I pull back from my thoughts in time to pick up the breakfast dishes, let in Ursa and Lune with their fresh kills, and help Michael pack up his belongings. Michael sets out with plenty of time to get ready for work, and I make sure to thank him repeatedly for his help over the past few days. He just nods his head humbly, not seeing his role as anything extraordinary. Then he looks at Artemis, and once again I can see that he feels she is as special as I do … neither of us know why, but we know she needs to be protected.
**~~**
Time passes in a comfortable routine of days watching Artemis growing in strength, and Michael checking in regularly. I am grateful for his nonjudgmental company; as we both feel compelled to care for this pack. Michael has become the closest thing to a brother I think I’ve ever known. The nights are still cold, but as spring makes itself known, I have taken to sitting outside. Artemis would lay in my lap, with Michael in the chair next to us, holding a beer, and Ursa and Lune sitting between us looking content.
The whelping pen was taken down last week, and Artemis, now the size of a basketball, and just as round, has started sleeping on my bed with her parents. Completely weaned at seven weeks, she is still just a pup … but large for her age, even compared to a wolf. Ursa showed me images of average wolf pups; even she is surprised by the growth of her daughter.
Her coat is still pure white. When I let her outside, she disappears into the snow. Her eyes, finally losing their deep blue from birth, are showing a mixture of Ursa’s yellow and Lune’s ice blue. They are mesmerizing: swirls like the colors in an agate stone … never quite mixing into a cloudy green. The stark separations in the colors make me think of an alien planet viewed from outer space, the borders of land and sea clearly visible.
I help out Michael at work whenever he asks; luckily it is an uncommonly slow time of the year. He catches up on paperwork, and I don’t have to become involved in any cases. As a way to get out of the cabin, once in awhile, I accompany him on ride-a-longs, and take Artemis to socialize her, giving Ursa and Lune some time alone. Ursa is going back to the pack soon, and I can tell Lune is dreading the day when our agreement with the wolves will come to pass.
Ever since Ellie’s departure from Colorado, and our time in Vegas, Lune’s attitude has changed. I get to see glimpses of his old playfulness when he’s out with Artemis, but for me … he’s all business. I hope he allows me to be there for him after Ursa leaves. Some wolves are known for taking lifelong mates … I'm starting to believe that spirit guides are the same.
**~~**
“Christopher?” I can hear the longing in her voice.
Daydreaming yet again, I imagine my fingers running up her dress, feeling the cotton of the bodice rolling between my touch and her rib cage. I haven’t felt Ellie’s electricity, while I was awake, for over a month now … and she’s even starting to fade in my dreams. During the day, hiking with Ursa, Lune and Artemis, I think I can sense Ellie at the edges of my mind. My heart quickens at the imagined glimpse of dark, auburn hair. I don’t know why I expect her to just stroll out from between the trees … getting my hopes up, only to be crushed by the realization that she still isn’t here.
“Christopher?” Spoken more urgently this time.
Again, Ellie is calling to me from the trees. We always end up hiking for miles, following her call, until poor Artemis needs to be carried … but we never find her.
Climbing up the peak of one of the closest mountain sides to our cabin, I can see the snow resisting the sun … turning the distant skyline white. Today, we find a river formed entirely by run-off; by now, in Colorado it would be reduced to a small stream … the forest floor cracked and asking for more water. Here though, the air is heavy with oxygen and humidity, there will be no chance for this river to fade away into the earth.
The soil is a dark rich brown that smells organic with the moisture and decomposing leaves. Looking around I can see some of the bushes and trees have given up the battle of will against force, and broken, they lie across the stream, their roots relinquishing their hold on the earth, giving in to the rush of the water. I feel akin to this battle … the circle of life feels extremely unfair when you are the one loosing.
