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Black Wolf

Chapter 5 – The Land of the Gods

Black didn't realize that he was awake at first, because everything was so dark. He tried to move but his limbs were lifeless and numb. After a few minutes wondering if he had died he could start to make out contrast among the shadows. He could also feel a tingling sensation in his extremities.

Gradually his vision improved. Is was dark because he was under one of the sweeping pine trees, the kind whose branches came all the way to the ground. They were good for sheltering under during a storm, but he wondered how he had gotten there. The last thing he remembered was the giant dragonfly chasing him through the deep snow.

He found that he could move his fingers and toes, so he clenched them like he did when waking on a cold morning to help the blood flow. Soon he could move his arms and his legs a bit, but not very far. The reason, he discovered, was that he was wrapped in all his furs and spare clothing. Wrapped in a way that he never would, or could, do on his own; the way you wrap an infant to keep it still and warm in the winter.

It was warm and comfortable inside the furry cocoon and his head was still foggy. He did not seem to be in any immediate danger so he relaxed and waited for his mind and body to recover fully.

In the near total silence he could hear a slight buzzing sound, like a tiny fly, the kind that come early in summer that are so small you can hardly see them. But the source of the sound wasn't moving, like a fly. It was coming from someplace just under his chin.

Black moved his head around. There was something around his neck that was preventing him from touching the underside of his muzzle to his chest, but other than that he had full range of movement. Maybe it was another piece of hide, rolled and wrapped like a scarf to keep the chilly air out? He reached up out of the layers of wrapping and felt around.

The object he encountered was not soft, nor was it hard like the stiff untreated rawhide he used to bind his snow feet devices. It was smooth, and slightly warm, solid but not rough. It was something foreign, but at the same time familiar. Then he remembered where he had felt this particular material before – around his mother's neck.

When he was a little cub Dawn would pick him and Bruiser up and nuzzle them. Bruiser always resisted the tender moments but Black would put his arms around his mother's neck and hug her tight. And each time he did he could feel the god collar she wore, that strange, smooth, blank device that she said she just woke up with one morning after having seen the giant dragonfly.

Of course, he thought, as she traced the circle of strange material all the way around. That must be how the gods choose, by sending their great beasts out to find worthy creatures.

Then he thought, so why did they pick me?

He wasn't an extraordinary wolf, not in the way they measured worth among themselves. He was not as big as Bruiser or as good as a hunter. He was not as fast as Chaser, and although he was more agile it did not seem to be a valuable talent. He was not a teacher like Sundown, or a leader like his mother. So why him?

His mother had always assumed that she was chosen because her parents were chosen. The rest of the Mist Valley pack had seen it as a sign that she was worthy to succeed Strom and Snow when they went up the mountain. But wouldn't she have succeeded them anyway, chosen or not? If he went back to Sunrise Plateau now with this collar would he be welcomed as her heir?

Not by Bruiser, he was certain.

Shaper and Chaser, who came from packs close to the land of the gods, as they called the southern end of the plain, always said that the ways of the gods were not meant to be understood by ordinary wolves.

“If any wolves know anything at all about them it would be the Druids." Chaser had said. “But the wanderers that came to us from there were as mystified as us about them, so maybe only their Alpha, Menace, knows anything for sure. He was one of the first to be chosen."

Maybe there were some answers out there, but for now Black's stomach reminded him that god collar or not, wolves still had to eat. He struggled out of his furry wrappings and felt around for his sack. It was laid on the ground beside him and he heaved a sigh of relief; it would have been impossible to replace the treasures inside it. He found the pouch of deer jerky, pulled out a large piece and started chewing.

* * * * *

“Hello Mary, how have you been?"

“Wonderful Robert. I managed to collar that black wolf I've been telling you about and, oh, you should see all the things we found in his pack. Here, let me put a few pictures up."

Another screen filled with rolling images of the tools and trinkets found on the wolf she had recently collared. Meili had made 3D scans of everything in the bag.

“Interesting. Those fishing hooks are quite clever. And snowshoes! You were very fortunate, Mary. Too bad you couldn't keep any of it, but I think you have your work cut out for you, writing all this up."

It would make a good paper, she thought, but not a great one. If only she could sit down and communicate with one of the wolves, learn firsthand what they thought of the world and how they interpreted the mysteries of life. But direct contact was forbidden.

