Wolf Chasm

Clare ran from the house, slamming the front door behind her. It made a soft thud and she stomped back, outraged at the stupid door, at the stupid rug that must’ve stopped it from closing, at her stupid mom, and even at stupid Mr. Davis.

She shoved the door open, kicked the rug out of the way, then closed the door again as hard as she could. This time it made a satisfying crash, its window rattling with the impact.

She stormed around the back of the house and up the hill to the steep roofed barn. How could her mom have kept her terrible news a secret? And Mr. Davis had been in on it the whole time!

It was bad enough that they weren’t ever coming back to Mr. Davis’s ranch in the Yukon Territory. It was bad enough that they had to leave the north and move to the stupid Okanogan. But that she would never see her loyal Smokey again? That was unbearable.

Clare reached the big barn and raced down the centre aisle. Smokey heard her footsteps and his long brown face appeared over the top of his stall door. His chocolate coat glimmered and his star and snip shone bright in the barn’s subdued lighting. His mane and ear tips appeared as black as ebony.

Clare bit her lip hard and tried to keep from sobbing as her beautiful best friend struck at his stall door with his front hoof and neighed, sounding overjoyed to see her – and desperate to get out of the suffocating barn. All the other horses had been gone for at least an hour. She opened the door to the stall and slipped inside.

It’s just no fair, she whispered, losing the battle with her tears. She threw her arms around the bay gelding’s neck. Mom hates us. She wants to destroy our lives.

Smokey turned his head and snuffled Clare’s straw coloured hair, making her cry harder. She rubbed her face on his long, silky mane, then slowly sank to the straw and leaned on his front legs. She couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing Smokey again. It already took all her strength to say goodbye to him every autumn when she and her mom left the ranch, and that was with the knowledge that she’d be back the next spring when Mr. Davis started his summer business of taking tourists horseback riding out on the tundra. More than anything, Clare hated goodbyes, and especially those that lasted forever. They hurt far too much.

And it made no sense to her either. Clare was sure her mom looked forward to coming north too, and that she liked being the cook at the ranch. So why did she say they weren’t coming back? A sliver of regret jagged Clare’s thoughts. She hadn’t heard anything after those first fateful words, and moments later she’d run from the house, overcome with fear and anger. Maybe she should have stayed to listen. Then at least she’d know what excuse her mom had. Not that it would make her feel any better. Not that it would change anything.

Smokey nickered and Clare looked up at him. I’m not coming back, Smokes, she said, a hard edge to her voice. Ever. She won’t let me.

Fresh tears coursed down her cheeks. At the very least, her mom should have told her sooner. That way she might have spent even more time with Smokey. They could’ve gone for longer rides every day. She would have slept in his stall every night. But no. Instead her mom had waited until the very last minute – less than a week left!

Smokey touched Clare’s hair again, then reached out and jostled the stall door latch with his muzzle. Obviously, he wanted out, either for a ride or to the pasture. Clare knew he’d never been the kind of horse that enjoyed stalls. He even liked the stars over his head while he slept.

Smokey touched the latch again, then stared at her with his dark, understanding eyes. He knew what she needed too – a long ride.

You’re right, Smokes, Clare said, pushing her hair out of her eyes. Let’s get out of here.

She reached over the door, grabbed Smokey’s mechanical hackamore from the wall outside the stall, and slipped it on his head. Then she opened the door wide and ran before him as he trotted from the stall and down the aisle. They stopped at the open barn doors and she looked toward the house. Her mom hadn’t come out yet, but Clare knew she would. She always came, after giving Clare ample time to cool down. It was part of their ritual, the way they made things better after a fight.

But this time, there was no way her mom could make things better. This was the worst thing she’d ever done, and Clare didn’t want to talk to her now, or possibly ever again. Separating her and Smokey was so heartless that Clare could hardly believe her mother was really doing it – it was like she was a different person than the one Clare thought she knew.

She heard the distant thud of a closing door. Her mom!

Oh no, she whispered and hurried to Smokey’s side. Down, boy, she said and tapped his neck. Obediently, the horse lowered his neck and Clare flung herself across the black mane. When Smokey raised his head, she slid onto his withers, swung her right leg over his back, then leaned forward. Let’s go, Smokes.

The gelding didn’t hesitate. He leapt into a canter. Together they raced across the stable yard and along the trail leading out onto the wild tundra.

Clare!

She leaned farther over Smokey’s back and encouraged him to run faster.

Clare! Already her mom’s voice was fading in the distance.

New tears sprung to her eyes. Her mom didn’t understand anything. Didn’t she know that Clare loved the north, with its harsh beauty and amazing wildness, with its landscape so stark and lone and untouched that it made your heart ache just to see it? But most of all, didn’t she know how Smokey meant everything to Clare?

How cruel could she be?

Chapter 2

With a whine, Snowfall flopped down to lie panting beneath a willow bush. She licked at her worn forepaws, then laid her ears back as her stomach growled. Hunger was like a rat inside of her, gnawing at her insides, at her energy, at her wellbeing. There was no good hunting left near the cave. They’d been here too long. The hares and mice they’d been surviving on had either been eaten or had moved on. Just as she and her pack needed to do – move on to new hunting grounds. Move on to find the caribou. Move on to become healthier and fatter before winter came to swallow the land.

She looked up at the ridge before her. How she longed to gather her pups and walk away. This protected place had become a cage to them – but if they left to new hunting grounds, Avalanche, her brother, would not survive. He wasn’t strong enough to come with them, and without the few morsels she was able to bring him every now and then, he would die.

Yet she had to do something, and soon. With every day that passed, the pups grew thinner and weaker, and so did she. Every day she smelled the scent of winter on the air, just a little closer. If they didn’t leave soon, they would all face extinction. That was a fact. But how could she leave her brother behind?

The silver wolf growled low in her throat. This was all because of the human. If it hadn’t killed her mate, Ranger, if it hadn’t shot Avalanche and wounded him, they would all be happy and healthy. The pups would be bouncing about being carefree wolf pups, learning about the world instead of huddling in the back of a dark cave, watching their uncle waste away. And worse, wasting away themselves.

Snowfall rose to her feet. She had a decision to make soon: leave with the pups and let Avalanche die, or stay and hope that large game came to their canyon. There were no other options, and the longer she waited to decide, the weaker they would all become. One wolf couldn’t catch enough to feed six, especially when the hares were gone, the mice almost hunted out.

She had tried to catch a fish in the river, but only succeeded in almost freezing to death in the current that caught her up. Just before losing her ability to swim in the cold water, she’d reached shore. However, luck was with her two days later when she’d been able to steal a morsel of a fish away from an eagle, and that eagle might still be around. Maybe she should check the riverbank first today.

The silver wolf trotted along the gravel bar, her eyes roving from the grass and willows on the bank to the stream rushing past on her other side. No sign of the eagle or any fish carcasses. But she couldn’t give up, no matter how hungry she was, no matter how tired. Her pups depended on her. Avalanche depended on her. She was their only hope. As long as she was able to draw breath, she would do all she could.

Chapter 3

Smokey galloped along the trail that Mr. Davis used when he took tourists out on horseback. His head and tail were high and he had a rolling spring to his gait. Obviously, he was enjoying himself immensely. Clare felt her tears blow away in the wind created by his gallop and their remnants dry on her face. She kept her elbows close to her side for warmth. She’d left without a coat and the wind was chilly. She could even smell autumn in the air, but