Sephtis

19. A strange hunt.

The next afternoon, while Droug still sleeps, I visit the wolves. Akar and Orbah welcome me with big toothy grins and crazed wagging tails, bowling me over with their unrestrained delight. Then they realize that I have brought a bag of fish with me, for them, and they race off with it, yelping and fighting one another over the prize. Zahar is more dignified, mouthing my hands and sniffing at the fish smells, then raising with her huge paws on my shoulders to lick my face. Shamar is even more reserved, she has several long gashes down her side, most likely from a boars tusk, and needs rest to heal. I am now even more glad I brought the fish for the cubs, for in fighting over them, the stay away from Shamar.

Kavah simply looks at me. Our empathy is unbroken by our time apart.

I go with the wolves to a clearing not far from our wheat-field. I see the dwindling smoke from the village, and I know tonight the woman will sit outside, grinding the last of the wheat from our stores, while the children run and play, and the men are absent, most likely hunting, but for now there is silence. The wolves are relaxed. I sit in the sun with them, and watch as Kavah and Zahar, along with the cubs, chase field mice in the long grasses. They race, twisting and turning in the churning dust, snapping at the mice as they pounce upon them, they catch them too, and swallow them whole. It is a strange hunt. Afterwards, they seem satisfied with their meal, and lie down to rest. I lay my head on Zhar's side, and hear the gurglings of her mouse-meal within her.

"Mighty hunter." I say, and she growls softly, as if she knows I jest.

Suddenly she grows tense. I see that Kavah is already standing, his head towards the trees nearby. Shamar too is alert, despite her wounded state. The cubs, sensing their elders disquiet, sit up and growl softly.

I rise to my knees, and see a wolf standing in the shadows of the trees. He runs towards us a little ways, and is stopped by Kavah. As he moves in the sunlight, his hide is visibly marred by long white, puckered scars, and he is missing multiple clumps of his rich black fur. All but Kavah relax, it seems as though this wolf is familiar to them, and poses no serious threat, yet still Kavah springs at him, his hackles raised. It is a brief, but savage fight, and dust and fur flies. When they part, the stranger cringes low before Kavah, his eyes averted, his ears flat against his skull. He snarls, not completely submissive, yet neither will he flee. He needs this pack, perhaps; needs protection, and family. I understand this all to well.

Kavah bares his great teeth, threatening another attack. Yet still, the wolf stays. He sinks lower to the dirt, and after what feels like a life time, he lies on his side, and moves back his head until his throat is exposed. It is the ultimate yielding. Kavah could kill him now, if he desired so.

He does not kill. Instead he straddles him awhile, his teeth just inches from his offered neck. Then he walks away, stiffly, his tail erect. He is accepted. He rises to his feet and waits quietly while Shamar and Zahar sniff him. Shamar is brief, disinterested, while Zahar mouths the new comers snout, her tail wags wildly, as if he is a lost son returned home.

The new wolf stays with us all day, the cubs play with him, and they fight mock battles and tumble together in the yellow dust, until they hurt some of his wounds and he snarls at them earnestly. Then he goes and lies beside Zahar and she licks his wounds and proceeds to groom him fondly, again I cannot help but think she grooms him like a mother. The cubs try to join, but Zahar pauses to bare her teeth at them. So they taunt Shamar instead, and when she too, growls at them, they go off to hunt mice once again.

We all play in the sun. The wolves let me wrestle with them, and I roll on the ground with them and sometimes bite them gently; but though their gaping maws close about my my arms and hands, and sometimes even my face, they never hurt me, nor do their teeth break the skin. Only Kavah does not let me play with him in the long grass and dry dirt.

Twilight comes, and the wind carries the smell of my peoples breakfast deer, roasting over the outside cooking fires. The wolves are restless again, their bellies empty, eager to hunt for something other than mice, and in my heart, I long to go with them. But I am hungry, and the smell of roasting meat is so tempting, Kavah comes and licks my face, and I rest my brow against his and he looks straight into my eyes, for he knows I am torn inside, that I ache for things I don't understand. He licks me again, then takes my hand in his mouth. His bite is gentle, but not so soft I can easily pull away.

The new wolf watches our exchange intently from the shadows of the night, watches as Kavah holds me there beside him, giving me time to choose.

When Kavah and his pack run into the darkening world beyond the forest, I am with them, and the new wolf is running at my side.