At least I'll be able to listen in on this one from now on, she told herself. Go where he goes, see what he sees.

Along with attaching the collar she and the helicopter pilot had weighed the wolf, checked its teeth, measured its height and the length of each limb and its skull size. She had swabbed the inside of its mouth for DNA, taken a blood sample, and used a rectal probe to retrieve gut bacteria. She had recorded the colour of its eyes, taken prints of its hands and feet, checked his ears for mites and collected fur samples from several parts of its body.

“First time doing this?" The pilot had asked as she nervously clipped a few hairs from the wolf's pubic area.

“Yes. You?"

“No, I helped Doc Dupuis do a bunch on my first rotation ten years ago. It never ceases to amaze me how much they look like hairy humans from the neck to the knees, not counting the tails, of course."

“Of course. Evolution seems to insist that they keep their strong jaws, long muzzles, canine feet, ears and tails. Those features must still be advantageous to their survival. But elsewhere the human DNA is taking over. That's why we take samples from different parts of the body, to see how the percentage of human versus wolf changes over time."

“This one must have gotten some of John Holmes' DNA"

“Sorry?"

“He was an actor in the twentieth century during the golden age of pornography. Before becoming a pilot I got an Arts degree and we studied … uh … he was known for being … for having … a large, uhm, … penis."

“Oh." She looked at the organ she was holding aside with one latex gloved hand as she took fur samples. It was rather large, for a wolf, she supposed.

“Well, loss of the penile bone, which allowed canines to become erect by muscular contraction, and its replacement with the human system of vascocongestation – inflation of the tissues by increasing the blood pressure – is just one of the traits that we've noticed in the wolves here, and proof that the changes are due to human DNA infusion. Did you know that of all the Primates, only humans lack a penile bone? It's true. As for size, there are many animals where a large penis helps procreation by depositing the sperm closer to the egg, but the only animal we're found that actually uses penis size to attract mates is the golden mole, and their females can't really see it, they have to feel how big it is before deciding to initiate mating. But you raise an interesting point. We haven't collected that sort of data before now but we can always start. Hold it up while I measure it."

“Uh … sure, Doctor Cheng."

“Oh, just call me Mary."

* * * * *

Black did not notice much difference in his life now that he had a collar. It was not very heavy, which was a relief, and did not impede his movement. Looking at its reflection in some clear, dark ice he could see that it was all black, like his fur, and dull, except for a circular spot right in the front that looked almost like the lens of an eagle eye. All in all it was the same as the one his mother wore, although hers was mottled to match her fur pattern.

He recalled that his grandmother's had been white, and grandfather's had been grey with streaks of black just as the fur around his neck was. Obviously, they had been designed to blend in with the wearer so as not to ruin their natural camouflage. Did that mean the gods made these individually with a particular wolf in mind, he wondered? If so, how long had they had their eye, or eyes, on him?

A wanderer from the Druid pack had once told Shaper that Menace made them burn chunks of otherwise good meet in honour of the gods that gave him his collar. Black wondered if he should not sacrifice a vole or two, seeing as that was all he was catching these days. Having no fire he would just have to leave them out in the sun to dry out, he supposed. He tried it with one that didn't look too appetizing anyway, but an owl flew off with it before it even thawed out.

The only advantage to having a god collar, he supposed, was that it provided a little extra neck protection.

He knew from scratching at his mother's when he was a pup that they were impervious to wolf claws and teeth. Their stone tools and glass knives could not put a mark on them either. They were as stiff as a bone but warm like leather. As tough as granite but as smooth as a river stone. There was simply no other material in their world to match it.

He was speculating where the material might have come from one day and not paying due attention to his surroundings when he found his trail blocked by a coyote. It was large for its species, but not nearly as large as Black, although it did carry a wolf spear. Black had no doubt that it was taken off another wanderer caught unawares. He was not worried though, His mother had made them all practice fighting against spears and clubs in case the southerners expanded north onto their plateau and armed with his axe-club he was more than a match for a lone coyote with a spear.

Then he heard a sound behind him.

Glancing quickly over his shoulder he saw two smaller coyotes coming up behind him. They were both armed with clubs made from the base of small ironwood trees, with short, tapered roots could pierce or tear unprotected flesh.

Black stood his ground at a wide spot in the trail. The three marauders circled just out of reach. Black kept his eye on the one with the spear but was wary of the other two when either as behind him. Three to one was bad odds, but if he could get out from their encirclement he may be able to outrun them.

