don't," Julie begged. She followed him

into the two-A.M. sunlight.

"Please don't," she pled again.

"It cannot be helped," he answered, taking thepath to the Quonset and his airplane. "We need themusk oxen."

"Please, Kapugen, my aapa." Julie ran beside himin her bare feet. "I will keep the wolves away from theoxen. Please do not shoot them. They saved my life."She stopped and reached out her arms to him.

"It cannot be helped," he repeated, but his pacedid slow. Julie's eyes filled with tears. She hurried tocatch up with him.

"Please, Aapa, it will never happen again. It willnever happen again. I know what to do."

"Perhaps the killers are not the wolves whosaved you," Kapugen said, wanting to believe this, al-though he knew there was only one pack betweenWainwright and the mountains.

"They are. Don't shoot them," she answered."Peter saw the pack. One was silver and one was gray.The leader was black."

"But I shot your black leader."

"The black one is his pup. You shot him, too, butnot badly. I nursed him back to health." She hesi-tated. "I named him after you. His name is Kapu. Heis a great leader."

"The musk oxen must live," said Kapugen. "Weneed money for the villagers."

"Atik has walrus, Malek has whale. Duck andgoose eggs are everywhere in the river reeds. Thewhitefish and salmon are beginning their runs."

"We cannot hunt forever," said Kapugen. "Thewild animals are passing off the earth. We must finda new way to live in the Arctic. Industry. The muskoxen are our industry."

Kapugen had slowed his pace to a hesitant walk.His face reflected such sadness that Julie could notbear to look at him.

"It cannot be helped," he said once more. "I mustshoot the wolves that killed the ox."

"Let me go to them," she said. "I know what todo. You once talked to the wolves. Like you, I learnedtheir language when I was with them on the tundra. Iwill tell them where the caribou are and send themoff to find them. They will do that."

Kapugen ran his weather-darkened fingers overhis brow, as if changing his mind. Then his resolvereturned and he strode on toward the Quonset. Julieran after him.

"Please, let me try," she begged. "If I don't suc-ceed, then I will understand. Please, Aapa."

Kapugen let her catch up to him. "In Minnesota,"

• 112 •

he said, "the wolves are protected. No one can shootthem.

"They roam the forests taking deer and mooseand an animal they call the beaver. But when a wolfcomes onto a persons land and kills his cattle, thenthe government environmental officers come andshoot him. They shoot the ones that compete withhumans. They think that is fair. That is how it is be-tween humans and wolves in Minnesota."

"But not here," Julie said. "We are different. Weknow the wolf is from the earth and must live so weall can live."

"Not when we live as the white men do." Kapu-gen had stopped walking. "Eskimos," he said, hisvoice low as he paced his words carefully, "now liveby the Minnesota rules."

"The old rules are best," said Julie.

"I taught you that, didn't I?"

"You taught me that, Aapa."

"I was wrong."

Slender clouds were forming over the bay as thesun began its endless circle around the top of theworld again. Julie and her father noted them, as theynoted all clouds.

"Sunshine," said Julie. "I can travel."

"Then you will go to them?" Kapugen said quietly.

•113

"I will go to them."

"And what will you do?"

"I do not quite know until I talk to them"

"How will you travel? You cannot take the dogs."

"On foot, until I find them. Then I will travel asthey travel." She dropped to her hands and feet andpranced lightly around Kapugen, whimpering andwhining like a wolf.

"You did learn their language," he said, pullingher gently to her feet. "Go to them. I know your ef-forts will be wasted. Wolves do not know about peo-ple's property. They see their rightful prey and takeit. Wolves have to be wolves."

"Wolves know about borders," Julie said. "Theyhave hunting lands like we do. They mark and patrolthem. It is too bad that our musk oxen are on Kapu sland. He thinks they are his."

Kapugen put the gun sling around his neck andlet the rifle hang on his back.

"It is useless," he said.

"You will let me try?" she asked.

"I cannot refuse," he said, touching her shinyblack hair with the gentleness of a wolf with a puppy."I will let you try." He rose on his toes, then rockedback on his heels. "If they kill again, I must go by theMinnesota rules."

•114

"All right," she said. "But you will not have to."She wiped her eyes with a knuckle and thanked himwith a teary smile.

Kapugen slipped his arm around her shoulderand they walked back home, casting long purpleshadows before them.

"Take your .22," he said as they approached thehouse. "I will give you ammunition."

"I do not want my 221' She remembered the gunblasts that had killed Amaroq and the fear her wolvesharbored for guns.

"There are grizzly bears out there," Kapugenwent on. "Shoot the gun m the air. It will scarethem."

Julie nodded. "Maybe I will take it," she said, re-calling the grizzly who had attacked her. Had it notbeen for Amaroq and his pack, she might not be herenow.

Kapugen said no more until he put his hand onthe qanitchaq doorknob.

"I will come for you," he said. "My old dog CBwill pick up your trail and lead me to you. He's agood tracker, all right. He can smell a seal four milesaway and go find it."

"Give me two weeks," she said. "Enough timeto get through to them." Kapugen nodded once. He

understood. One had to be patient with the Arctic.

Julie spent the next few hours provisioning herselffor the trip. She took food, her ulu bag and whale oil,and a change of clothing. She hummed as she madeher preparations. She was looking forward to walkingin freedom on the open tundra again. This time shewould walk without fear of starvation.

When she was packed, she went outside andtacked the white ermines to a board. Carefully she cutthem into strips with her ulu. She sat down andstitched them into a single beautiful hide. All theglistening guard hairs lay in one direction. She heldup the block of fur and drew in her breath. The er-mine bunting was going to be breathtakingly beauti-ful. She wrapped it around her shoulders, then ran toEllens mirror above the kitchen sink. The ice-whitefur made her soft olive skin glow and her black eyesmore lustrous. She carried it to the iglek and tuckedit under the grizzly skin. She would complete thebunting when the baby was born. That would bringthe child good luck. She lay down on the iglek andslept.

Hours later, her pack on her back, she steppedoutside. She had read the clouds correctly. The airwas clear, the sky cloudless. The horizon shimmered.

• 116 •

At least this part of the three-month-long day wasgoing to be beautiful. She walked to the river trail.There she took the totem of Amaroq out of herpocket and held it against her cheek. Then shestarted off on her journey.

As she approached the corral, she saw Peter andcalled to him. He waved and came running to greether. His wide smile clearly said he was glad to see her.

"The calf is born," he called. "Another girl."

Julie smiled, but she did not comment. She hadbut one thought on her mind.

"Tell me again, Peter Sugluk," she said. "Wheredid you last see the wolves?"

Peter described an elbow bend in the river and along beach of white stones. "I saw them walkingthere."

"Were there any pretty flowers around?" sheasked.

"Ee-lie, come to think of it, there were. Why doyou ask?"

"Silver likes flowers around her den. They mightbe denning somewhere near flowers. Were the bankshigh?"

1 hey were.

"They like to den high so they can look out overthe land."

•117

Peter folded his arms on his chest and tipped hishead. His eyes twinkled appreciatively at her knowl-edge. Then his expression changed.

"What did Kapugen say?" he asked anxiously.

"That he would let me try to save them," she an-swered. "He will give me this chance. He must shootthem if they kill again."

"What is your plan?" Peter asked.

"I will take them to the caribou, wherever theyare," she said.

"How will you do that?" he asked.

"With wolf reasoning," she answered.

Peter grinned and reached into his attigi pocket."Take this," he said, handing her a small object thatwas carved out of walrus-tusk ivory. It hung on athong.

"Its very nice," she said. "What is it?"

"A ground-squirrel whistle," he answered. "Imade it. It will amuse you when you are discouraged."She turned it over in her hand, then put it around herneck.

"A ground-squirrel whistle," she said, ducking herchin and looking up at him with laughing eyes. "Iwill think of you when I blow it."

"That is what it is really for," he said. "To makeyou think of me." He folded his arms. "And you mil

•ii8-

think of me when you blow it," he reassured her, andchuckled.

"I am sure I will not be able to help it," she said."Its a funny gift. A ground-squirrel whistle."

Peter laughed, and his white teeth shone brightlyagainst his bronze skin. The ermine tails on his bootsdanced.

"I would go with you," he finally said, "butMalek needs me."

"I must go alone," she said. "The wolves are myfriends."

Julie looked out across the tundra and pointedher boots toward the wolves.

She stepped lightly around small snow patches asshe followed the Avalik River toward its source. Herheels barely touched the ground as she walked. Sheskipped around poppies and waved to the snowbuntings that flew up from the flowers.

A day s walk beyond duck camp, Julie came upona weasel standing on his hind feet, paws drapedon his chest. He was no longer wearing his winterfur of white ermine, but a golden-brown coat thatblended with the summer tundra. He was boldlyblocking her way. Julie stamped her foot at him. Heshowed his sharp teeth and screamed but did not run.

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Julie walked closer. When she was almost two feetfrom him, she stopped.

"I am a person," she said. "Why aren't you afraidof me? Is it because you have never seen a human be-fore?" She lifted her arms and swayed from side toside.

"See how big I am?" The weasel twitched hiswhiskers and stood his ground. "Learn to be afraidof two-legged animals," she said. "They shoot littleweasels in the winter and make them into glorious er-mine coats." The bright-eyed, pointed-faced weaselstood firm, so she blew him a kiss and went on.

The next day Julie passed a snowy owl on hernest. Like the weasel, the large white bird with itshuge golden eyes was not afraid of her. She let Juliecome almost up to her fluffy babies before getting upon her feet.

Julie pondered about what she was seeing. Theanimals were talking to her. The owl and the weaselwere saying they were not afraid of people becausethey rarely saw them. They were saying that Julie wasin a wilderness where people did not come. In suchcountry, she knew, the wolves of the Arctic raise theiryoung.

A redpoll flew up from a grassy spot with a pieceof fur in her bill. Julie spun around. That was wolf

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fur. She looked down. The grass had been bent bysoft, padded feet, not sharp hoofs. She followed thesubtle trail and came upon the sleeping scoop of awolf. The bits of fur within it were black. Kapu hadbeen here. The trail she was following was his. Herspirits lightened.

Bending low, noting every trampled blade ofgrass, she traced Kapu's footsteps from his sleepingscoop to an elbow bend in the river. There before herwas the white, stony beach Peter had mentioned. Thefootsteps became lost on the gravel. She went on up-river. Two wolf tracks appeared in the silt, then three,then many, as if wolves were playing. She rounded abend, and there before her was a high, sandv bank.Scanning it carefully, she located a dark spot—a den.Just above it a garden of yellow poppies bobbed inthe wind.

"That's it," she said. She put her pack on a gravelbar m the riverbed where she could clearly see the denand sat down. For several hours she remained ab-solutely still, not even turning her head.

Nothing moved at the den. But everywherearound it there was great activity. The little birdsof the tundra were attending their nests. Longspursand buntings, redpolls and sandpipers fluttered upand over the riverbank and swiftly back down. Julie

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continued sitting still. Her plan was going to work.This den was a whelping den, not like the summernursery with its two exits where she had first metAmaroq and his family. Kapu's pups would still beyoung, and that was very good.

Carefully, slowly, Julie put up the tent she hadmade from the caribou Amaroq had felled for hermany months ago. Then she spread out her groundskin and lay down to wait for her wolves.

After many hours she heard a wavering cry, then aplaintive whimper. It was Kapu. Her heart beat faster.He walked swiftly along the waters edge. His big feetand long legs were wet with river splash, and his darkbody made a bold outline against the sandy bank. Hedid not see or smell her. He had one thing in mind—the den. He walked directly to it, head and tail heldhigh, fur glistening in the sun, and a wolf smile on hisface. He was a glorious animal.

His tail began wagging forty feet from the denentrance and did not stop until he reached it. Therehe whimpered coaxingly. The white wolf came out.She was not Silver, the mother of Kapu. Julie knewSilver as she knew Kapugen and Ellen. What had be-come of Silver? Had she succumbed to the foodscarcity of the winter and spring?

Before she could think more about this, a fuzzy

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pup thrust her nose out of the den and whimpered toher father, then ran up to him. She was black likeKapu. Her nose was short and blunt. She had bigpaws and a chubby body, and Julie wanted to run toher and pick her up and hug her.

The mother greeted Kapu by licking his cheek;then she pushed her cub back into the den. Julienamed the white wolf Aaka, or mother. She namedthe puppy Amy in honor of her pen pal named Amy.She had been on her way to visit her pen pal whenshe had become lost and eventually had met Amaroqand his pack on the tundra. "Amy," she whispered toherself as she watched the perky pup. When she gothome, she would write her friend and tell her therewas a wolf puppy named for her. Amy now had anatiQ, a namesake. She would like that.

Kapu looked up and over the den. He barked thedoglike hey-look-whos-coming bark of the wolf.Julie turned her head ever so slightly and saw athird adult wolf trotting home. She immediately rec-ognized Zing, Kapus brother. He was carrying aground squirrel in his mouth. Zing leaped over thepoppies and dropped it in front of the den, a toyfor Amy. For the rest of the summer Amy would bedeveloping her skills with such presents from thetundra.

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Zings presence told Julie a great deal about herold pack. Either Silver had died or Kapu had left herto find a mate and had taken along his good friendand strong brother, Zing. Wolves need partners. Onewolf cannot fell big game. Somewhere on the barrentundra the brothers had met Aaka and invited her tojoin them. Julie imagined the battle for her. It wouldhave been brief. Kapu was bigger and more intelligentthan Zing. He would have snarled, showed his ca-nines, even grabbed Zings ruff. Zing would havedropped to the ground and flashed his white bellyfur, the flag of surrender. He would have accepted hisdefeat, then gotten up and licked Kapus face. Theywould have been friends again.

