Wolf

BACK IN the woods again.

On the return journey, it had seemed to Aneze that they traveled much faster and farther than they ever had before. It all happened in a whirl. Every time she woke from a rest, they seemed to be in a different place from where they had lain down. Perhaps it was necessary to leave the old man’s world while sleeping. Or perhaps her mind was playing tricks because she was traveling through lands where she had once been so lost and alone, before he had found her. Before he rescued her.

Aneze had changed her mind about going back many times. But the old man wouldn’t let her. He kept the dogs pointed toward her world. Sometimes she worried that he was punishing her for wanting to leave. Other times she thought he was helping her stick to her decision.

It was a good season to return. All the animals were out. It was the season of birds and eggs. The blackflies and mosquitoes were almost gone, but the days were still warm. It was strange to be among the trees again. It seemed crowded. But she was getting used to it. It was so easy to make a fire. She didn’t need to carry a stone lamp anymore, just her flint. Making a lean-to was easy too. She just cut some branches, laid on some spruce boughs, and there! A shelter fit for a hunter.

If only the old man had decided to stay in the forest for a while. If only he had decided to keep her company, just to make sure that she could really take care of herself. The old man had given her the sealskin suit, for keeps. She wore it all the time—the short trousers, parka and boots. The suit made Aneze feel good, special. It also kept the water off her better than anything else. She touched the smooth fur of the hood. She remembered what he had said before he left her on the barren ground to go back to his own icy world.

“This is for you, Orphan Ahwak,” and he handed her a small stone. “Sew it into your hood.”

Aneze looked at the stone. It fit easily in the palm of her hand. When she looked more closely, she saw that it was a tiny white carved bear.

“That bear in your hand will give you bear powers—bear strength, bear speed. Bear hunts alone. Now you will too.”

Aneze nodded. “Perhaps I’m being foolish to think of staying in the forest?” She waited. Would he relent and tell her to stay with him? Would he say that she was going to be fine by herself? It was ridiculous, but Aneze wanted him to say both things.

“Orphans must be especially strong,” he told her. “I think the white bear will help. But I think you must find your own animal.” The old man looked around. He sighed. “I think maybe you will meet your animal in your world, not mine.”

“Oh. Yes. Well,” Aneze said. Then this was good-bye.

“Remember, Ahwak.” The old man closed her hand over the white bear. He held on for a moment. “You have lost your ancestors, but you may have descendants yet. Be strong. Become wise. And see that you deserve them.” The old man smiled and winked. Then he was gone.

He was right. The white bear did help. She caught fish in her net. She shot birds with her slingshot. She trapped rabbits in her snares. Once she saw Moose in the forest. What a feast that would be. She made a spear for herself and practiced throwing it at tree trunks. She stretched and dried her rabbit skins. She made a pretty bag out of bird skin. She kept her sewing needles in it. When she got cuts or scrapes, she covered them with spruce sap. She made a pot out of tree-skin. When she wanted boiled meat, she heated stones in the fire and dropped them in the pot of water. When she wanted roasted meat, she buried it in the fire. She kept her spear and her knife sharp. She tried to remember what her mother knew, and she tried to remember what her father knew. She was very busy. She wasn’t even bothered by the hollow inside, not much anyway. She wasn’t even scared, not very.

Except once.

Aneze was camped by the shores of a big lake. It was getting dark, so she set up a fire pit. Then she saw a red glow, far away, along the shore. A campfire. And then another flickered in the black sky, and another. People! So many fires meant many people! Aneze stopped her work. If she lit her fire, they would see it for sure. They could be enemies. Even if they were not enemies, they might not like her. They would know she was bad luck—an orphan. They might pretend to be kind and try to kill her in her sleep. She knew how these things worked. It was best to stay hidden. But she needed her fire. What to do? Hmm, hm, hm.

It was too dark to travel away from the lake. She touched the hem of her hood, where the stone bear lived. Bear didn’t hide from anyone. But Rabbit hid all the time. She reached for a rabbit fur. Rabbit had no ideas for her. She should have known—that was just like Rabbit. But she had forgotten Fox! She shook some fox teeth out of her pocket. She jostled them in her hand.

“Uhmmm, uhmm, uhmm.” Aneze sang a little song to encourage them. “Uhmm, uhmm, ah-uhmm. ” The fox teeth jumped out of her hand and scattered all over the ground. Of course! Fox was so clever. Many fires. Aneze had to build many fires, all around her campsite. More fires than those others had burning. She would make herself look like many people, more than they were. That would frighten those others and keep them away. Aneze gathered up Fox’s teeth and put them back in her pocket. It was time to gather more wood.

THE DAYS WERE still hot, but night came quickly now. The spring and summer season always slipped by in a blink. Aneze wanted to try hunting big animals, like a true hunter. In all her travels, she had not seen Caribou. Soon the herd would be coming back to the forest. She had no idea how to meet it. She needed a caribou suit for the winter. If she was going to be a hunter, she had to hunt Caribou.

“One day, you will hunt without me,” Aneze remembered Father telling Brother. “When you are ready, you must look for your dream-vision. You will recognize it, because your animal will make himself known to you in this dream. A hunter who knows his animal can understand himself—his own strengths, the way he should hunt. A hunter who has no dream-vision is never really grown.”

That must be the problem. Aneze didn’t know her own animal. How could she know Caribou if she didn’t even know her own animal? The old man had told her much the same thing. With the help of her animal, she could learn to be strong and wise. Her animal might even help her find and hunt Caribou.

