Black Wolf

Based on The rise of Black Wolf

Produced by National Geographic Television, © 2010 NGHT LLC

Chapter One - Mist Valley

“Doctor Cheng, welcome to Earth Observation Station One."  The speaker was a male with dark skin and short curly grey hair.  His nametag read “Doctor Dupuis'.  He spoke English with no discernable accent, but then again, most scientists spoke it regardless of their planet of origin.  The newcomer he was addressing was a short female with Asian features.  “I hope that you are feeling rested after the flight?"

Doctor Cheng smiled up at the man who was a full head taller than her.  “I should be, I've been asleep for almost two years! And please, call me Mary."  Her parents had named her Meili, meaning beauty, but among the scientific community she used the similar sounding English name.

“And you can call me Robert.  You'll be taking my place here at EOS-1 so I get the duty of providing your orientation before I head back to Toronto."

Mary recognized Toronto as the largest English-speaking planet in the Canadian System, a three-year trip at plus-light speeds.  The man that she was replacing was a renowned Zoologist specializing in Ethology – the study of animal behavior - who had been selected for the prestigious position on EOS-1 while still a relatively young man.  After twenty-five years on Earth he was going back to his home planet to compile his notes and tutor upcoming scientists interested in studying the Earth species that were left behind after the Great Exodus.

Barely thirty Mary was also young to be recognized as a leader in a field of scientific endeavor, but unlike him her qualifications were not limited to the study of animals.  Along with degrees in Biology and Zoology she had a doctorate in Anthropology, specializing in the cultural and linguistic development of early hominids.  She was here largely due to Robert's recommendations after his first twenty years studying the behavior of the wolves that lived near EOS-1. 

“Are you ready for your first official duty?"

“Yes.  After they woke me up I had several weeks to catch up on events, brush up on the background material and rehearse my delivery."  She paused, reflecting on the necessity of making regular educational presentations in order to ensure that the scientific branch of the Federation of Earth Colonies, the FEC, had enough funds to support their studies here.  She did not mind doing it, in fact she rather liked it.  It was a lot easier than applying for funding through the convoluted bureaucracy of the interplanetary system.  “Who is the target audience?"

“Junior School students from the United American Planets, around seven and eight years old and mainly English speakers.  Keep it light and avoid getting too graphic when discussing hunting, mating or competitions for pack leadership.  There is virtually no time delay on the Tachyon transmitter, but they have submitted most of their questions in advance. After you give the canned presentation I'll put the questions up on the screen along with the names of the child that asked it.  You read the question and then answer off-the-cuff; it gives an air of spontaneity that the kids appreciate."

"Sure, no problem."

Robert led her into the small studio that the she and the fourteen other scientists at EOS-1 would share and sat her in a comfortable chair facing the camera lens.

"Okay, ready in three ... two ... one ... go!"

A red light came on over the lens.  "Hi Kids.  I am Doctor Cheng Meili, but you can call me Doctor Mary.  I just started working here at Earth Observation Station One or EOS-1 as we like to call it, but I plan on being here a long, long time so we'll be seeing lots of each other as you move through the education system on your planet."

“As your teachers probably told you, the earth was in pretty bad shape at the time of the Great Exodus.  In fact, a lot of scientists thought that all life as we knew it might disappear.  But after a few thousand years had passed our observatories on the colony planets began to pick up signs that the atmosphere had returned to normal and the FEC began their Earth Surveillance program.  Now, don't laugh, as I presume you are doing, I know what FECES spells. That's why they changed it to Earth Observation Program or FEC-EOP in CE 9514"

“Shortly after that scientists returned to earth to discover that the ecosystems in many wilderness areas, especially those in the upper elevations, had survived the pollution that killed off most of the plants and animals on the land and in the water at the lower regions.  As the planet cleansed itself these ecosystems spread and adapted to the new conditions, much as they did after the worst of the ice ages.  They are still fragile though, which is why the FEC does not allow re-occupation of our home planet; that and the fact that there are no resources left to sustain large-scale human activity."

“As you probably have seen in the photo and video blogs on our website the parts of earth that have recovered are very pretty.  Here at EOS-1, which is located on a former American national park wildlife preserve known as Yellowstone, it is particularly picturesque.  A lot of folks from the colonies want to come back here to visit, but there is another reason for keeping people away - the First Protocol."

“Now don't get the First Protocol confused with 'the Prime Directive' from that pre-exodus science fiction show, no matter how accurate it's predictions turned out to be.  The origin of the First Protocol came from the Hague Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property established in CE 1954."

“Now, the First Protocol was established to prevent the theft of cultural property during armed conflict or occupation but in the years just prior to the Great Exodus it was expanded to include damage or destruction of cultural property and eventually any interference with cultural practices.  When our ancestors developed the means to leave the planet and colonize the stars they envisioned contact with intelligent species from other worlds, some of which may be more advanced than us and others that could be in the early stages of development, so they amended the First Protocol to include interference with cultural development.  Post-Exodus it was adopted by the FEC that we will not interfere with the intellectual or cultural developmental any sentient species.  Well, we haven't met any alien species yet, but when the first scientists to return to earth discovered that some of the surviving species were undergoing accelerated evolutionary development the First Protocol was invoked."