Aaka and Kapu would have mated, and the threewould have formed a working pack and traveledtheir eighty-mile-square territory looking for food.Kapugens musk ox was an easy take through the bro-ken fence.

Just before the pups were due, all three adultwolves would have dug a den midway up the river-bank. It would be shallow, for it takes Arctic wolvesyears to dig a deep den in the stonelike permafrost.

Julie wondered about the number of puppies.When food is scarce, wolves give birth to fewer pups;sometimes none at all if they are starving. She did not

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think there could be many this year, and she was soonproven right. When Aaka came out of the den tostretch and take a swift, exhilarating run, Julie couldsee to the back and bottom of this first-year den.There was only one puppy. The winter had been hardon the wolves as well as the villagers of Kangik.

Zing approached Aaka but was turned back byKapu. He stood over him, head up, one canine toothbared, a friendly reminder to his brother that Aakawas his. "Keep your distance/' he was saying, andZing lowered his ears and tail and walked off.

The wind shifted and Kapu lifted his nose towardthe riverbed. Cocking his head to one side, he sniffed.He sniffed again. With that his ears shot forward. Hesmelled Julie. She moved and he saw her. For a mo-ment he stared; then, wagging his tail furiously, hepulled back his lips in a smile and spanked theground with both front feet.

"Kapu/' she called, "you remember me." With hermouth open she whimpered to show him how happyshe was that he had not forgotten her.

Kapu romped toward her, then stopped. Hethrew back his head and howled a long melodiousnote that began with a bears growl and rose to awind scream. He was saying a pack member was here.Julie howled, harmonizing with him. Zing now saw

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her and lifted his black lip over one canine tooth andgrowled.

"Zing, its me," Julie said, and whined her love forhim. Zing wagged his tail. He ran to her and, lookingstraight in her eyes, said she was family and welcome.

Kapu became excited. He sped like a sea eagledown the beach and back to Julie. She threw him hermitten. He caught it, tossed it in the air, and caughtit again. He ran in circles and dropped it. Julielaughed and picked it up. Kapu had not lost his senseof humor even though he was a father and the leaderof his pack.

Zing circled Julie several times, then lay downnear her. He turned his head and half closed his eyes,saying all was well with him. His strange sister wasback. Kapu let himself down on his belly in front ofher and crossed his paws. He stared at the mitten.Julie hid it. Kapu lifted his head and threw his earsup and forward. He wanted the mitten. He arose andstood above her, trying to pull rank. Julie laughedand threw it to him.

No more adult wolves joined the pack, nor didany more pups appear. There were only two adultsto do the hunting, Kapu and Zing. Aaka must guardher pup. The story was there for Julie to read. Theother members of the original group had either

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joined distant packs or started their own as Kapu haddone. Or they were dead—the life of a wolf is dan-gerous.

The sun circled the top of the world twice, andwith each swing Julie moved closer to the den. Kapuand Zing did not care, but Aaka did. She became ner-vous every time Julie inched her way forward. Shegrowled and bared her teeth. Julie tossed her a mit-ten, but Aaka would not play. She was proving to be aproblem—and she was the most important wolf mJulies plan. She must get Aaka's confidence if she wasgoing to help her wolves.

Julie was patient. She moved back a few yards andquietly went about a routine of eating and sleepingand waiting. On the fifth morning Kapu scooped asleeping bed four feet from Julies tent. He circledand circled, then lay down and went to sleep.

Aaka watched this from the den entrance. After along time she came down the embankment andwalked over to Kapu. She lay down beside him andrested her head on his back. She watched the river outof her cool yellow-brown eyes. Finally she twitchedher ears and glanced at Julie. Julie looked at her. Aakalooked away. Julie looked away, but sneaked a glanceout of the corner of her eyes. Slowly, thoughtfully,Aaka turned her head and looked right into Julies

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eyes. She did not look away. Julie's heart ached withhappiness. By looking in her eyes, Aaka was sayingshe had accepted Julie into the family. Everything wasgoing to be all right.

From that moment on Aaka stopped growlingat Julie, and after the next sleep Julie moved her tentalmost up to the den door. Aaka made friends withher but would not let Amy come out and play. Thatwas the next problem. Julie needed not only Aakasfriendship but Amy s.

During this time Kapu and Zing were gone longhours hunting for ground squirrels, snowshoe hare,foxes, ptarmigan—anything they could find. Onehunt lasted so long, Julie feared Kapu and Zing hadgone back to the corral for a musk ox. She wasgreatly relieved when they returned with a snowshoehare for Aaka.

In the middle of the next sunny night Julie wasawakened by the whimperings and woofs of thewolves. Kapu had dragged a calf carcass to the den,and they were discussing it in their mysterious way.The carcass was so old and battered that Julie wasnot sure what it was, but it looked to her like a cari-bou calf.

She was excited. If there was a little calf, the cari-bou herd could not be far away. Later in the sunny

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night, when the wolves had abandoned the carcass,Julie looked at it closely. The animal wore a radiocollar around its neck like the one Atik had de-scribed.

She took it off and cleaned it in the river. A tagon it read: Return to Alaska Fish and Game Depart-ment, Fairbanks, AK. She put it in her pack. Shewould do that.

Another day passed and Julie still could not getclose to Amy. The mother wolf was keeping her puphidden even though she herself was comfortable withJulie. Julie wondered why, but then she rememberedthat wolves did not think like people. They thoughtwith scents and sounds as well as vision. This leftthem either completely disconnected or, if theychose, so alert they could sense aggression. She de-cided that Aaka was being alert and had read her planin her face or eyes—and did not like it.

Julie thought about how to get Amy to be herfriend. It was absolutely essential to her next movethat the little pup trust her. She was thinking aboutwhat to do when Aaka sat down beside her. Juliewhimpered pleasantly to her. Aaka whimpered, thenturned and looked back at the den. Amy was sittingout in the open under the poppies. Julie whimpered.The little pup got up and ran to her. She grabbed her

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boot thong and tugged, growling ferociously whilewagging her tail. Then she looked at Julie andspanked the ground with her forepaws to say, "Letsplay." She longed to pick up the adorable pup, butAaka's eyes said she was not ready for that.

Amy woofed. Julie woofed back. She held out abone from the caribou carcass. Amy grabbed it in herteeth and pulled. She growled joyfully, pulling harder,then let go. Julie fell backward. After another game oftug-of-war and one game of boneball, Aaka got upand led Amy back to the den. But a great barrier hadbeen crossed. Julie closed her eyes and breathed withrelief. Things were progressing.

The next day when Kapu and Zing went off tohunt, Aaka led Amy to Julie again. Julie picked up thebone and waggled it before Amy, who grabbed andshook it. They tugged and chased while Aaka walkedoff and stretched out in the sun. She closed her eyesto say she had complete confidence in Julie at last.

"Can I pet you?" Julie whispered to Amy. Thepup twisted her head curiously and Julie gentlyreached out and buried her fingers in the soft fur. Shescratched the little head and the pointed ears. Amyclosed her eyes and Julie took her hand away. Amynudged her hand for more scratches. Julie petted heragain, then held out the bone. Amy grabbed it, pulled

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powerfully, and let go. Again Julie went over back-ward, and this time the pup pounced on her. Amyyipping, and Julie laughing, they tumbled on thegravelly beach. Aaka did not lift her head.

After a while Aaka got to her feet, shook,stretched, and yawned. Then, without looking back,she wagged her tail and ran off.

Aaka sped over the tundra like a bird releasedfrom a cage. She ran in circles, chased cotton-grassseeds, then disappeared around the bend in the river.Julie got to her feet, her heart pounding, her hopeshigh. She could see Aaka racing across the tundratracking Kapu and Zing. Julie saw that she was goingto win. Aaka trusted her to be the baby-sitter.

Amy played with a bone for a short while, thencrawled into Julie's lap. She whimpered and Julie sangher songs until the little pup sighed and slumped intoa deep sleep. Then Julie picked her up and carriedher back to the den.

Her baby asleep, Julie got her .22 and walked intothe grasses. She wandered for quite a while before shesaw a ptarmigan and shot it. This, too, was part ofher plan.

When she returned to the den, Amy was awake.She sniffed the bird, shook it, then dropped it andlooked at Julie as if to ask what she should do with it.

Julie skinned it and offered her a tasty morsel. Amylicked it, then grabbed it in her sharp teeth andgulped. She came back for more. This time Amytook the bird, which she ate after smashing it, bonesand all, with her small but powerful teeth and jaws.

The little wolf decided one wing was a toy. Sheshook it in Julie's face. When Julie grabbed it, Amypulled it away and ran in circles. Julie tricked her byflashing the calf bone in one hand. Amy dropped thewing for the bone, and Julie got the wing. With thatAmy sat down. She would not play anymore, evenwhen Julie gave her the wing. For the remainder ofthe time the hunters were away, Amy ignored Julie.

"You didn't like that, did you Amy?" Julie said toher. "You don't like to be tricked. I am sorry." Tomake up for her error, Julie offered her a piece ofdried caribou. Amy looked right through it as if itwere not there. She did not even seem to see Julie.Where does the mind of the wolf go at times like these? Juliewondered. Far out on the tundra? Over the river? She didnot know.

The next day Amy was playful again. Whateverhad been in her wolf mind was not there today. Sheleft the adult wolves and romped to Julie, chewed herboot thong, and asked to be scratched and petted.When they were as close as sisters, Julie gently, gently

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picked her up. The pup cuddled. Julie glanced atAaka. She was lying on her side completely uncon-cerned. Julie was overjoyed. She carried Amy down tothe river. Kapu and Zing awoke, stretched, yawned,and shook themselves. After a short howl they trot-ted off to hunt. Aaka went with them, leaving Amy inJulie's arms. Julie was part of the wolf pack.

When the wolves came home, their bellies wererounded with food and they slept for a long time.When they all finally awoke, Kapu inaugurated theleadership ceremony. He did this each wolf morning.He stood above Zing, who lowered his head andlicked Kapus cheeks. Then Kapu mouthed his muz-zle and shook it gently. Aaka approached him, earsdown, head down, and he lifted his head above hers.She licked him under the chin and along his neck totell him he was a fine leader. Kapu, like all wolf lead-ers, needed lots of reassurance from his pack. Havinggotten it, he trotted to the highest point on the em-bankment, poised himself, and howled. Zing andAaka howled. Amy yipped. They sang their music formany minutes. During the concert, the noisy birdsquieted down and the ground squirrels retired totheir elaborate underground tunnels and dens. Whenthey were done, Zing turned to Aaka and seized hermuzzle to tell her he had more status than she did.

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She quickly corrected that.

That evening when the hunters were gone, Julieput Amy in her backpack and carried her along theriverside to find another bird to eat. The wolf pupdid not try to get out of the pack; rather, she peeredaround at the world, seemingly pleased with her highseat. Julie walked a long distance without findinganything and was starting back to the den when aground squirrel dove into one of the many entrancesinto his underground city.

"Peter," she said, "Fin thinking of you." And shepulled the whistle out of her shirt and blew it.

Eeekk-chirp. Two ground squirrels poked theirheads out of the burrow. She blew it again. Threemore appeared. The more she blew, the more littlesquirrels appeared. Amy yipped and Julie put herdown on the ground. She blew the whistle again; an-other head popped up. The little wolf pup pounced,and all the ground squirrels disappeared.

"What a special gift, Peter," she said, and laughedright out loud. "This will come in very handy."

When Kapu, Aaka, and Zing came home, thistime with their stomachs empty, Julie walked to theground-squirrel colony and blew the whistle. Upcame the ground squirrels. The wolves saw, waggedtheir tails, and gobbled.

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"Ee-lie, Kapu," she said when he had eaten hisfill, "it is time to move on."

The clouds were sailing in a marine-blue sky. Thebirds were flying to nests of hungry babies. Juliepacked her belongings.

She picked up Amy and put her in the pack.When Julie had reached the top of the embankmentabove the den, Aaka opened her eyes. Julie walked on.Aaka got to her feet. She sensed a new attitude inJulie. Kapu awoke. Zing stood up. They all watchedJulie walk south with Amy in her pack. Aaka trottedright after them. Kapu followed, then Zing.

Their pup was going somewhere, and they weregoing with her.

Julie turned to her friends. "We are going on along walk to the mountains/' she said. "The caribouare there. You can eat your fill."

She walked faster. Kapu, Aaka, and Zing walkedfaster.

At first Julie thought the white blazes on thehorizon were sunlit clouds, but as she walked onthey became more solid and she realized she waslooking at the splendorous Brooks Mountain Range.She stopped to rest and take in the spiritual forceof the mountains; then she proceeded on south

toward the Colville River.

All the while she walked she sang "The FarNorthland" and "Peas That Go Tink, Peas That GoTot!' a song she had made up last year on the tundra.Amy and her somber line of relatives seemed to listenand smile at her music. Occasionally a tail waggedwhen she sang a sour note.

She looked for caribou droppings and their hoof-prints. The prints would be half circles, split in themiddle and about five inches long. Dewclaws on thefront feet would leave two dots behind each track.She saw no caribou sign.

The wolf pack patiently followed their pup. Theywere not much concerned about why Amy was in thebackpack. She was in view, and that was all that mat-tered. They trotted along looking at the scenery andsniffing the air.

Kapu occasionally made a wide circuit to searchfor game. He had been over this ground many times.He and his pack, like other wolves of the Arctic,knew every pond, grass clump, and large animal ontheir huge territories. Kapu could inspect a vastswatch of tundra with his nose, for he could smellgame more than ten miles away.

Julie was glad for Kapus all-seeing sense of smell.The herd had to be somewhere nearby. A calf does

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not wander far from its mother, and Kapu's nosecould "see" them long before her eyes. She hurriedalong.

Amy rode quietly in the backpack. The pup wasyoung enough to heed the voice of authority. Agrowl, a snarl, or a snappy bark from Julie, and Amywould stop chewing her way out of the pack and liestill.