“You have meat." The one with the spear, evidentially the leader, said in combination of grunts and gestures that were close enough to wolf for Black to understand. He was gesturing to two fresh rabbits that Black had managed to catch coming back to their burrow at dawn that day. He had hung them on the cord that held his top covering closed against the wind to let them season in their own juices for a few days, hoping he could find a hot spring to boil them in before they went bad.

“You drop meat and club. We keep, let you go."

Black wasn't about to surrender his weapon, but he didn't want to die over a couple of rabbits either, even though he needed the protein. He was not getting nearly enough food for a wolf his size, especially one on the move. He was thin from the constant stress of surviving in the winter alone and perhaps the coyotes thought that he was close to starving. If so, they were not far off.

He could run for it but tracking him through the snow would be easy and they just attack later. Black needed to teach them that confronting him again would be dangerous to their health, but to do so would cost him a lot of precious energy. Energy he needed the rabbits to replace. Yet if he took a stand against three armed enemies he risked being injured, and a wounded wolf was as good as dead on his own in the winter. Like a vole caught on the ice between him and the freezing waters he desperately need a third option.

The coyotes were inching closer. Black made up his mind.

He reached down with one hand and undid the knot that held the rabbits to his belt. Their eyes dropped greedily to the prize. Keeping his weapon in his other hand he raised the brace of rabbits up and tossed them over his shoulder at the coyote he could feel sneaking up behind him.

Instinct got the better of the starving coyote and he dropped his club to grab at the rabbits. His partner, fearing that the first would eat them whole without him, jumped the first and began fighting him for possession of the rabbits. Black stepped aside as the largest one charged and allowed him to crash into the other two. The three ended up in a pile on the ground, fighting and biting and feeling around for the carcasses.

Black pulled hard on the cord that was still tied around the limp necks of his catch and the pair of rabbits popped out of the pile and flew toward him. He let them drop to the ground at his feet as he got a double grip on the haft of his club and began flailing at the coyotes. He didn't bother to aim as he swung from the left then the right at the struggling mess of grey and brown fur as they tried to get back to their feet and find their weapons. He felt bone crunch and flesh part as they cried out in pain and surprise.

He could have killed them if he put more effort into it, but he would have to be certain of killing all three outright, and they had the look of survivors about them. So he just maintained a slow steady salvo of blows designed to keep them from regaining their feet.

They scrambled out from under his barrage and ran on all fours a safe distance away. At least one had a broken arm and another had a deep cut on its shoulder, though neither wound was necessarily fatal. The largest had several bruises on his head as he had tried to stand up several times, attracting the attention of Black's club. They had left their weapons behind and were now defenceless. Black stuck his club through a loop in his belt and picked up the spear. The shaft was of good quality and the point was still sharp. He braced the spear against his hip and charged at the cowering coyotes.

They broke and ran. Black stopped his charge before reaching the spot they had retreated from. His chest was already heaving and his limbs felt heavy. It was not worth the effort to chase them any farther. They needed to go hide out and lick their wounds. He needed to find a safe place to rest and eat also. He went back to retrieve his rabbits and trudged through the forest until he found an unused lair under a fallen tree. He ate his rabbits raw rather than risk losing them in another encounter.

Coyotes became more numerous as the weather continued to warm and Black went farther down the mountain, but he was not caught unawares again. Having learned his lesson he treated each day's march like a hunt. He spied out the trail as the sun rose. He moved in the low ground and shadows and avoided silhouetting himself on the ridges and hillocks. He used the natural cover and moved when the wind was up to conceal his passage through the trees and bushes.

Not only was he not surprised by marauders from them on, he found that he was more successful at hunting small game because the prey could not see him coming as well either.

Not that his life was totally peaceful, the bolder or more desperate coyotes still came around his camp at night hoping to catch him off guard or draw him away while a partner stole his food and goods. But Black never slept where he ate and never stopped in a place where there was more than one approach. He risked being trapped by a rare pack of coyotes, but if he could fight them one at a time in the narrow confines of a notch he was sure he would prevail.

The only thing that could go wrong was if something much bigger than he came upon him in one of his hiding holes. But it was still too early in the year for bears to be about and there wasn't anything much bigger than him wandering the mountainside … he hoped. At least he had not seen any sign of the big cats since passing the upper plateaus.

