CHAPTER 51
He feels a creeping fear but waves it off, mostly because liquid courage runs his common sense off-course and amplifies his bravado.
"So you're not wind. That much I've figured out. If you be living, then let's put steel to flesh and find what lurks beneath."
As he approaches the skirt, his snowshoes sink deeper than he expected. He takes another step forward and sinks up to his waist.
"Aw, fiddlesticks," he bemoans, thrusting his ax forward. It disappears in the snow, making a perfect indentation in the white surface.
"Grrr…"
He hears a loud, deep grumble from beneath the tree.
"Come on, fellas, this is getting old!"
Suddenly, his courage plummets and the shiny rim of his blade is less powerful than he thought, especially now that it's buried and out of reach.
"Come on, W.H. You've had your fun. I got no understanding why you'd carry on like this, but I'll buy ya a beer and you can tell me how ya got the drop on me."
Before the lumberjack can finish his sentence, two large golden eyes are illuminated in the shadows of the tree's base. The snarling grows stronger and the snow breaks off the skirt as a massive timber wolf's gray snout protrudes.
The next things Little John spies are the wolf's large curved, clenched fangs.
With a heavy growl from its abdomen, the wolf snarls in a way that puts the fear of God in a man who thought heaven was empty. Yet a prayer slips from his heart and flies off his lips. It isn't a complicated prayer. Little John just asks that God allow him to retrieve his "gravy maker" and save his biscuits.
The two-hundred-pound wolf leans down and prepares to lunge.
Up on the other side of the ridge, the saw team works diligently. The team closer to camp fells a tree.
"TIMBER!" Gnome shouts, warning the team up the ridge so that they can make clear.
Bark breaks and the creaking tree falls to the ground. Seeing that they're clear of any harm, the diligent team up the ridge gets back to work.
"Wanna break for lunch?" Father Time asks Chris.
"Nah. I gotta get my pounds or my old lady's gonna tear my hide."
"All right, then. Let's get on over that ridge and find Little John."
On the other side of the ridge, Little John feels like he's outfoxed the wolf. He manages to use the depth of the snow to his advantage. Neither the wolf nor the man can put their entire weight on the frosty powder without sinking through. Because the wolf hasn't found a way to get to him, the lumberjack has just enough time to swipe snow away with flailing arms until his hands touch the solid handle.
His efforts to retrieve his weapon only entice the wolf as Little John appears to be more like a wounded animal than a man.
With weapon in hand, Little John readies his ax and summons enough courage to swipe at the wolf. He misses but finds that the wolf isn't as brave as he thought.
The beast stops snarling and backs up. He circles around Little John's flank and begins the horrible process again. Mane standing up, teeth bared, yellow eyes fixed – the predator becomes fiercely determined.
Little John swings again. A deadly dance ensues. For though the hefty man's stamina is strong, the wolf is no fool. He playfully pounces close, sinks in the snow, then lowers his head to make it seem like he can be reached. Then he snarls and lunges forward, snapping at Little John when he winds up. The inexperienced man falls for the bait every time. Little by little, the wolf establishes himself as the taunting superior. It does an excellent job of tiring out the man and simultaneously packing the snow.
When the towering lumberjack pauses to take a breath, the wolf steps up its attack, probing for the advantage with snarling fangs and snipping jaws that keep the man always on the defense.
As Gnome and Father Time breach the ridgeline, they look down and see Little John fighting for his life and obviously losing.
"Please! HELP ME!" Little John pleads.
"We have to do something!" the old man cries.
The men point at something that makes Little John look from them to the top of the ridge. Two more gray wolves slither down the decline and move in for the kill.
"STAY CALM!" Gnome shouts as though temperament were enough for him to survive.
When Gnome shouts, he catches the attention of one of the charging wolves. For a brief moment, the wolves pause and stare at Gnome. Gnome stares back.
"Get outta here!" Gnome screams, waving his arms.
By flailing his arms, Gnome taps into the primal mind of the wolf and sets in motion gears that decipher all actions as healthy or wounded. In an instant, the wolf charges through the snow and up the steep incline. Gnome turns and runs, confirming the predator's instincts.
This energetic wolf moves through the snow much quicker than the larger wolf that's attacking Little John does.
Unlike Little John, Gnome is the exact opposite of calm. He is terribly frightened.
"There's a rifle in the lodge," Gnome yells to Father Time.
"Race ya for it!" Father Time shouts, taking off for the lodge.
"No. Don't do that!"
"Last one to the lodge is a rotten egg," the old man croaks as he shuffles his snowshoes like he's a train.
When the wolf makes it to the top of the ridge, he's forced to decide between the two. He looks left, at Gnome, then right, at the healthy lumberjack who isn't showing a hint of weakness. Glancing back at Gnome, it lunges forward and puts its padded paws to use.
Though the stalking wolf doesn't have snowshoes, its thick fur divides its weight across its four paws more evenly than the duck-footed men putting distance between each other.
When Silent Slim and Jim see a gray streak in hot pursuit of their friends, neither wastes time asking questions. Both men abandon their saws and head for the lodge, thinking the same thing as Father Time. Get to a gun.
The wolf closes in on Gnome and bites down on his ankle. The lumberjack screams and tumbles in an explosion of snow. His severed Achilles sprays blood on the winter sand and pools crimson. He slowly backs away from the wolf, keeping his blade between him and the snapping bite.