The strange party covered almost thirty miles inone sun orbit before they stopped to sleep. Thewolves were not tired, but Julie was. She sat downwith a thump on a warm, grassy hummock andstretched out her legs. She chewed on caribou jerkyand felt the permanence of the mountains that roseso high above her. Among the lines of dark-greentrees dwelled the wild things. They lived out theirlives there, had young, and lived on. She liked thenurturing mountains.

At her feet the little birds chirped, dipped, andflew around her, reminding her of a snowstorm. Themosquitoes hummed but did not bite. She was odor-less to the big Arctic mosquito. A smaller one wouldplague her when she reached the Colville unless shecovered herself with fish oil, which she had remem-bered to bring.

Julie had settled down, but the wolves were rest-

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less. They paced back and forth, sniffing and twist-ing their ears. After a while they lay down, ears up.

When they seemed to be settled, Julie took Amyout of the pack and gave her to Aaka to nurse. ButAaka could not provide much milk. She had noteaten well for months. After a few frustrating suckles,Amy gave up. She looked around for Kapu and pokedher nose into the corner of his mouth to ask forfood. The stomach basket was empty. He had noth-ing to give. Amy whimpered in pain, and Julie got toher feet, loaded her .22, and kicked through thegrasses.

She came back with a snowshoe hare and gave itto Aaka, who tore it apart and shared it with Amy.Kapu and Zing slept to conserve energy.

Julie joined the sleep. She put down her caribouskin and was dreaming before she could take off herboots. Hours later she was awakened by the plaintivecry of a peregrine falcon. She sat up. Peregrines feedlargely on ducks and geese. Ducks and geese live bywater. The voice of the peregrine told her she and herwolves were near the Colville River—and caribou.

Suddenly the falcon folded its wings and plum-meted earthward. A puff of feathers spiraled into theair, and Julie rolled to her knees. Kapu lifted his head,sniffed, and leaped to his feet. He raced toward the

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falcons kill. The falcon beat her wings as Kapu ap-proached and took off, leaving the goose. Kapuwalked up to it and took it in his mouth. Then hedropped it and came jogging back to camp. He laydown and glanced at each member of his pack to say,"I didn't take it—don't you."

The peregrine circled back. She had seen Kapuwalk away from her meal and lie down. When he wasvery still, she dropped like a meteor upon her kill.Taking it in her talons, she beat her strong wings andsoared away.

"Why did you do that, Kapu?" Julie asked. "Whydid you leave the goose? YouVe barely eaten anythingfor days, yet you gave the food to the falcon." Kapu seyes softened. He looked at Julie, then stretched outon his side and watched the sky.

"Kapu," Julie whispered on, "do you know whatthe Eskimo knows? Did you let the peregrine falconeat and live because the tundra community needs fal-cons? Is that why you did not take her food? I believeso. The elders say the wolf sacrifices not only for itsfamily, but for the whole environment."

Julie got to her feet, put Amy in her pack, andwent on. Aaka followed close behind the two. Kapuand Zing circled out and back as they moved along,always keeping that pup in sight, as if pups were the

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only thing wolves lived for. And at this time of year,Julie knew, it was true. Her plan was working.

A few hours later Julie came into the foothills ofthe Brooks Range. Above them the great snow-covered mountains filled half the sky. Julie had cometo the rugged winter home of a western caribou herd.She climbed a knoll to look around. Below hersnaked a line of green.

"The Colville River," she exclaimed aloud, andran down the slope searching for caribou.

But there were no caribou hoofprints. No ladder-like horns clawed the sky.

She sat down to cry, but mostly to think. Thereseemed to be little point in going on. Yet she must.She had been abroad for eleven sleeps, but theKangik musk oxen were only a running day away forthe wolves. She must get the pack near AnaktuvukPass, where Atik had said a few caribou had beenseen. The pass was almost two hundred miles away,but she must go. She let Amy out of the backpack toromp and play, shot a ptarmigan for the pup, andtook a nap. Then she packed up and walked toward abluff over the river.

The wolves followed their pup. Their feet movedso smoothly under them, they seemed to float on asea of wind. Suddenly Kapu stopped. He put his

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scent on a clump of grass, sprayed a dwarf willow,and ran back to Julie. He scratched a deep blaze onthe ground. She shrugged and walked on. The wolvesdid not follow. Julie whimpered impatiently. Kapubarked.

"Come on, come on," Julie urged. Kapu howledand ran the exact same path he had just run. Zingalso ran the line and put his scent on the grass andwillow.

Aaka ran the line, returned, and put her front feeton Julie's pack as she reached up to grasp Amy. Juliegrowled. Aaka cowered. Quickly Julie apologized andhugged the gentle mother wolf.

"We must go on," she said urgently, and startedoff again. Anatukvuk Pass was ten sleeps away, andKapugen was probably already on his way to find her.He would locate her quickly with CB tracking her.She did not want that. She must get the wolves to anew food source before she met her father. Deter-mined, she took Amy out of the backpack and car-ried her in her arms as she headed southeast.

She crossed the invisible line again.

Kapu wolf barked and stood where he was. Hewould not follow. Zing barked, Aaka whined. Juliewalked on. They whimpered and called to Amy, butthey would not cross the line. It was as if a huge wall

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of glass had been erected and they could not gothrough it. They ran north and south, but not towardthe pass. When Amy tried to squirm out of Julie'sarms, Aaka trotted over the invisible line to get her.Kapu bark-snarled, lifting his lips to expose not onebut both canine teeth. Aaka came back. She did notmake another move to get Amy, although Julie wasrunning farther and farther away, determined tomake them follow.

They would not. All three stood on the knolllooking at her. Then Kapu lifted his head andhowled a deep, lugubrious note. Zing harmonizedwith him, and Aaka called out a sweet, pained cry. Tothe wolves their song was about losing loved ones.To Julie it spoke of heartbreak, and she turned backto them.

As she came over the invisible line, tails waggedand wolf tongues licked her hands. She sat down andwondered what to do. Then Kapu got down on hisbelly and put his head on his forepaws. He stared to-ward the river bottomlands.

With that Julie finally realized what the threewolves were saying. This invisible line, markedwith urine and paw marks, was the end of the packsterritory. One step over and they were breaking awolf taboo. She was heartsick. She could not reach

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caribou land with her wolves.

In distress she hugged little Amy, who licked herchin, then looked at her mother. Kapu trotted off ashort distance and mouthed Zings muzzle, thenAakas. They wagged their tails and lowered their earsand tails as if agreeing with him. Aaka tossed herhead and swiveled her ears. Gradually Julie realizedan important message was being sent around the wolfpack, but she did not know what it was.

And then they told her. They ran out on the tun-dra and sped away like bird shadows.

"Humpf," she said aloud. 'Tm the baby-sitteragain." She hugged furry Amy.

After spreading her caribou skin, she romped inthe grass with Amy before giving her a piece of cari-bou jerky. The pup growled and ate pleasurably. Juliestretched out on her belly.

Chin in her hands, she studied the river. The cari-bou country beyond was to have been the new homeof her pack. Now that could not be. She could notget her wolves to move across the river. Their terri-tory had ended. She had to leave them to their fate.

Julie blinked. There was a deep dent in the sphag-num moss. The pressure of a footfall had forced thewater out of the moss and left a hole. She got up andwalked to it.

"Moose," she said, standing over a five-inch track.The cloves were not spread as wide apart as those ofa caribou, and they were sharper and more elongated.She found many more. They led in and out of theriver bottomland. Julie raised her arms in joy. Cari-bou were wanderers who moved from northern tosouthern Alaska in a huge continuous circle, butmoose were different. A moose rarely moved morethan eight miles from its birthing spot.

"Moose," she repeated. "The wolves will live."

But moose live in the bottomlands along rivers,and somehow she had to get her pack over the invisi-ble line and into river bottomland.

Something moved. Julie focused her eyes on thefar side of the Colville. Above the ten-foot willowtrees a wolf trotted, and Julie realized why her wolveswould not go forward. On the other side of the riverwas another pack. Julie watched them motionlessly.

The silver wolf was joined by a gray wolf. It liftedits leg to scent mark, stating that it was a male. Thepair sniffed the air. The wind was carrying Julie'sscent to them. They turned their heads looking forher, but were unable to locate her with their eyes. Themale sprayed again, then trotted down his invisibleborder. His line was above moose country too.

What is going on? Julie asked herself. There is a

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pack over there and a pack over here and a great spacein between that no one will enter. And it is full ofmoose. She recalled Kapugen telling her that certainIndian tribes set up corridors between their territo-ries where no person could go without fear of death.Over the ages this no-mans-land became a game pre-serve. Overhunted animals would retreat to the safetycorridor and in time recover their numbers. Whenthere were too many deer or moose for the corridorto sustain, they were forced up into Indian land andwere harvested again. When the white man changedthe land laws, the Indians starved. The wolves, itseemed, had a similar arrangement.

"Now what do I do?" she asked Amy, who hadfallen asleep in the sun.

Julie's mind raced. The young ground squirrelswere abroad, chattering noisily. The baby birds wereout of their nests, catching their own food. The lem-mings had many litters, and the weasels, foxes, owls,hawks, and jaegers were feasting. Mobs of white-fronted geese and their young gabbled along therivers edge. July, called Inukkukaivik, the monthwhen the animals are raising their young, was comingto the Arctic.

Julie lay down by Amy and slept.

Many hours later the three wolves came home

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looking well fed, their stomachs round. Amy ran toher mother and stuck her nose into the corner of hermouth, saying, "Food, give me food,,, and Aaka did.Julie smiled. She had almost starved to death lastyear, before she had learned how to ask the wolves forfood. It was Kapu who had taught her that the parentwolves brought food home to the pups in their belliesand that all one needed to do was to touch the cornerof an adult s mouth and the wolf would give it upfreely.

The wolves stretched out in the somber sunlight.Julie was glad they had eaten, but she knew well thatthis meal was only a snack. A grown wolf needed sixor seven pounds of food a day. Their ribs were begin-ning to show through their fur. Time was runningout.

And her pack could not get to the moose.

The sun was skimming lower along the horizoneach midnight to say darkness would return to theArctic. It was also saying something else. The lightaround the sun was a muddy yellow. Julie knew thiscolor well. A very heavy fog was rolling in from thecoast. Soon she would not be able to see her feet. Ap-parently the wolves knew this too, for having eaten allthey could find, they were now scratching out bedsfor a long sleep.

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As Kapu circled to lie down, Julie wondered if heknew about the wolves on the other side of the river.She should have known better. With his ears,whiskers, nose, and tail he was constantly monitoringthe other pack and reporting their activities to Zingand Aaka. He knew exactly what was gome on, andfinally told Julie. He stopped making his bed andstared across the river. His fur rose straight up on hishead and neck, then on down to the tip of his tail.Julie looked where he was looking. The distant pairwas edging over their invisible line. Since they weretoo far away to hear Kapu growl, he was warningthem to go back with ears and neck fur. They saw histhreat and backed off. The wolves on the other sideof the river walked into the grasses and lav down.

Julie hugged her knees and pondered. A wall offog now was visible on the horizon. It came silentlytoward them, a soupy billow that was erasing thelandscape. It could last for days, even weeks. She hada new plan.

When her wolves were asleep, she arose. On tip-toes she crossed the invisible line and broke into arun. Kapu was instantly on his feet. He sped to hisborder but did not make a sound. The mood hadchanged with Kapu's hair-raising threat.

At the rivers edge, Julie noted, the willows and

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sedges were clipped by moose teeth; their huge hoof-prints poked the soil everywhere. Lynx scats dottedthe grasses, and some flat stones were the tidy latrinesof the wolverine.

Still, her wolves would starve. Her .22 rifle couldnot fell a moose. It could only irritate it to charge.Suddenly she knew what she must do. She must drivea moose to the wolves. Even one would keep themfed for many days, giving her time to think of a planto break the taboo and get Kapu and his pack intothe rich no-wolf's-land.

Quietly she stalked. On both sides of the riverwolves watched her. Suddenly Kapu howl-barkedfrantically and fiercely—a warning. Julie turned. Abull moose was running down upon her.

There was no place to hide. The willows weresparse here and not much higher than she. She wasexposed on all sides. The charging bull held his hugerack high. His bell swung under his chin, and thewhites of his eyes gleamed. Julie knew better than toturn and run. To all beasts a fleeing animal invites achase. She must not incite attack.

She did the only thing left to her. She faced him,and when the huge bull was almost upon her, shejumped to one side. He thundered by, unable to turnquickly and strike her. Several hundred feet away he

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slowed down and turned around.

Then he lowered his rack, dug in his hoofs, andcharged again. Noise, thought Julie, make noise. Shethrew back her head and howled. Kapu, Zing, andAaka howled.

The moose halted, flared his nostrils, and lookedup the slope. The wolves howled again. He turnedand ran. Now Julie felt what all predators feel—theurge to chase the fleeing beast. Howling and shout-ing, she ran the huge animal out of the river bottom-land, up through the willows and onto the foggytundra. The wolves took up the pursuit.

Her plan had worked. Now she must figure outhow to break the taboo. She could not stay in theriver bottomland all winter chasing moose out of theno-wolf's-corridor for Kapu.

The only answer was to join the two packs intoone.

She took off her boots and waded into the icyriver, selecting the shallowest water. The fog bankwas still far from the river. Julie judged she had plentyof time to woo the two wolves and find their den.She would make friends with another puppy andcarry it into the corridor. Then she would go backand get Amy and bring her into the bottomland. Theadults would have to come for them. There probably

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would be a terrible fight, but Kapu, she was certain,would win. That would make the two new wolvesobedient to Kapu. The taboo would be broken. Theywould hunt the moose in the corridor and not cometo Kangik for musk oxen.