As the sun rose higher and stayed up longer the land began to warm. Patches of grass, still green under the snow, appeared here and there and the rivers and creeks began to run again. Black was able to try his hand at fishing and found that the fish were plentiful here in the lower valleys.

Other wolves were plentiful too. He found signs marking the edges of their territories everywhere and was careful to keep to the borders between the packs. This was important as the elk and bison would be moving back in soon and if he was caught near one he would be assumed to be poaching. Not that he wouldn't, if the opportunity presented itself, just that he would prefer not to be caught doing so. For now though he would have to be content with the smaller mammals that were coming out from hibernation to mate and raise their young.

Although he stayed away from the packs Black could still hear them.

The calls of several available females could be heard echoing between the valleys, punctuated by the occasional reply from a fellow wanderer, but those were not the only messages being carried a great distance by the cold air of early spring. Howls of challenge could be heard drifting up from the plain in the south, which was still just a blur in the distance. Cries of pain and howls of joy accompanied the birth of new cubs. Wails of sorrow marked the passing of loved ones.

Black listened to them all but paid most attention to the mating calls. Subtle variations in tone and timber told the age and condition of the female seeking a mate. Long and short notes described their pack's circumstances. Most needed hunters, other knappers or woodworkers. Some were large, with a family-based leadership, others choose new leaders from among the pack. The one thing that they all had in common this high up in the valleys was that all wolves had the right to mate, there were no single breeding Alphas.

His mother and Sundown had taught him how to read the character and strength of a mate by their call and assess the merits of their packs thereby, but Black was in no rush to chose, even though the seductive howls made his groin ache worse than when he was back home and the scent of desire was on the one of the couples in the den.

Their packs were much like the one he had been born in, the kind that the Sunrise Plateau pack was rapidly becoming. They promised a stable mate and a stable life in a stable pack in exchange for loyalty and service to the group. Black did not want to remain a wanderer forever, like some kind of lone wolf, but he didn't want to settle down just yet either. Truth be told, he was not quite sure what he wanted, but it did not lie with the packs of the lower valleys.

Sometimes, late at night when the air was cold and dry and the wind was blowing from the south he could here another kind of call. It was a forlorn, lonely call that spoke of frustration and unfulfilled desire. A hopeless cry from females that were desperate to mate yet could not offer life in their pack in exchange. Those howls never lasted for long; instead of tapering off like the invitations from the nearby packs they were cut off abruptly.

The desperate howls fascinated Black. He decided to continue south, past the lower valleys to the plain where the Alphas held sole breeding rights.

* * * * *

“Where the hell is he going? Chuck! How can I tell if this GPS is working?"

“Which collar are you monitoring?"

“Three-oh-two, the black wolf."

“Of course." Chuck mumbled under his breath. He brought up the map of the Yellowstone region and superimposed the track of wolf 302 onto it. It showed that the wolf was moving down out of the mountains into the relatively flat open area that surrounded Yellowstone Lake. If he kept on that heading he would traverse the plain where the largest and most dangerous packs lived, and end up smack dab in the middle of the Druid pack territory.

“Looks like he's coming here, Mary."

* * * * *

Black was careful to keep on the borders of the increasingly populous wolf packs as he made his way south. That usually meant keeping to the ridges of the low mountains separating the lower valleys, but eventually he ran out of mountain. Before he did though he paused to survey the land stretched out before him.

The plain was alive in the early spring with lush green grass erupting from beneath the melting snow. There were streams and creeks and steaming pools of brilliantly coloured water and even a few bubbling mud pits. Bursts of boiling water and steam erupted from holes in the ground, including one very large one in the distance that went off regularly in about the time it took for the sun to travel a tenth of the way across the sky. Early spring clover coloured the hillsides leading down from his observation post.

Herds of bison and elk were already grazing around a large central lake and several smaller ones to the south. There was more game here than he had ever seen in his life, and according to Chaser there was more to come as larger herds moved back up from lower altitudes. This was enough to sustain a dozen large wolf packs, he supposed.

As he watched he noticed movement in the grass close to the nearest herd. It was a wolf hunting party. Black counted twenty wolves, more wolves in one place than he could imagine, and given that only the best hunters went out in search of food in these enlarged packs there were likely another eight or ten back in their den.

