Lone Wolf

into the air and twisted himself, trying to get rid of the horrid attacker. It was much smaller than he was, not much bigger than a squirrel, but it was strong. Faolan yelped as the sharp claws and teeth dug deeper. Thunderheart roared. She could not risk swatting the ermine from his back without injuring Faolan. They fought fiercely: The pup had just torn apart her nest and her young kits quivered in fear. If the ermine got near Faolan's neck and the vital life-pumping artery, he would be finished.
    Thunderheart was frantic. She could see that Faolan was weakening already, losing energy. This was his first real blood battle. Thunderheart tried to false charge, but the ermine paid no attention. Faolan sank to his knees, rose up again, and this time streaked toward the riverbank. In one flying leap, he plunged into the water. Thunderheart plunged in after him. She watched his head break through the surface. Red streaks coursed down the back of his neck, but on the opposite side of the river she saw the ermine slink up the steep muddy bank.
    ***
    In the den that night as leaves outside rustled with warm summer breezes, Thunderheart licked Faolan's wounds. They were not as deep as she had feared. They would heal, but she sensed a new restlessness in the pup. He did not nurse. He was done with milk. He wanted blood.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    ***
    THE GOLDEN EYES OF THUNDERHEART

    THE LESSONS CONTINUED THROUGH the summer. Faolan loved learning. He became more and more proficient at rearing up, and he could walk for extended distances upright. His hind legs were becoming very powerful, and because they were more flexible than a bear's, he could jump very high. He took a puppyish delight in showing off his leaping skills.
    There was an immense spruce tree near the den, the lowest limbs of which were almost as high as Thunderheart's shoulders when she stood. Nearly every afternoon they went to this tree. Faolan was determined to reach that limb by springing up on his hind legs.
    "Watch me! Watch me!" he yapped. Each day he got closer. "Watch me, Thunderheart! You're not paying attention!" he'd scold. "I'm almost there!"
    And then one day he made it. He found himself draped over the limb above the one he had aimed for. He was stunned. "Urskadamus!" he yelped. The curse startled Thunderheart.
    "Where did you learn that?" she roared.
    "From you!"
    She chuffed heartily.
    "Don't laugh at me! I'm stuck!"
    "You jumped too high. You weren't paying attention!" she added slyly.
    "How do I get down?"
    "I don't know. I've never been stuck that high in a tree," she replied.
    Faolan gave a plangent little yelp.
    "No whining!" She turned her back and walked away as if she didn't have a care in the world.
    Faolan stared at her broad back in dismay. "You're leaving me like this?"
    "You'll figure it out," she said without turning around. "You're the smartest youngster I know."
    A few seconds later she heard a soft thud as Faolan dropped to the ground.
    He was soon at her side, wagging his tail. "I did it!"
    "I knew you would!" She turned her head and gave him a soft bump with her muzzle.
    ***
    All summer long the pup grew, although to Thunderheart he still seemed small compared to a bear cub. For a wolf pup, however, Faolan was large and very strong. He had abilities that ordinary wolves simply did not possess. He was a wolf without a pack, which made him fiercely independent. And since he had acquired the taste for meat, he had become proficient at hunting down the four-footed animals, the occasional ptarmigan, and other ground-nesting birds. Swifter on his feet than Thunderheart and with a keenness for strategy, he had managed to chase an injured caribou into a narrow defile and trap him. When Thunderheart arrived, she brought the animal down with a single blow. This strategy worked so well that the two had done it several times since that first occasion.
    "I love caribou," Faolan said one day after they'd brought down another one. "Where do they come from?"
    "Different places at different times. In the spring they come down from the Outermost."
    "The Outermost?"
    "North of here. The taste of the caribou from the Outermost in the spring is the best." "How do you get there?"
    Thunderheart pointed to the North Star. "In the early spring, when the Great Bear constellation rises, you follow the last claw in the foot that points to the North Star. The Outermost is in between that claw and the North Star. I once had a den there. Someday ..."
    "Someday