She was pushing through the sedges and willows,making plans, when a wolf suddenly appeared beforeher.

"Silver," Julie said. "Silver, its you."

Silver looked at Julie and twitched an eyebrow.She seemed to be saying that she was not surprisedby her presence, that she had known about her arrivalon the Colville for a long time. She wagged her tailonce, turned, and trotted off. Julie pranced behindher on all fours. There was another wolf with Silver,and she did not want to threaten him by walking ontwo feet like a human hunter. A slight rotation ofSilver s ears told Julie she was behaving correctly.

They walked among the sedges and dwarf wil-lows, Silver moving like a meandering stream. Juliemoved like an Eskimo dancer telling the story of thewolf person who lived before the raven turned theworld from dark to light. She also reached in herpocket and rubbed her totem of Amaroq.

Silver stopped to sniff a wolverine print, trottedon a few yards, and sat down. Julie sat down and,

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whimpering her affection, held out her mitten.Kapus scent was on the mitten, and Julie hoped itwould tell Silver that he was nearby. Silver sniffed themitten, glanced across the river, then back at the mit-ten. She was not at all excited by Kapus scent. Julieunderstood she knew very well her son was there.

They sat quietly side by side. While Silvercleaned a paw with her tongue, Julie searched thestony riverbank for a den. She could find none, nordid she see any pups appear. Apparently Silver aridher new mate had adjusted to the food shortage bynot giving birth at all.

Suddenly Silvers mate stood up. Julie swallowedhard. He was no more than ten feet away. The dwarfwillows he had been crouched in came only to hiswhite belly. He was large and rangy, his body lean,and his face hard. However, he was smaller thanKapu. That was good. The head of a pack was alwaysthe biggest. Kapu would win the fight for leadershipif she could get them together. Julie named the rangywolf Raw Bones. She whimpered, begging his friend-ship. He ignored her by looking down the river atnothing.

Silver stood up and pushed her rear end towardJulie, lifted her head, and closed her eyes. Julie knewwhat she wanted. Carefully she reached out and

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scratched Silvers back just above the tail, wherewolves and dogs love to be scratched. Silver growledin pleasure.

"I wish," said Julie wistfully as she dug her nailsin and rubbed hard, "that you and Kapu would leteach other hunt moose."

Raw Bones took a few steps and stared acrossthe river. Julie followed his glance. Kapu and Zingwere standing just back of the invisible border. Theirears and ruffs were up. Their eyes were pinned onRaw Bones. He glared back. Julie thought somegreat decision was in the making; then Raw Bonessuddenly relaxed his gaze, rotated his ears, andstepped closer to Julie. He sniffed her scents as ifreading some message she had carried from the otherside of the river.

Julie wondered: Had Kapu not called her backbecause he had marked her with a scent message?

Raw Bones stared across the river and whined thewhine of friendship.

Silver bounded forward.

Kapu and Zing leaped over their invisible borderand rushed into the bottomland.

Raw Bones and Silver splashed into the river,sending water six feet in the air.

The four met, exchanged signals, and chased a

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moose that Julie had not even seen. Back on the tun-dra stood Aaka and Amy.

The moose knew the call of death. He lifted hishuge hoofs and ran effortlessly, rack and head back.The wolves leaped at his side. They circled out andloped back, keeping up with the prey without sound.Kapu signaled with his eyes. The wolves took posi-tions for the kill.

Then Kapu stopped dead in his tracks and so didthe others. He had called the hunt off. Panting, lipspulled back in smiles, the four watched the moose fora moment, then turned and trotted away. The mooseslowed down, looked back, and as if nothing hadhappened, lowered his head. He browsed unafraid.The predator and prey, over the millennia, seemed tohave worked out some understanding with life anddeath.

Having chased the moose, the four wolves randown the gravel shore, ears up, tails flowing behindthem. They sped along as if there were nothing moreimportant in the universe than running. Julie wasspellbound. They seemed to be performing a ritualof wolfdom. They had not killed the moose, justchased it together. Now they seemed to be runningjoyously, as if they were celebrating the first law oftheir kind—cooperation. An elder had put it to Julie

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another way: "We are all here for each other; the Es-kimos, the mammals, the river, the ice, the sun,plants, birds, and fish. Let us celebrate cooperation.,,That, Julie felt, was just what they were doing.

Through some mysterious signals the wolves hadtold each other they would join forces and becomeone pack. And, it seemed to Julie, she had been themessenger. How it had all come to be she did notknow.

Julie waded through the sparkling water, put onher boots, and on all fours climbed the embankmentto the land that had once belonged only to Kapu andhis pack. She looked across the flat landscape to lo-cate the moose she had chased to her pack. It wasnowhere to be seen. Apparently it had outrun thewolves, as a moose can do. She did not care. Thetaboo was broken and there was plenty of wolf foodin the bottomland. She was ready to go.

Aaka and Amy did not look at her as she pickedup her belongings. They stood perfectly still watch-ing the pack of four agile hunters below them. Then,at some signal from Kapu, Aaka stepped forward andwhimpered to Amy, and together they trotted downinto the river bottomland.

Julie watched the six wolves sniff and lick eachother, wag tails, and discuss wolf matters. That done,

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they began searching the air with their noses.

"Ceremonies or no ceremonies," Julie said,"they're hungry" She pulled Peter s whistle out of herparka and walked down the slope to a bare hummockwhere ground squirrels lived. She piped a chitty cry.A squirrel appeared. She blew again. Another rushedout of a burrow and looked around. Raw Bonesdashed to the colony. Julie blew many notes. Theground popped with squirrels. Kapu joined RawBones. Zing followed Kapu, scaring one down a hole.But the wolves did not catch them. They played withthem, chasing them back when Julie whistled themout. Julie laughed. The wolves seemed to be laughingtoo, as the pipe sounded and the ground squirrelscame up. She wondered what note Peter had fash-ioned to bring the little squirrels out of the ground.Then she remembered how she had waggled her fin-ger last summer on the tundra to imitate the tail sig-nal of the little squirrels' "Alls well—no enemies arearound, come out." Peter, she realized, had createdthe ground squirrels call that also says, "Alls well.Come out."

Suddenly the fun was over. Raw Bones was tooclose to Aaka. Kapu growled at him. Raw Bonesbared his teeth back to the molars. Kapu leaped andgrabbed him by the scruff of the neck. He shook him

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and let go. The two snarled as they raised their hack-les, showed their teeth, and circled each other. Sud-denly Kapu threw Raw Bones to the ground andstood full stature over him, silently showing his ca-nine teeth. Then he stepped back and Raw Bonesslunk to his feet, his head lower than Kapu s, his tailalmost to the ground. His ears were flattened againsthis head. The fight for leadership was over. Kapu wasthe head of the pack. The fog rolled down uponthem.

All five adult wolves gathered in a circle andhowled. Amy yipped. The song traveled across theriver to be echoed back by the cliffs and hills. Thesong was full of the rightness of the earth. Julie feltthe harmony and sang, too.

When a cold wind swept the fog away and re-vealed the midnight sun, Julie gathered her belong-ings to go home. A raven winged out of the sky andboldly alighted on her pack. He quoinked, the call ofhis kind to assemble. Soundlessly, on great blackwings, three more ravens appeared, then seven more.

"Wise birds," Julie said. She had not seen a ravensince that first day on the tundra. "They know whatis going to happen."

A red fox appeared. He had followed the ravens,knowing they could see food from on high. He

• i58-

would share what they found. "But there is no foodyet," Julie said aloud, puzzled. Two moose had beenchased, but no moose had been felled. The raven andfox knew something she did not. Perhaps, she said toherself, that chorus of wolf voices told the tundra lifethat there were now five, not just three, adult wolvesand they were ready to hunt big game as wolves do.

Julie shouldered her pack and left the Colville.She was satisfied that her wolves had enough game tohold them for many months, perhaps even until thecaribou returned. She looked down at her boots, andwith a smile she pointed them homeward, toward—she was surprised to admit—Peter Sugluk.

•159.

Tart hi

MIYAX,THE YOUNG WOMAN

n her homeward walk Julie tracked herself andthe wolves back across the tundra. The fog hadcleared and she could see the groove m the grassestheir caravan had made. In addition, tufts of wolf furcaught on poppy seed heads and grasses were likewhite flags markmg the way.

She had not gone far before she heard the ravensdong the death knell. She stopped to listen. Abovethe raven anthem rose the voices of the wolvesheralding the end of one life and the continuation ofothers. The moose had given himself to the wolves.She smiled. The musk oxen were safe. If the cariboureturned this autumn. Kapugen's industry would goon thriving.

Happily she walked. When weariness overcameher. she lav down on her caribou skin and was quicklyasleep. She slept through birdsong and weasel chitter.through wind change and the red-purple cloud

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&*w

performance at the perigee of the midnight sun.

She was awakened by the wurping laughter offoxes. Four alert pups were dancing around her. Theireyes twinkled in the high-noon light as they pulled ather boots and mittens. She sat up. There were noparent foxes.

"Fox pups out of the den," she said out loud."June is old. The baby is due the fifth of July—and Iwant to be there."

She shouldered her pack and strode off. The foxpups followed her until a ptarmigan flew up; thenthey turned and pursued it on their long swift legs.

A wolf howled. The voic& came from in front of,not behind her. Alarmed, she stopped. Kapu waswith her. He had gone ahead to scout the way. Hemust not do that. She dropped to all fours preparedto meet him eye to eye and forcibly send him backwith a stare. Another howl. Julie got to her feet andshe burst into laughter.

"Kapugen," she shouted, and broke into a run."I'm here. I'm here." In the misty distance she couldsee the stubby outline of her father. He had CB on aleash and was leaning backward as he strained to holdin the dog.

They met with such happiness that CB feltthe glee too. He greeted Julie first, jumping up and

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licking her cheek. She hugged him, then ran intoKapugens arms.

"The oxen are safe," she said. "The wolves havemoose to harvest."

"Moose; they found moose," he said with deepsatisfaction. "That is good news, all right," Hehugged her again. "Now I have good news for you."Julie waited.

"You have a brother." Kapugens eyes were shiningtenderly.

"A brother," Julie said. "That is good news, allright. What did you name him?"

"Amaroq."

Julie could not speak. She put her fingers to herlips and looked into her father s eyes.

"It is not strange," Kapugen said, seeing her be-wilderment. "It is customary among the Eskimos togive the name of a deceased spirit to a baby. Then thebaby becomes that one." She frowned, and he wenton. "By giving my son the name of your great wolfleader, Amaroq, I have said that he will be like him.Little Amaroq will hunt for himself, he will hunt forhis family, and he will defend his tribe against ene-mies. Like the wolf he will be integrated into the uni-verse."

Julie knew well the Eskimo custom of atiQs, or

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namesakes. Babies were often given the names of de-ceased people. Aunt Martha had been named for afriend who had died, and the friends family hadthought of Aunt Martha as that woman. "You are mygrandmother/' the family would say to the baby, andno one thought it odd. The spirit of the deceasedMartha was present. She was the baby.

"Do you find it strange?" Kapugen asked afterJulie had been quiet for many minutes.

"I understand naming a baby after a loved personor a splendid caribou, or strong polar bear," she an-swered. "But you named your baby after a wolf youdid not like and killed. I do not understand that."

"I admired Amaroq," he said. "He died to saveKangik."

"The Minnesota law?" asked Julie softly.

"The Minnesota law."

Julie stood a long moment trying to reconcile thewolf Amaroqs death by repeating over and over toherself, "That is how it is," the Eskimo words thatbrought acceptance and peace. Finally she looked upat Kapugen.

"The baby will be outstanding," she said."And"—she looked out across the tundra—"thebaby will be my adopted father." She saw once morethe magnificent black wolf. His head was lifted, and

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intelligence lit his eyes. He had just felled a caribouby her camp.

She smiled and thought of his namesake.

"Is the baby's hair red?" she asked curiously.

"Black as the wind cloud."

"And his eyes?"

"Blacker than the new moon."

"He is Amaroq, then," said Julie. "That is good."

"His skm is pale and rosv," Kapugen said. "I hopeit does not crack and blister m the sun and cold."

"Ernest Adams's doesn't," Julie said. "His grand-father was a white whaler who came to the Arctic. Heis pale, but he does not crack and blister."

Kapugen laughed.

"You are right, all right," he said, shaking hishead. "I should not repeat those prejudices. ManyEskimos have white ancestors, and thev do not crackand blister any more than the rest of us." He chuck-led and leaned down to gather dry grass.

Kapugen cleared a small area on the ground andpiled up the grass. Over it he built a tepee of drysticks he had gathered from streamsides along theway; the kindling had washed down from the moun-tains, where stunted trees grew. He struck a match tothe grass and a flame burst up, licked the driftwood,and set it afire. He opened a large can of store-

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bought stew, and when the coals were red, he placedit upon them.

"Does Ellen feel well?" Julie asked belatedly.

"She is very well and happy," Kapugen said.

"When was Amaroq born?" she asked.

"June the fifteenth," Kapugen said. "He was a bitearly. He caught us by surprise, like the good hunterhe is."

"Did you fly Ellen to the hospital?" Julie asked,now eager to learn all the details about the birth ofher adopted father.

Kapugen shook his head. "The little wolf decidedto be born the day the summer fog rolled in. I couldnot fly."

"What did you do?"

"I ran for Uma. She came over."

"Uma knows lots about babies," Julie said.

"She does, all right," Kapugen replied, stirring thestew with his hunting knife. "And she knows Eskimowisdom. She rubbed Ellens stomach with wolf fur.She said it would give Ellen the power of the femalewolf. That is super power," he said, and smiled. "Itmakes the birth easy and her love for the babystrong."

"Is that what happened?" Julie asked hopefully.

"That is what happened. Six hours later the baby

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was born and Ellen was holding him to her breastwith fierce love."