He watched with fascination as the stalkers located a newborn bison calf that was still unsteady on its feet and alerted the chasers. Then the chasers ran full speed at the herd to put it into a panic. Then they loped on each side of the herd, guiding it towards broken ground where they would have the advantage, all the while trying to cut the calf off from the main group.

Chasers took turns running the herd, which turned left and right trying to shake the wolves off. But the pack worked with excellent coordination, and soon the calf and its mother were isolated. Several chasers worked at keeping the herd away while the rest turned the pair towards the killing field. It was a hilly patch that made the bison struggle up the slopes and tumble down the far side before regaining their feet again.

Waiting at the base were six big wolves. When the pair of bison rolled down four pounced on the calf while two of the largest harassed the mother with their spears. She was forced to retreat while the wolves wrestled her calf to the ground. Knives in fists were raised and came down again, and again, and again. Blood splashed, and Black could hear the cries of both the calf and the mother as it died.

In the end the cow left to rejoin the safety of her heard while the wolves gathered to rend the calf down into manageable pieces.

While they were occupied Black took the opportunity to move around them and across their territory. He wanted to make as much progress south as possible before stopping to listen for the howls he had picked up from the mountains.

He was moving toward the central lake, aiming for a low ridge to the southwest of it. There was something different about the rock formation there that he found intriguing. It was more angular, more regular, more sheer and much lighter than the rock formations on the north side of the plain. It was also generally where Chaser and Shaper had said the Druid pack was located.

Black kept to the west of the lakes, moving mostly at night now to avoid the large hunting parties the packs of the plains sent out. As he went the calls of desperate, lonely females grew stronger. Once he even saw a silhouette of a female form standing by a small lake some distance away and he was tempted to go to her, but she broke off her howl abruptly when a large male appeared. He seemed angry and sent her away with rough gestures.

He could smell the fires from the dens, dens dug into the low hills he suspected, as there were no cliffs or caves here. Sometimes he caught the scent of roasting meat and that made his mouth water. Other times he could see the flickering flames and count the wolves gathered around in the open, fearless in their numbers. He saw no sign of the wolves using the hot springs as boiling pots, but that could be because he was staying far away from the wolves that lived near them. He avoided using them for cooking his own food as he did not want the smell to attract nearby packs.

When he was past the lakes he could see that there was definitely something strange about the rock formation to the south. For one thing there were what seemed to be a number of intense fires lit on it at regular intervals, but they did not flicker in the wind like normal fires. As he drew closer he could make out that some cast a bright white light like the hottest of fires, while others glowed a deep red like large embers. It was impossible to tell how far away they were at night though, so Black decided to stop where he was and wait until morning before exploring further.

The ground was very broken in the area, so he found himself some large rocks he could wedge himself between and slept. The next morning he rose, chewed on his last piece of jerky and made his morning toilet before climbing the low hill that blocked his view to the south.

What he saw made his jaw drop.

The wolves measured distance in several ways, all of which were quite conditional. For small measurements they used body parts. A grip was the width of a closed fist. A span was the measure from thumb to pinkie when the digits were spread. A reach was the distance from snout to thumb with the arm straight out and level. An embrace was the length between the tips of the digits of ones' outspread arms. As there was no need for exact accuracy the measurements were based on those of the average male adult.

Height was indicated as knee high, hip high, chest high or wolf high, the latter being based on the tallest wolf in the pack. “As high as …" was used for greater distances, such as “as high as an ironwood", “as high as the cliff" or “as high as the crow flies".

Longer distances were measured by pace. One step was one pace, about the same as a reach in most cases. A stride was two paces, or the distance between the toe impressions of the same foot from one pace to the next. 100 strides was a dash, and ten dashes was a run. A lope was ten runs and a journey was ten lopes.

The names for the larger increments were taken from the speed a wolf could comfortably cover that distance at. A fast wolf could dash 100 strides to bring down a deer but had to slow down to a run to chase one any distance. The lope was slower, but a fit wolf could cross an average sized valley in a lope. That was about the distance that Black had been travelling each day, but at a much slower pace to conserve energy. He figured that he had covered maybe thirty journeys worth of ground since leaving his pack.

In this system the wall around their den in the Mist Valley had been half a dash long and only hip high in most places. Their hot spring cave on Sunrise Plateau had been twenty strides by thirty strides and two wolves high in the middle. Their small lake only a run and a two dashes around.

