"Kima 1: The Voice of the Wind" by Jessifer HowlsWithWolves Gaudet

Chapter 1

Do you hear her voice?

The song of the breeze?

The ballad of the gales?

The madrigal that shall never cease?

Listen, child, listen.

When I first opened my eyes, it was dark. Other than a little dash of dim light in the far off corner of the den, it was black. The same as before. When my ears opened, I could hear my brothers and sisters whimpering and whelping. That was new. And the smells. The smells were interesting. I could smell my Mother’s sweet breath, the damp that wafted in the den, and the strange smells outside. The smells that beckoned my nose closer, though Mother never let us crawl far from her warm side.

As I grew, I tested my wobbly legs on my brothers and sisters. I would stand up, sway for a moment before I gathered my bearings, then pounce on them. Even though it was dark, it was easy to find each other. Playing became a daily sport. We would roll over each other, nip each other’s ears and rumps, and climb over Mother as if she were a mountain. As the days merged into weeks, I learned how to keep my balance, though I was not at all as elegant as Mother.

And for hours upon hours, I would stare out to the bleak light, and wonder what it was. What lay beyond it.

From time to time Mother would leave the den, and return with a new, rich, curious smell on her snout. She told me it was blood, and she had been hunting. I would ask what hunting was, and she would say it was the act of balancing nature. That we, as Wolves, played an important role in the circle of life.

We preyed on the weak, the ill, and the unfortunate, so the strong may live and breed strong offspring. We filled our bellies, and satisfied nature with purity. We were the filters. The hunters. The predators.

One day, as my Mother was on one of her excursions with the rest of the family, my siblings and I decided it was time to explore the world that lay beyond the little blur of light, just as we had several times before. But this time would be different. Mother would not be around.

We had since been weaned from Mother’s milk and had tasted our fill of fresh meat. We had no need to wait in the den, hungry. We clumsily shifted to our feet, staggered for a moment, then carefully placed our tottering steps, towards the alluring light. I remember my mind swelling with eagerness and anxiety.

We poked our heads around the corner, one by one. The moment the white light filled our eyes, we scampered backwards, yelping. It was blinding, and it made my eyes hurt. We had faced this light before, but each and every time we gazed at it, it still blinded us. I did not want to look at the light. But curiosity overpowered my bones, and I shifted for the light once more.

I was the first to take a step towards that brilliant shaft of light. I shied my head away, but I continued forward, blazing a path for my siblings. They followed in suit behind me, their tails quivering, their silly little heads shaking. They were scared, but I was brave. Without Mother around, why blame them for being so fearful?

I quickened my step, trotting forward, lifting my head. I would show them I was brave without Mother. The light was parting, green on the bottom, and blue up top. It was familiar, to see the light so close, but it made my belly flutter. Mother and the family were not around this time. But I was brave, right?

The mouth of the den was pawsteps away, the wonderful world focusing into view. Birdsongs and insectsongs flooded my ears. Blades of grass poked around the lip of the den. Something with sharp wings flew in the distance. Colorful yellow winged insects capered in the bright sky. I sprinted forward, into the light, leading my miniature army. What detail! What sound! I yelped with a bonny good yap. Each and every time we came aloft into this world outside the den, it was a new experience.

My whole body rippled and shivered in delight, so much I thought I shook the ground. I had a new spring to my step, and new song to my bark. What freedom! What happiness! There were so many things to explore, to smell, to see, to feel! Such a world, blossoming and unfolding, right before our bleary young eyes. And though this was not our first outing, ours was a happy crowd, loud and merry, wriggling our little fur bodies on the soft grassy ground.

We only knew innocence and joy. Unbeknownst to we, the toppling toddlers of Wolf kind, innocence and joy was not all the world had to offer.

A rapid wind blasted us to our knees. It was fun to feel, rippling through our thin fur, but the smell it carried was strange. Although everything at this waking moment was strange, something about this scent made me stop squirming, stand still, and lift my nose to the air. I breathed in through my large snout, a long, hardy breath. I suddenly twitched and exhaled with a different feeling. It was a scary scent. It sent new chills down my body, not of joy, not of exuberance, but of fear. It was not a nice smell at all. It meant bad things.

