Red and River

The air smells like rain; cold rain, the type that falls as slow and white as feathers, but disappears with one touch. The scent fills my nostrils and puts ice in my chest, cold and heavy, sharp and wet all at once. I rake through my brain, trying to remember what its name is. What had Mother called it again? I recollect her stories of the world beyond our den.

“All rain is the tears of our mothers,” she’d told us, “in the warmth they are tears of joy at the birth of a new litter…” Now it’s on the tip of my tongue, I can almost taste it. “But when their tears fall in the cold it is from sorrow. These tears hide our prey from us and steal the life-breath of our pups. This is snow.”

Snow.

Yes, snow.

Snow will fall from the sky soon and with it the cold of winter.

I should go and warn the pack. My tail falls limp behind me at the thought. There is no pack. Only me and the great pines and a gloomy sky above.

I rise and stretch out my forepaws, digging my claws into the hardened earth. The cuts along my back sting but it is nothing compared to the weary ache in my chest. Gritting my teeth, I manage to walk a few paces. After a while, the stinging subsides into a dull throb as I amble through the forest.

It is not long, though, before a new pain comes: hunger. And he is not so easily silenced.

For hours now my empty stomach has swung peacefully below, but now he has awoken, fresh and full of mighty growls.

My ears droop. I was not always so empty.

I stop and tilt my ears forward and back, searching for any signs of life, but not a leaf stirs and the sky is just one vast expanse of gray. Pressing my nose to the ground, I filter through the heavy scents of vacant dirt and rotting pine trees. Something manages to trickle through this time.

Saliva rushes into my mouth as I recognize the scent of blood.

I sniff again to make sure, but my nose hasn’t let me down. From the distance and amount of blood it must be an injured animal. My pace quickens to a lope as I cover more ground, eyes and ears open to any more signs of my prey. Overhead, the mother-clouds break loose, and thousands of tiny snowflakes flutter to the ground. They sink into my fur like little fangs. I shake out my reddish coat and pause as doubt begins to sink in too.

I’m well outside of my pack’s borders by now, what if I have strayed into another’s and this is their feast?

I haven’t eaten in days—I won’t win in a fight, not even with their omega. A myriad of emotions arises from the thought. I do not want to be an under-wolf again, but I also do not want to be alone anymore. Clamping down my jaws, I press through the doubt.

I do not care, I tell myself, I will do what I must to survive.

Even if that means becoming Omega.

***

As the trail grows more and more pungent, it also becomes more distinct. I pick out the scents I am sure of, but this creature does not really smell like prey; this is a meat-eater, but a young one. I immediately think of a bear, but the scent is soft and peppery, not musky and fishy. Even though it's vaguely familiar, I can’t be too sure; they are covered in more dirt and blood and ice than this whole forest

Soon the sound of a strong river reaches my ears, gurgling and bubbling. The treeline ends abruptly, dropping off at a long, pebbly shore. The river runs swiftly by before twisting out of sight. I hunker to the ground, keeping my tail low as I draw nearer. The water will mask any noise I make, but the shingles look treacherous. There are no other wolves, so I keep approaching.

That’s when I notice my prey.

He lays, crumpled over on the side of the river, more skin than hair. Snow settles on his only fur, a mess of dead-grass yellow on his head. He is small and scrawny, probably no more than a pup. The stones beneath him are dark with old blood and from this angle I cannot see any breaths, but I know he is alive.

Keeping downwind, I inch forward. My front paw slips on the smooth shale, sending a cascade of pebbles rolling away from me.

I’ve done it now…

I freeze, waiting for my prey to notice me.

But he doesn’t. Crouching just the way Mother taught me, I continue creeping nearer.

Carefully, I manage to make it within pouncing distance without another mistake. I bunch up my muscles, preparing for the spring. Saliva floods into my jaws once more—I am so close.

My prey gives one shuddering breath and shifts its head with a groan. Water and yellow bile explodes from his mouth and I jump back with a yelp. For a long time it heaves and spills and heaves and spills. At last he lies still and slowly opens one eye.

I stare, dumbfounded, into that bright blue iris. It reminds me of the moon and my Mother all at once. The warmth of the den, the joy of summer nights spent together in the middle of the pack.

Taken off guard, I have forgotten to attack. My prey pushes forward on his front paws and lifts his head. He reaches one long, furless paw toward me, grasping fruitlessly at my nose.

I hunch down and peel back my lips to expose deadly fangs.

“Do not touch me,” I say with my hackles.

His voice is raw and slow with the effort of speaking. It reminds me of a raven’s harsh croaks. “Here… doggie,”

I begin backing away, growling. “I am no dog!”