Since leaving Black had come to appreciate that there were things much longer, taller and wider than their little world on the plateau. You really couldn't appreciate the height of the mountains until you had climbed one, or the length of the rivers that gathered the creeks and streams and took their waters away southwards until you walked their length. Even the dens and their defensive works here were much larger than he had ever imagined.

But nothing had prepared him for the place of the gods.

That is what it had to be, he decided. It fit the image he had made from the sketchy descriptions sewn together from second-hand wanders' tales but it was much, much bigger than he had imagined.

The edifice was made of grey rock that had been made perfectly flat and fit together with no gaps between them that Black could see. It was taller than the tallest trees, as tall as the birds of prey flew, he estimated, and from side to side it must have been more than a run long. There were openings in it that were covered by dark material that shone in the sun like the glass used to make knives, but it was flat and smooth with no signs of knapping. He guessed that the black openings would be taller than a wolf and almost as wide as an embrace.

Between him and the place of the gods there was something that was difficult to make out, like a great long spider web strung between branchless tree trunks. The ground between the web and the place of the gods was empty, but on this side there was something black running along the ground beside it. The web faded away where the edifice ended but Black could see the black ribbon went as far as the horizon in each direction. It looked like a stream of dark water but it did not seem to move. It did not twist or curve to follow the land like a stream did, and it was the same width all along its length. It must be artificial, Black decided, made from some kind of black rocks laid into the ground the way one would make a stone path where there had been a muddy trail.

Black was about to go down the slope to check it out when he heard a howl coming from just over the next hill.

He dropped to his hands and knees and started crawling up to the crest, stashing his goods behind a thick bush. It sounded like a female calling for a mate but it had the desperate notes of one that could not commit that he heard so often since coming to the plain. He had noticed that those cries tended to attract males from the pack, angry males, and he wanted to make sure that none were about before showing himself.

With his ears laid back flat he peeked over the edge. It was a female, one not much older than he. She was not as tall as him but she was in good condition, with the long smooth muscles of a runner and a shinny dark coat that was tipped with white, like the pine needles on the coldest mornings. As he watched she threw her head back and howled her forlorn cry again.

Seeing no males about, and driven by an urge that started in his groin but which reached up into his chest, Black decided to show himself. Cautiously he stood up and walked down the slope toward the female.

Like many of the wolves of the plain she was wearing a loin cloth around her hips and groin. But unlike the wolves that lived in the forest she wore nothing to cover her breasts. They were nice, firm breasts, he noted, and he longed to touch them, even though he had not thought much of breasts before this. In fact he found that he was interested in the curve of her thighs and buttocks, and the delicate line of her neck as she lifted her head to howl and many other things about her that he had hereto taken for granted. He had never paid any attention to these things on his mother or sisters. He wondered if it was the cloying scent that filled the hollow that was having this effect on him.

She saw him as she lowered her head. At first she looked startled but her 'O' of surprise soon dissolved into a knowing smile. Her eyes travelled down from his face to his toes and back, lingering at his loin cloth where a small bump had formed. When she was done she simply stood there, one leg in front of the other, arms slightly spread, as if inviting him to come have a hug.

Black continued to approach until he was just over a reach away. When he stopped she took a bold step forward so that their bodies were almost touching. Black could feel the warmth coming off her, and suddenly felt hot all over too.

She was smiling up at him excitedly. “My name is Frost." She said, toying with the white tips of the fur of her ruff as she introduced herself.

“My family call me Black."

She looked him over again, focusing on the place covered by his loincloth. “I can see why. Don't you have any white spots … anywhere?"

“Uh, no"

She seemed content to let him make the next move, but he stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to do next. Finally he jerked his head over his shoulder to indicate the edifice that could still be seen over the low hill. “Is that the place of the gods?"

She seemed a bit put off by the question, but she answered that it was. “We are the Druid pack, and we have the privilege of living here outside the place of the gods, keeping the unbelievers away." She said seriously, then added. “Are you a believer, Black?"

“I am now. I mean, up in the mountains where I come from, we never see any sign of the gods … except for these." He put a hand to his collar. “Some wolves doubt the stories that come up with the wanderers from the plains, but after seeing that," he indicated the strange construction again, “and getting a collar … how could one doubt?"

“We have no doubters in the Druid pack. We know the ways of the gods." She assured him. “We don't see them often, mostly they are riding their giant dragonflies or inside the eyeless beasts that patrol their borders on the black trail, but when we do we recognise them. They are like wolves, with two arms and legs, heads and hands, but tailless and with less fur. They don't need fur though because they wear strange colourful hides that cover most of their bodies."

