SlenderWolf

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stop. What he can’t work out is why they’re stopping, and what’s caused the mood to swing from pleasure to drama.

Something unfamiliar is happening.

« I can smell fear. »

“Did you say that?”

“Say what?”

“What you just said.”

“I didn’t say anything. All I heard was you saying ‘did you say that.’”

“I can smell fear.”

« I can smell fear too. »

“Did you say that? ‘I can smell fear too.’”

“I can too, but I didn’t say anything.”

« I just want to go home. »

“Dave! Stop being such a big baby!”

“I didn’t say anything! What’s going on?”

« But I can’t. I can’t move. »

Then it clicked. KristalClear turns to NutJob “shh, I’m on the wavelength, a different wavelength, I’ve not felt this before. It’s like I’m talking with Tolstoy, but this is not a dog!”

The injured wolf emits a whelp not a bark. NutJob and KristalClear both see it, and at the same time the wolf sees them. Immediately it growls. An audible, distressing growl, but not excessively loud, not the sort of menacing “prepare to die” growl that might be expected from a wolf.

NutJob doesn’t know the difference though, a growl is a growl, and he is petrified, absolutely rooted to the spot. He can’t even turn and run despite the fact that his brain is telling him to. It’s saying to him, “run, save yourself,” but he doesn’t, because standing between him and the wolf is KristalClear. He can’t abandon her.

He’s also thinking, “and she called me Dave, these days she hardly ever calls me Dave!”

The adrenalin surge has hit KristalClear as well. She’s suppressing the urge to turn and flee, because she senses a “need”, although she’s never communicated with a wolf

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“I don’t want to be walking directly towards the sun. Especially on that narrow rock strewn track. Way too cluttered for my liking!”

“Something tells me we should go east though. I want to see what’s over there.”

The trail to the left which would have taken them north then west is exposed and is currently bathed in bright sunshine. It can offer them some shade if they are wise enough to skirt the edge of the forest.

It’s not clear exactly what lies on the route going east. It’s obviously a track, albeit a narrow one, and it’s probably used by wild boar, or goats, or even wolves.

“Come on scaredy cat!”

NutJob doesn’t need a lot of persuasion. Didn’t Chaucer say let the lady be in charge of her own dominion? So did Burgess!

Clearly this is her dominion anyway. The great outdoors! Not on horseback this time, but nonetheless KristalClear is as excited as a little child who has just been given a new party dress!

NutJob would prefer to be indoors, working at his modelling table, rather than let this relaxed, romantic walk in the countryside transform into an expedition into the unknown.

Allowing her to lead the way, well he had no choice really, she was off, bouncy and excited, just like FullyCharged, NutJob cautiously picks his way over the jagged stones which awkwardly poke up in front of him. Rocks rather than stones, and too many of them for his liking, he squeezes past some of the thorn laden bushes, and wonders again if there really is a concealed drop further over to the right, a corresponding part of the massive wall of stone on his left.

“Dash! Why are you so slow? Isn’t this place magnificent?”

Further down the path her tone changes. Without being too loud, she suddenly and firmly delivers a dramatic “stop!” NutJob doesn’t need to be told twice, he’s perfectly happy to

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summer. It tantalises the nostrils as KristalClear and NutJob walk hand in hand to the summit.

The canopy of verdant green gives way at the top to a more barren landscape. One hour into their gentle trek the sun is now bright, and they can see clearly into the distance. Expansive open fells, with wiry tufts of Mat Grass and some Bell Heather punctuate an expansive network of baked earth and rock. It looks like hard work, even for a seasoned hiker.

They pause to admire the small, odd, final tree, for its endurance if little else. Presumably stunted and sculpted by years of relentless wind.

Defiantly surviving in the thin soil, a Scots Pine with a peculiar twisted trunk stands alone. The stark, skeletal arrangements of a few gnarly, sinuous branches present a layer of shallow, flattened crowns. The paucity of malachite pine needles contrasts with the dominant mix of terracotta colours. It’s the unbending tufts of green that give this solitary tree an intriguing, resilient beauty.

