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Chapter 33
Business is Business

“A wolf? Keep it here? Are you out of your mind? It’s a vicious wild animal! Do you want it to eat all the chickens? And if it doesn’t eat all the chickens, it’ll kill both the goats! What on earth made you bring it here?”

HopAlong has never actually been this close to a real, live wolf before, but he’s been a farmer long enough to know that there are two ways to look at everything.

What he needs right now is a new income stream to make up for years of losses from llama farming. And a wolf is a valuable asset. When it’s dead. Not when it’s alive!

He’s really not too sure about the merits of nursing an injured wolf back to health. And he’s absolutely certain that he can’t dispatch it right now, not after the efforts that Burgess and CrankyHandle have had to go through to help the two lunatic teenagers with their madcap plan.

“He’s injured,” says EarlyBird, “in both hind legs. You were injured in only one leg and I looked after you.”

She looks at SnapDragon with a sympathetic smile. The wolf can already sense that the man is agitated, but that the lady of the house has a more caring nature. “And besides,” she says, “we have the space, and we have secure compounds. If the wolves can’t get in, then a captive wolf can’t get out, even after his leg has healed. Put the chickens and goats in one, and keep SnapDragon in the other.”

HopAlong protests, “what about horses? Kristal and Dave originally came here to discuss horses didn’t they?”

“Darling, you don’t actually like horses! What we need is a viable trade. A wolf is valuable.”

Like KristalClear, EarlyBird finds it easy to build an emotional bond with animals, especially animals with a gammy leg. Or two gammy legs. “We might need to feed him a chicken or two,” she says, “but we can get them cheaply enough. And we can also get rabbit and stuff. The cost of feed

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than a Eurasian grey wolf, with a gentle fur coat more suited to a warmer climate.

Between them, they are able to lift the fifty kilo wolf into the sling and then onto the trap, the operation surprisingly fluid, and the snapping being a manageable, frustrated minimum. All along KristalClear is continually reassuring SnapDragon that everything is under control, and he keeps wondering if this is real or just some kind of weird dream!

Burgess wipes the sweat from his forehead, and looks at KristalClear, “what happens next Einstein?”

“We’re going to visit HopAlong and EarlyBird. They have space.”

“Do they know about this?”

“They soon will!”

 

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“And if we can get this ruddy wolf loaded onto the trap,” says CrankyHandle, “then the three of you are manhandling it down the hill all the way back to Penny Bridge. I’m gonna be leading Primrose, staying well ahead of you and your wolf!”

“At least it’s downhill,” says NutJob.

By the time NutJob and his team reach the top of the hill, KristalClear has been sitting chatting to SnapDragon for two hours. Plenty of time to share their life stories, and whilst it’s a bit like talking with a German Shepherd Dog, the wolf wavelength is definitely a little different.

As far as KristalClear can make out, SnapDragon is a young male. He explained that like all juvenile wolves, they live in a pack of about ten until they reach late adolescence at about four years old. The pack has only one breeding pair, and works like a close knit family. There is no alpha male, that’s a myth, and there is no fighting over leadership. Once a year the older siblings leave home. It’s time for SnapDragon to find a mate, build his own territory, and start his own family. That’s not going to be easy with a broken leg or two. Both hind legs hurt, but one is a little less tender than the other.

For her part, KristalClear explained that humans have a similar pattern. She wasn’t quite ready to leave her pack yet, but in the near future she’ll be looking to settle down with a partner and start her own family. SnapDragon took that to infer the nervous young man who was with you? She was non committal, explaining that NutJob is sweet, but that neither of them is fully mature yet. Ask me again in a year’s time was how she closed down that conversation.

Primrose is tethered at the high point where the forest ends, 200 metres before the lone Scots Pine. After wheeling the trap as far as the pine tree, questioning their sanity again, and fearing that they might fall from the narrow path, Burgess and CrankyHandle do their best to help the two teenagers.

Fortunately, the SlenderWolf, as its name suggests is sleek and lightweight. Much nearer to the build of an Iberian wolf

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“Dave, get a grip,” she says, “if we do nothing SnapDragon is going to die, he can’t hunt, right now he needs love and care more than we do.”

Once more, the thoughts are running wild in his head, “there she goes again, calling me Dave again, and quite forcefully this time! And the wolf is called SnapDragon? I don’t believe this is happening to me! Anyway, I have to do as she says. Remember what Chaucer said, if you don’t let the lady be in charge of her own dominion then it’s going to get ugly!”