"She would do that, all right," Julie said. Shecould picture Ellen and the little boy with hair asdark as the wind cloud.

"It was then I knew the child was Amaroq. Hewill be a fine person."

Julie put down her caribou skin and stretched outon her stomach. She watched the fire and thoughtabout little Amaroq. His name bound them all to-gether: herself, the baby, Ellen, Kapugen, the oxen,and the wolves she had led away. They were now onehousehold.

"Aapa," Julie said slowly and cautiously, "what ifthe wolves come back and kill another musk ox? Nowthat we have Amaroq with us, will you still go by theMinnesota law? Will you kill them?"

"I must do that," he said.

"Even though we have the little wolf in ourhouse? You would be killing his spirit brothers."

"Industry is under another law," he said. "Wemust protect it as the wolf protects the game, theplants, and his family."

"That is mixed up," Julie said, and frowned.

"That is how it is in our modern world," saidKapugen.

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"Ah, Aapa," she said, looking back toward themountains. "I hope the caribou return soon."

When the stew was eaten, Julie and Kapugen laydown on their sleeping skins and pulled their parkahoods over their eyes to make their own night. Thesounds of July piped across the tundra, as baby birdssang bits of their parents' songs and ground squirrelsscurried after berries.

Julie closed her eyes, but she did not sleep rightaway. She was thinking about baby Amaroq—andPeter.

She was awakened a few hours later by the whack-ing throb of a helicopter engine. She sat up. The airshook. The whirling wind from the airships bladestwisted her hair and stung her face with dust. She gotto all fours and watched as the aircraft, its motorblattering and roaring, started to land not fifty feetaway.

Kapugen was up and waving his hands to tell thepilot he and his daughter were present. The pilot sawhim, nodded, lifted the craft and set it down twohundred yards away. Kapugen and Julie watched twomen climb out of the cabin and walk toward them.

"Morning," the taller of the two said.

"Morning."

"I'm sure surprised to find you here. Sorry about

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disturbing you." The man took off his helmet anddark glasses, and Julie saw he was a white man.

"I'm a biologist," he said. "The names DavidBradford. This is my pilot and assistant, Mark. I'mstudying the moose. I put radio collars on them so Ican track them and learn their numbers and distribu-tion."

Kapugen nodded.

"There's a moose with a collar right around here,"he said. "I'm getting a beep on my receiver." Hechuckled. "But you two are hardly a moose."

"I am hardly a moose all right," said Kapugen, hiseyes twinkling, "and my daughter, Julie, is not amoose either. Don t you know a moose when you seeone?" Kapugen laughed out loud. "What a goodjoke. The biologist finds two Eskimos and thinksthey are moose."

"I must admit I did," said David, laughing too."We heard the beep and followed it. When it wasvery loud, I looked down and saw a big lump of fur.'Moose/1 said to Mark.

"When you are eager to see a moose, you seeone," he went on, and laughed again. "By any chancehave you seen a radio collar? Sometimes they fall offand lie on the ground."

Julie went to her pack. "Are you looking for this?"

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she asked, holding up the collar.

"By golly," David said, "this is great. Where didyou find it?"

"I found it on a caribou calf," she said. "At least Ithought it was a caribou. The animal was so longdead and battered, I could only guess." She looked athim mischievously. "When you are eager to see a cari-bou, you see a caribou "

David smiled and took the collar. "I put this on acalf only a month ago," he said. "I wonder how thelittle guy died? Wolves, I would guess."

"Where were you when you put it on him?" Julieasked.

"Along the Colville about twenty miles southwestof here in the river bottomland "

"Then he must have been killed by a grizzly."

"Wolves," David said authoritatively. "I've seen apack in that area."

"Not the wolves," Julie said. "There is only onepack from Wainwright to the Colville, and I knowthem well. They would not have gone into the riverbottomland. Taboo."

"I'm sure you know a lot about wolves, Julie,"David said, smiling condescendingly.

"Julie does know wolves," interjected Kapugen,"like you will never know them. Believe her."

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Still David smiled smugly.

"Dave/' said Mark, "this man is Kapugen. He is aremarkable hunter and businessman. You can believehim and his daughter. It is said she was lost on thetundra and lived with the wolves and survived."

"Is that true?" David asked with more respect.

"It is true," said Kapugen.

Still skeptical, David took out his notebook,found the date he had tranquilized and collared thecalf, and wrote down the date found. After taking acompass reading, he recorded their present locationand took Julie's name. He did not fill in the lastheading—How DIED.

"Do you think you could show me on this topo-graphical map just where you found the radio?" heasked Julie.

"I could do that," she said. Kapugen had such amap on the wall in his bedroom.

"We are here," David said, pointing. "And this iswhere I collared the calf." He pointed to a spot onthe Colville River. Hills rose on each side of it—themountain beyond was extremely high. It was the areawhere Julie had led her wolves. Now to find thewhelping den on the map. She followed the drainagelines with her finger.

"Here," she said, pointing. "The calf was about

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thirty miles from the Colville."

"Grizzly," said Dayid changing his mind."Wolves carry food to their pups in their stomachs.They don't bring it to them."

"Do grizzlies carry food to their cubs?" askedKapugen.

"To be honest," David said with some embarrass-ment, "I don t know. They probably dont. Wolf kill."

"It was not a wolf kill," Julie said. "I see by yournotes that the day you put the radio collar on themoose calf, the wolves were in Kangik."

"How do you know such a thing?" Davidsnapped.

"They killed a musk ox," answered Kapugen.

"And," Julie continued, "the wolves were far fromthe Colville when the calf was killed. A pup was bornon the Avalik about that time."

"Why would a bear drag a carcass that far?"David mused.

"She probably didn't," Julie answered. "Afterkilling it, she most likely dragged it inland to hercubs. They feasted and left it, intending to comeback. A tender carcass is a treasure to many animals.A fox might have dragged it, an eagle carried it, but Iwould guess that the wolves found it and brought itback to their pup for a toy. They carry toys in their

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mouths. Forty miles is a jaunt for a wolf."

"And how did you find it?"

"With my nose," she answered with a grin, know-ing she had told only part of the truth.

David wrote down "Death by grizzly" withoutany more questioning and thanked Julie. He was verypleased with the information she had given him.

"How about our flying you two home?" he asked.

Julie was tempted. She had never ridden m a heli-copter.

"Can we, Aapa?" she asked.

"Do you have room for the dog?"

"If you hold him in your lap," Mark answered.

"I will do that, all right," Kapugen said.

David and Mark started toward the copter.

"Speaking of bears," said Kapugen, "there is yourlady." He gestured.

Aklaq, the bear, and her two large cubs were onthe other side of the helicopter. Mark slipped his ri-fle out of its scabbard.

The grizzly stood up on her hind legs. Her redtongue emphasized the whiteness of her huge teeth.David jumped into the helicopter. Mark turned toJulie.

"Get m," he said. "I'll scare her away."

The grizzly growled. Then she lowered herself to

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the ground and ran straight toward the helicopter.CB barked and snarled. Kapugen picked him up andtossed him into the cabin. Mark went under thecopter blades and shouldered his rifle.

Julie threw out her arms, signaling "human."

The rifle boomed.

Another shot followed. The bear roared and bluffcharged, then again rose to her hind feet. BeforeMark could get off a third shot, Julie was waving herarms at Aklaq and shouting. She walked toward thebear, head down, threatening the big grizzly. Sur-prised at her aggression, Aklaq dropped to all fours.Her eyesight was poor, but her nostrils were long-range sensors. She smelled gunpowder and Julie'smessage. Her deepest instincts took hold. She lopedback to her cubs, then turned and stood up. She wasready to attack again.

Julie charged her, Aklaq lowered her big feet withthe long gleaming claws and walked calmly away as ifnothing had happened. Her cubs romped behindher.

"Good girl," Julie said, and walked backward tothe helicopter so as not to inspire the bear to chase.She picked up her pack and climbed into the cabinbeside Kapugen. CB licked her face.

"How did you know to do that?" Kapugen

■i78-

proudly asked her. "I did not know you knew how tofend off a bear."

"The wolves taught me," she said. He noddedknowingly, his eyes crackling with pleasure.

The copter motor roared, the blades thrummed,and Julie was lifted up over the tundra.

As the helicopter clattered into the sky, Julie sawAklaq and her cubs loping southward toward theColville. A raven scout soared above them on thechance that the bears would scare up a lemming orcatch some fish.

Kapugen, in a voice loud enough to be heard overthe whack of the helicopter blades, asked David if hewould mind flying down the Colville before goinghome. He wanted to see if there were any solitarycaribou in the foothills that he and Malek might har-vest. David nodded and told Mark to change course.He needed information on the caribou too.

The noisy machine tipped, hung still in the airlike a tern, then sped toward the Brooks Mountains.Looking down, Julie could see the miles of mountainpeaks. They were white and jagged like salmon teeth.How wonderful, she thought, to be an animal thatcould survive in such harsh beauty.

Mark swept the machine low as he followed tree

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line on the mountains. After many miles withoutsighting even one caribou, Kapugen signaled Mark togo to Kangik, and he swung the craft north. Davidturned around to Kapugen in the rear seat.

"The caribou are over east beyond Prudhoe Bay,"he yelled. "A few are starting south, but not towardKangik."

"They must," Julie whispered to herself. "Theymust come to Kangik this fall."

"Worrisome spirits," Kapugen said to David.Turning to Julie, he said, "Lets go see the baby." Shecrinkled her eyes happily.

The helicopter clattered down onto the steel-meshrunway in front of the Quonset. David, who was nowmuch impressed by Julie—particularly because of howshe had handled herself with the bear—shook herhand and told her to come to Fairbanks with Kapu-gen someday. He would show her the radio receiversand the charts he had made for each moose he hadcollared. He would tell her a lot about moose habits.Then he added, "Or maybe you can tell me." Smiling,he waved good-bye and closed the copter door.

Impatiently Julie waved and waited until themetal insect had lifted off the ground and dronedaway; then she ran home. Kapugen strode along try-ing to keep up with her.

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"Ellen," she called as she ran into the living room."Amaroq. Where is he?"

"Sshh—he's sleeping," Ellen said, tiptoeing to acaribou-skin cradle hanging from the ceiling. The lit-tle boy s nose and forehead were all Julie could see be-neath a soft white fox blanket.

"Amaroq," Julie whispered. "Amaroq." Hissmooth skin was more pink than white, but his hairwas definitely black, very black. His dark eyelashescurled against his fat, round cheeks.

Julie stood quietly before him for a moment, thensoftly sang,

"You are my adopted father.My feet dance because of you.My eyes see because of you.My mind thinks because of you.And it thinks with your birthThe wolf and the Eskimo are one again!'

Julie looked at little Amaroq a long time. Thenshe turned to Ellen.

"May I pick him up?"

"No, no," Ellen warned. "Never awaken a sleep-ing baby, my mother always said."

Julie did not see Kapugen until he was at her side.

"Amaroq, Amaroq," he sang as he reached into

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the cradle and picked up the little boy.

"No, no, Kapugen," Ellen scolded. "Please, lethim sleep. He'll be off his routine."

Kapugen rocked the baby in his arms, kissed hissoft cheek, and handed him to Julie. She pressed himlovingly to her.

"Dear Ellen," Kapugen said, putting his armaround her shoulder, "there is no routine for babiesand children except love and more love."

"Oh, Kapugen," said Ellen. "Our child must bedisciplined or he will be like Umas wild thing."

"Much wilder," said Julie, kissing the baby. "He isAmaroq, the wolf pup. He will pounce and wrestle,even bite. He will run where he pleases as fast as thewind." The baby opened his eyes. They were ovaleyes blacker than the new moon and inquiring. Helooked right at Julie as if he knew he was her adoptedfather.

Ellen reached out to rescue her baby. Seeing thatshe was upset, Julie put Amaroq in his cradle andswung him gently back to sleep.

"Ellen," Julie said softly, never taking her eyes offthe baby, "little Amaroq will pounce and snarl andwrestle. He will romp out on the tundra like a cari-bou calf. You will think he is naughty, but he will begood. All you have to do is call like a mother wolf,

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and he will come right back. I have seen this."

"I have seen this, too, all right," Kapugen said,checking the thongs on the cradle he had made sothat the baby could hang in the midst of the livingactivities.

Ellen looked at her child and then at Julie.

"Julie," she said, "I have the feeling you believethe spirit of your wolf is in my son."

"He is," Julie said unabashedly. "This isAmaroq." She patted his tiny head.

"Can't you feel his strength?" Kapugen said, tak-ing Ellens hand and holding it against the baby. "Heis strong. He will submerge his personal needs for thegood of the whole. That is what the wolf does. Thewolf is the only animal that understands the universe.People do not understand it, only amaroq."

"At first," Ellen said, "I did not think you reallybelieved Amaroqs spirit was in our baby." She pulledaway from her husband. "Now I see that you do."

"It is so," said Kapugen.

He sat down on the caribou skins and gentlydrew Ellen beside him. Julie crossed her feet andgracefully sat down, too.

"Close your eyes, Aaka," Julie said. "Kapugen andI have a story to tell you." Ellen clung to Kapugenshand and closed her eyes.

•i83.

"See the polar ice cap?" Kapugen said, speakingslowly. "See the earth swell out around the top of theworld?" Ellen nodded.

"You are above the North Pole looking down,"Julie said slowly. "It is one country up here. Alaska,Canada, Siberia, Greenland, Lappland, all are thesame. See it?"

"Yes," Ellen said. "It looks like one country whenyou look down on the globe instead of up as ourmaps show it."

"See the ice and wind and animals?" Julie asked.Ellen nodded, eyes still closed.