“We know now that the development of certain mammals, top predators in most cases, was not by chance.  Pre-exodus advances in stem cell treatments and the creation of artificial DNA combined with our ancestors 'throw-away' society created a form of biological pollution made up of human genes.  These genes were persistent, and once ingested by the microscopic creatures of the sea and land they stuck around.  Eventually, like the mercury that poisoned the animals and eventually the humans during our industrial age, these genes accumulated in the upper-level predators until they were concentrated enough to effect anthropomorphosis – In other words, changing the animals into human form."

“This only occurs, so far, in species whose genomes are similar enough to us that the changes don't make them sterile or unfit for survival; could you imagine an eagle with fingers instead of flight feathers?  It would not survive!  But the anthropomorphosis of certain other species has increased their chances of survival, to the point where the completely feral versions in the region have disappeared.  I'm talking about the bears, the coyotes, mountain lions - but most especially the wolves."

“And that is why were established EOS-1 here, so we could observe the development of the sentient wolves of Yellowstone.  Now, let's answer some of your questions."

“The first one is from Rhiannon, that's a pretty name, who is seven.  She asks if we give the wolves names.  Well, Rhiannon, we do not give them names but we do assign numbers to them to help with our record keeping.  However, our hidden microphones have determined that they give themselves names.  Not like your mommy and daddy did when you were born, they probably picked out your name months before you were born.  No, wolves get their names as they develop, sometimes from a marking on their fur or from a particular trait they display or a habit.  Some females get named for the type of flower they like to roll in because they always smell of that type of flower.  Males often get names that speak to their prowess." 

“Here, let me show you an example."  Mary adjusted the controls on the arm of the chair and a screen above her head sprang to life.  The camera panned to focus on an outdoor scene that looked as if it was being taken from a drone high above the valley.  As she continued it zoomed in on a group of animals gathered by a small river."

“We are following a small pack of wolves that live in a place they call Mist Valley.  All the principal wolves there have names. Watch the screen and I'll put up some still images of them. This is the Alpha Male, who they call Storm because his coat is streaked with dark lines that remind them of storm clouds, and his temper matches his name apparently.  His mate beside him there is Snow, because her coat is mostly white and she likes rolling in it to clean her fur.  Their daughter, who will be the next Alpha Female, is called Dawn, due to her habit of rising earlier than the rest of the pack.  Here mate is known as Fleet Paw because he is a fast runner.  Looks like some of them are heading out on a hunting party."

“Dawn and Fleet Paw have four cubs, the older females, seen here play hunting near the den, are Clover and Stalker.  This bold fellow with the brown coat that has just scared off their prey is called Rascal, or at least the wolf word with a similar meaning.  And finally, down by the river here we have the fourth cub, a curious little creature with an all-black coat that they simply call Black Wolf."

* * * * * * *

Storm's pack lived in a small valley were there was sufficient game to support up to twenty wolves.  At the moment their numbers were very close to that, thanks to his daughter who had given birth to two pairs of cubs.  The females, Clover and Stalker, needed very little looking after as they spent their days practicing their hunting skills for the day when they would join their elders on the hunting expeditions.   They took turns hunting each other and their younger brothers, Rascal and Black.  Stalker was the best, and her early display of skill had earned her a proud name.

Clover liked to roll in the plant that she was named for.  She liked the smell of its purple flowers on her fur.  She was a less serious hunter than her twin sister but she was fast, like her father, Fleet Paw.  When she matured she would likely be relegated to running larger prey into a killing zone where the more powerful males would strike with club and spear, but she may contribute the occasional rabbit she caught herself to the feast. 

They were far from mature, so their mother Dawn did not have to worry about their mating any time soon, which was good, because she had her paws full with the two young males.

True to his name Rascal was constantly in trouble.  If he wasn't pulling the tail of one of his uncles or aunts he was hiding, waiting to jump out and scare one of his siblings.  He would pester the older cubs until his mother had to intervene to save him from a beating then go off and steal his Grandfather's loin cloth while the old wolf was bathing.  He spent half of his days confined to the den.

When he was allowed back out he often tried to enlist his brother's help in his schemes, but while Black was just as adventurous as Rascal he had no desire to disturb the peace.  He preferred to be on his own, studying the ways of the world that the wolves inhabited and learning its secrets.  He could often be found staring at the stream that ran through the valley or poking a stick into one of the small geysers that sent up the mist that the valley was named for.   His solitary habits and curiosity occasionally got him into predicaments that required rescuing by his mother, like the time he tried to find out how close he could get to a wasp nest before they would defend it.

As younglings their names were not set.  Many cubs were called by the colour of their coat for the first few years until a dominant trait or habit earned them a permanent name and Rascal was a common term for cubs that were often underfoot.  If the mischievous cub grew big and strong and brave he may well earn a name of honour, like his sister Stalker.  If he proved not to have any talents he would likely be named after a one of his habits or a quirk of his personality, like his cousin, Twitch. 