—o—

            Scarcely believing the story at first, Constable Burgess relents and takes NutJob to see CrankyHandle. He’s more accustomed to moving canal boats than moving wildlife, but at least he has a pony and trap!

“She’s sitting up there with an injured wolf, apparently,” says Burgess, “we obviously can’t leave her stranded!”

Bringing his hand to his forehead for a third time now, CrankyHandle says, “I don’t know what to make of young people these days, in my day you just went to school, then you went to work, and you stayed away from wolves!”

“So, NutJob,” says Burgess, “any bright ideas about what we need?”

KristalClear was right. She might not have suggested a pony and trap, but a large blanket or a tarpaulin, plenty of rope, and two long poles were the main tools. Loaded onto the trap with a collection of lockkeeper’s tools, pulleys and assorted junk, the unwitting saviours set off along the River Crake to the path up Colton Hill.

“When we get to the top,” says CrankyHandle, “we’ll tether Primrose, I’m not having her anywhere near a wolf.”

“OK,” says NutJob, “we can manhandle the trap the last bit, as far as the start of the escarpment, but it won’t fit down the narrow pathway.”

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The wolf snaps. Once.

« Don’t invade my personal space! »

« I can help. Where does it hurt? »

He was told to stop thinking, but NutJob cannot stop thinking. Even though he tried, it’s impossible to shut out all thoughts from his mind.

Lots of thoughts, “this is a wild animal. You leave it alone. Everybody learns in school not to interfere with the natural order of things. For better or for worse, mother nature plays her hand. Sure, pick up a fledgling bird which may have fallen from the nest, and place it to one side out of harm’s way, but nothing more. Don’t get involved. But there was nothing in that lesson about helping a wolf that’s fallen off a cliff! Or handling a situation where your demi-psychic girlfriend is actually chatting with the wolf!”

« Show me what’s wrong. I’ll send my man to go and fetch more help. »

KristalClear shuffles forward some more, now sitting five metres away from the wolf. NutJob can’t cope, and he moves forward, wanting to protect her.

The wolf snaps. Twice.

« It’s OK. You’re safe with us. »

She brings NutJob to her side, puts one arm around him, and they both edge forward a tiny bit more. It looks like three people sitting around a table in a tea shop. But there’s no table. And there’s no tea. And there’s no shop. They’re all sitting on the narrow ledge of an escarpment in the middle of nowhere, and one of them is a wolf!

“You’re the brainy one,” she says, “you figure out how we’re going to move an injured wolf, a large blanket, some ropes, a long pole, whatever you need. You design it as you walk back to the village. I’m staying here. Fetch Constable Burgess. Come back here as soon as you can.”

“I can’t leave you here alone,” protests NutJob, “not with a snappy wolf”.

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before. Not only is this a chance of a lifetime, this one seems to be less of a threat, and if she understands things correctly, this one said that it can’t move.

The wolf moves.

Rising onto its forelegs, it tries to edge forward, moves a mere ten centimetres, whelps, and lies down again.

KristalClear sits on the ground. The wolf is about ten metres in front of her. NutJob is about two metres behind her. He decides to sit down too. The threat model has eased. All three of them can sense an uneasy truce.

« What happened? »

« I was up there. Now I’m down here. »

« Uh huh? Tell me more. »

« My hind legs hurt. I can’t move … I can move, but that just makes it worse. I want to go home.  »

« Where’s home? »

« I don’t know. I’m looking for a new home. »

« Looking for a new home? »

« A new home. I’m at that age where you leave the pack, and strike out on your own. I can’t go back. »

KristalClear shuffles forward one metre. NutJob is horrified. He’s not on the wavelength and he has no idea what’s going on. All he can see is his girlfriend moving towards a ferocious wild animal. He’s not able to speak at all, but she detects a new thought pattern … NutJob’s thought pattern!

This is a new experience! The second new experience in the space of two minutes! An added complication just when she doesn’t need it.

Without taking her eyes off the wolf she quietly says, “Dave, stop thinking! I can’t handle two inputs right now! We’re all safe. Nothing bad is going to happen. I’m going to help.”

The wolf is in tune with that as well. He’s never communicated with a human before, but he likes the idea of “help” without knowing how they could possibly help! KristalClear shuffles forward one more metre.

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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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