Spring

“As of 26 March 130,032 confirmed cases of the virus and 5015 deaths have been reported in the region.” The reporter seemed distressed, and as he continued to stutter through the rest of the news cast this became plain to see. “Measures that the Government has taken to curb the spread …”

“Oh, my!” at this point, Jane started to feel sorry for him, one or more of those numbers clearly stood in for someone he cared for.

“— including curfews, school closures, and restrictions on travel into and within the country — have led to reduced operating hours or the closure of many small businesses.” He continued to state shakily “The economic impact is expected to be sev…”.

She couldn’t take it anymore so she cut him off mid sentence. It didn’t feel like news anymore, the words were always the same, only the numbers changed.

The abrupt silence made her realize that she had been humming a song as she was preparing breakfast.

“Hm hm hmm, hmm hmm hmm of the year …” her cheer was returning as she continued on “It’s the happiest season of all”. The song had been plaguing her for months now, like one of those soundtracks that follows the protagonist everywhere she goes. It had become part of her, pushing her forward through the crisis, empowering her, she didn’t know the full lyrics and did she care.

Finishing her breakfast she stepped out of the cabin and as she did so the smell of fir and pine rushed her mercilessly. She loved it here. It was a bright sunny day and the forest knew it too well. The dawn chorus invaded her thoughts as thrills and whistles picked up on the song in her heart and lifted her up in the air. Hoards of blackbirds and robins, finches and thrushes took flight upon seeing her carrying her song throughout the forest.

It’s the most wonderful time of the year.

She was their guardian and they knew it. This simple truth was part of her nestled tight in her heart, forever a part of her. It was one of those truths that once learnt, stuck with you for the rest of your life. She had been four years old when she had embraced it, she had been four and she had found a baby squirrel in the back garden. The squirrel had been named Baby and had given all her love to Jane, setting her on her path. A path of love and devotion, of fulfilment and companionship, the path of a forest ranger.

It’s the happiest season of all.

The first few weeks had been the toughest. While the world was drowning in turmoil, one day Jane found herself to be abandoned by it, completely forgotten. It had been a frightening realization at first, as news reports poured in their increasing numbers, the feeling of being stranded, sank deeper in her heart.

People got infected, some died, most of them got better and as the days passed one hundred became one thousand, then three thousand, then one thousand again. Numbers, slowly the numbers she heard on the news lost their meaning because in her world those numbers never shifted for the worst.

Her only family was the forest and as the pandemic wreaked havoc through the cities and towns, the forests bloomed. Less tourists meant less garbage, less stress for the animals, less accidents, less noise, more peace.

Yes, she sometimes missed the company of other humans, especially the families coming for picnics on weekends. Seeing children play had always filled her with joy, that was what she missed the most. But now she saw fawns and pups, cubs and chicks, kittens and piglets, and they were beautiful. The months passed and her forest flourished amidst the threat to her species and she felt at peace with it.

Her daily routine consisted of patrolling the trails in her jeep, each day she would choose a different trail and drive up to a point then start down the smaller paths in search of traps or signs that poachers were in the area.

Today she would head towards the Aure Gorge, a pack of wolves had moved in there recently and made their den. Their pups would be large enough by now to start exploring the outside world. The thought filled her with excitement.

It’s the most wonderful time of the year.

Jane had been fearful of the predatory animals at first, but something told her that they had accepted her. More of a sensation than a thought, the longer she probed at the idea the more the notion of family reached out to greet her.

Along the way to the gorge the obsessive song met her at every turn, and with it the feeling that everything was right in the world. Finally, the world was as it should be: quiet, undisturbed, fruitful, alive.

I should park the jeep at the bridge and make my way towards the Aure Viewpoint, the den should be visible from there. She thought.

Yes, that won’t disturb the pack too much. The pack shouldn’t be disturbed. Sense replied.

And if I approach from downwind, they’ll know I’m coming.

Yes, good idea.

Through her social isolation she had learnt that a part of her subconscious was far better equipped at storing and analyzing information than her conscious, and she had slowly learnt to trust that part of her mind. It seemed to always speak out of a primitive natural common sense, something that transcended intelligent thought. She called that part, Sense, and they had fused deeply in the past months, working fluidly together.

After parking the jeep she started to make the climb slowly. The hike would take a few hours and the view was always worth it, the walk invigorated her pulling at her heartstrings.

I’m not really sure what I love most about this place, the animals or the forest?!

Aren’t they one and the same? Sense replied.

Yes, I guess you’re right. But who am I within it?

You are of the forest. Everything of the forest has accepted you as part of it. You are its guardian.

The sensation warmed her deeply and she allowed herself to feel that warmth throughout her whole being. She felt apart of something and she loved it.

It’s the most wonderful time of the year.

It’s the happiest season of all. Sense continued.

Once at the top she decided to reward herself and slowly take in the full view. It was majestic: the flowing river, the white peeks, the green of the trees. She had never really appreciated it before the pandemic, somehow it had always looked the same. No longer.

How wrong I was! It’s breathtaking how everything is the same and completely different each time.

Life has a habit of being like that.

The wolf den was just across from the viewpoint, at the edge of the forest. The river had created a small beach there which deer and other small animals used for crossing. Once the wolves had caught onto it they decided to exploit it to its fullest and soon they would teach their litter of three to do the same.