The last of the regular forest is 200 metres down the hill behind them, and it arcs away to their left, first leading north and then curving a little west. Ahead, the barren fell looks uninviting, and the only other obvious passage looks like a challenge too.

It’s a downward path that goes east towards the dale, with a sheer rock face rising to the left. On the right there’s an unrelenting line of Gorse in full bloom, intruding onto the path and blocking the view further to the right. There’s no indication of what lies beyond the bushes.

Another sheer drop wonders NutJob?

“Which way shall we go?” asks KristalClear.

“North, around the forest,” replies NutJob, “if we go onto the fells we’ll be parched and soon run out of water. We want a pleasant walk don’t we?”

“East to the dale?”

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“That’s where CrankyHandle comes in! After the Leven Reservoir and the dam were built, the traffic on the River Crake and the Greenodd Canal halved. He still has a job though, but he earns more from his contract with the Constabulary, than he does from the waterways.”

“Two jobs?” asks KristalClear, “what’s the second one?”

“Pony and trap. He carries us around, he works the ground as far as Windemere. The chaps in Newby Bridge and Ambleside do the rest of the lake.”

“And Bob’s studying for his Sergeant exams,” says Sophie, “so he always has plenty of things to do.”

“And if I make the grade I’ll get my stripes and I’ll end up back in Lancaster for a bit, working at HQ. Before they give me my next proper posting.”

“So you can’t join us for a Sunday walk?”

Bob and Sophie both shake their heads.

“Studying today. Sunday morning is always best, before somebody like Mrs Carmichael asks me to arrest her husband for growing wonky carrots again.”

“You have at least three hours,” says Sophie, “that’s enough time to do Colston Hill if you want to, the view from the top is glorious.”

Smiling at Sophie, KristalClear asks, “can you not join us?”

“I can’t do the hills. I’m expecting! And you two will probably have more fun without us anyway!”

—o—

            With nothing planned until lunchtime, KristalClear and NutJob are in the mood to go exploring.

A forest of mature Ash trees, dotted with an occasional charismatic Oak, casts a cool shadow over the rugged pathway leading to the top of Colston Hill. It’s still a cool 25° in the early morning, but it’ll be 35° by mid afternoon.

Robust shrubs border the track, Hawthorn and Elder by the look of them, and they release some delightful scents of early

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Chapter 32
On the Wolf Wavelength

Over breakfast Bob and Sophie Burgess are chatting about the local area, the farms, the smallholdings, and the people who run them. NutJob is trying to eat toast as politely as he can without getting crumbs everywhere. KristalClear is providing a summary of the itinerary for today and tomorrow.

“Well, if there’s nothing on the agenda until lunchtime,” says Sophie, “you two should get out and explore the village, walk along the river, and visit the surrounding countryside.”

Constable Burgess says, “it’s completely different to the city. I lived in Lancaster until I joined the police. Did my training there, and then I was posted to Ulverston proper.”

“Bob and I met in town, and then after we married we were offered a police house here. As long as he accepted that this sort of rural job is quite different.”

“No crime!” says Burgess. “well nothing worth talking about, Mrs Higgin’s once managed to lose her dog. Mr Fotheringham swore blind that his neighbour’s goat had been eating the socks off his washing line. And CrankyHandle reported that someone’s been stealing his shadow. Turns out he was just out a bit earlier in the day for his morning walk.”

“The peace and quiet here in Penny Bridge is its most bothersome feature!” says Sophie.

“Do we still need village Bobbies then?” asks NutJob.

“My job is mainly community relations,” says Burgess, “stopping crime before it happens. I do lots of school visits, lots of villages, that’s why I’m based out here. Education.”

“And,” says KristalClear, “that’s why CandiCrush said we should come to your place in Penny Bridge. You know everybody!”

“More importantly,” he says, “we have a nice, big, old fashioned police house, with extra room. Hence we often have visitors. Official, unofficial, and demi-official. Like you!”

“But you don’t have a horse?” asks KristalClear.

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two of you would be here. Will you two need one room tonight, or two?”

