Chapter 1

My name is Patricia Deacon and I want to tell you about my grandfather, John Deacon. I’m sorry to say that I didn’t really know him when I was growing up, he lived a long way away on a mountain and recently when he became ill it fell to me to go stay and care for him up in his cabin. We talked, he and I and as the days passed and he grew weaker he told me a tale from years ago and gave me the files to prove it was true. He passed peacefully a few weeks later. This is his tale.

I used to be a professional hunter, worked for the Government and the State culling deer and wolves, a bear or two a year when they got troublesome. Never liked it much but the army taught me to shoot and it was a living, kept me out of the city too.

Culling is easy if you just want a head count but that don’t make it right. So I took the time to take the old, the injured, a cripple if one still lived, mountain living is hard living, man or beast.

They opened the research station in the spring of ‘70. A bunch of city folk playing at being outdoorsmen, I got hired to guide them, Babysitting more like. Stopping them from doing dumb stuff that’d get ‘em killed.

They told me they were from the University and going to study the wolves, tag them and track them. Right. That first year none of ‘em could track a plough in a hay field.

Anyways I played guide, showing them the main tracks on the mountain, making sure their maps were the right way up. The rest of the time I went off on my own to check on the wolves. I knew where most of the packs had territory, just had to find which dens were in use. Finding them wasn’t hard, tagging them was gonna be a whole lot harder.

The only one of them I cared to take with me was a girl that came with them, boss said she was a student but treated her like a slave. Anyone with eyes could see she was playing along, fetching and carrying, sorting washing, but her eyes gave her away, that girl wasn’t on the mountain to do laundry.

First time she just snuck out, following me, wasn’t light yet, she wanted away from the fools so bad she could taste it. I sent her back to wash, gave her lye soap. Told her I would give her twenty minutes and if I could smell her before I saw her she was getting left behind.

Never had to tell that girl anything twice. Doubt she used her fancy soap or toothpaste again whilst on the mountain, no point being stealthy if every living creature can smell your perfume from across the valley.

First time out on the mountain she impressed me, never needed to stop and rest, watched where she placed her feet and kept her mouth shut and eyes open. I took her up around a bluff that overlooked a den I thought was active, sure enough the wolves were there. Girl didn’t move for hours except to refocus her binoculars and write in her notebook.

After that I let her scout with me whenever she could slip away. That lasted until the end of the summer when most of them packed up and headed back to the city. The girl went too, no choice, told me she’d be back though, thanked me for teaching her, promised she wouldn’t forget her lessons.

Spring of ‘71 they were back. Girl was with them. Wanted to go out that first day, kept her word too, not a whiff of perfume, just healthy young woman. I took her out on the long hike, up around widows peak and across to the high valley, wolves there had bred early that year and I guessed we might see cubs.

We don’t have big packs on the mountain, most are just the alpha pair and their young from a couple of years past. When the alpha bitch is ready to whelp she will chose a small den and woe betide any male wolf that gets close, even their mate, some will let an older female close once the pups are mobile and need teaching, others do it all themselves.

The alpha bitch was missing, I guessed she was about ready. I knew a few places she could be, ought to, I was born on the mountain. Anyways I told the girl we could check out a few, turned out the one she chose was across the river and hard to see from our side. I got us into the best place to watch and let the girl do her thing. Maybe two hours later she decides she needs to get closer, I allowed that if she was careful she might work her way from our spot down to the river bank. Next thing she is walking away, headed for the game trail I pointed out. Took her about an hour to reach the riverbank, never made a sound either. I used my binoculars to keep an eye on her just in case. Then damn me if she didn’t strip off, buck naked, packed her clothes in her rucksack and tied her boots to it by their laces, next thing she is swimming the damn river, it’s not that much of a river but it’s ice melt, cold as a witch’s tit.

Once across the river she hikes up closer to the den, but not too close, good girl. Moving slowly too. Her back pack goes behind a rock and she sits jaybird naked on the rock with her notebook and gets back to work. Never seen the like. I stayed where I was, had the rifle handy because I’d never get to her in time if trouble visited.

She moved a little further from the den as the sun got ready to drop behind the peak, put her clothes on, then got out her bedroll. Damn me if she weren’t going to stay there. I stayed too, felt wrong to just leave her, the city folk would just have to do without a guide a bit longer.

At first light I checked on her and she was back closer to the den, wrapped in her bedroll and munching on something. Sun was up so I used my mirror to flash her, gave her the ‘come to me’ sign. Through the binoculars I could see her grin and shake her head, gave me a wave and turned back to watch the den.

Lord save me from crazy womenfolk. I packed up and headed back to the cabin, city folk can’t be left too long. It was three days before I hiked back to the den, girl was still there, still waved me off, I signalled her to watch as I hung a bag of iron rations up in a tree safe from critters, signalled four days and left her watching the Den, mother and cubs were just visible, too young yet to be allowed out in the open. It was three months before she met me on the track, I was only about a mile from where we split up.

She grinned and thanked me for bringing her food so regular, said she needed more notepads and a camera, the alpha bitch had moved the cubs back with the pack but was still not happy if the males got too close, even her mate the alpha.

Back at the cabin the boss idiot cussed up a storm but the girl just stood there, when he stopped cussing she pulled out her notebooks and started reading out loud, wasn’t long before he started getting excited. Girl snapped her notebook shut, did some cussing of her own and left him poleaxed. She stayed three days, only two nights in her own bed, left on the third day, biggest pack on her back we had spare, told me it was a change of necessaries and food, camera and notebooks. Never told the boss goodbye, just walked away down the track.

Things settled down into a routine, the city folk stumbled around, set traps that no wolf would go anywhere near, took plaster casts of paw prints, maybe one in twenty was a wolf, most were hound dog tracks. Told ‘em, but they thought they knew better. Right. Once a week or so I made the trek out to the girl with more food, extra notebooks, more film, left them hanging in the usual tree, took a note if she left one. Gave the filled books and film to the boss. Rest of the time I kept to myself, guided them when they asked. That was a hot summer, the few times I saw the girl she was tanned all over, suppose that happens when you only have one set of clothes to last a summer.

One time a couple of the city folk tried to follow me to the girl, stank of aftershave and cussed every time they tripped over. I only looped around so they wouldn’t get lost. Left them arguing about how they lost me and had walked in a circle.

Guy from State turned up in Mid July to check on the cabins and city folk and to drop off a couple of boxes of collars and two radio direction finders rigged with a backpack harness. Got the papers for a grant too for every collar the city folk fitted, which meant every one I fitted.