I remember my Mother coming into the den reeking of this smell, several round moons ago. She was cut and bloody, and in a dreadful mood. It wasn’t pleasant to be around her for the time. She wouldn’t even let us drink her milk, though we were very hungry. When much time had passed so that the sheen of light had gone from the corner of the den, I asked her what the smell meant. She grimaced at me for my question, but answered in her usual honey drop voice.

"Badger," she growled, her breath labored with pain. "Great and large, a solid stripe of white on black she donned as her crown. Twice your size she was, ferociouswhen I pressed on her space. I meant not to harm her or her children, but she thought naught of such. She tried to attack me, and though I was urged to run, I could not. She was hungry, and our den was nearby. So I fought her. Our spar was short and painful. While we were not evenly matched, I had no wish to kill her, so I let her be and sat outside the den for a moment, until she was gone."

I hadn’t forgotten that smell so easily. I winced in fear of it. I bolted into the den, yipping at my siblings to come inside. My tail had never wrung itself so hard between my legs before, I was so afraid, almost stunned by the brunt of my fear. There was danger and pain waiting beyond the bushes. But my brothers and sisters were busy exploring the wonderful world. The great, big, wild world, where danger lay under a veil that was invisible to a pup’s blind eye. They saw no danger. They felt no fear. And they never felt their death as the badger stormed through the bushes, and with her claws and teeth, pierced their little hearts before they could bark in surprise. Quicker than the stroke of a bird’s wing. Faster than the kiss of a snake. They saw nothing.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mother never came home. Nor did the rest of the family, whom I never saw but smelt. Why weren’t they coming? I would think to myself, long and hard thoughts, why I was alone. The badger had gone with my brothers and sisters, dragging their pitiful bodies to the bushes for her own children to dine on. Why did it all have to happen? Did I do something to deserve this? Was it all a bad dream that I may never wake from?

I was very sad. It sent pangs to my belly, though most were of hunger and thirst. How I longed to trot to the river nearby and take a cool drink, even a brisk one, but I knew the darkness of night hid many fearful things under her cloak. I was even fearful to be alone, curling up into a scruffy ball, with my back facing the wall, and my shiny eyes watching the light fade away. Slowly. Slowly.

It was scary to be alone. I was defenseless. But I stayed in the den. Mother would return, right?

The sky cried that night. Those once innocent white clouds had become torrential. It rained down onto the ground, washing away the familiar scents I had once known. That I had ever known. The water leaked into the den and brushed my whiskers. It whetted the ground around me and made sleep hard to come by. It was cold, and I was lonely. Very lonely.

I cried with the sky. My whimpers were muffled little hiccups, dwarfed by the rumbling rain outside. Every now and then the den would light up in a flash, then a huge creature would roar afterwards, so loud the ground shook. What monstrous beast could make such a noise? It would make me spring up and yip with fear, and make me yearn more and more for the company of Mother’s furry body. I huddled in the corner and tried to stay warm. But without Mother’s side to nuzzle in, I felt I may never be warm again. I would never feel her comforting heartbeat, her smooth, silky breaths, or her dreaming shudders. Never again.

The next morning, as the light crept back into the cave I awoke, alone. Mother had not returned. Several hours passed as I waited. I continued to cry silently to myself. I was cold, muddy, and alone. To make things worse, I felt empty inside. My stomach groveled at me, yearning for Mother’s milk, though I was weaned and had already tasted meat many times. I lay there with my head upon my paws, looking up at the light as it lazily turned dim to bright. It sent mixed feelings down my spine. It made my neck fur bristle.

That light, that innocent light that had unveiled a wonderful world to us so many times before. A world so full of wonders that we were blinded by it. That light. That light killed my siblings. It was a frightening light. I did not want to go near it.

But.