Dogs are weak and a betrayal of our flesh. Only humans keep them…

The realization flashes across my eyes, making my growl falter. I should have recognized the scent sooner, noticed the signs, then again, I’ve never seen one up close before.

And now here I stand, stalking a human pup.

The human’s head drops back to the ground and his eyes droop shut, hand still outstretched. Now is my chance. He will be easy to kill and much easier to eat. But I cannot bring myself to do it. Mother taught me that wolves do not eat like this; dishonorably.

“We don’t scavenge,” she’d told me. “We eat what we hunt, nothing more, nothing less.”

“Dogs scavenge.” Alpha had said, peering down his frosty nose at me. I’d cowered beneath his gaze, conscious of my tender ears and reddish coat. “Along with the coyotes and crows.”

I shake out my fur, pushing away those thoughts and making up my mind. I won’t eat this human, but he might be able to lead me to different food. Mother once told me that where my Father was from, men kept good things to eat in flimsy pens outside. Flightless birds and other tender morsels. More humans will come for their lost pup and then I will follow them to their food… If they don’t kill me first.

***

The colorless sky drains to black, turning the forest into a ring of shadows around us. The snow falls heavily, masking my tail of pawprints down to the water’s edge. I pace the body to keep my aching legs warm. I try to drink from the river, but the icy water burns cold in my chest, taking the breath out of my lungs.

The human hasn’t moved since, but at least now he is breathing more easily. I sit on my haunches and wrap my tail over my paws. Tilting my head up, I search the night sky, but the stars have hidden themselves from me.

I prick my ears when the pup whimpers again and I turn to look at him. Both eyes are open. They stare at me, unblinking, like an owl’s.

“Red…” he whispers, indicating my coat.

I stiffen. He has given me a new name. Before I was Half, daughter of Canna and Rusty of the Gray-Pelt Pack—but that isn’t right anymore.

A wolf becomes nameless without her pack.

I decide to give him a name, too. I lick my chomps, studying him and our surroundings. “I call you River, because that is where I found you.” I say.

Without taking his eyes off me, River curls deeper into himself with a shiver. He opens up one of his tough skin coverings, inviting me to share in its paltry warmth. Though night nips straight through my fur and into my skin, I won’t come any nearer.

“I am fine.” I tell him with my tail.

River closes his eyes again, but keeps enough room for me if I change my mind. Soon his chest rises and falls with the deep breaths of sleep again. All night I keep watch, but when pale yellow lights the eastern sky, my body gives up. Checking to make sure he is still asleep, I creep until my front half is resting beneath the covering. It is warmer here and out of the wind, but my jaws are waiting just in case it’s a trap. Soon, though, my eyes droop with sleep as I tumble into a nightmare.

Strong jaws clamp around my scruff, pinning me to the ground. I try to escape, but Mother holds me firm.

“Hold still, Half,” she growls, a quiver in her voice. “It will hurt worse if you move.”

The circle of wolves parts as Alpha steps forward, tail erect and unwavering. He stands above me for a moment, nostrils crinkled in disdain.

“Why?” I whimper, forgetting that I haven’t been a pup for moons.

“We will starve this winter, the stars never lie.” Alpha snarls, edging closer. “And you are not one of us. I will not give my pups’ mouthfuls to your kind."

My eyes trail to the little huddle of pups at the back. They peer at me, wide-eyed. They are my cousins, part of my flesh, yet I am unworthy. I squirm again, but Mother chomps down even harder. I know what comes next and I do not like it. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tense as my heart pushes red-hot blood through my veins.

Searing pain leaps like fire across my back as Alpha rakes his claws through my fur and skin. A pitiful howl escapes my throat and I crumple to the ground. The forest spins and around me the pack falls silent.

“Go!” Alpha howls, snapping close at my heels.

“Go! Go! Go!” the rest chant.

Without another thought I turn tail and run. Harsh barks follow close behind as my pack drives me out of their territory. I trip on an upturned root and cascade into a pile of old leaves but in the next heartbeat I’m up and sprinting again. The sun suddenly disappears, replaced by a milky full moon. I run and run for miles, but my pack’s voices still haunt me. The night reigns well past her time and I realize that I am still overturned in the leaf pile, paws flailing uselessly in the air.

I try to rise, but the ground sucks at my paws and sticky mud clings to my fur. I open my mouth to call for help, but remember that no one is coming. The mud pulls me down into the earth. I feel them call to me—the voices of dogs and wolves together.

Uncertain sunshine seeps through my eyelids, rousing me from uneasy sleep. I yawn, letting the anxiety of the dream out in one big huff. When I open my eyes again, I’m staring into both of River’s.