"Once," Kapugen went on, "two wolves ran andromped. There were no people at that time and nolight. The earth was upside down in darkness. Oneday a raven came to the wolves and told them to holdtight. The raven flew, and as he flew he turned theearth over into the light. The wolves became Eski-mos. That is why we are so much like them. We huntin groups like the wolves. We have leaders like thewolves, and we love our children like they love theirpups.

"Since that is so," Kapugen went on, sensing Ellenstill could not fathom their words, "it is easy for thewolf to send his spirit into a baby when we give it hisname. Child and the wolf spirit live happily."

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"Amaroq is here," Julie said, patting the baby. Shetook the totem from her pocket and held it up forEllen to see. "Look, he is gone from the totem."Ellen looked, then sighed, trying hard to understand.

"Now, dear Ellen," said Kapugen slowly and care-fully, "be a wolf for a moment." She frowned as shetried. "Now, open your eyes. See, Amaroq is that lit-tle boy, all right."

Ellen's gray-blue eyes blinked, then widened. Shelooked from Julie to Kapugens and then at her sleep-ing baby.

"I love you both so much," she said helplessly."But some things are not meant for my understand-ing. You see what 1 cannot." Dewlike perspirationarose on her forehead and trickled down the curl byher ear. "I must try to be more like an Eskimo."

"No," Kapugen corrected her. "We must be morelike you. To survive m our polar world today, wemust join your businesses and learn your language."

Julie looked warily at her father. "Does that alsomean we must also go by the Minnesota law?" sheasked, her voice low and fearful.

"That too," said Kapugen, and Julie understoodthat for the good of the village he had adopted theMinnesota law and his heart had frozen solidlyaround it. She was distressed. When her wolves came

i85

back—and they would; this was their territory—Kapugen would shoot them. He was telling her that.

Little Amaroq awoke with a cry and the house-hold went into motion. Kapugen held him whileEllen heated water for his bath and showed Julie howto lay out his paper diapers.

Peter came in the door. Since no one had heardhis knock, he had taken it upon himself to enter. Hestood quietly for quite a while.

"Julie/' he finally said, stepping over to her andwhispering into her ear. "Are the wolves safe? Didyou lead them to game?" She turned in surprise, thenlaughed at herself for being so involved with thebaby.

"Ee-lie, I did." she said, happy to see him. "Comehere and meet Amaroq Kapugen. He has only an Es-kimo name."

Shyly, Peter crossed the room and looked down atthe little baby kicking and screaming on the table.

"He s a very small wolf leader," he said, and Julieand Kapugen laughed with great enjoyment.

"I give up," said Ellen. "He must be Amaroq. Yousay so too, Peter?"

"Of course," said Peter.

Peter picked up a silver rattle Ellens mother hadsent from Minnesota and shook it, beating out an

•i86-

Eskimo drummers rhythm. Kapugen began to sing,Julie hummed, and the baby gurgled softly as he lis-tened to the sounds of the world into which he hadbeen born.

When little Amaroq was washed, dressed, andnursing, Peter took Juries hand and danced her intothe qanitchaq. He closed the door and kissed her onher lips. Her heart raced and her cheeks grew warm.She stepped back. So this is what Ellen had meantwhen she had said she and Kapugen had fallen inlove. She had not understood until now.

"Julie," Peter said in a low voice, "now that thewolves are far away, I can go on with my plans."

"What are they?" Julie asked.

"I am going to school in Fairbanks. I have beenadmitted to the University of Alaska." Julie felt apang of disappointment, which Peter quickly saw inher eyes.

"It will be all right," he said, holding her face inhis hands. "We'll be together. Ellen sent in your ap-plication to the high school in Fairbanks. She saidyou would be accepted."

"But I cant go," she said, coming to her senses.

"You must," he said.

"The caribou are far away at the Canadian bor-der, Peter."

i87

"What does that mean?"

"That they will not be coming to Kangik. Thewolves will come back, and when they do, Kapugenwill shoot them."

"It cannot be helped," Peter said. "You must goto school. You want to go to school. I can feel it."

"Yes," she answered. "I do." She opened the outerqanitchaq door and they strolled out into the sun-shine. "I want to study to be a teacher and teachYupik and Inupiat to the Eskimo children so theywill not lose their identity. They are forgetting thelanguage, you know."

"Then you must come with me."

"Who will tend the musk oxen with Malek whenyou and I are gone?" she asked. "Kapugen is toobusy."

"Malek has asked a young nephew to come toKangik," said Peter.

"I must stay here," she said. Peter pondered asthey walked toward the treeless riverbank.

"You could go to school in Barrow, Miyax," hesaid. "That is not far away by air. You could comehome weekends and tend the oxen."

"Barrow?" Julie sat down abruptly on Kapugensboat.

"What is the matter?" he asked, sitting beside

i88-

her. "You seem frightened. Please tell me."

Julie took a breath. "I once lived in Barrow. I wasmarried/' she said. "We were married according tothe old Eskimo custom, an agreement between par-ents." She looked at him. "I was not happy. We werenever partners."

Peter took her hand. "In Provideniya you wouldnot be married. Two people must agree to make amarriage."

"We did not," Julie said forcefully. "That is why Iwent out on the tundra. We were too young and Iwas not ready to marry. I left Barrow to walk to PointHope and take a boat to San Francisco.

"I would feel uncomfortable in Barrow," she said.

"A good reason to go to in school in Fairbanks,"Peter said enthusiastically.

"Not yet."

"Is it because of the wolves?" Peter asked.

"That is a lot of the reason," she said. "But I canlearn a lot from Ellen. She has lots of books and mu-sic." Both were silent for a long time.

"Come to Fairbanks, Miyax," Peter pleadedsoftly.

Julie got to her feet and smiled. "Peter," she saidin a clear voice, "tell Malek I will take care of themusk oxen while you are gone."

"We are in love/' he said, rising and pulling hergently to her feet. He put his arms around her, andshe rested her head on his chest.

"I must stay in Kangik," she answered. Peterkissed her warmly, then lifted her chin until he waslooking into her eyes. She looked back at him with-out blinking.

"You are right/' he said, dropping his hands tohis side. "I can see that you cannot go to school thisyear. I will miss you!' He looked away as if seeing hisfuture a little differently now. 'Til study hard; then1*11 come back and marry you and we'll make our ownindustry. We are good cooperators."

Julie smiled and looked at the river. It ran blackthrough the land.

"When do you leave, Peter?"

"I go next week. Kapugen is taking me. I will finda place to live and work until the end of August,when school begins. I will improve my English." Hetook her hands. She felt the pressure of his warm fin-gers; then a bright light shone in his eyes.

"We still have time to get married, lovely Miyax,"he said.

"It is a strange thing, Peter," she said thought-fully. "I find I have acquired a bit of white culture. Iget angry with Kapugen for adopting the Minnesota

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law of the white men, but I find their custom of be-ing older before marriage is a very good thing. Thatis a good plan the white families have."

Arms around each other, they walked to the riverand watched the ciscos streak swiftly past in waveslike northern lights. Peter scratched his head.

"Miyax," he said, "I still think you should cometo school with me. Kapugen will not shoot Kapu,now that he is related to him through his own son,Amaroq. That would be a difficult thing for himto do."

"But he will," said Julie. "Because he believes thewhite men are right about wolves and the prey."

"That I do not understand," said Peter. "Kapugenknows we must live with nature, not control it."

Julie looked at this tall young man with the highcheekbones and bronze skin and knew she loved himvery much. She also knew he would come back forher when she was ready.

Peter left Kangik. He kissed Julie good-bye, hold-ing her so close she wondered if the old Eskimo waysweren't the best after all. It would be many years be-fore she finished high school and college. The waysof the white people, she mused with a sigh, were notthe ways of nature.

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But nature still dominated in Kangik. The muskoxen had to be fed, and Ellen needed help with babyAmaroq. And the wolves—the wolves were stillsomewhere out there in the wind and grass, and ifthe caribou did not return in the October migration,they were a threat to the musk oxen and therebythemselves.

Almost every evening Julie walked far up the riverand howled her I'm-Julie call. Then she waited, hold-ing her breath and listening. When the pack did notanswer, she breathed again. They had not come backthat night.

In early September snow fell and stayed on theground. It was the month when the caribou lose thevelvet on their antlers. The river iced over and thefreeze-up was upon the Arctic.

On a clear afternoon a voice on the CB reported'lots of aiviq in a cove north of Icy Cape." This wasgood news for Kangik. Walrus was not a favoritefood, but it was nourishing and, fortunately for thevillagers, not too far away.

Walrus ride the ice floes of the Arctic Ocean thatcircle endlessly clockwise around the Polar ice cap.When Kapugen heard of their arrival at Icy Cape,they were on their way from their summer feedinggrounds in the Arctic Ocean to their overwintering

•IQ2-

waters in the Bering Sea. There they would dive forclams and loll along the coastal shores until thebreakup circled them north again.

"Atik, good afternoon, Atik. Do you hear me?"Kapugen spoke into the CB. "Let us go get aiviq forKangik."

"I hear you, Kapugen. That is a good plan, all

right"

Kapugen harnessed the dogs to a sled loaded with

hunting and camping gear, then hooked onto it the

sled carrying his sealskin boat. Elated to be going on

the last hunt of the year, he went inside to find Julie.

"Miyax," he said, "would you come with us? Wecould use your help with the camp and the dogs." Sheslid off the iglek, happy to be asked. Then she hesi-tated.

"Who will help Ellen?" she asked.

"Uma is coming over," Kapugen said. "She willalso check the musk oxen while we are gone." Juliestill hung back.

"Ee-lie, little Miyax," he said, his eyes bright. "Ispoke to David Bradford. He said he saw the Kangikwolves yesterday."

"Where were they?"

"Down in the bottomland feasting on a moosekill." He smiled. "You made them happy wolves."

•193

Hearing that, Julie quickly dressed in her warmestclothing, truly delighted to be going to the sea ice,the spiritual home of the Yupik Eskimos.

Little Amaroq fussed and she picked him up, pat-ted his straight, sturdy back, and hummed to him.Ellen hurried out of the bedroom.

"Let him cry, please, dear," she said. "He mustlearn routine and discipline." Julie respected Ellenswishes. She kissed him and put him back in his cra-dle, then hurried into the qanitchak to put on herboots. She could not bear to hear the little boy cry.

In the low light of late afternoon Julie, Kapugen,and Atik set out across the frozen tundra. Theystopped that night at a well-used campsite of the Es-kimo hunters. The next afternoon they arrived at thecove.

Julie helped Atik set up the sleeping tent whileKapugen crept on his belly to a mound above thebeach. He wiggled back to say he had counted ninewalruses on a floe close to shore.

"How many shall we take?" Atik asked him.

"Two," Kapugen replied. "That is all we need."

"But the ivory," Atik said. "Two sets of tusks willbring fourteen hundred dollars for the corporation.Six will bring forty-two hundred dollars."

"Two," said Kapugen, lifting his head high like a

•194.

wolf leader. Atik understood the matter was settledand said no more.

"Miyax," Kapugen said, turning to Julie, "I needyour help, all right. There is a female walrus on thefloe with a calf that's in trouble. It has fallen into acrevasse. When we shoot, the herd will dive into thesea and the calf will be stranded. We'll be too busy torescue it. You must try."

"I will try," she said. "I do not know walrus talk,but they must know Yupik. They have been hearingit on all sides of the Arctic Ocean for ten thousandyears." Kapugen smiled at her.

"Walruses go mooo" said Atik, and winked.

"Let us go," said Kapugen, getting down on hisbelly to keep out of sight of the walruses. Julie andAtik followed his lead. The light would linger forseveral more hours, although the sun had set. The af-terglow at this time of year brightened the land untilalmost nine o'clock. The temperature was five abovezero. They slithered up the embankment soundlessly.Suddenly there was a loud hammering sound.Julie lifted her head. Kapugen pushed up on hishands. The dogs barked soft woofs to say they werenot certain what was abroad in the twilight. Therewas a pained bellow.

"That's a cry of desperation, " Kapugen said, and

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the three, using their elbows and toes to push, wig-gled noiselessly up the shore mound. At the top theylooked out on a thinly iced sea and nine adult wal-ruses on a floe near shore. Eight were males; theother was the huge mother walrus, her neck andshoulders wreathed in rolls of fat. She was bellowingand cracking the ice floe. Her canine teeth, two enor-mous gleaming white tusks, were her axes. Chips asbig as snow geese were flying in the air as she soughtto rescue her calf from the crevasse. Her flexible hindflippers braced her as she worked. She was demolish-ing the ice before their eyes.

Near her lolled two huge bulls.

Kapugen looked at Atik. Atik looked at Kapugen.Kapugens eyes said, "Shoot," and they did. It was allover quickly. Two bulls were dead. As Kapugen hadpredicted, the rest of the herd plunged off the floeand crashed through the slushy ice into a wave ofpurple water. All but the mother. She did not leave.Paying absolutely no attention to the shots or herdead companions, she kept splintering the ice to freeher baby.

She worked on as Kapugen and Atik ran down tothe waters edge with the skin boat. Nor did she stopher frantic efforts when Julie stepped into the boatwith the hunters and paddled.

• 196 •

Kapugen leaped to the floe and roped his bull.Atik secured his bull. Julie crept forward to try tolasso the calf and pull it out of the cravasse. Withthat, the female became concerned. She roared atJulie and Kapugen, opening and closing her mouthrapidly and making the jackhammer sound again.Then she bluff charged.

Kapugen and Julie stood still. The walrus glaredat them out of her mournful eyes, turned away, andfrantically slashed the far side of the crevasse. In lesstime than it took Julie to wind her rope to toss, thegreat tusks had demolished the sea side of the icefloe. The calf was free. It slipped into the water. Themother plunged in after it, lifted it up on her back,and swam off.

"So much for my job," said Julie, watching themother and calf. "She didn t need any help at all." Shesmiled in admiration.

