The Hunger Cry

The day began promisingly. Having lost no dogs during the night, the men set out with lighter spirits into the cold, dark silence. Bill seemed to have forgotten his gloomy predictions and even joked with the dogs when, at midday, the sled overturned on a difficult section of the trail. It was a chaotic mess. The sled was wedged upside down between a tree trunk and a massive rock, forcing the men to unharness the dogs to untangle the lines. As they struggled to right the load, Henry noticed One Ear moving away. "Get back here, One Ear!" he shouted. But the dog ignored him, trotting back along the trail toward the waiting she-wolf. As One Ear approached her, he became cautious, moving with an alert, mincing walk. The she-wolf seemed to smile at him, showing her teeth in an inviting rather than a threatening way. She played with him, retreating whenever he advanced, skillfully luring him away from the safety of the men. Bill suddenly remembered the rifle, but it was trapped beneath the overturned sled. By the time they managed to free it, One Ear and the she-wolf were too far away to risk a shot. Too late, the dog realized his mistake. He turned to run back, but a dozen lean, grey wolves emerged from the trees, cutting off his retreat. The she-wolf’s playfulness vanished instantly. With a snarl, she lunged at him. As more wolves joined the pursuit, One Ear began a desperate circle to reach the sled. "Where are you going?" Henry demanded, grabbing his partner’s arm. Bill shook him off. "I won't stand for it," he growled, grabbing his rifle. "They aren't taking any more of our dogs if I can help it." Bill disappeared into the underbrush, hoping to intercept the pack and save the dog. Henry sat on the sled and waited, watching One Ear reappear and vanish among the trees. He knew the situation was hopeless; the dog was running on the outside of a circle while the wolves took the shorter path inside. A few moments later, Henry heard a shot, then two more in rapid succession. He knew Bill’s ammunition was gone. A horrific chorus of snarls and yelps followed. He recognized One Ear’s cry of terror and the scream of a wounded wolf. Then, a heavy silence settled over the lonely land. Henry sat motionless for a long time. He didn't need to investigate; he knew what had happened as clearly as if he had seen it. Eventually, he rose with a heavy heart and harnessed the two remaining dogs. Placing a rope over his own shoulder to help pull the load, he moved forward until the first hint of darkness appeared. That night, sleep was impossible. The wolves no longer hid in the shadows; they were everywhere, encircling the fire. Some sat watching him, while others even slept in the snow, confident that their prey could not escape. Henry kept the fire blazing, knowing it was the only thing between him and their hungry fangs. When the circle drew too close, he threw burning branches into the pack, driving them back with the smell of scorched fur. At dawn, exhausted and wide-eyed, Henry carried out a plan he had formed during the night. He built a high wooden platform between two trees and, with the help of the dogs, hoisted the coffin into the air. "They got Bill, and they might get me," he whispered to the dead man, "but they’ll never get you." He continued the journey with a lighter sled, the wolves trotting openly beside him. They were so thin that their ribs showed through their skin like washboards. By midday, the sun briefly appeared on the horizon—a pale, golden sign of returning light—but the sight brought little comfort. As night fell, the horror returned. Henry was so sleep-deprived that he began to doze despite the danger. He awoke to see a massive grey wolf yawning in his face, looking at him with possessive eyes, as if he were merely a meal that had been delayed. In his exhaustion, Henry began to observe his own body with a strange fascination. He moved his fingers, admiring the delicate mechanism of his muscles and nerves. It struck him with a shock that this wonderful, living flesh was, to the wolves, nothing more than meat. The red she-wolf sat just a few feet away, watching him wistfully. Saliva dripped from her jaws as she licked her lips in anticipation. When Henry reached for a firebrand, she leaped back instantly, her eyes filling with a carnivorous hatred that made him shudder. The following day, the wolves refused to leave. They stayed in their circle, even in the daylight, displaying an arrogance that broke Henry's courage. When he tried to move the sled, the boldest wolf lunged for his throat, missing by only a few inches. He was forced back into the safety of the flames. By the third night, the need for sleep became unbearable. To stay awake, he tied a burning pine-knot to his hand so the pain of the flame would rouse him if his eyes closed. But eventually, even this failed. He drifted into a dream of being safe at Fort McGurry, playing cards and laughing at the wolves outside. Suddenly, the dream turned into a nightmare. The door burst open, and wolves flooded into the room. Henry woke to find the attack was real. A wolf’s teeth had closed on his arm. Instinctively, he leaped into the center of the fire. The heat was agonizing, but it saved him. Using his mittens, he scooped glowing coals and threw them in every direction until the camp looked like a volcano. The wolves retreated, yelping as they stepped on the hot coals. His two dogs were gone, likely eaten in the chaos. Henry was now alone. He decided on a final, desperate strategy: he built a large circle of fire and crouched inside it, using his blankets to protect himself from the melting snow. The pack gathered around the rim of his fire-fortress, and the she-wolf pointed her nose at the stars and began to howl. One by one, the others joined her in a haunting hunger cry. By morning, the fire was dying, and his fuel was gone. Henry sat on his blankets, his head on his knees. He had given up. "I guess you can come and get me now," he mumbled. "I'm going to sleep." He drifted in and out of consciousness. Once, he saw the she-wolf watching him through a gap in the flames. Later, he woke again, feeling that something had changed. The wolves were gone. Suddenly, the silence was broken by the sound of human voices, the creaking of harnesses, and the barking of many dogs. Several men pulled their sleds into the camp and found Henry huddling in the ashes. They shook him, trying to wake him from his stupor. "Where is Lord Alfred?" one of the men shouted. Henry looked at them with the vacant eyes of a drunken man. "The she-wolf..." he muttered. "She ate the food... then the dogs... then she ate Bill." "Is the other man dead?" they asked. "He’s in a box," Henry whispered, his head falling forward. "In a tree at the last camp. Now, leave me alone... I’m exhausted." As the rescuers eased him onto the blankets, Henry’s snores filled the air. From the remote distance came a faint, fading sound: the cry of the hungry pack, already hunting new meat.

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