Amarok (7 page)

The man stopped a few yards ahead. “Get moving!”

Emma stood, wiped the tears blurring her vision, and forced herself onward. Amarok stayed nearby, nipping at her hands and nudging her playfully when she grew tired. Up ahead, Emma heard the hypnotic rush of water. She licked her dry lips and swallowed hard as she hurried down the narrow trail. Amarok squeezed past her, loping ahead. Emma jogged after him, ducking under a series of low-hanging branches. They came to a rocky area where a rushing waterfall flowed into a mossy stream. For a moment Emma stood still, lulled by the roar of the water’s liquid blade cutting down the glacial mountainside. She leaned against the rocks and guzzled from the cool, clear brook, swallowing the refreshing liquid until her belly hurt. Emma doubted she’d ever tasted anything so cold and pure.

The man filled a large canteen and stuffed it into his pack. As Amarok drank from one of the smaller pools, Emma noticed something golden reflecting in the translucent water. She knelt near Amarok for a closer look and spotted a flash of red. A school of tiny fish drifted peacefully, occasionally flashing bits of white when they opened their mouths to feed on bits of moss. Hypnotized by the soothing sound of the flowing water and tranquil dance of minnows, she almost forgot how much she had grown to hate water. After her mother’s death, she hated all rivers, all lakes and streams. They stood as symbols of something taken from her. But now, gazing at the small fish, with the refreshing liquid energizing her body, she saw that water could also give life.

“Don’t just sit there gawking all day! Get a move on!” the man barked, interrupting the serene moment.

Emma turned to leave when she spotted something near Amarok’s paw. “Oh, my God!”

The man jerked to a stop. “What?”

Emma pointed to a huge footprint in the mud. “What kind of a track is that?”

The man peered at the print and grumbled underneath his breath. “Bear track. A big one.” He sneered at Emma. “Better keep up or it might get ya.”

Emma gawked at the track, eyes wide with fright. The indents from the giant claws were at least six inches long.

A vein throbbed in the man’s forehead and he ground his teeth together. He mashed the track into the mud with the tip of his boot, and then turned and stomped down the trail. “Get a move on!” he barked.

He seemed more agitated than usual, pressing them on at a faster pace. Emma’s nerves knotted at the thought of a bear attack. What had they taught her at school? Drop and play dead? Run downhill? A wave of fear coursed through her. She couldn’t remember! She glanced at Amarok, who’d seemed filled with vigor since his recent meal. He gazed at her and his large yellow eyes filled with affection. Emma’s nerves settled. Amarok would never let anything hurt her. She wasn’t sure how or why she felt this way. He was, after all, just a wolf, but he seemed to want to protect her. Even when she was sad, he somehow sensed it.

They continued northward down the flank of the mountain. Amarok trotted at Emma’s side, veering off every so often into the trees, only to return moments later. Every time he strayed it filled Emma with unease. An unfamiliar wave of vulnerability washed over her. She was strong, she was smart, and she had more guts than most people. Even so, Emma knew she couldn’t survive without the wolf’s protection.

By nightfall they crossed into a wide valley at the edge of the sea. Ice floes glittered in the pale moonlight, winking as if heaped with diamonds. Amarok paused, surveying the valley, uneasy to be in the open expanse. He much preferred the safety of the mountains, the shelter of trees. He knew the trail would lead them back to the safety of the timber, but he remained vigilant.

The girl stumbled several times on the trail and Amarok’s heart filled with concern. He knew she must be exhausted. She’d been through so much, yet she proved to have an iron will. A fighter. He admired her courage. Yet her fearlessness with death concerned him, as if she longed for it as a way to escape her sorrow. If only he could make her see she had so much to live for, but how could he ever do that?

Amarok stood still and sniffed the wind, letting the girl and man pass by him. A dark shadow sailed overhead. Amarok spotted an owl sailing across the milky sky, circling over his head before disappearing into the night. Something about it caused him to pause as he watched it disappear, leaving a single, silver feather spiraling to the ground. The object landed at his front paw and Amarok studied it carefully. He gently gathered the feather between his teeth and tucked it into a strap at his shoulder.

Hours later, they made camp at the base of Wolverine Range, with the night so cold Amarok feared the girl might freeze to death before Weasel Tail managed to build an adequate fire. She’d need to rest for the next day’s journey. He knew she must be hungry, if not starving, by this time. She fell asleep quickly, wrapped in a scrap of caribou hide Weasel Tail kept in his pack. Amarok watched over her as she slept, tucking himself around her for warmth, keeping guard until sleep pulled his eyes closed.

