Chapter 5 Fatberry #5
“There is nowhere else,” Fang hissed. He caught himself and looked up to see if he had given offense.
Blacktail only looked down, impassive. “There is nowhere else,” Fang repeated in a more level tone.
“Quickfoot went six longruns to the south. Gray-Ear went at least as far to the north. I myself checked the east. The stink of men was everywhere.”
“And the west?”
Fang lifted his leg to lay a small squirt on a bush, then trotted to catch up. “Smartnose went west and never returned. I took that as a poor omen.”
Blacktail said nothing for a time. “Just south of my home, I came upon a mountain range where a small pack might hunt. And a few other such in between.”
“How far?”
“Many longruns,” Blacktail said. “Many-many. Perhaps farther than that.”
They were both silent, knowing that Fang’s emaciated pack lacked the strength to travel such distance.
Even if a few of them somehow survived the journey, by the time they arrived, winter would be in its full fury.
The prey animals would be fewer and hide easier.
The pack would freeze even as they starved.
In the spring, yes, perhaps they might move north and survive, Blacktail thought. But this winter will be spent here. “Very well,” he said. “Call your pack together.”
Fang wagged his tail and kissed Blacktail’s muzzle, not in servitude, but in friendship. “I don’t know what to think about all this other business, the things that the cats…”
Blacktail looked at him.
“Well, never mind. You’re a good sort, either way. I’m grateful.” Fang threw back his head and howled,
Quickfoot and Gray-Ear,
Belly-Scar and Little One
come together at the den.
We are delivered.
vi
“Fang has spoken to me of your plight,” Blacktail said when they were all together. “I am not unsympathetic. In these times all wolves must come together as a single pack. I will help you if I can.”
Quickfoot smiled her thin plotter’s smile.
“Much nonsense has been said of me by the cats and by others. Usually I do nothing to discourage it, for my journey is a long one and such talk helps clear my path. But if we are to hunt together all of you must understand something”—here he looked pointedly at Little One—“most of those words are as dung.”
The five wolves murmured among themselves.
“They say that I am large for my kind, and it is true. They say I have hunted men and survived their vengeance. That is true as well. But—hear me on this—I am no prophet, no fury. All I know of the old age is what I hear from the cats. If claws gore me, I will bleed. If jaws crunch my bones, they will break. If my throat is torn, I will die and seek the Forest God no more. Is the scent of this crisp to you?”
There was silence for a moment. Little One looked up doubtfully. When all the rest wagged their tails in agreement, he joined in as well, but the madness never left his eyes.
“Fang has told me the tale of your last hunt on Fatberry. The scheme of it was clever. I think it might have worked. But I have always hunted alone, and I have no head for such plots. If I am to lead, the plan will be simple. The pack will walk in together, in plain sight. I will distract her for a moment. The rest of you will surround her. At my lead we will all attack and kill her. Then we will feast on her body until we can eat no more. Yes?”
Fang’s pack looked at one another for a moment, then barked in agreement.
“Very well, then,” he said. Blacktail slipped away into the bush. One by one the pack followed.
—
Sometime later, the six of them came on Fatberry fishing in the east stream. The water was shallow but clean. Every now and then a brook trout jumped. Blacktail padded toward her across the rocks. The rest of them spread out behind him like an eagle’s tail.
“What is this that I see fishing in the stream of Lord Fang?” Blacktail asked.
She looked up and her eyes narrowed. “I am called Fatberry,” she said, “and I am queen of this land.”
“You are a usurper, and a pretender to the throne,” Blacktail said. “Fang, son of Swift Fang, is lord.”
“And who might you be?”
“My name is of no consequence. I am the tooth and claw of Lord Fang.”
“Tooth and claw, hmm?” Fatberry pawed at the earth. “You do realize that I’m a bear, don’t you? You’re not unfortunately blind or something like that?”
“No. I am not blind. What you are doesn’t matter,” Blacktail said.
He stopped directly in front of her. Fang circled around to his right, within range of a quick lunge.
Quickfoot flanked Fatberry to the left at a safe distance.
Gray-Ear and Belly-Scar fanned out to either side, looking away from Fatberry as if interested in a rock. Little One was nowhere to be seen.
“Hmm.” Fatberry looked Blacktail up and down, seeing the size of him, and sniffed the air for his scent.