Jane took out her binoculars and started to scour the area for signs of them. She knew where the den was supposed to be but it was always hard to pinpoint it exactly. Soon she had it in full view.

There wasn’t any movement around it though.

Hmmmm! she thought.

Something’s not right. Sense interrupted.

Her rifle was equipped with a 3-9X40 scope which was far more powerful than her binoculars. She took a look through it but didn’t see anything either.

Something’s definitely not right.

The wolves would never leave their den unprotected.

They wouldn’t. Something’s not right.

She slung the rifle on her shoulder and started back down the path. Halfway down she turned left and went down a deer trail that led to an old hunting platform. She should be able to get a good view from there without getting to close.

As she walked she felt a cold chill come over her, that feeling you get when you know you’re heading towards an unpleasant truth, as if something was no longer there. And as she got closer to the platform she understood what that thing was: silence.

“I can’t hear the song anymore.” she punctuated.

Something’s definitely wrong. You need to get there fast. Sense called out to her from within.

Once up the platform she got her binoculars out and resumed her search. When she came across a gray shape around where the den would be, she let out a sigh of relief.

They’re still there.

So is the silence. Sense called back.

It was indeed still there, ominous, like a winter’s storm. Just as the forest had sang back to her in the morning so was the silence calling now. Overwhelming, all-powerful, cold and unmoving.

Dead! Sense called out. He’s dead. Quickly!

Throwing caution to the wind she made her way to the den.

Quickly!

Bones were littered all over the place, and a feeling of dread overcame her as her conscious registered where she was.

It’s alright, they’re no longer here.

The wolves were indeed nowhere to be seen. The gray shape she had noticed from the platform was covered in blood, one of the young males. Its fur was matted red with blood where the bullets had hit it. The wounds were small and dispersed.

Shotgun wound, real close too.

They came after the pups. Check the den.

One more wolf was sprawled at the entrance to the den, this one had been shot with a hunting rifle.

Clean kill. This was the first to die.

Careful, there might be traps. Sense cautioned her.

They came in on ATVs, two of them by the look of things, got the pups and headed back out to unload them. They would be heading to Devil’s Bluff, the only road wide enough to fit the truck they would need to haul their pray, ran through there.

You need to hurry!

What was left of the pack was on their trail, seeking revenge. Anticipating this, the poachers had indeed laid some traps. Jane found other wolf in one of the traps and another set of tracks further down.

Three of them at least. Sense called out.

She made her way slowly through the brush, stopping, listening, waiting, hoping that she wouldn’t meet the rest of the pack on her way.

They’re not here. Quickly! Sense kept yelling at her.

Jane knew better. This close to the den she would be perceived as much of a danger to the wolves as the poachers. She loved the forest, but the forest was wild, there was a limit to how much she belonged to it.

You are part of the forest. Move!

Slowly she made her way to the road and just as she expected they were camped in a clearing there.

Greedy! She thought.

For the better part of an hour she circled the camp trying as best she could to flow through the underbrush without being spotted. These men were professionals.

One wrong step and …

By the time she woke up it was dark. Her thoughts came muffled, she felt drowsy. She must have been hit with a sleeping dart. Nothing seemed to hurt hear. As soon as her head cleared a bit a rush of snarls and barks drowned what few thoughts made sense. Registering their fury in her subconscious, she thought she understood them and flinched.

Die! Diee! DIEEEEE!

Two of the wolves were locked in cages and the third and last one was hung by its haunches and being skinned by one of the three men.

Die! Diee! DIEEEEE!

The words kept pushing at her mind, trying to force themselves in. The sheer rage made the hair on her body bristle and stand on end. She felt like crying.

Die! Diee! DIEEEEE!

It had a rhythm, a pulse, a life of its own. It engulfed her, transforming her, pulling at her instincts. The rage was immense.

Die! Diee! DIEEEEE!

She had been tied up with nylon rope and as she realized this she thanked herself for leaving her cuffs back with the jeep.

Die! Diee! DIEEEEE!

She reached in her boot and pulled out the small blade she kept there. Just in case! It cut through the rope with little ease.

Die! Diee! DIEEEEE!

Her heart was pounding in her chest, she could feel the rush of hot blood in her temples.

Die! Diee! DIEEEEE!

The two by the fire were sitting with their backs turned towards her, laughing. She moved in close.

Die! Diee! DIEEEEE!

Blood spurted out from the wound in his neck, covering her from head to toe. The second man stood frozen in place, mesmerized by the screams of his friend.

DIE! DIEE! DIEEEEE!

She picked up the dying man’s sidearm and pointed it at the two. The one skinning the wolf took a pass at reaching for his gun but was cut short by the bullet in his chest.

The smell of blood and urine filled the air and it drove the wolves madder still. The second man had soiled himself. He had sunk to his knees. Arms raised forward above his head he was stuttering: “Please! Please, have mercy!”

No mercy! No mercy! DIE! DIEE! DIEEEEE! Sense called out to her.

Keeping her gun aimed at him she backed up towards the two cages where the wolves were kept. The pups where there too. Their howls and snarls filled the void left by the song.

No mercy! No mercy! They screamed.

She undid the latch on the cages and they lunged forward at the second man.

“No mercy!” she whispered as she understood.

………..

“As of 27 March …” she turned it off immediately. She had no need for those numbers anymore.

Stepping outside she let the song flow through her once more. This time it didn’t come alone.

Good morning, Jane! it said.

“Good morning, All!”