Lune follows Ursa into a shallow pool, where they cool their paws and lap up the water. Artemis, now weighing in at about twenty pounds, jumps into the water and splashes her parents. Ursa growls low in her chest. When Artemis tries licking the water droplets off her mother’s face, the wolf snaps, and the pup squeals. Artemis runs up and hides behind the log where I am sitting. Ursa’s face softens as she watches her daughter respond to me with such faith in my ability to provide protection. Lune turns, and starts nuzzling and licking with so much tenderness; it becomes obvious what Ursa must have told him … she has taken this moment to decide to leave us.
Artemis has just passed her eleventh week of life, and I am surprised that Ursa didn't return to her pack weeks ago. She and Lune have developed a connection that surpasses thoughts and dreams; they instinctively understand each other’s wants and needs, as if they were one mind. Her affection toward me has grown as well, as she seems to enjoy trying to raise my spirits. Always knowing right when I need extra attention, she will lay her head in my lap, and look into my eyes. Then wagging her tail, she will find a way to make me smile.
These tender actions make Michael repeatedly remark that of all the unusual traits in Ursa’s and my relationship, our moments of connection between man and wolf are extremely rare. Eye contact held, especially in moments of compassion, is not normal for her kind. The playfulness of her stance, while wagging her tail, should be solely reserved for other wolves. She has unintentionally become one of us, and I don’t think she was prepared for the bonding that has taken place.
Her wild mind answers my questions and revelations about our connection the same way she answers everything else, “This is just the nature of things.” Even with the painful knowledge of pending loss, she will still leave us … because she must.
Looking now, into her yellow eyes, I can envision the source of human fear; she has intelligence and pride intermingled with barely contained predatory malice … in her eyes, she demands respect. In our fear of the wolves, we, as humans, recognize some great understanding that eludes us … something we may have never understood, and I don’t think we ever will. As history writes: the things that we don’t understand, we fear; and, what fear, we inevitably try to destroy. We almost succeeded at destroying wolves, thank god we failed.
Wolves, to this day, are revered by hunters and dreaded by ranchers. The Blackfoot tribe is known for their past hunting prowess, and they respect the wolf’s tracking and hunting to the point of calling them brothers. As time went by, and humans switched from hunting and gathering to cultivation of the land and raising livestock, a prejudice was built towards these noble killers of opportunity. The wolves simply looked at the poor dumb domestic animals as easy prey, a convenient meal … a trait that man exhibits himself. Nothing evil there; but they were labeled demons nonetheless … just ask Red Riding Hood or The Three Little Pigs. Much more than the nursery rhymes I was told as a child, I like the stories that Michael tells. He recites stories of wolves’ wisdom, outwitting hostile opponents, and the merciless protection of their families. They are honorable, even when we perceive them as acting out negative qualities.
When Lune and I found Ursa, injured and alone, I wasn’t sure we could save her. Not only because of her injuries, but because she was so withdrawn without her pack. Weeks went by with me lightly touching her mind, the way Lune had taught me … she refused to respond. She always seemed to understand that we were trying to help; but it wasn’t until I wouldn’t allow Michael to take her to his biologist that she started to communicate with me. Lune hunted and nurtured her back to health long before she showed any interest in returning his attention. Now, they both are going to be hurt deeply by the separation.
Walking with Artemis slightly behind and to her left and Lune directly to her
right, Ursa leads us to her pack’s meeting place.
Given the day’s long hike, I'd expect to carry Artemis part of the way. Between her growing strength and her determination to stay by her mother’s side, she trudges along, exhausted, but prideful.
After following Ursa for about a mile, we finally reach another meadow similar to the one near the cabin. This is Artemis’s first visit with the pack, while being big enough to understand what is happening. I had carried her when she was almost three weeks old, so that Ursa could make introductions. Just like then, she now sits timidly at my feet. Ursa on one side of her, and Lune on the other, Artemis instinctively understands she doesn’t belong with the pack. Watching her father, she shows just the right amount of respect and confidence. Pulling strength from each other, they are neither subservient nor threatening; they are just observers, like me. We are the equivalent to a visiting pack: tolerated, even liked, but not one of them. Ursa, on the other hand, is still part of their family, and they greet her with nuzzles, tails up and wagging. They are glad she is back, and welcome her by bowing and nipping, trying to goat her into playing.
