No One Cries For The Lost

VI: Return

VI

Return

Day 6

The winds pick up as I start traversing back down the hill by morning. It was a hard night last night. But I made it through. And I did my best to patch up all of my cuts and scrapes with what I had left. I have no shortage of bandages. But antibiotics, rubbing alcohol and hydrogen peroxide are all in short supply. My rubbing alcohol is now virtually gone. And I'll be lucky if I have enough antibiotics for two more cuts or scrapes. My sweater is all torn up after my fight with the wolves. I waited through the night with my guest. Sitting there at the fire that I started back up under the rocks further up the hill from the den. Just certain that the rest of the pack would be bearing down on my at any moment.

Two males, one female and an alpha female and alpha male. Five wolves in total. Not a very big wolfpack. It just doesn't seem right. It doesn't seem to fit. Doesn't add up and I don't like it. There should be more, right? There must be more. Just waiting out there...waiting to kill me. Waiting to stalk me.

I have enough bandages on me now though. One on my shin, one on my forearm and a smaller one on my other hand. I'd rather not have to take on anymore big, bloodthirsty animals for the duration of my stay here in Nunavut. A stay that I don't think I'll forget for along time to come. And one that I'll definitely recommend to the travel writers when I get back to the world of blogging. This is more of a survivalist trip or a "closer to nature" trip than I think I ever wanted. Closer than I'm sure Mike could have ever dreamed of being.

My new guest didn't stop whining and howling throughout the night. Something that made me a little more worried about possibly being discovered by anymore hungry wolves out here. I don't even think the little guy actually went to sleep last night. Poor little guy's so damn cute it makes me kinda sad when he cries. I was always more of a cat person, but I won't lie by saying this loud little furball isn't cute.

In any sense, it looks like he's coming with me back to the plane. He's too small to keep up with me walking it would probably take him too damn long to get through the snowdrifts anyway so I end up carrying him back with me. Back past the charred and burnt up remains of the wolf den...where all of his siblings perished. And where the burned bodies of two of the wolves, I think one of them being the alpha, are clear among the blackened remains. Along with the body of the stealthy female that tried to jump-kill me.

We keep going past the small river. I'm a lot colder today. And not just because the winds have picked up again. My heavy winter jacket is over me but my sweater underneath is now pretty torn up from my intense fight. My leg still hurts with every step I take through the snow. But I'm not limping. So at least there's that. I don't look like a sick or injured deer out here. Instead I just look like a scared little woman easy for the picking. Which, in part, I really am. The easy for the picking part I could probably debate.

The dog tries to burrow his way into my chest. Taking cover behind my winter jacket while I carry him. I walk past my duct taped tree near the lake. At least I'm making time. I'm already almost to the point that I was at when I started walking this way yesterday. So at least I'm not behind at all on this.

I reach the next duct tape tree just before nightfall. My old camping spot. And with it I start searching for a And I start making another fire. I use just enough of the small amount of plane fuel left in the thermos to get a real good flame going. I spend the next few hours of daylight left hunting for food. Takes me a little while but eventually I find some kind of ferret-looking thing. At least, that's the only way I know how to call it. I take it down with one shot as it stands up in a snowdrift to cautiously examine it's surroundings. It doesn't examine them well enough and ends up on the wrong end of the barrel of my semi-automatic 22. AR-7 survival rifle. A bullet in it's body and it's blood splashed out over the snow. I grab it and clip it to my jacket while I keep my rifle close. The winds pelting snow in my direction and trying to rip the little animal away from me. When I return to my camp with the wolf pup, I'm actually surprised to see he's still there, not having tried to leave or return home to the den. Well, guess it shouldn't be too surprising really. Little guy probably doesn't even know what direction home is...or was. Doesn't matter, it can be the direction I'm heading now, the crash site. Figure out what to do with him from there. Figure out what do with him if rescue's already arrived. Or if they end up arriving not long after we get back there...hopefully it's the former.