The strategy and the question were planned in advance, and beautifully executed by Burgess in a careful and completely casual manner. NutJob hadn’t even thought about it, just assuming that there would be two rooms. But now that he’s been asked, he starts thinking quickly and quietly to himself “wow, that’s a good question! Do I really have a choice? When is the right answer going to be one? Not now, that’s for sure!”

In an equally casual voice, NutJob calmly says, “two, definitely two.”

“Good answer!” says Burgess, grateful that CandiCrush predicted that correctly! A delicate matter has been resolved exactly when, where and how they had wanted.

In a fatherly tone, yet still calm, warm and friendly, Burgess adds, “one day NutJob, maybe sooner, maybe later, the answer might be one. But it’s her choice, not yours. You wait. It doesn’t matter how long you wait, you just wait. She’ll be happy to give you the hint. It might never happen I simply don’t know. Right now Kristal probably doesn’t know either. But when she does know, she’ll let you know. Be patient!”

“And don’t tell her that we had this conversation!”

In the ladies’ room EarlyBird explains exactly what Burgess is doing. KristalClear is crystal clear on everybody’s good intentions. She doesn’t doubt for a moment that CandiCrush is behind it.

Before the trip, KristalClear had been thinking deep down that one day this subject is going to come up anyway. Perhaps there could have been a better way for her to handle it herself? Or perhaps this helping hand was best? In any case, it’s sorted now. Not only that, she has both sides of the story, and NutJob doesn’t.

“This is why ladies always go to the toilet in twos,” says EarlyBird, “and don’t tell him that we had this conversation!”

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“You’ll see The Warren tomorrow,” says EarlyBird, “and it’s not exactly surrounded by wolves. We hardly ever see one.”

“Where are you staying tonight?” asks HopAlong.

“The Garrison has fixed up everything,” replies KristalClear, “we’re spending two nights with Constable Burgess at his house in Penny Bridge, and then we’re back in Ulverston at the barracks for one night, before we take the ferry home.”

“Oh, and Dave,” says EarlyBird with a smile, “in her letter, Kristal’s already told me how you got your nickname, NutJob. You’re into machinery and gadgets, and anything that moves! You’re working with Faraday on labour saving devices!”

HopAlong’s eyes light up, “NutJob? You make things? Labour saving devices? You couldn’t design me some self milking goats could you?”

Walking smartly through town, Bob Burgess is hoping to join the meeting before it’s all over. He enters the café just in time to see them all sitting at the table with lots of empty tea cups. Introductions are made, and pleasantries exchanged.

“Need the little boy’s room,” says HopAlong, “all that tea you see,” and he slowly makes his way to the back of the café.

“I can’t stay long, but I wanted to let you know that the Garrison is laying on a carriage for us at 19:00,” says Burgess, “you two have another hour in town still, and I’ll be back here in time for the journey to Penny Bridge.”

Unnoticed by the two youngsters Burgess looks EarlyBird in the eye, and quickly winks. She takes the hint.

“Kristal, let me show you where the ladies’ room is.”

Now alone with NutJob, Burgess keeps his cheerful chat going.

“She’s a nice girl isn’t she?”

“Very nice!”

“You’re lucky to find somebody like that. It was going to be only her originally. But Commander Crush mentioned that

 

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“But he’s not sure about horses,” says EarlyBird. She knows the back story.

HopAlong tells everybody that wolves can sometimes be seen roaming the fells and the dales just beyond the towns. That much is true. What isn’t true is how he injured his leg. Apparently, one day he was trying to keep a wolf away from the hen house, and got into a frantic fight, kicking and punching. He was bitten by the wolf before it ran off.

He made EarlyBird promise to keep things secret. Nobody else knows that HopAlong was actually kicked in the leg by a horse, and he’s too embarrassed to admit it.

EarlyBird was the only other person there so she looked after him. Living many kilometres out of town, they didn’t have easy access to a doctor, and even if they did, they didn’t have the money to pay for treatment and after care. Over time, the broken bone set by itself, a little crooked.

Co-incidentally, the hen house does sometimes receive unwelcome attention from wolves. When he was a much younger man HopAlong once killed a wolf. He’s still pretty good at archery, but only uses it to defend his farm The Warren from predators.

