People who knew me, or thought they did, years ago would never have believed that I would sit up half the night playing mother to a wolf cub. Had it not been for Ayla--that woman, that living image of the Great Mother that I came to know better through her--many things would be different.
At any rate, all I had on my mind that night was that little wolf. One life, out of so many in this world, had suddenly become very important. The first thing I did after bathing in the river--besides feeding my fire, an absolute necessity in that place where the scent of blood lingered so near--was to see if the little one was still in my pack.
The cub reacted briefly with fear, but the sound of my voice was now familiar. I was able to touch the soft fur and rub its head and neck with my fingertips. This pup was a little older than the one Ayla had brought home, but still awkward. Probably it would have been exploring outside the den within a few days. It allowed me to pick it up without much protest. I found that it was not badly injured, though there was a shallow gash on its flank. It was a male.
Since I had no fresh meat, I offered the cub dried meat that I had chewed well. To my delight, he accepted it. He had some difficulty with the idea of drinking water out of a bowl. I knew he would need it, without his mother's milk. The cub sniffed at the water, dipped his nose in it, and sneezed. Ah, well, perhaps tomorrow when he was thirstier...
I realized then that I was smiling.
In the morning, the wolf cub was still there, sharing my bed. I imagine he found it more comfortable than I did; a hastily made mat of pine branches on stony ground is far from luxurious. "Good morning, my friend," I said. "Let us have a bite to eat, and then we'll be off." I wanted to get back home as quickly as possible now. The children of my hearth needed me, and I needed them. I felt bad about leaving them, but the journey had truly done me some good. Time and distance had indeed healed a little of the wound in my heart. I hoped they could forgive my weakness.
The cub was curious about everything, though timid. He stumbled about on the rocky beach, acting surprised when he encountered insects. He stepped into the water once and jumped back, falling over. I laughed for the first time since my loss. The little one was startled by my guffaws. I managed to get my laughter under control. That wasn't easy; I was laughing at myself as much as at him.
"There, now, don't you be afraid of my noise. I'm barking because I'm happy, eh?" He looked at me warily. "So-o-o, come, it's all right. Say, I have to have something to call you. Everyone needs a name. What is your name, or what should it be?" I laughed again at my silliness, but quietly.
I kept talking to him as I broke camp and packed. There were other questions on my mind besides what to name the wolf. How was I to travel with a toddling cub? He certainly could not keep up with me. Hunting would be difficult too. The small supply of dried meat that I had left wouldn't feed both of us all the way back. I couldn't leave him alone long enough to stalk anything large. Perhaps I would be able to get enough rabbits and other small game as we went along. Such incidental kills had stretched my supply of traveling food up to now.
One problem was solved easily enough. I turned a spare tunic into a carrying sack for my companion. The weather was too warm now to wear it anyway, I needed nothing more than a light vest to keep the backpack from chafing. I tied up the bottom and fastened the ends of the sleeves together with a thong. After persuading the cub to enter the new flexible den, I slung the makeshift haversack over my neck and shoulder.
That brought to mind a name. We tell children many stories about two tricky characters named Chip and Chac. They have all sorts of adventures and are always saving one another's skins. In one, Chip carries Chac in a sack in order to fool stingy Old Mountain Woman into thinking that he is alone, so that they can steal flint from her. Here I was carrying someone in a bag. The little fellow peeked out, and I chuckled, saying, "I am Chip and you are Chac. Do you like the name?"
He did not object to it, at any rate. So we left the valley. Chac soon accustomed himself to riding in my "wolf-sling", and I made good time striding along homeward. For the first two days, I didn't try to hunt. But on the third, I kept my throwing-stick in hand and was on the lookout for anything that I might flush from the grass. The Mother smiled on us and provided a fat hare. My stick stunned it nicely and I trotted up to finish it off lest it recover, as they often do. Chac was upset by the sudden jerky motion, and I had to hold the bag in my arms as I ran. He wriggled out when we got to the hare. He lapped up some of the blood when I cut its throat, and I chopped its liver for his dinner.