Kapugen rested his hand on Julie's shoulder. Shelooked up and saw that his eyes were shadowy withdreams as he watched the fearless mother walrusswim away. Even after she had disappeared amongthe floes, Kapugen still did not take his eyes from theicy spot where she had vanished. Finally he spoke.

"Once the elders told me this," he said veryslowly. "We are all related." He gestured toward the

•197

<**■*•

-N^SSA *

caring mother. "They were right, all right."

"Yes/* said Julie. "They were right, all right."Something had happened to Kapugen, Julie real-ized. Here on the bleak and lonely shore the motherwalrus had brought him back from the white man'sland. She slipped her hand into his, and her shiveringfingers warmed.

Suddenly they were in great danger. One half ofthe floe was gone, and the half on which they stoodwas tipping. The tethered bulls slid toward the sea.Kapugen eased one into the water with the rope, try-ing to stabilize the floe, but it was too late. It beganto roll over. Atik leaped into the boat and pulled hiswalrus into the sea. Kapugen picked up Julie, threwher into the boat, and jumped in after her.

They paddled landward slowly, hindered by theone-ton walruses. Behind them the floe kept tippinguntil it was straight up like a breaching whale. Thenit fell. Julie saw it was about to crash onto Atik's wal-rus and pull boat and hunters down into the sea.With a swift movement she severed the rope with herulu. The floe thundered down upon the bull, and hedisappeared from sight. Kapugen shot Julie a gratefulglance.

They beached the boat. Kapugen and Atikjumped ashore and hauled the remaining walrus to

200

safety. For a moment the three hunters stood quietlylooking at the huge animal, each thinking his ownthoughts.

After a respectful silence Kapugen took out hismans knife and slit open the belly. He reached intothe warm body, found the heart, and carried it to thesea edge.

"Great Aiviq," he said. "I have borrowed yourbody. My flesh will be your flesh." He threw theheart into the waves. "I return your spirit to the sea. Igive vou birth again."

When the ceremony of respect was done, Kapu-gen and Atik got into the boat and paddled out torescue the other walrus. It was a terrible thing to killan animal and not use it. They paddled around thefloe searching the water but could not find the deadwalrus.

"I apologize, Aiviq," Kapugen said in his low,slowly paced voice. "I am sorry I wasted you. I shallwalk around the house four times when I return topunish myself for losing you." Julie listened and feltpeaceful. This was the father she remembered.

"I am very sorry, Aiviq," Atik said. "Your hidewas to be a beautiful boat cover, your intestines to beram gear, your flesh my flesh. I am sorrv.

When they were on shore again, Kapugen and

20I

Atik removed the two smooth white tusks, thenbutchered the huge animal into portions for Kangik.

"You can still make your boat cover/' Kapugensaid to his friend as they carried the hide to the sled."This is for you/' Atik smiled his thanks. The Es-kimo languages have no words for "thank you." Onedoes not give to be thanked. A person gives to pleasehimself; that requires no thanks.

When the skin was on the sled and the meatpacked, Atik picked up the intestines and packedthem.

"Uma will make little Amaroq a raincoat of theseintestines," he said. "She was going to do that if Ibrought an aiviq home."

In the pitch blackness Atik lit the Coleman stoveand placed a large piece of walrus meat in a pot for aharvest dinner. Julie fed the dogs their portion. Theyate happily, wagging their tails. The stars shone likehuge silver lights as the hunting party feasted and themoon circled around the sky. Kapugen looked up inthoughtful silence.

The next morning the hunters packed their meat,ivory, tent, and gear and faced the dogs towardKangik.

"Hut," Julie called, and barking and leaping, CB

202

in the lead, they took off for Kangik full of the en-ergy of the walrus.

The days grew quickly shorter.

"Taggaqtugik," Julie said to Ellen on the first ofNovember. "That means 'the month when the lakesare frozen and you can see your reflection on theice!"

"Very pretty," said Ellen, burping Amaroq on hershoulder.

"It is also the month," said Julie, "when all thewhales are south in the Bering Sea, when the pregnantpolar bears come inland to dig dens in the snow. It isthe month when the seals swim under the sea ict andthe only birds that remain with us are the snowy owlsand the guillemots.

"Except for ice fishing," she said, "the time offood gathering is over."

The sun did not rise on November eighteenth,and everything turned blue—the snow, the foot-prints, the shadows. The Arctic night was a palette ofblues.

Julie, Ellen, and little Amaroq went to schoolevery weekday. Ellen put the baby on a warm polar-bear skin on the table, and lessons began.

With Amaroq to inspire the teacher, the ten chil-

203

dren of all ages learned such English sentences as"The baby sees his toes" and "The baby needs dia-pering" From Julie they learned how to say the samething in Inupiat and Yupik. Julie also showed themhow to add five baby fingers and five baby fingers toget ten. She followed this with a lesson on how totake away four baby toes from five. Ellen taught themto sing "The Far Northland."

An important lesson was devised by the NorthSlope Education Department. Each child was giventen dollars. With it they bought stock in the KangikSchool Corporation. Then Marie came to the schoolto set up an Eskimo doughnut business. She paid forthe flour and ingredients by writing out a corpora-tion check, financed by the children's investmentstock. She and the students mixed and cookeddoughnuts. When they were done, the children ranthrough the village streets, following the lightsthrough the blackness to homes, and sold the dough-nuts to Kangik families. With the money they tookin, they paid the corporation back for the ingredi-ents. Then each child was paid a five-cent com-mission. The rest was profit. It went into thecorporation. In this way they learned about the nativecorporations that had been supporting the AlaskanEskimos and Indians since 1971.

204

A letter from Peter to the children of Kangik ar-rived at the school one December day, and Ellenasked Julie to read it aloud.

"Dear friends/' the letter began. "I am in Fair-banks in a student room on the campus of the Uni-versity of Alaska. We eat in a big dining room and goto classes. I am taking four courses—English, biol-ogy, mathematics, and sociology. Each one is in a dif-ferent building.

"Miyax asked me to tell you about my Siberianvillage. You would feel at home there. It looks verymuch like Kangik. My father wears maklaks andparkas and hunts for polar bears and walrus. Mymother wears traditional clothing and makes ourfood. In Russia we have to borrow guns from thegovernment when we go hunting. We have to bringback the empty shells when we turn in the guns. Forthat reason my father uses traps and spears to hunt.

"I miss you all." Before Julie could stop, she read:"Tell Julie that I love her and that I am her forever-partner. Your friend, Peter."

She blushed and picked up little Amaroq to hideher embarrassment.

"Peter loves Julie," said Maries adopted eight-year-old, Bessie, and the children giggled and brokeinto a chant. Ellen clapped her hands, and the school

• 205 •

day was over. Hastily Julie dressed them in theirwarm overclothes to much teasing and laughter andsent them all home.

After the last child had zipped up his parka andstepped out into the cold wind and darkness, anotherschool day began. Ellen taught Julie world historyand mathematics, and Julie taught Ellen Yupik andInupiat.

Julie closed the Ifiupiaq-and-English dictionary atthe end of their study period and took Peter s letterout of her shirt. Smiling shyly, she looked at it.

"What do you think of Peter, Aaka?" she asked.

"I like him," Ellen said.

"Why does he keep saying he loves me?"

"I think he does/'

"He has school to attend, and when the cariboureturn to Kangik, I have school to attend. We are notready to make an iglu."

"Do you love him?"

"Not yet," Julie said. "Kapugen will not let me."

"Julie," Ellen said in shock, "why do you say that?You know Kapugen wants you to grow up and loveand marry. You know that."

"He does, but he stops me." She put the dictio-nary on the desk. "I must stay here in Kangik so hedoesn't kill the wolves. I cannot think about Peter or

206

school as long as he is thinking about the Minnesotalaw."

"Oh, Julie/' Ellen said, looking down at the gur-gling Amaroq. "I am sorry to hear you say that."

Julie looked at her fathers wife. This stepmothershe loved so much did not know what every Eskimoknew from birth: that people and animals coexist fordie welfare of both.

In early April a warm wind from the east broughtrain that turned the snow to slush. The villagers tookoff their heavy parkas and visited m the community7yard and along the river. They wondered if the earlyspring would bring the caribou to Kangik.

Then a blast of below-zero air hit like the sting ofa scorpions tail. Land, slush, and water froze in anhour. An icy rain put down a covering of ict. Kangik,its houses, boats, and sleds were under a sheath oiglass. Doors were frozen shut. Walking was treacher-ous, and food caches were almost impossible to open.This was the worst possible weather in a land of im-possible weather conditions.

The freeze dropped below minus thirty degreesand held for almost a month. Kapugens plane couldnot fly at that temperature and food became a prob-lem. Maries store ran out of supplies. Atik, who still

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had frozen walrus meat on his sled, switched on hisCB.

"Atik has walrus meat," he said. "Come to mysled at my house if you want walrus meat. Out." Notlong after the announcement, qanitchak doors werekicked open and children with plastic bags and adultswith pots skidded and skated to Atiks for a share ofhis harvest.

One night the electricity went out. Marie had towalk to Kapugens house to tell him she was out ofgasoline for the generator. The villagers lit candlesfor light and their camp stoves for cooking. Theyturned their coal-oil heaters low to conserve oil. Theweather station reported no change in temperature.

Several of the hungry children became sick.When the temperature rose to minus twenty degrees,Kapugen lit the kerosene heaters in the Quonset andwarmed up his airplane. The men from the villagehelped chip ice off the runway, and he and Malektook off for Barrow to purchase supplies. Ellens lastwords, as he left the house, were "Pampers, please,bring Pampers."

In Barrow, Kapugen rented a Beaver, the work-horse plane of the north, and loaded it with gasoline,heating oil, alfalfa pellets for the musk oxen, andboxes of groceries. He paid for them with a corpora-

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tion check. At the U.S. weather station in Barrow hewas told that the forecast for the day was clear andwould hold at minus twenty degrees.

"A good time for flying," Kapugen said. "We cango to the Brooks Range and see if the caribou herd iscoming north."

With a catlike purr the big Beaver took off, andKapugen headed it south to the Colville. He saw nocaribou in the foothills or along the river.

On the way back to Kangik Kapugen spotted agang of ravens and a lonesome wolverine. That wasall. No moose, no caribou. Disappointed, he flewhome, landing safely on the still-icy Kangik airstrip.

Kapugen and Malek were planning to call forhelp in unloading supplies, but did not have to.Everyone had heard the Beaver arrive, and men andwomen were streaming across the tundra, pullingtheir sleds, ready to help.

Kapugen did not go to his house until the genera-tor was going again and the supplies were in the store.He then joined Ellen and Julie. Unable to tell themthat the caribou would not come again this year, hepicked up sleeping Amaroq and held him in his arms.The baby opened his eyes.

"I have a song for you," Kapugen said to his littleson. "Listen to me.

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"O caribou, where are you hiding?I know where you walk:In the darkness of the trees,In the passes, in the tundra grass,I know where you walkv

He held the baby against his shoulder and pattedhis firm body.

"O caribou, where are you hiding?I cannot wait—my children are hungry.I know where you walk.In the darkness of the trees,In the passes, in the tundra grass,I know where you walk.You will not come to Kangik,Aya,ya,ya,you will not come to Kangikv

"Aya, ya, ya," sang Julie, in sadness and fear for thevillage s well-being. "You will not come to Kangik."

"Aya, ya, ya," sang a voice from the qanitchak.Kapugen handed little Amaroq to Julie and openedthe inner door.

"David Bradford," he said to the Fish and Gameman. "Do you bring us good news? Are the cariboucoming to Kangik?"

"I've come to see how you all are faring in this

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treacherous weather/' he said, not answering the ques-tion. "But I can see you are okay."

"Come in," called Ellen. "I'll make tea. You mustbe cold."

Julie nodded to him and smiled.

"Hello, little bear lady," he said to her. Ignoringhis greeting, she held up the red-cheeked Amaroq forhim to admire.

"So this is your little brother, Julie," David said."He looks as strong as a wolf's jaw."

"And he is," said Julie, laughing at the idea of ababy being compared to a wolf's jaw.

David sat down m the overstuffed chair andgratefully accepted a steaming cup of tea from Ellen.He warmed his hands on it.

"Terrible weather," he said. "I had to leave thecopter running or I'll never get it started again, so Ican't stay long.

"What I've come to say, Kapugen, is that thosewolves you said killed your musk ox left the Colvilleand are headed this way."

Julie's heart thumped.

"I thought I'd warn you before they kill another."

"That is good to know," said Kapugen, slowlyrising and picking up his gun. "I will intercept thembefore they get here."

211

"No, Aapa, no," Julie cried, running to her father."You promised you would not kill them unless theykilled another musk ox. They have not killed one."She hugged little Amaroq closer. "Let me take themaway again. You promised."

Kapugen frowned.

"I did say that, all right," he said. "But I am likethe wolf. I must defend my family from the enemy."

"The wolves are not our enemy, Aapa," Juliewhispered. "You know that. They are part of us. Weare part of them." She put her cheek against the soft,smooth head of the baby. He arched back andbawled.

I "Even little Amaroq," she said, patting him tocalm him down, "knows you should not shoot thewolf."

"Well, that is one interpretation," said Ellen fromher seat at the table, where she was correcting schoolpapers. "I would say little Amaroq is crying becausehis father woke him up."

"Ayaa, I woke him up," said Kapugen, smiling andputting down his gun. He gently took his son fromJulie and placed his forehead against the small nose."You do not mind, do you, little wolf pup?" Amaroqstopped crying and kicked his feet.

Julie scrambled up on the iglek. Her thoughts

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were interrupted by the conversation betweenKapugen and David. They were planning how best tointercept the wolves and shoot them. Ellen listenedtoo.