“I've heard that it is forbidden to approach their den."

“The great stone construction? Yes, it is forbidden to all wolves, even our Alpha. He is the only one that dares approach the lightning web."

“The what?"

“The gods have woven a web that is taller than a wolf can jump. If anything touches it lightning comes out of it and strikes them dead. Even a tree branch can make the lightning come, but not the rain. Small things like bugs and raindrops do not affect it, but anything bigger than a mouse will bring the lightning."

“And Menace is the only wolf that has come close to it?"

“He stays on this side of the black trail."

Black remembered the thing that looked like a black ribbon. “The gods patrol it, do they? Like a pack patrols its boundaries?"

“Not the gods themselves, their servants, the eyeless beasts do it for them. They move along the trail faster than a wolf can dash. They make no sound save for the wind of their passage and never flinch when their path is blocked by a groundhog, deer or wolf. They chrush the sorry creatures and just keep moving. We keep the wolves of the other packs away for their own safety because they know nothing about the dangers here."

“You must have a lot of chosen wolves in your pack."

“Our Alpha, Menace, is the only wolf in our pack with a collar. His mate, Thunder, had one but she went up the mountain several winters ago."

“That's a powerful name for a female, Thunder."

“She was nearly as large as Menace and the earth almost shook when she howled in anger. I should know, she was my mother."

“Then Menace is your father?"

“Yes. He is very old now, but he still desires to mate. That is unfortunate because he and Thunder were the only ones allowed offspring all of the thirty some wolves in the pack are his children."

“Have none of the wanders challenged him for Alpha?"

“None would be crazy enough, besides, he doesn't allow any to stay. It is the way of most of the packs here on the plain. Only blood relatives can be trusted to be fully loyal and bring strength to the pack. And inferior beings are not allowed to breed."

“It seems counter productive. The pack can't grow without new cubs."

“Father knows that, and would raid the nearby packs for females if he wasn't afraid of weakening our pack in the process. Despite there being plenty of game there is a delicate balance of power here on the plain. Any pack that looses too many members through sickness or fighting will be set upon by its neighbours and its territory divided. And a pack that gets too strong may embark on a campaign to enlarge its territory and bring an alliance of nearby packs down on it."

“So the wolves just hang around waiting for the Alpha to die in hope of being the new leader and repopulating the pack with their cubs?"

“Yes. But Father has not given up hope of enlarging the pack himself. He is always trying to catch one of his daughters off guard." She spat out a bitter laugh. “But we're strong like him, and good fighters. Still, it is difficult for me and my sisters too. Many of us are in our prime and no one is brave or foolhardy enough to come onto Druid territory," she looked up at Black again, “not until you came along, anyway."

Black was heating up again and she did not help when she pressed herself against him. He could feel his parts growing as her belly rubbed against them through the thin hide of his loincloth. But she was not offended, as she indicated by slipping a hand under the hide to squeeze his shaft.

“Its sad that father won't let you stay, black wolf, but if we hurry …"

She was cut off by a howl of anger that made the stones at their feet rattle.

“Oh oh."

Black had been so fascinated by Frost that he had forgotten to keep an eye out. He turned his head to the sound and saw what was easily the biggest wolf he had ever seen, including Bruiser. It was running across the broken ground toward them at a good pace. It had a huge club in its hand and a scowl on its face. Bare patches where scars criss-crossed its face and chest were clearly visible.

“You better run." Frost advised. Pulling her hand back from under his loincloth and stepping away from him least she be caught between her charging father and the unfortunate young male.

“Maybe he will let me stay." Black said, looking back and forth between the object of his desire and the approaching demon.

“Not a chance. Go, now! If he catches you he'll kill you."

Black could see the collar around the Alpha's neck now. “I've been chosen too. That could make a difference. He may welcome me as another favourite of the gods."

“The last wolf to show up here with a collar got his head ripped off and Menace tossed the collar back over the lightning web. It was gone the next day, retrieved by the gods because the wolf that wore it was unworthy, according to father."

Menace was only a dash away and showing no sign of slowing down. Black was getting nervous. “How does he know if a wolf is worthy?"

“They don't die." She looked over her shoulder at her father and danced away form Black. “It was nice knowing you."

