WOLVES DON'T TALK

Chapter 20. THE WOLF WILL KNOW

"Where's the wolf?" I asked the sobbing red rabbit, more demanding than requesting the information. She stopped crying and stared vacantly at me, clearly not understanding.

"The wolf can help," I said, hoping not to go into detail just then in the middle of the surrounding tragedy. "Never mind," I added when she shrugged, still not getting it.

She blocked my path when I tried to head back to the logging road and bobbed her bunny head at me as if agreeing to lead us on anyway. Then, in her typical fashion, she hopped speedily off, leaving me racing behind, trying to catch up.

We skirted around the dump and away from the men, heading off in an uphill direction, which confused me because I'd left the weird animal entourage much lower down on the mountain the last time I'd seen them and expected to return to the same spot. It took a few minutes of scrambling over rocks before I realized the animals had probably moved to escape the fire and my theory proved accurate when we found them. The whole wretched group huddled together on a rocky shelf that hung over the mountain side, allowing a view of the raging red and orange flames below as the fire jumped from one tree to the next and the next and the next.

No one seemed to notice when the two of us arrived. They were too busy growling and snapping at each other. The fire clearly had them frightened, but I didn't care; I had other business. I quickly scanned the group, looking anxiously for the wolf. My heart did a few wild flips in my chest when I didn't spot him right away.

"Hey you, wolf," I shouted, refusing to accept his absence and kept repeating myself over and over, trying to conjure him up, until the Daphne rabbit thumped me gently on the head with one of her paws and nodded at a nearby tree where the wolf sat busily licking his fur coat.

He looked a whole lot better than the last time I'd seen him. His black fur ruffled easily in the breeze, no more blood matting it down. He also appeared to be moving under his own power without any vines wrapped around his furry throat.

"Hello, little girl," he said way too calmly when I rushed over to his side.

"Hello back," I answered, gasping in clear relief and feeling a bit offended at his calm greeting. "Nice weather were having," I added, recovering quickly from my surprise and understanding I couldn't let the old Canis lupus know how worried I'd been about him.

"It's comfortable weather, maybe a bit warm for my taste," he responded. "Did Pythia get home all right?" he asked.

"I suppose so," I replied, trying to keep my cool.

Somehow the wolf knew I'd found all three pieces of the key and that the white woman had gone. He'd probably known about Pythia and those golden coins of hers all along. The thought of him knowing and not telling made me a bit furious, enough to twist my face in a red rage. At the sight of my anger, the wolf opened his mouth and grinned wickedly at me with those sharp white teeth of his.

"Well? What's the deal?" he asked ever so coolly, as if ordering me to show him the results of my time with Pythia.

I hesitated and then quickly decided I'd honor his request for information. And not because he commanded me to but, rather, because I wanted to share my new knowledge with my old friend. I reached into my pants pocket and dug out the small golden key.

"See," I said, dangling it beneath his pointy snout.

"Nice," he replied, glaring at my treasure. "Now I suppose you know everything."

I thought he looked a bit jealous but, of course, he'd never admit to that.

"Yep," I said and then half choked on my own tongue. "No," I corrected myself. "I don't know much of anything but I can learn."

After that, the words spilled from my mouth as I told him about Pythia and Carmenta and the letters on the golden coins.

The wolf sat calmly and nodded his head occasionally as he listened intently to my story. He stopped drooling and his eyes flashed bright orange when I told him about the men at the dump and the chemicals they'd sprayed on the forest and their fears about them changing the animals.

"That's Agent Orange for you," the wolf said when I finished my story. "A lot of scientists think it does more than just kill plants. They think it kills people, too, and causes babies to be born deformed."

Then, in his typical fashion, he droned on but, this time, I paid attention.

"They sprayed it heavily during the Vietnam war decades ago to clear foliage in thickly forested areas to make it harder for the enemy to hide in the underbrush. In addition to spraying the plants, they also soaked the soldiers with it and the chemicals seeped into their bodies. Many died from unknown causes or came down with horrible diseases. Others didn't show any signs of problems but their children did. They were born with strange heads or their spines sticking out of their bodies or other deformities."

I thought about Mac Richards and his odd family as I listened. His little brother's legs didn't work and his grandfather raved like a lunatic, walking around the house and the neighborhood in his old army fatigues all the time. Maybe he'd been one of the soldiers who had been soaked with the chemical. And Mac; he couldn't be normal."

I promised myself right there and then I'd find out about that family when and if I ever got back home.

The wolf was on a roll; he knew a lot more.

"After a while, the military started worrying about the chemical and stopped using it in the war. Of course, there were law suits and money paid out to make up for the problems. But do you want to know the really weird thing?" he asked, glaring at me with his eyes flashing, reflecting his hard anger.

Of course, I didn't answer. He didn't expect a reply.

"They kept on using a very similar version of the chemical here for years until the government finally banned it."

The whole rotten story made me feel confused and sick to my stomach; something that had been happening a lot to me since getting lost in the forest.

"Why do things like that happen? Why would anyone use those chemicals if they were so dangerous?" I demanded.

"Maybe they didn't know. Maybe they didn't use their key enough before they did it," the wolf replied, staring at the golden treasure still dangling from my fingers. "Maybe they figured what they didn't know couldn't hurt anyone. Or maybe they were like the white rabbit and the fox and just wanted some shiny gold coins."

A ball of fear and disgust rumbled through me at his words. I couldn't listen any longer to the wolf's mad tale. I turned away and emptied my weary stomach on the ground. I had one more question to ask my furry friend, but feared to do it, dreading the answer. Throwing up provided me with more than some digestive relief just then.

"Ask," the wolf commanded, ignoring my nausea and sensing my hesitancy and fear, just like he had always done during our journey together.

"Who are ...," the words trickled slowly from my lips.

Daphne put a stop to my inquiry. She hopped over to me and demanded action by thumping wildly up and down and pointing her soft wiggling bunny nose back down the mountain toward the chemical dump. She wanted her friends rescued and she meant it.

"Okay, let's go," I said without hesitating.

I owed the silly creature and had to help no matter what I thought about the white rabbit and his wretched friend, that lousy fox.

The wolf seemed to sense my lack of choice.

"I'll go too," he volunteered.

"Thank you," I replied.

And the three of us slipped away from the arguing mass of oddball creatures and headed back down the mountain toward the dump.