"I've got to return the Beaver before I can do any-thing/' said Kapugen.

"You have time," David said. "The pack was feed-ing on something in a watershed of the Avalik River.They ought to sleep a day or two."

David walked to the door. "I've got to get toBarrow," he said. "I have to examine a polar bear thatkilled a white man there." Kapugens face did notshow any expression.

"That is how it is," he said softly. "Where wasthe gussak?"

"Right near his house on the beach. He had goneout to start his car. A polar bear charged him, and heturned and ran. That was a mistake. Julie taught menot to run. He did not make it."

"Did they get the bear?" asked Kapugen.

"His neighbor shot the bear."

"Dangerous time of year," said Kapugen. "Thepolar bear mothers are rejecting their two-year-oldcubs—and they are hungry."

"And so are the wolves," said David beforeputting on his face mask and dark glasses. He opened

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the door, and cold air from the qanitchaq balloonedinto the room. Ellen shuddered.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to cold," she said,and laughed. "Or is it the forces moving in thewilderness that make me shiver?"

Julie did not speak.

"I'm ready," called Malek from outside. "Time totake the Beaver back." Kapugen turned to Ellen."Malek and I are going to return the rented planeand bring back mine to Kangik."

"Hurry, before the wolves come," she said.Kapugen nodded his head once. His eyes did notshine. He put little Amaroq in his cradle and kissedhis booted foot. Then he left.

When Julie and Ellen were alone, Julie camedown from the iglek and sat beside her.

"Ellen," she said, "our next lesson is about howevery beast and plant is dependent on every otherbeast and plant."

"I understand that," she said. "You have taughtme well."

Julie despaired. She had been talking to Ellensince the sun had gone down about cycles and therise of one animal and the fall of another. She hadheld up her hands and told her how the Eskimoknew they were related to all the animals because they

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all had the same bones in one shape or another. Shehad told her that wolves keep the environmenthealthy, and that when the environment is healthy,people are healthy.

And still Ellen had told her she would kill a wolfto save the oxen and Kapugen agreed with her.

Julie knew she must do something right now."When things are not working, you are doing some-thing wrong," she had said to herself on the tundra."Change what you are doing." She looked long atEllen and took a deep breath.

"Dear Ellen," she said. "I will stop lecturing andtell you a story.

"A young girl was lost on the tundra. She wasstarving. One day she found the summer nursery of awolf pack and made friends with the wolves. A puppytaught her how to get food from the wolves'* stomachbaskets by touching the corner of a. wolf s mouth.She did that, and a wolf generously gave up food forher, but the food was not enough. She ate moss andfungi.

"A fog rolled over the land and she could not see.The earth vibrated. The fog thinned and Kapu, herpuppy friend, came into view. As alert as an eagle, hewas sniffing the wind and wagging his tail as if read-ing some amusing wolf story. She sniffed, too, but for

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her the pages were blank." Julie looked into Ellenseyes.

"Amaroq, the great leader of the wolf pack,howled. Nails, his best friend, bark-howled. ThenAmaroq slid into a musical song and Silver, his mate,joined in. Their voices rose and fell as each harmo-nized with the other. The windy voice of Jello, thebaby-sitter, crooned, and like the beat of drums, thefive pups whooped and yipped. The girl rubbed herchin; something was different about this hunt song. Itwas eerie and restless. It spoke of things she did notunderstand, and she was frightened.

"The fog cleared again and she saw Amaroq, hishunters, and the pups running across the tundra.Even Jello was with them. Were they leaving her? Wasthis their day to take up the wandering life of thewolves? Was she now on her own? She crawledaround her frost heave and frantically gathered theleafy plants that the caribou eat. She stuffed mush-roomlike fungi into her pocket, and bits of reindeermoss. She could no longer pass up anything thatmight be edible.

"As she worked on her hands and knees, the vi-brations in the earth grew stronger. The girl drewback. Out of the fog came a huge caribou runningher way. At his neck, leaping with the power of an

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ocean wave, was Amaroq." Ellen glanced around theroom. Her eyes fell on the spot where Kapugen hadput down his gun. It was gone. Julie went on.

"Nails was diving in and out under the caribou.At his flank was Silver.

"Then Amaroq jumped, floated in the air for aninstant, and sank his teeth into the shoulder of thebeast.

"The fog closed in briefly, and when it thinned,the caribou was poised above Amaroq, his cleaverlikehoofs aimed at his head. There was a low grunt, aflash of hoofs, and the huge feet cut uselessly into thesod; for Amaroq had jumped again and sunk histeeth into the animals back. Snarling, using theweight of his body as a tool, he rode the circling andstumbling beast. Silver leaped in front of the bull try-ing to trip him and slow him down. Nails had a gripon one hind leg. The caribou bucked, writhed, thendropped to his knees. His antlers pierced the ground.He bellowed and fell.

"Miyax, the girl, could not believe her good for-tune—an entire caribou felled practically at her feet.This was enough food to last her a month, perhaps ayear. She would smoke it to make it lighter to carry,pack it, and walk on to the coast. She would live.

"And I did "

•217

Ellen sat very still. Presently she got up to lookfor Kapugen's gun in the qanitchaq. It was not there.

"Julie," she said, "I understand. I understand.Please go tell Kapugen I am wrong: The Minnesotalaw does not work here."

Julie put on her warm qivit pants and sweater.Over these she pulled her down pants and parka.Then she put on her wool cap, gloves, and mittens.She stuffed her pockets with jerky and went out intothe glaring ice world. She walked to the sled she hadloaded with alfalfa pellets last night, and rather thantake the dogs over the treacherous ice, she picked upthe rope and pulled the sled herself. She slipped a fewtimes, then got her footing. After she fed the muskoxen, she was going to go out on the tundra to findKapu and Aaka, Silver, Raw Bones, Zing, and Amy,and turn them away. She glanced at the Quonset andlistened for the doors to open and for Kapugen tostart up the Beaver. He would be able to shoot wellfrom that plane.

At the corral she dumped the pellets in the feedtrough, closed the gate, struggling for a moment withthe icy bolt, then headed for the riverbank. She hadnot gone five paces before she stopped. Kapugen hadbeen here. His boots, with the distinctive crimpingon their soles, had broken through the ice layer and

•2l8-

left their imprints in the snow. He was here with hisgun. He was not taking the Beaver to Barrow. Hisfootsteps were fresh and led off around the corral.He was stalking the wolves on foot.

A howl sounded in the distance. It was followedby an alert bark, and then, urgently, the voices of herwolves rose from the tundra wilderness. She ran to-ward them. The ice broke under her feet, slowing herdown; but she plugged on, determined to save themsomehow.

What can I do? How can I scare them? A gun would help. Ihave none. A dead wolf would work—my wolf-head mittensperhaps. They're at home. She noted that the wind wasblowing her scent in the direction of Kapu and hispack. She hoped he would smell her and the fearodor she was exuding. That would turn them away.She struggled, looking back to see if Kapugen wasfollowing.

The earth shook, a crackling roar sounded. Julieturned around again, to see the musk oxen thunder-ing out of the corral, bulls first, calves in the middle,cows bringing up the rear. Their skirts flowing in thewind, they rushed out onto the tundra and headedfor a knoll above the river. They had escaped. Theywere free. For a moment Julie was thrilled; then shewas frightened.

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The industry was gone. Kapugen had failed. Lit-tle Amaroq would not have a future. She must drivethe herd back to the corral. Running, stumbling, shetried to swing around them with flying arms andshouts. Snow burst up from their feet, obscuringthem and the corral. She ran.

A shimmer appeared on the river ice, Juliedropped to all fours and focused as her wolf pack,Kapu in the lead, the others behind, trotted down thefrozen river. They moved like flowing water. Theyleft the riverbed and dashed into the ox herd. Weav-ing among them, pacing their own steps to the stepsof the wing-footed bulls, Kapu and his pack sized upthe herd.

The cloud of snow the oxen had stirred settleddown. Julie rubbed her eyes. Kapugen was standingbeside the corral. He had no gun. His hands wereclasped behind his back, his head forward.

Julie looked from him to the wolves. They wereloping along easily as they scattered the herd. Shedidn't understand why the oxen hadn't formed a de-fense ring. They were making themselves easy targetsby scattering. She closed her eyes, not wanting to seewhat came next.

When she opened them, the wolves were walking.The musk oxen had stopped running. They cracked

220

the ice with their huge hoofs and leaned down tobrowse serenely on the emerging tundra grass. Thewolves, panting and wagging their tails, trotted off ashort distance and lay down on their bellies.

For some unknown reason the hunt was over.There would be no kill. The predator knew some-thing that was not for Julie s understanding.

Then she saw that the gate was open.

Had she left it ajar? she wondered frantically.Had she not locked it tight enough? No, she remem-bered the difficulty she had had in throwing the boltin the cold. She had locked it well.

And then she knew.

Kapugen had set the musk oxen free.

She walked across the ice to him, pulling the sledbehind her.

"There they are again," he said. "The wolf andthe little oxen of the north."

For a long quiet hour Julie and her father watchedthe animals moving beneath a white sun that shonedown on the top of the earth.

"The industry, Aapa," Julie whispered. "Whatwill happen to the industry?"

"We now have a wild herd," he said. The look onhis face was peaceful.

"The Eskimo wiped out the musk oxen of Alaska

221

when the white men gave us guns. Now the Eskimohas restored them. They will-live and reproduce andbecome part of us again." He turned to her. "As forthe industry, you and I will have to walk a lot farther,as our people used to do, to gather the qivit for theknitters. That is all."

He added slowly, "But I don't know what Ellenwill say."

"I have just left her," Julie said. "She has said theMinnesota law is not the law of the Arctic. Shethinks so, all right."

"Then I think so too, all right," said Kapugen,squinting out over the magnificent tundra, his home.

The wind buffeted them but they did not leave.Like the musk oxen and wolves, they, too, had beenrestored to order.

"When are you going to school?" Kapugen finallyasked.

"When the caribou return," Julie said.

"They will, all right," said Kapugen. "The wolveshave been talking." He pushed back his parka hoodand cupped his hands behind his ears. "Listen," hesaid.

Kapu howled. He began on a low note andclimbed to the highest pitch of the wind and held itthere. Zing, Silver, Aaka, Raw Bones, and Amy joined

222

in. The air quivered, the ice snapped, and the landcrackled with life.

"They are saying," Kapugen said, "that the cari-bou are coming." Julie shaded her eyes and looked atthe river and tundra.

A dark-gray mass quivered on the glare ice. Itseemed to be a wind cloud moving toward them. Juliesquinted. Above the darkness rode antlers, a sea ofthem.

"Aapa," she cried. "The caribou are here!"

Like the irresistible force of nature that it is, thefemale caribou herd surged toward them. The maleswere days behind. The females carried their headshigh, these beasts of the icy past who, together withthe wolves and musk oxen, had kept the tundra flour-ishing for an eon. The breath clouds behind themstreamed out like white banners heralding their re-turn. The herd was magnificent to see. Kapu howledone penetrating note and held it. The musk oxensnorted and stared at the tide of caribou without ex-pression, and Kapugen and Julie threw their armsaround each other.

"That is how it is," Kapugen said.

As Julie watched the life-bringing caribou cara-van, she thought about high school, books, girls,boys, and teachers. Then she felt Peters whistle

223

against her chest and she thought about him.

If I can think of school and teachers before I think of Peter,she reasoned, I am not in love. But images of littleground squirrels popping out of the earth and the vi-sion of Peter dancing at the Nalukataq festivalchanged her mind.

"I will marry Peter," she said to herself, "when Iam all grown up."

Kapugen picked up the sled rope, Julie took hold,and together they walked back to Kangik. They lis-tened to the howl of the wolf mingling with the tatooof an Eskimo drummer announcing the return of life.

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Twenty years after Julie of the Wolves was first pub-lished, Jean Craighead George decided it was timeto write its sequel. Children all over North Amer-ica had been asking her about what had happenedto Julie after she left the wolves. Frequent visits toAlaska over the past two decades continued toprovide a fresh picture of this natural world forMs. George to draw on in her telling of the con-tinuation of Julie's story.

Ms. George is the author of many belovedbooks for children, including the Thirteen MoonsSeries and three Ecological Mysteries: Who ReallyKilled Cock Robin?, The Missing 'Gator oj Gumbo Limbo,and The Fire Bug Connection. She lives in Chappaqua,New York.

Wendell Minor is well known for his paintingsfeatured on book jackets and in picture books. Hiswork includes Sierra, Heartland, Mojave, all by DianeSiebert; The Seashore Book by Charlotte Zolotow;and The Moon of the Owls by Jean Craighead George.Mr. Minor lives in Washington, Connecticut, withhis wife, Florence, and their two cats, Willie andMouse.

JEAN (

1) georci:

decided 1 to write a sequel to

JULIE OF IS twenty years after

it was first published. Children all overNorth America had been asking herabout what had happened to Julie aftershe left the wolves. Frequent visits toAlaska over the past two decades con-tinued to provide a fresh picture of thisnatural world for Ms. George to drawon in her continuation of Julie's story.

Ms. George is the author of manybeloved books for children, includingthe Thirteen Moons series and threeecological mysteries: WHO REALLYKILLED COCK ROBIN?, THE MISSING'GATOR OF GUMBO LIMBO, and THEFIRE BUG CONNECTION. She lives inChappaqua, New York.

WENDELL MINOR is well

known for his paintings featured onbook jackets and in picture books. Hiswork includes SIERRA, HEARTLAND,and MOJAVE, all by Diane Siebert; THESEASHORE BOOK by Charlotte Zolotow;and THE MOON OF THE OWLS by JeanCraighead George. Mr. Minor lives inWashington, Connecticut, with his wife,Florence, and their two cats, Willie andMouse.

90000

9780060M235291I

ISBN 0-0b-0E352T-E