After that I hunted every day, though sometimes I was not successful. Some days I made up for the bad ones by killing more than one animal. Chac always drank the blood, which helped to conserve our water supply. I had few opportunities now to refill my waterskin.
It occurred to me that this was the first time since I joined Lion Camp that I had missed the Summer Meeting. At least they would be back by the time we arrived. I hoped that they would not have worried too much about me. My long meandering had taken me farther away and for a longer time than I had intended--not that my intentions had been very clear. The journey had certainly done me good, and then there was Chac. It made me smile to think of the looks of surprise that would greet my little friend. All of the children had loved Ayla's Wolf, and he had loved them.
Chac always stayed near me when we camped. In other ways, one might say he was not so well behaved. Luckily, his little teeth didn't do much damage to my clothes and tent. I tried to encourage him to chew certain things. We managed to agree on a certain favorite corner of the tent, which got more ragged every day. I could not complain; it showed that he was healthy. His small wound healed with no difficulty, thank Mut. All I know of healing is how to stop bleeding in an emergency, to wash a wound with yarrow tea, and a few other simples. One does pick up all sorts of odds and ends of knowledge when one has children at one's hearth.
My children--how I looked forward to seeing them again! I must have nearly worn Chac's ears off with my talk. He listened sometimes as if he understood what I was saying, cocking his head and swiveling his ears toward me. It was good to have someone to talk to.
We had traveled for half a moon, taking as direct a route as I could reckon, when Chac repaid any debt he may have owed me. Great mountains of stormclouds grew in the sky and headed our way, giving me some hope of rain to replenish our water. Fierce gusts of wind tore at the grass and scrubby growth of the dry hills we were passing through. Dust whirled into the air, and I squinted and covered my nose and mouth with my hand. Thunder rumbled in the distance.
Chac squirmed restlessly in his carrier, so I let him out to run. I only carried him now when he got tired and wanted to nap when I wanted to move on. His legs had grown longer and stronger since I found him. He still stayed close by me, but romped energetically, sometimes going in circles about me and threatening to trip me up. I had stepped on his paw a few times, which made both of us feel very bad, but taught him some caution.
I decided that I might as well make camp early. The windblown dust made travel unpleasant, and I didn't want to get soaked if it did rain. I set up my tent on the lee side of an outcrop of rock. There were plenty of large stone chunks to hold down the tent. I couldn't build a fire because of the wind, but I gathered as much fuel as I could. Then I climbed to the top of the highest hill in the area to see if I could spot any certain landmarks. I thought that we must be fairly close to Lion Camp, and I wanted to know how far north I needed to aim.
Chac stood by me as I peered into the distance, leaning against my legs. Suddenly he whined and yipped. "Hush there," I said. "We'll go back down in a bit. It's not raining yet." He did not settle down, but grew more agitated, pawing and nipping at my leggings. Then he ran partway down the hill and yipped repeatedly. He started leaping back and forth, and then ran off out of sight. "Heya, Chac!" I yelled, and ran after him.
I had barely left the hilltop, when a blinding flash of light flared up on it and thunder nearly knocked me head-over-arse the rest of the way down the hill.
I picked myself up off the ground where I had either fallen or thrown myself down in that moment when the world seemed about to end, and stood blinking in shock. Where I had been standing, flames leaped from the dry grass. Darkness grew all around and huge drops of rain began to strike me, cold on my bare skin. My concern for Chac returned. I headed downhill calling for him. Immediately, the little wolf came running to me, standing on his hind legs and pawing at my knees. I snatched him up into my arms and hastened to the tent.
We sat listening to the storm. Rain pounded our small tent and wind tested it; thunder rumbled over and over. Chac huddled in my lap while I talked to distract both of us from the storm's fury. I think I told him my whole miserable life story.