For some reason, I couldn’t ignore it. The strange smells that I had smelt my entire life wafted from the light. A breezy gust barreled in, tickling my nose and whiskers. It howled in the mouth of the den, softly, like a lonely wolf. Outside the den, the world lay, and it was calling for me. For the first time in my life, I lifted my head and mimicked that noise. That lonesome, wholesome noise. I howled.

It was a horrible sound, coming from a pup’s mouth. It was not near as graceful as Mother’s. It was like the dying cowls of a mountain cat. But, nevertheless, it made me feel happy inside. It made me feel warm and hopeful. It comforted me. I rent the woodland with my raw, infantile voice, chorusing with the wind. Together with the wind! It blew harder and rushed past my face, blasting the den wall. The wind moaned and howled like a wild wolf, made for the wild, free of all bounds! The voice of the wind! How loud and divine it was!

I ended my churlish ballad with a blatant growl. Arrooomph! I said, with a sense of pride. It perked my ears up. I was confident, for I had the voice of the wind.

I stumbled to the mouth of the den, just as I had the day before. That day, which suddenly felt so far away, not just twelve hours ago. The light grew and bloomed, lifting the veil of cloudiness. My eyes adjusted to the painfully bright world beyond as I stood at the foot of the den. For the first time I took my bearings. Instead of dashing out into the world, I sat and observed in the shade, studying it. I gazed out with wise puppy eyes at the small grassy patch before me. Trees towered above me and alcove of bushes, which huddled around the grass patch. Above, insects flew in the bright blue sky like an orchestra of buzzing. They were fun to watch. They were so colorful and interesting. I wondered what they tasted like.

Several times a blue bird with an orange belly would dive from a tree, into the swarm of insects, then back into the tree again. Each time it would have caught a bug for its squabbling chicks. Easy pickings.

In the bushes a squirrel hopped along the ground, testing every hollow acorn shell with its tongue to see if anything was left. It was not aware I was watching it. I felt an urge to lunge at it and grasp it in my jaws. But as I began to crouch, the squirrel froze, whisked its head around and saw me hiding in the shadows, then scampered out of the bushes and up to safety in the trees.

Disappointed, I decided I had sat around long enough. I trotted out of the den, paw after paw, and into the warm sunlight. The sun seemed to smile down on me, for it made me smile back. A great, big, coyote-like smile. Teeth, tongue, and all.

Good smiles were not to last, though. Suddenly, the bushes next to me began to rustle and shiver. I whiffed the air and smelt that same scary scent as before. What if the badger realized that its meal was one pup short? Frightened, I tried to run back to the den, but my paws would not obey me. They stayed planted on the ground, and my eyes never strayed from the bushes. I stood there, alarmed, like a deer staring at a set of headlights, before finally bolting at the last second.

I exploded into a dash towards the den, like a mad dog, my fluffy tail tucked between my legs as hard as it was last night. My ears were flattened against my head and my eyes were wide, so wide I though the moon would pale in comparison. My legs were invisible in their speed.

Whatever lay beyond the bushes suddenly lunged at me. I was just under the roof of the den when it nipped at my rump. I yelped and fell to my side, paralyzed with fear. I cringed and squinted my eyes, waiting to feel sudden pain, then no pain at all.

But lo and behold, through the slits of my eyes there stood not a badger, not an enemy of any sort, but the silhouette of a miniature wolf. Of all things to come by, it was my brother, Oli.

"Kima, why so scared, you are?" Oli growled in his bad puppy grammar. Mother hadn’t quite taught us the proper way to talk. "Could you be not glad I still breathing after striped-beast come and take brothers and sisters?" He looked angrily at me, me and my poor, pitiful, shaken body. I suddenly felt ashamed, to be so small in the sight of my brother. "You look so weak, Kima!" he barked. "Is spending one moon alone enough to unmake a wolf brave?" He trotted up to me and placed a paw on my white belly. I winced. "I was not scared," he growled, proudly. "I scared the woods, and great striped-beast, with bright flashy teeth!" He flashed his mouth at me, pearly white canine teeth luminous in the dark. He tested his teeth on me, snapping at my ear. I whimpered, but did nothing else. Even if it was Oli, his company was soothing. At least I was no longer alone.

