The Year's Best Science Fiction, Vol. 20

“Glad you made it,” Jack said sitting next to me. Akela lay down gracefully next to the light.

It only took a couple of minutes for my heart to start again. “That probably took a year of my life.”

“No doubt,” he said, indifferently. “We found a band of elk about two miles from here. Are you going to come with us personally or just send your bird?”

“I want to be there.”

“Okay. We’ll start before dawn.” He rubbed his hands in the glow of the heater. “Cozy.”

“Can’t wolves hunt at night?”

“Certainly, but I want you to get your money’s worth. We’re only going to do this once.” He fell silent.

I waited for him to speak. He clearly had something on his mind.

“Look,” he said at last. “We’re only going to pick off one but the others are going to react. It’s not a big herd but there are fifteen or so adults that weigh in at several hundred pounds. These aren’t pretty little cottontail deer or Yellowstone Park elk all nicely used to people. It’s been thirty years since they were hunted up here by human beings but wolves have been hunting them pretty steadily for the last twelve years or so. They have no fear of man and wolves piss them off. If they’re running and you’re in the way they won’t turn politely aside. They’ll run you down or pick you up and throw you away. You’re going to have to be very, very quiet on the way over and sit very still while we’re there. These elk may or may not remember the smell of people but they sure know the smell of wolves and when the hunt starts, you better stay out of the way.”

“You’re people.”

“I don’t smell that way to the elk.”

I didn’t say anything for a bit. “How do I be that quiet?”

“You’ll leave everything here. All your instruments. All your camping equipment. Everything except your clothes and whatever you need for your hawk. As it is we’re going to go in downwind with you and then leave you on your own while we go after them.”

Downwind, I thought. He’s going to drive them downwind. “Aren’t they going to come right at me? You’re not trying to get rid of me, are you Jack?”

Jack looked at me steadily. He looked more human right now than he ever had before. “Don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind.” He stood up. Akela rose up with him and they walked out into the darkness.

I didn’t sleep well that night.

There was no hint of light when Jack woke me up. I had slept in my hiking clothes. I had nothing but Goldie, Goldie’s controller and a paper notepad. Jack nodded in approval but still pulled off the outer lining of my jacket.

“The material makes too much noise when you walk.”

He took off at a fast pace. There were no wolves in sight.

“Where’s Akela?” I said in a whisper.

“Still too loud,” he breathed. “Akela and the other wolves are ahead and waiting for us. Now, hush.”

We walked for perhaps an hour and a half-stumbled, really. The ground was uneven and filled with holes of voles or mice or other prairie animals. Jack caught me each time before I could make a noise. The sky was clear and filled with stars and cold. The dew on the grass made my pants wet and without the outer lining my legs grew numbingly cold. My hands ached and my feet felt about as sensitive as sullen blocks of wood.

A faint wind whispered in the dark and Jack stopped me. He looked around and sniffed the air. He pulled me a hundred yards in another direction and pushed me down into a crouch. I looked up and saw a bluff darkly leading away into more darkness. There had to be a river near here.

“Don’t send your bird up until you see us in action. You might spook them too early.”

“Okay.”

He grunted. “Should be quite a show.”

Nothing happened for a while as the sky gradually began to lighten. I held Goldie close to keep her warm. She muttered a bit to herself every now and then but it was no louder than my breathing.

It was going to be one of those clear, burnished summer mornings, when the air is so crystalline and still that every reflection is a point of sunlight, every color is glowing, every sound is sharp and precise. The world has crackling electricity wired into it and each movement, each action, releases energy.

I could see the elk in the distance now, huge beasts, five feet at the shoulder with another four feet of antler over their backs. As the light brightened, I saw them with their heads raised, tasting the air. I could tell the cows from the bulls by sheer size. The bulls were nearly twice as big. Some might have been over a thousand pounds. They jerked their heads in different directions. There was a wariness about them. Perhaps they had already scented the pack.

Then, the dawn broke and they started milling about uncertainly. Something was going on but I couldn’t see what.

Things happened at once, the herd started running this way and that, first trying one direction then another. Two bulls lowered their heads and charged but the grass hid their targets from me.