Cold Spell
Chapter 6
Joe was so excited he ran the last few yards towards the wreckage, ever mindful of the terrain.
"WAHOO!" he shouted as he did a little victory dance.
The wolf's ears twitched, but that was the only acknowledgment he made to the boy's little display.
The blond teen looked at his audience and laughed, "Bet you didn't know this boy had it in him, now did you?"
Ignoring the canine for now, Joe started to survey the wreckage and then his face lit up… could it be?
It was!
A couple of feet away from the main tail section, in a bright orange knapsack, was the survival kit. Joe would have known what it was right away…even without the words SURVIVAL KIT stenciled in English on the front!
"Little brother does good!" Joe congratulated himself as he crouched down and undid the front flap. Satisfied that it hadn't been pilfered, the teen lowered the flap and then hoisted the bag onto his shoulder.
"Crikey, what's in this thing?" he grunted, surprised by its weight.
The wolf just watched him.
Still muttering a couple more expletives as he adjusted the pack on his shoulder, Joe decided to see if anything else had survived the crash, like their luggage, and more specifically, his winter parka!
An hour later, he was pleased with his findings. In addition to the survival kit, which he ended up checking a bit more thoroughly to make sure it also contained a small first aid kit, when he couldn't find a larger one anywhere, he'd also found both his and Frank's duffle bags.
Surprisingly enough, the sturdy black bags were still in one piece…but still no parka….
Excitedly, Joe tore through his duffle, extracting his warmest sweater and dry pants before quickly changing into them, emitting some inventive words during the brief period that his torso was exposed to the brisk, dry winds.
"Now Pup, we are in business," the blond teen quipped; heartened by the warmer clothing. "You know what they say, 'it's not the heat, it's the humidity that'll get ya'!"
Chuckling at his own joke, Joe surveyed the area for something large enough to use as a sled to pull the bags back across the tundra. He'd never be able to carry the three of them by himself.
His eyes lit on one of the doors which had been ripped off and thrown to the side about 50 feet from the main section.
"Hmmm, that just might work," he speculated, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Yeah, in fact it will work!"
Enthused by the idea that he'd found his 'sled' and could get on his way back to the burrow, Joe knelt down by the Survival Kit again and began to rummage through it. He was sure there'd be some sort of nylon rope in it…and there was.
His eyebrows rose briefly as he saw some of the other stuff in the kit, and he grinned, already imagining his brother's reaction. It was obvious that this kit had been used and re-supplied on more than one occasion…and not necessarily with the same stuff that had been taken out!
A particularly strong gust of wind almost bowled him over, and as Joe started to stand up, his eyes widened in alarm as something metallic and wind-born, swept towards him!
Throwing up his hands to protect his face, he wasn't quick enough and was struck, hard!
The last thing he saw as he crumpled to the ground was the wolf slowly approaching him!
Sniffing the boy cautiously, the large animal snorted softly and then started to move away again. He had no concern about this creature…only curiosity.
The human was interesting to watch, as he didn't behave like any other animal the wolf had ever encountered.
Pausing, the large canid looked sharply to the side, his ears twitching - listening - and then with one more glance at the unconscious teen, it retreated back to its looking post and waited….
Moaning softly, Joe opened his eyes and blinked. The bright sky above him made him shut them again, as his hand moved towards his forehead and the lump that he knew was there.
"Wha' got me?" he asked thickly, wincing as his mittened fingers brushed the bump. "OW!"
Forcing his eyes open again, he squinted against the brightness and then turned his head slowly – where was the wolf?
"Nice to see you care," he muttered as he saw the predator back where he always was, about 150 feet away. The wolf was sitting and watching him.
Slowly, as his head was pounding, Joe sat up and then leaned forward, holding his aching head in his hands.
Not good, Hardy, he chastised, as he thought about the 'sled' he needed to drag and the long way back to camp; a distance that grew infinitesimally with each throb in his forehead.
Looking down at his mittens, Joe was relieved not to see any blood, but as he tried to stand up and wobbled, before falling back down on his butt, it was painfully apparent that he was in no shape to go anywhere just yet.
"Crap!" he growled in frustration; he needed to fasten the rope to the plane door, put the three bags on it, and then tow it back to Frank as soon as possible!
Joe really did not want to spend any more time away than he had to.
So stubbornly, he forced his legs under him and tried to stand again, this time more slowly…and then staggered towards the plane door, dragging the rope behind him.
The strong winds played havoc with what little balance he had, and the teen imagined that he was putting out a bit extra on his public entertainment value right now, if anyone other than a wolf was watching him, as he weaved, sometimes one foot forward and two feet backwards!
If Frank had been there, he would have pointed out to Joe that he was in no shape to be even thinking about trying to come back…let alone during a wind storm….But he wasn't, and Joe was pugnaciously determined – he had to get back to camp.
With painstaking slowness, Joe secured the rope to the door. He had a lot of trouble tying a decent knot for some reason, and after ten minutes and a couple of angry kicks at the door, he finally got something tied that would hold.
Satisfied, he lurched back to where he'd left the bags and picked up the Survival kit first, grunting and almost dropping to his knee as the weight felt leaden now. But refusing to give in, and his stubbornness on overdrive, Joe made it back to the 'sled' and then back and forth two more times.
It never occurred to him until much later that he should have just towed his 'sled' to the pile!
Finally, having loaded the three bags onto the door, Joe slumped down against it to catch his breath and take a few minutes' rest – he was worn out.
"You're not really a Husky, by chance are you?" he muttered tiredly to the wolf.
The animal blinked at him.
"Didn't think so," Joe managed as he closed his eyes. He'd just shut them for a few minutes to see if he could get the drums to stop playing in his head.
But a couple of minutes were all it took, and the exhausted boy drifted into a heavy sleep, wrapping his arms around his body and tucking his face in against the warm fur collar on his jacket…the wind was cold.
The wolf watched the sleeping boy. This time he didn't come down to sniff him – he knew his scent.
After about two hours, his ears pricked up again and he stood up. He glanced to the south and listened.
He could hear them with no problem – a pack, four or five members only, from the chorus he was listening to. They sang and he resisted the urge to join them.
Their song was of hunger and sadness, and this wolf picked up their story as easily as if it was being told in words.
The pack, once strong had dwindled down to its hardiest members. The lemmings were few and the great caribou herds had not come down yet…the canid's were desperate…and hopeful….
They were on the hunt….
The wolf glanced back at the sleeping teen. He saw the boy twitch in his sleep but he didn't wake. His exhaustion drowned out the howling.
Tuning again to his brethren's song, the animal listened until it died off in a series of yelps.
Turning away, he lay down and rested an intelligent head on his forelegs – there was another, like this one that he watched…. and it was prey.