Aneze decided it was time to seek her dream-vision. Normally a young hunter went off on his own for the first time and didn’t come back until he’d dreamed his dream-vision. But Aneze was already alone. She needed to do something different. She stopped fishing and trapping. She started wandering. She took no particular path—she just followed her nose until it was too dark to travel. Who knew where the dream-vision waited? She ate a little dried meat. She slept. She didn’t do much besides that. She didn’t want to be too busy fixing a net or stalking a bird to notice her vision.

Soon Aneze wandered less and less. She enjoyed just sitting. Sometimes she sat on a log. She liked to sit by a river or a lake. Once she spent the whole day watching Frog. That was an odd thing to do. But Frog wasn’t bothered. He carried on his business as if he was all by himself. In fact, Aneze realized, birds acted this way too. They hopped right by her, looking for grubs to eat. They didn’t flap and fly away. She stood up and walked into the river. She waited for the fish to come. They swam right through her legs, brushing up against them like they were fallen branches.

Strange…It was as if she wasn’t there. She climbed back out again. Had she turned into a ghost? Aneze thumped her arms and her chest. No, it was all right, she was really there.

Then she heard a noise in the bush. Something was waiting for her in the trees. She could feel it. Was it an evil sprit? Was it a devil? Maybe it was her animal. Maybe she was dreaming and didn’t even know it. Aneze walked toward it. She didn’t even worry about being quiet.

She walked into a small clearing. The sun shone all the way down to the ground here. The rocks and needles felt warm under her feet. Wasn’t this where the thing had been waiting? She felt very faint. She was too dizzy. Aneze lay down, but she kept her eyes wide open. Blackness came in around the edges anyway. The peephole through which she could see became smaller and smaller. A sound grew louder in her ears—hiss-WHOOSH. It sounded like her own breathing, only it was bigger and inside her head.

Then she felt as if she was speeding. She was going faster than the old man’s dogsled—faster even than Eagle could fly. But wait, the trees were whizzing by in a blur, yet she felt no wind. Actually, it didn’t seem like she was moving at all; it seemed like the forest was rushing past her. And just as she thought “This is not possible. Forests don’t run,” she was somewhere else.

Now she was somewhere dark, damp and warm. It looked like the ribs of an animal. Was she speeding through the ribs of some huge animal? Yes, she could see it breathing—expanding and contracting, in, out, in, out. Hiss-WHOOSH. So this was where that sound had been coming from! But she was there only an instant, and then it all slipped away. She sped right through to the light. Or the light came toward her. It seemed as if everything else was moving, while she remained perfectly still. And then suddenly she was on the hill.

Or rather, she wasn’t. She could see it, but she wasn’t really there. It was bright. It was bright, bright, bright from the sun and the snow. But she didn’t feel the cold. It was clean here. There were no tracks, no rocks, no mud. The snow glittered and twinkled like stars. She was on the top of a crest. It fell away sharply on both sides.

She was looking along the tip-top of a mountain range. She had never seen anything like it. She had never been so high. She couldn’t see the bottom. The tips of the mountains spread out before her. They looked like the backbone of some gigantic creature. This was an empty world, but Aneze wasn’t scared. It wasn’t a lonely place—it was complete. It didn’t need anyone to see it. It was beautiful. A voice spoke inside her head. It was her own voice.

“This must be the spine of the world.”

At that moment, she saw something coming toward her along the top of the crest. It ran fast, but easily, in great loping strides. It was Wolf. His fur was white. Wolf saw her. He was running toward her. He was looking right at her. She looked back into his eyes.

They were not kind eyes. But they did not seem to be angry either. Wolf ’s thick coat rippled over his shoulders as he ran. It captured the light of the sun and held it. He was coming. She wanted to turn and run. But she couldn’t move, she wasn’t really there. His eyes held hers as if he recognized her. He seemed to say, “You, wait there, I’m coming.” He pinned her in place. Aneze wished hard that his eyes might soften toward her, even just a little. But they didn’t. And then he was upon her.

Suddenly, Aneze was back in the clearing. She bolted upright. Through the trees she saw him. His coat was gray now, and his mate was with him. They both looked at her—those eyes. Then they turned away. Aneze struggled to her feet and walked over to where they had been. They had been eating something. They’d caught Caribou! They’d eaten out the tongue and the liver, but there was so much left over!

Aneze took out her knife and sliced off a tender morsel by the rib. She ate it right then, just like the old man. Just like Wolf. She ate only a little bit; her belly needed to get used to food again. Aneze chewed and chewed. She thought about her dream-vision. Grandmother had told stories about hunters and their animals. She told a story about a hunter who healed sick people whenever he asked for Caribou’s help. Another story was about a hunter who could ask Eagle to tell him where there was food whenever his people were starving. Father never told stories about his animal.

“A hunter doesn’t talk about his animal. The power will go away. If he is in serious trouble—about to drown, maybe, or get killed by a bear—a hunter will remember his first meeting with his animal. The memory will give him extra strength so that he may survive.”

Aneze sure wasn’t going to forget her vision. Wolf was special—a strong and good animal. Wolf was smart; he could even tell what others were thinking. Aneze would like to be able to do that. Perhaps one day Wolf would give her special powers too.

But for now, Aneze would take care of the gift that Wolf had given her. She set to work cutting away the skin. It would make a blanket, or perhaps a winter shirt. Later she would drag a haunch back to where she had left her things, right by Frog, beside the river. She would build a fire. She would be drying meat for many days. Her animal had come.