I shook off his paw and rolled over. Licking the dirt from my paws, I asked, "Where might Mother be, know you?" My grammar fared no better. He jerked his head up in a hmph kind of way, and swaggered to and fro in front of me. "I," he growled, stretching each ‘I’ as if he were all-important. "I saw Mother on other side of great river. Before Mother could cross, sky water make great river dance! It was too deep and it danced like a wild beast!" He rolled over and thrashed around on his back, mimicking the river’s frisky dance. I could not help but to be awed. The river was dancing? I wanted to see it.

"And then," Oli continued, crawling towards me in a way that made my eyes widen with fear, "A great white snake came out of the clouds and unleafed a tree, with a roar as big as mountains! Mother looked very scared and ran far, far away from dancing river, right when the tree turned orange and became very hot!" I leaned backwards as he nudged my paws with his nose. "But I was not scared a tooth’s worth! I roared back, and great white snake went back into clouds!" He whipped his head back and howled, much, much better than the lonesome howl I had made last night. I whimpered. I could not better Oli at howling, nor at bravery. He was brave enough to scare away a great white snake that came from clouds, with a roar as big as mountains. Maybe that was what was roaring last night as well. And the wind never made the howling noise, and it was Oli instead. Maybe I didn’t have the voice of the wind, after all.

Oli suddenly looked concerned at my change of expression. "Why you still sad?" he asked, his voice much softer. He cocked his head to the side and frowned. "Is it ‘cause Mother is gone?"

"And brothers and sisters," I said to him, glumly.

"They were not smart," Oli barked. He stamped his paw. "They stayed out with striped-beast hiding, waiting to pounce!" He pounced on me and rolled me over, growling playfully. When I still seemed sad, he realized even playfulness wouldn’t help. Defeated, he sat down next to me. A few moments passed as we stared outside, at the insects whirring around, at the birds piercing the air with their songs, at the trees quivering, the bushes rustling. Even with all the noises around us, it still seemed quiet.

Finally Oli lowered his head. "I…I was lonely too," he admitted. "Mother said all wolves be lonely with no one else around. I’m glad I found you." He licked my cheek, no longer wanting to please me, but to tell me his did miss me, very much. I nuzzled my head in the nape of his neck. It felt very soft. It felt like I hadn’t done this for weeks. I smiled. "Then with you here," I said, "we both be happy and not lonely!" All of a sudden my stomach growled. I jerked, startled. Was my stomach trying to talk to me? I looked at my white underbelly, then realized I was still hungry. I looked over at Oli, and I could tell in his eyes he was also hungry.

"We need food," he said briskly, like he knew what it meant. That it meant hunting, something we’d never been taught. And with Mother trapped on the other side of the dancing river, we would never learn it. I remembered that one feeling when I saw the squirrel earlier today. I’d crouched, I’d gotten ready to spring, but the squirrel realized I was there. How? I was doing the right thing, wasn’t I? I turned to Oli. "I saw tree-climber today," I growled. "I wanted to eat it, but it saw me before I could pounce." Oli shook his head and rolled his eyes. "That’s ‘cause it heard you, silly pup."

"Ooohh," I said, finally realizing that no matter how well you can pounce, you also need to be quiet. "Then now I know how to hunt!" Excited, I sprang to my puppy paws, jittering with eagerness. "Now I go practice." I bolted out of the den, barging straight through some tall grass and towards a basking dragonfly. Behind me, Oli rolled his eyes again. "We’ll both practice," he groveled, then followed me, slowly.

Yes, we would both learn how to hunt. We would learn how to survive. And I would learn how to howl like Mother and Oli. Like the voice of the wind.

_________________________________________________________________________

Here"s a little Wolf Talk translating, for those who are having trouble understanding it.

Round Moon(s)- Month(s)

Sun(s)- Day(s)

Tooth"s worth- Very little, or in Oli"s case, "I wasn"t even scared a little bit!"

White Snake from the Sky- Lightning

Roar as Big as Mountains- Thunder