He thought about what the girl had told him, how much pain she carried over the death of her mother. He knew what it was like to lose someone he loved more than life. It seemed all he’d ever done was lose. First his father and mother and then his human life. It seemed so unfair. And yet he lived on and on by the same evil that had murdered everyone he loved. Even in wolf form, he was glad to be alive, his lifespan reaching far enough to have met this beautiful girl, to have experienced her gentle touch on his wretched hide.

Perhaps to feel love again.

Emma woke the next morning so cold and stiff she could hardly move. Weasel Tail had boiled water over the fire and made something that smelled like coffee, although she’d never drink any of it, not that he’d offered. Something brushed against her hand and she frowned. A single white feather caressed her skin. Emma picked it up. Where had it come from? Resting a few feet away, Emma saw Amarok watching her. There was a soft expression in his eyes—a mischievous glow. Could the wolf have given her the feather as a gift? She picked it up and twirled it by the stem. The wolf’s ears perked playfully. Emma smiled. So, maybe it had been the wolf, after all.

The man kicked dirt and snow over the fire and emptied his cup into the waning embers. Steam hissed into the air and Emma got to her feet, blowing warm air over her hands. She stepped back as the man rolled up the hides and shoved them into his pack. She wondered when it would ever end. She didn’t know how much longer she could handle the cold and the endless journey.

The wolf jogged to her and sat at her feet. Emma tucked the feather behind her ear, rubbed Amarok’s head, and surveyed the area. They’d camped at the base of a mountain range not far from the sea. Even if she managed to escape now, she’d have no idea which way was home, unless the wolf helped her, but he seemed to be under total control of the creep. Why didn’t he fight back more? Why did he return after hunting instead of just running away?

Emma wondered if the wolf missed his pack as much as she missed her mother. Maybe he’d never known his wolf pack. At least she’d gotten to have a mother until she was seventeen, almost grown. But it wasn’t long enough. She wanted more time and that just wasn’t possible.

They crunched along the frosty trail leading to the Wolverine Mountains. Prospectors had cursed this long trek to the remote mountain range as a backbreaker, full of devil’s-claw, icy fords, deadfalls, and avalanches. Amarok worried about the girl and how lightly dressed she was, even though it was still early fall. Amarok’s mind stretched back to a time when the mercury in the thermometer outside old man Ryan’s door had frozen solid at nearly forty-degrees below zero in late October. Now, the weather patterns were less extreme but still unpredictable. It could turn for the worse at any time, and the girl would be unprepared—perhaps even die from exposure. Fear crawled over him. He could barely protect himself, let alone another creature, in the remote Alaskan wilds.

Wildlife tracks, rimmed with ice, littered the trail. Frost glistened along the bases of spruce trees and fallen birch leaves shivered under the steady beat of polar winds. Heavy rain clouds seethed overhead and soon unloaded their heavy burdens in a violent, chilly downpour. They took shelter under a natural lean-to made of brush and deadfall, waiting out the storm. Amarok was glad for the break—the girl needed it. She’d grown paler and wearier the longer she’d staggered up the trail. Still, she’d used what energy she’d had to run her fingers along his back, to stroke his head, or to see where he’d gone when he veered off the path. He’d never strayed very far, knowing the girl needed him. He much preferred her company to scouting the landscape.

After the rain stopped, they traveled for hours until exhaustion forced them to stop for the night. They set up camp in a tree line, near the frigid banks of an oxbow lake. The wind rushed over the small encampment, threatening to stifle the waning flames of the campfire. Amarok curled up next to the girl, and she wrapped her arm around his weary hide. She lay so still beside him, her breath feathering his ruff, appearing to sleep the deep, dreamless slumber of total exhaustion. Amarok, however, didn’t sleep. His gaze continuously swept across the storm-blasted expanse. What his eyes couldn’t see, his other senses would tell him. He tasted the wind and, although it gave him no clue, he knew Suka lurked somewhere in the darkness. Hungry. Hunting. Hating.

Amarok longed to rise and scout the outskirts of the camp, but the girl needed his warmth. When he’d tried, she’d stirred and clasped onto him tighter. He didn’t want to disturb her sleep. She’d need all the energy she had in order to survive. Amarok spied Weasel Tail, also awake, with his arm around his rifle. He’d moved to the other side of the fire. Amarok had sensed the man’s fear from the moment he spotted Suka’s track in the shallow pool. If the bear attacked, Amarok would keep his focus on protecting the girl and let the man fend for himself.

He thought of the misery the girl endured. She was like a sparrow with broken wings, kicked out of the comfort of the nest. He understood the razor-sharp pain that cut into her soul, the guilt and utter despair. How could she believe she was to blame? The girl was a kind-hearted person with a nurturing soul. If only he could tell her she wasn’t the cause of any of it. Amarok laid his head on his paws, overcome with emotions as rugged and raw as the glacier-ridden mountains before him.