Startled, I shimmy my haunches out from under his covering, but he doesn’t try to touch me this time. Instead he presses down on his front paws, raising himself into an upright position. He stretches forward and, using his hands, begins gulping in the river water. Precious water slips down his skinny front legs, but his snout is too short to do it the proper way. At last he finishes drinking and scoots back onto dry land. Drawing his back legs beneath him, he pulls off their coverings and begins massaging his paws.

Now that all of the bile is out of him, he looks a lot less pale. He peels back his lips to reveal a straight line of dull teeth. He’s a pup for sure. “Thanks,”

I haven’t done anything and alphas don’t praise for nothing; perhaps this human doesn’t have a pack after all.

River’s eyes trail across my back and rest on the deep gashes left by Alpha. “What kinda trouble did you get into?” he asks. “It looks painful.”

I cringe away when he reaches forward. Humans have a way of needing to fix things and I don’t want this fixed. It is a reminder of who I am: unworthy. River persists a few whisker-lengths further, but when I show my teeth, he retracts.

“I’m just trying to help.” he says in the kind of voice mothers use to put excitable pups to sleep. “C’mere before it gets worse.”

It is true. I cannot reach back far enough to lick the wounds over my shoulders and they have begun to smell sour. Long ago Mother would have given me a good groom and brought me meat so I could rest and let the flesh heal over.

River pulls up the covering on one of his front legs. A long, red slash traces through the delicate skin. It looks painful and just as unwashed as mine. I can tell from the angle this mark came from the rapids a few miles north.

“I have to do the same thing. I’ll go first and show you it isn’t so bad, but then you have to let me clean you up after, okay?”

Somehow he derives agreement from my motionlessness and begins pouring water onto his leg. His face scrunches up as the pale skin turns bright red from the cold. When the cut is clean, he dabs it dry with another covering. I can tell it will scar later on, but already the two pieces of hide are coming back together.

“Your turn, Reddie-girl.” he calls out cheerfully.

I take a tentative step forward, keeping my body stiff to let him know I don’t like this. River cups his hands, fills them with water and lets it dribble over my cuts. They burn and itch, but it feels good to see tiny bits of mud and bark loosen from the jagged skin and fall at my paws.

“Mom did this to me when I fell off my bike once. Man, it hurt like crazy, but I didn’t need stitches.” He says, gathering more water. I now see a use for humans’ strangely shaped paws.

Gently, he runs his fingers through my fur to break up the dried blood caked in my scruff. Again and again he washes my back until the water runs clear and the burning subsides. Letting my tail tip wag, I give him a grateful woof. I feel stronger all ready, like I can run for miles.

“See, doesn’t that feel better? Besides, bruises are way worse and at least cuts turn into cool scars.” River traces his arm almost fondly. “I wonder who's looking for me. News would have gotten out about the broken bridge by now.”

I sit back on my haunches, enjoying the meek warmth of the sun drying my fur. River scrambles up to his full height, balancing uneasily on his hind legs and peering around. He is about as tall and skinny as a deer. I feel better knowing his full size because you can’t tell an animal’s strength when they are curled into a defensive ball.

River begins pointing, following the trail of the sun. “Any idea where we are?”

I look around, also uncertain.

“That’s fine, we’ll manage.” he chirps and begins shuffling away from the river bank.

I watch him struggle up the rocky shingles and disappear through the myrtle bushes. He is limping badly and seems to favor his left leg, but looks like he knows the way.

I angle my face away from his hunched figure. He doesn’t need me anymore. I can go.

But he healed me.

I owe him for that and a wolf remembers every deed. My stomach lets out a ferocious growl, interrupting my thoughts. There will be food with his pack and, when no one is watching, I can snatch a few morsels. Just enough to keep me going. That doesn’t sound like scavenging, more like sneaking. And sneaking is allowed.

Lurching to my paws, I bound after River. I catch up to him as he sags against a young sapling, breathing hard.

When he sees me, he says, “I’m glad I’ll have a friend on the way home.” He rests a hand over my head for balance as we continue along.

I let him lean on me, telling myself it is for a good meal, but my heart is howling a different song. For a moment I pause, listening to its melody that says maybe I don’t need to leave this time. River treats me like a packmate, a companion, when I am neither what he thinks I am, nor his kind. Perhaps others only see me the way they want to.

Alpha saw a half-blood.

Mother saw a burden.

But to River, I am just Red, a friend worthy of trust.

And if one creature can accept me, maybe others will too. I must at least give them a chance to prove me wrong.