Black stood there, unarmed and in shock as the vicious alpha raised its club and swung it on the run. It was a move that it had used successfully to take down bull elk and small bison, and it was guaranteed to separate a wolf's head from its shoulders when it connected without even slowing down, such was the power behind its blow.

That was why he overran the spot where Black had been standing and stumbled to his knees when his club swished through the air in a full circle.

Black, who had dropped to his knees in a move he used when Bruiser pounced at his head got up quickly and went straight into a run in the direction the wolf had come from. He heard the Druid Alpha roar in frustration behind him as it scrambled to its feet.

“Not that way!" Frost screamed from the safety of a pile of sharp-edged rocks as Black headed deeper into Druid territory, where he was likely to run into the rest of the hunting pack Menace had been leading.

“Which way?"

“I don't know."

Black looked over his shoulder. The big wolf knew the terrain, but he was much slower than Black. Still, he just had to run the young wolf like a deer, towards the rest of his pack who would grab the intruder and hold him for Menace to dispatch. Black had to circle around somehow and get to safety. But where was safety, exactly? Druid pack wolves could be in any direction.

Any direction but one, he realized; toward the place of the gods.

Black turned, using his superior speed and agility to keep from being cut off. His choice of direction seemed to surprise Menace, who assumed that Black was aiming for the shortest route out of Druid territory. When the black wolf he had caught with his daughter turned right around and headed straight for the black trail he had to redouble his speed, but his old legs, while powerful, did not do well over broken ground. He felt some grudging respect for the youngster that had outfoxed him. It was almost too bad that he was going to die in another dash or so.

Black's retreat brought him close to the boulders where Frost was sheltering. As he ran by she pointed at the rock formation she was hiding in and made the sign for three suns. Black understood that he was to meet her there in three days, if he survived. Determined to do both he put on all the speed he had left as he ran for the black trail with Menace still in hot pursuit.

He was nearly spent when he felt the ground under his feet grow flat and hard. Behind him the sound of pursuit ceased, replaced with heavy breathing. Black skidded to a halt on the far edge of the black trail and looked back.

Menace was there, ten paces away from the black trail, his hands on his knees as he fought to catch his breath. The chase over for now, black took the time to look around.

The place of the gods was very close now, three dashes at most beyond what Frost had called the lighting web. The web itself was only ten paces away, and from here Black could see how regular the squares were that the thick strands made. It stood two wolves high and stretched off to each side, wider than the place of the gods by several dashes each way. Black could just make out more web running at right angles to this one at each end.

The material it was made of did not look like silk to him. Although it was windy the web did not sway or ripple like the delicate constructions of the spiders in the forest. He wanted to touch it and taste it to see what it was, but he remembered what Frost had said about the lightning, and stayed where he was on the black trail.

But Frost had said something about the black trail being dangerous also, he recalled. Something about eyeless beasts. He looked left and right but did not see anything moving on the trail. He guessed that he could see about three runs in each direction before the trail disappeared into the low ground, and he was sure that he would see anything approaching long before it saw him and charged.

He squatted down and examined the trail. It was five strides wide, he estimated, and looked worn down in the middle. It was made of a hard black substance that was mostly smooth but showed a few cracks. It was similar to rock but he could chip away the material on the edges of the cracks with his claws. It smelled similar to a black bubbling pool that he had passed on his way across the plain. It also smelled of old blood.

Reminded of his precarious situation Black stood up and checked to see what Menace was doing. The old Alpha was still standing ten paces away from the other side of the trail, glowering at him and occasionally looking left and right as if he was expecting something. Something to the right caught his eye, and then he looked back at Black and smiled in satisfaction.

Black had used a similar trick to distract Bruiser, pretend you see help coming and jump when they look away. But he didn't dare take his eyes off the big wolf lest the Alpha use the opportunity to run him up against the lightning web.

Then something behind Menace caught his attention. Frost was standing on the top of the hill, waving her arms and pointing to Black's right. She was shouting something he could not make out. He lifted his hands to cup his ears and opened his mouth to help pick up the slightest sound, but all he could hear was the rush of the wind coming from a new direction.

Too late, he realized what was happening, but he could already feel the air being pushed away by some great beast's speedy approach.

He did not even have time to turn his head before everything when blank.

Based on The rise of Black Wolf

Produced by National Geographic Television, © 2010 NGHT LLC