The couple made a good deal of money from that one dead wolf, every bit of the carcass was valuable, with the wolfskin being the most prized asset. He says he’d like to bag another one if he could, but mobility problems have stopped him from becoming a hunter.

Nowadays one of the redundant llama compounds contains the hen houses, and the other one has the goats. They’re both completely fenced in, with wire netting all round, and overhead. They’re impenetrable by wolves. The chickens and goats are completely safe, and they have a vast amount of space!

“I can’t imagine what it’d be like to live on a farm surrounded by wolves,” says NutJob, “I’ve lived in the city all my life.”

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out a young, slim girl with long flowing hair. HopAlong didn’t know that she would have a companion.

“This is my boyfriend, NutJob,” she explains.

That brings a look of surprise from HopAlong.

“NutJob?”

“Just call him Dave, that’s his real name, he can explain his nickname later, it’s a long story!”

“Delighted to meet you … Dave! Call me HopAlong, everybody does. Gammy leg you see. That’s also a long story!”

The waitress brings some more tea. The tray has an elegant China teapot, with matching cups, all of which are tastefully decorated with an eye catching picture of the Ulverston fire breathing wolf.

“We long ago retired from mainstream farming,” says EarlyBird, “and over the past five years we’ve been trying to generate an income from raising llamas.”

HopAlong chips in, “selling their wool.”

“It’s a delightfully soft and warm wool,” says EarlyBird, “which gives clothes an enviable, luxurious feel.”

“But it’s a costly business,” says HopAlong, “with the price we needed to sell the wool at, the clothes just ended up being too expensive, and the whole thing is just not viable.”

EarlyBird continues, “llamas are delightfully affectionate creatures, they’re curious, and they love human interaction.”

“But ours could be a bit mischievous and temperamental!”

“Anyway, the llama farm has ceased.”

“Now, I keep a few chickens and two goats, HopAlong has a vegetable garden, and we’ve been thinking about using our smallholding to run a stable or something similar. Nothing too demanding though!”

“His tedious leg injury and my old age, mean that we don’t want to manage fields. No crops, no herds of animals, just something simple that we can operate in an old converted llama compound. Maybe horses?”

“Employing a farmhand or two,” adds HopAlong, “I’m not doing it all myself!”

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thirty passengers on an open deck. The shallow hold beneath the deck is big enough for a few sacks of mail, and a little light cargo. Newspapers for example!

Visually striking, it has a soft, gently ruffled magnolia band sitting above the waterline, topped with a narrower band of moody space grey which rises to the caprail. It’s a colour scheme which resembles a puffin. As the ferry crests and dips among the waves, the colourfully decorated bow, with interspersed chevrons of bright orange, dark grey, and soft yellow, appears to repeatedly peck at fish in the water.

Children are thrilled watching The Puffin come and go. One day, they hope that the bow will rise carrying a small brace of sardines. Just like the beak of a real puffin!

Slowly, cruising past the tiny barracks of the combined Constabulary and Garrison, and the stables with only six horses, The Puffin edges towards the far corner of the docks where SeaBird Logistics is based.

On their way back from their Saturday afternoon fishing trips, three or four pretty blue and white boats are berthing already. The boats’ bells sound from time to time, their crews bellow instructions to the dockhands, and the noisy, airborne mafia of seagulls anxiously circles awaiting an opportunity to seize some illicit dinner.

A smell of salty sea air mixes with the aroma of damp rope, wet sackcloth, and a hint of horse dung as KristalClear and NutJob cautiously pick their way through the dockside melee of impatient traders, dilapidated hand carts, Shire horses and heavy duty wagons.

The bustling activity of the docks gives way to the calm and friendly flurry of people going about their business in this pleasant market town. Passing beneath the archway on The Highway, KristalClear is leading NutJob to the prearranged meeting at the Dandy Highwayman Café.

EarlyBird made sure that she had arrived early, and settled down with HopAlong at a table next to the window. Occasionally watching the street, they’ve been trying to pick

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