Ursa steps back from the attention and, crossing behind me, she pushes her way between Lune and Artemis. She presses her flank against Lune and places her muzzle on top of Artemis’s nose. An intense moment passes as she pours images of love and appreciation into our heads. One last lick on Lune’s face and she walks through the rest of the pack, heading straight to the Alpha who is standing about twenty feet in front of us. She bows her head down as if asking for permission to approach. He closes the distance, and placing his head on top of hers, he approves the request.
They turn away from us, and start walking back into the denser woods, the rest of the pack falling in line behind. I wait, wondering if she will turn, hoping that she will consider running back and staying with our little family. She doesn’t of course; she is finished with this stage of her life. She gave a life for the one we saved … now our stories need to go in different directions. Lune, obviously waiting for the same thing I am, lets a small whine escape with the knowledge she isn’t coming back.
Artemis, so young, so innocent, looks at her father and tilts her head back to look up at me; unanswered questions dance across her eyes. I know exactly when the realization that her mother is leaving forever hits, because her eyes get clouded, and her gaze shifts between us. She wants us to bring Ursa back … and at the same time understands there is nothing we can do. She tips her head back and howls with as much power as her little lungs can muster. Sorrow fills the air as Lune joins in … but there is no answer from the wolf pack.
Starting our trek back to the cabin, Artemis gives up her strong front, and decides to lie down in a leaf bed underneath a tree. I sit down with her, and Lune lies in front of us putting his chin on my outstretched legs. I take off my backpack, pulling out water and Lune’s collapsible bowl. After pouring three quarters of my bottle into their bowl, I finish the rest in one long gulp. Forcing that much water down all at once actually makes my throat burn all the way to my stomach. The dogs lap at the water, but I know they find the same thing I do … nothing is going to reduce the size of the lumps in our throats, or the pain of the loss in our chests.
We were resting, because we didn’t know what else to do. I pick up Artemis and drape her across my shoulders, and with Lune right by my side, we start walking without direction or purpose.
Without meaning to, we make good time back to the cabin: covering about five miles in two hours. The sun is starting to set as I am unlocking the front door, and Michael pulls up in his work truck. Artemis, finding her strength again, runs up to him, bobbing and weaving with, almost, her normal energy.
Michael picks up right away on our funk; taking a quick look around, he asks, “Where’s Ursa?”
I drop my hand to Lune’s mane, and he presses his weight against my leg. He is not only asking for support … he is giving it.
Michael kneels and scratches down Artemis’s ribs. When he reaches her belly she proceeds to do a doggysault, tucking her head under her chest and pitching herself forward into Michael’s legs. He falls back, and she takes advantage of the chance to climb on top of him and clean his face, licking and wiggling the entire time.
Sitting up, and holding Artemis to his chest, he studies Lune’s and my attitude as we continue to stand wearily by the front door.
“She finally decided to go back home, huh?” He phrases it like a question, but he doesn’t expect an answer. He just nods his head, and holds Artemis a little closer to his chest.
Chapter 9
Revelations
Brushing past a familiar patch of aspens, and looking down at Artemis, I said, “I’m glad I was able to show you Gothic, even if it is a dream. Someday I would love to take you back to Colorado.”
This is the first time, in the almost two months since Ursa left that my subconscious has allowed me to return here. That night, after Ursa returned to her pack, was almost too much for Lune and me to handle. My mind didn’t want to face Ursa’s abandonment, on top of Ellie’s absence from our dream world in Gothic … so it retreated from any reminder of either of them.
