Watch Wolf

name?” the scarred wolf roared.
    Toby replied in a quiet voice, “I don’t have a name.”
    The she-wolf crept up to the scarred wolf. In a whisper, the she-wolf said, “I think we have to call him something. Old Cags can’t keep much in his head, but you know how he is about names.”
    “We’ll make up one. That should suffice,” the gray wolf suggested.
    “But he’s a cub and not a pup. It could be confusing for Cags.”
    They actually bring pups to this pit!
Toby thought. Who were these wolves? His mum had said that the wolves of the Ring were the best wolves of the Beyond, that forever and ever, they shared kills with bears, respected one another, and lived in peace. The wolves of the Ring were the wisest of all the wolves in the Beyond, and that is why his mum had decided to live near the Ring. But these were not good wolves!
    Toby watched as the wolves conferred. They cast glances his way and then toward the foaming-mouth wolf. Toby had upset their plans by not giving them his name.It seemed like a small thing. All he had done was refuse to speak. The talkative cub — indeed, his mother often scolded him for talking too much — had found richness in silence. The wind shifted and blew the words of the wolves closer, right into his ear. He tilted his head a bit more so he could hear better. Perhaps Great Ursus was looking out for him.
    “But if we don’t know his name, how do we let the news out that a cub has been stolen by the wolves of the Ring?” one wolf asked.
    Stupid!
Toby thought. Didn’t they think his mum would miss him? Were these wolves so foul that they couldn’t imagine how a mum would feel if her cub vanished?
    “Let’s make up a name — say Ian.”
    “Ian is a wolf name!” the scarred wolf snapped.
    “Well, we don’t know any bear names,” the she-wolf said.
    “Why don’t you go ask him, Fretta. Just say, ‘All right, could you give us another name to call you for now?’”
    “I’ll try.”
    Toby’s mind raced as he saw the she-wolf Fretta trotting toward him. “Listen, you little —” She stopped herself. “I mean, listen, dearie.” Never had a term of affection seemed more forced. “Cubby,” she continued. Theendearment dropped like sharp rocks from her mouth. “I suppose not telling your name is an old bear custom.”
    Brilliant!
thought Toby. This idiot she-wolf had given him his best idea yet. He nodded.
    “Can you tell me why?”
    He tipped his head to one side thoughtfully, as if he were ruminating over a long, revered bear tradition.
    Fretta looked at him inquisitively.
    “It’s unlucky.”
    “For you or me?” she asked.
    Toby shrugged and gave an innocent
I don’t know
look.
The joys of silence,
he thought.
    “Well,” Fretta continued, “we have to call you something. Could you help us out?”
    He looked at her blankly.
    “Give us a name, a sort of bearish name.”
    A bearish name!
He thought a moment. He knew there was an opportunity here if he could just think of it. What if he didn’t give a bearish name? What if he gave a very nonbearish name. Toby loved words, loved putting together odd-sounding parts of words. He and his brother, Burney, often made up nonsense just for fun. He was better at it than Burney. And how wouldthese stupid wolves know what was bearish or not?
Ish … ish,
he thought.
Ish
is funny-sounding.
It could be stuck on another odd sound.
Odd! I love that word!
he thought.
It’s much better than weird or queer.
    “Listen,” the scarred wolf said. “I don’t want to waste any more time on this name thing. The trip already took half a day longer than we thought it would. The word will be out as soon as the mother starts yowling and thumping. We need time to prepare for —” But this time Toby cut Dunbar off.
    “Call me Ishodd.”
    A sudden silence fell upon them. Dunbar snapped his jaws shut. The wolves seemed stunned.
    What have I said?
Toby wondered.
    “Ishodd!” Fretta’s green eyes nearly sprung from her head. “Why, that’s a very … uh … wolfish-sounding — Old Wolf.”
    “Oh, really!” Toby opened his eyes wide. It was purely accidental, but he had to play along. He could tell that Fretta was greatly disturbed. “What does it mean in wolf?”he asked.
    “I can’t tell,” she replied. Her legs were stiff and she’d shoved back in alarm. Fear seemed to radiate from her pelt.
    “Unlucky, I guess,” Toby replied quietly.
    Fretta backed slowly away.
    He watched her as she returned to the