“Perhaps a compromise is possible. I tell you what. I will ransom a peace. I will give Fang, son of Swift Fang, dominion over the east and west streams, the ones that stink of piss and poison, and over every dung pile and rotting carcass that lies between. He may do with them as he chooses. The rest of the lands will remain mine. Will that work for you?”
“There will be no peace so long as you remain on these lands. Leave now and I will let you live. Otherwise you die this day.”
Fatberry spat out the blade of grass she was chewing. She rose up on her hind legs, spread her forepaws, and roared, “Oh, enough of your nonsense! Let’s get this over with.”
Blacktail made the killing sound. He leapt at her.
Fang, who had fought bears before, cringed at the sight. I hope he knows what he’s doing, he thought.
Fatberry did not flinch or try to dodge. She only stared at Blacktail as he sailed through the air, timing her strike. She slapped him down with her right paw. Her claws gored his side. Blacktail’s head struck a rock when he hit the earth. He lay where he fell. He did not move.
Oh dung, Fang thought. This is bad. “Attack her!” he roared as he rushed in. “Fall on her now!”
Fatberry came down on all four paws. She seized Fang when he came close.
From the bushes behind Fatberry, Little One appeared. He saw that he was on Fatberry’s blind side and leapt at her. Gray-Ear took hold of Fatberry’s rear leg and clamped on tight, growling and sinking his teeth in deep. Quickfoot and Belly-Scar circled at a safe distance, looking for an opening.
Fatberry held Fang tight in her forepaws. Ignoring Gray-Ear and Little One for the moment, she bent and tore into the flesh of Fang’s neck. Fang yelped loud at the pain of it. Little One dug at the thick fur of her neck, scrabbling and biting.
Fatberry tore into Fang’s throat without slowing.
“Quickfoot!” Fang screamed. “Quickfoot, for fuck’s sake, get her off me!”
Three paces away Blacktail lay still and silent. Quickfoot hesitated, looking first at him, then at her lord and mate dying before her eyes.
In the furball, something crunched.
Fang screamed no more.
“Oh, leave them!” Quickfoot screamed. “Leave them and save yourselves! This is hopeless! That one’s not holy—he’s nothing but a big dog! Leave them to Fatberry and be damned!” Belly-Scar and Gray-Ear broke off at this. They darted into the woods.
Alone among the pack of Lord Fang, the Little One would not yield.
After a few breaths, Fatberry looked up from Fang’s corpse. She seemed not to notice Little One hanging from her neck. She turned slowly back to Blacktail. Now she would finish the job.
In desperation, Little One leapt from her back.
Careful to stay on her blind side, he moved in and sank his teeth into the tender part of her hindquarters.
Fatberry roared with pain. She spun around and around, Little One dangling from her ass like a tail.
Finally she stopped and bent herself around nearly double, and swatted at him.
The first two swipes missed, but on the third try Fatberry’s claws dug long furrows in Little One’s side.
Still he continued the attack. Though grievously wounded, he was quick.
He danced in and around Fatberry’s legs.
The wounds in his side rained his half-breed blood on the dry leaves and stones.
Red droplets dissolved into the river. Again and again he nipped at her muzzle and lower parts, always quick, always dancing.
No matter how she tried, Fatberry could not strike him.
Fatberry reared on her hind legs, roaring her rage.
Little One sank his teeth into the skin of her genitals once more, this time from the front.
It was a bold attack, and brave…but not safe.
From here she could reach him easily. She swatted him with her broad brown paw and sent him sailing five paces into the rocks.
Then she turned back to Blacktail, confident that the killing of this day was nearly done.
But where she had struck down a wolf, something else now rose up.
Perhaps Little One’s faith had awakened something that lay in the heart of him. Perhaps he had simply been hiding it for reasons of his own. Either way, when Blacktail stood before her with his fur high and teeth bare, Fatberry trembled at the sight of him.
“You…” she said. “You are the one the cats whisper of…the traveler…”
“Yes.”
“The one called Blacktail…”
“Oh yes.”
“Wait…” she said. In her terror her bowels went loose. Dung ran down her leg. “Wait, I couldn’t have known—”
Blacktail launched himself at her.
The sound of her shrieks echoed down the valley.
vii
Halfway up the hill, Belly-Scar risked a quick look over his shoulder. What he saw stopped him in his tracks. “God on the mountain,” he whispered softly.