Michael stayed with us that night, until about eleven. We sat outside, our normal routine, until he would start to drift off in his chair … deciding then, it was time to go home. After he drove off, I took the dogs in and crawled into bed. That became our custom, along with hiking as much as possible during the day, to ensure that when I hit my pillow, I was too exhausted to remember my dreams. But on that first night, while missing Ursa’s weight on the bed, not even the exhaustion would permit me to drift off.
I still can’t believe two months have passed since that amazingly agonizing night.
The brilliant memory of those hours of darkness have played through my imagination every day since then: At about one in the morning, while staring at the ceiling, Lune stood straight up and looked out the window. A second later, I heard what has attracted his attention. The howling was desperate, not distraught from pain or fear, but from loneliness and sorrow. Looking at each other, Lune projected and I spoke the same thing at the same time.
“Ursa!”
Running to the door, Lune and I were tripping over one another. As soon as I unlatched the lock, Lune took off. One step outside after him and I realized, I didn’t have any shoes on. Turning around, I grabbed my boots, and slipped them on while stumbling over the threshold. Artemis must have run out after Lune, because they were both standing alert and cautious halfway to the line of trees.
Cocking his head left then right, Lune started to growl. He refused to go any further … not wanting to lead Artemis into god knows what. Even as I came up to stand next to him, he didn’t move any closer to the trees.
My first thought was another pack had encroached on Ursa’s pack’s territory. Then I saw her … the flash of a timber wolf’s coat, highlighted in the moonlight, the glowing, yellow eyes … it was, and it wasn’t, our Ursa. I watched her round the trees, an image that I have seen a million times during their hunting games, proud Ursa and devoted Lune.
There she was, her tail raised, and having fun, circling around a figure as she peeked back at us, trying to lure Lune to come play once again. But she rippled along the trees like a film being projected on the scenery rather than a screen. When the figure that Ursa was circling, moved out of the deeper shadows, I saw the cat-shaped eyes and long, mahogany hair that made my heart jump down into my stomach.
Out in the open, neither Ellie nor Ursa looked like themselves … actually they looked too much like themselves. Their outlines were too defined, the colors too vivid, especially for the middle of the night when everything was in shadow. A gentle wind from nowhere swept the hem of Ellie’s dress, and ruffled Ursa’s fur. The initial howl was all we heard; now standing thirty feet in front of us, we couldn’t hear their footfalls on the dried twigs, or the obvious panting as Ursa ran around.
Lune was picking up on all these nuances, and mo
re, letting me know that their smell wasn’t right either. He said they smelled like ozone drifting on the breeze before a thunderstorm … intoxicating, but not entirely our girls. When I asked what he meant, he told me they both smelled like the wind without pollutants, wild with untouched purity. I can imagine that is what it smells like when you run, jump, and dance in the spirit world … free and clean. But Lune explained that was not all he used to be able to smell, these specters were missing something. The girls we know and love were special, they carried other scents, too … in particular, he said, Ellie smelled like me. Ellie wrapped herself in my odor, carrying a part of me with her ever since we split in Colorado. Ursa smelled wild from a lifetime of washing her spirit in nature, with all its incredible spectrum of scents.
I knew then what Lune meant … these were our untainted visions of the girls. We were the source of this delusion … the girls weren't actually here.
The two in front of us were just shadows, ghost images. We didn’t care why they were here … they couldn't tell us anything. So we sat, and watched their visitation, allowing our longing to overwhelm any curiosity or fear … and wished we could make it last. They disappeared with the sunrise, and our hearts broke through any remaining hope that either of these apparitions, or their real counterparts, would ever return.
I wanted more. God, I wanted everything back to the way it was a year ago. Screaming into the trees, “I’m not running away anymore! I’m not afraid anymore! Why aren’t you coming back to me?”
Blocking out the pain … I see it's almost funny, how easy it was to run away from the anguish. I began denying my imagination, risking more of my sanity … and then Artemis started coming into my dreams. Comforting me through this trance, she was taking me home, to my place with Ellie.