When he woke up he could only open one eye. They hadn’t killed him. His fur had been too badly damaged in the struggle to be sold, so he ended up in the zoo. Or rather, in several zoos. Over the next ten years he stayed in five or six. Sometimes the ground was concrete and the roof was made of corrugated iron. Sometimes the ground was bare earth and there was clear sky above. He’d been in small cages and behind thick bars, in large enclosures and penned in by wire meshing. His meat was thrown to him from a distance. People came to paint him on Sundays; children were scared of him. The seasons came and went…
He was all alone. Surrounded by animals he didn’t know, who were also caged off.
“A human being is a collector.”
Now he understood the meaning of Black Flame’s words.
He was all alone in the world. Until the day they introduced Perdrix, a she-wolf, into his cage.
To begin with, Blue Wolf wasn’t too happy about this. He had grown used to being alone. He preferred his own memories for company.
The she-wolf wanted to ask a whole heap of questions. “What’s your name?” She had grey fur and a muzzle that was nearly white. “Where do you come from?” Her paws were white too. “Did they capture you a long time ago?”
She’s just like a snow partridge, thought Blue Wolf.
“Fine,” said the she-wolf, “don’t answer, if that’s what you want. But I’m warning you: I’ll answer you like a shot when you ask me a question!”
That’s the kind of thing Shiny Straw would have said to me, thought Blue Wolf. So he enquired, “Where do you come from then?”
“From the Far North.”
“It’s a big place, the Far North…”
“I come from the barren lands, in Alaska.”
Blue Wolf held his breath. The barren lands? That was the name humans gave to the place where he’d been captured. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest.
“The barren lands? Tell me, do you know—”
“I know everyone back there.”
“Do you know a little she-wolf with golden fur?”
“Shiny Straw? The daughter of Black Flame and Great Wolf? Of course I know her! But, for one thing, she’s not a little she-wolf any more – she’s huge. Bigger than all the other wolves. And, secondly, she hasn’t got golden fur now.”
“Hasn’t got golden fur? Now you’re telling fibs.”
“It’s not a fib; I never lie. Of course, she used to have golden fur. But not any more. It stopped shining.”
“Stopped shining?”
“Exactly. One night she left with one of her brothers – no one knows where they went – and the next morning she came back alone. The shine had gone from her fur; she no longer glowed in the sunshine. She’s just Yellow Straw now! They say she’s in mourning.”
“That’s what they say?”
“They say all sorts of things about her. And I know her well enough to be certain that everything they say is true. They say that no wolf has ever been a better hunter, and it’s true. They say that neither she nor her family will ever allow themselves to be captured by humans, and it’s true.”
“How do you know?” asked Blue Wolf, who felt a huge ball of pride swelling in his chest.
So Perdrix told him. It happened one summer, when there were three families of wolves gathered round a pond that was swarming with ducks. Shiny Straw’s family and Perdrix’s family were there. Everyone was lying silently in wait, when suddenly they heard something whizzing above them, whoosh … whoosh … whoosh! It was a helicopter. (“Yes, they’ve started hunting us down with helicopters now.”) Bang! Bang! The first shots rang out. Total panic! Wolves were trying to escape in every direction, as if the air current from the propeller blades was dispersing them. Fortunately the hunters weren’t good marksmen. They were amateurs who just hunted for fun.
The helicopter was losing height. The grass below flattened out. But Shiny Straw was in the grass, although it was impossible to spot her because she was exactly the same colour. Then, out of the blue, she snapped at the pilot’s leg. Ouch! The helicopter rose up again, spun round in a peculiar way and … splash! It landed in the middle of the pond.
“I rushed towards Shiny Straw. ‘How did you manage that, Shiny Straw? Tell us how you did it.’ And do you know what she said?”
“‘My eyes!’”
“How do you know?”
“I’ll tell you later. Finish the story first.”
“Yes, the rest of the story… Well, there was the helicopter in the middle of the pond, and the men were splashing all the ducks – the ducks were hopping mad! – and the wolves were sitting on the bank, laughing so hard they were splitting their sides. You can’t imagine how much they were enjoying themselves. Shiny Straw was the only one who wasn’t laughing.”
“She wasn’t laughing?”
“No … she never laughs.”