Dawn was already considering the name Snoop for her black-coated cub but was not certain.  He was more than merely curious; he learned from his observations and used what he learned to his advantage.   As yet they had no word for that in the wolf language, so Black he would remain until something better came along.

The wolves outside of his immediate family called him Black Wolf, just as they referred to crows as the 'black birds' or the mountain lion that hunted on the verges of their territory as the 'golden cat'.  As was the habit of many mothers Dawn also referred to him as Black Wolf when he was in trouble, had wandered away or was so caught up in his thoughts that he could not hear her calling – which was so often that one might assume that it was his proper name. 

It was late Autumn and the air was growing chilly.  Storm was out with a hunting party but it was Dawn's turn to stay behind to watch the cubs that were too young to join in.  Part of that duty was to tend to the fire in the open area in front of the caves that they called home, so she was warm enough, but she worried that her cubs might be cold. 

Rascal was confined to the den for bothering his sisters and Dawn knew that he was still there because he would whine about wanting to be let out every few minutes.   There were plenty of furs to snuggle down in and he was out of the wind so he would be fine, she thought.  She could also see Stalker and Clover hunting rabbits in the field below the level of the dens with the other older cubs.  They had covered themselves with animal hides to blend in better with the dry fall grass as they trotted to and fro searching for game.  Their movement would generate heat that the camouflage would keep in so she need not worry about them.   But Black was nowhere to be seen, as usual.

“Black, Black Wolf!"  She cried, but there was no reply.

She turned to the cave entrance, where Rascal lay watching her dejectedly.  The wolves had a limited vocabulary and subtle communication relied on expressions, gestures and body position.  A statement could be changed to a question by the lift off the chin or made into a command by squinting the right eye.  A jerk of the head put the event in the past. Speaking while looking over the other's head put it in the future.  A stern glare meant the same as did in the language of every species.

Dawn used one word and a few head gestures to ask Rascal if he knew where his brother was.

“No, but I can go look for him." He indicated by shaking his head and jumping up eagerly.

A withering glance told him that he had not yet earned the privilege of leaving the cave.

Dawn wondered if she should go looking for Black.  She checked the horizon.  The birds were going about their normal business, not flying or crying as they did when an intruder was near.  It was mid-day and any creature approaching from the valley would have to get past the hunting party and the older cubs before reaching the den.  It had been a good year and there had been no sign of bears or mountain lions.  There were plenty of coals in the fire so it could be relit easily if it went out in her absence. She made up her mind.

Dawn indicated that she was going to find Black and that should Rascal leave the den while she was gone he would regret it.  Then she set off toward the river, where she knew Black liked to sit and watch the water and the creatures that lived in it.

Stalker and Clover stood up when they saw their mother come down from the den.  Dawn jerked her head to indicate that there was no danger and they could continue what they were doing.  At seven years of age they were just entering adolescence and would need to find mates before too much longer.  She was very proud of her daughters and thought that they would both bear good pups and make the pack prosper. 

Her sons were five and would soon start to show their talents, if they had any.  As the daughter of the pack leaders Dawn expected good things from them, but she also had to face the fact that they might not stay with the pack as adults.  It would be four or five years yet before they felt the urge to mate but if there were not enough unrelated females of a suitable age they might wander off to find another pack short of males that was willing to take them, dispersing Storm's line.  Their father, Fleet Paw had been a wandering wolf. 

Of the two Dawn thought it most likely that Rascal might wander because he was reckless and fearless.  While his boldness and blatant thievery often earned him a beating it also afforded him some of the choice portions of the game the elders brought in, and the extra rations had given him bulk that held a promise of size and strength in later years. 

Black was more curious, but he was also more cautious.  He seemed timid and shied from fighting.  He had a good frame, but not much meat to hang on it as yet.  Dawn doubted that he would ever be as large or powerful as his grandfather, Storm, but she hoped that he would become as fleet as his father and his sister and through that contribute to the pack … someday. 

Dawn walked upright as she descended from the den.  She had thick pads on her palms and could go on all fours for short distances, but it was more comfortable on two paws, especially when going downhill.  She remembered her Grandmother telling her that in the old days wolves went on all fours like foxes did.  When dawn had asked when and why they had stopped doing that her Grandmother had not known either answer.  She had not personally known any wolves with paws instead of hands, she was just repeating stories she had heard from her own Grandmother, like how mothers used to give birth to four or five cubs at a time every spring and had four or six breasts full of milk to feed them.  Dawn was glad that the usual whelping was now only one or two at a time – and two breasts were quite enough for that, thank the Gods.

Grandmother was dead now, gone to the top of the mountain.  She had died at the incredible age of forty-one, much older than the thirty years the average wolf lived.  That was another thing that had changed, according to Grandmother, wolves lived much longer than they used too.  Still, they lost a few adults every year to infection or disease but lean times effected the cubs and the elderly the most.  A few weeks with no game in the winter was enough to weaken the whole pack, and wolves too old to hunt would often go away to die rather than deprive the rest of even a small portion of food.  They would usually announce that they were going to the top of the mountain to see the gods.  Whether the gods took them away or they starved or were attacked and eaten by mountain loins no one knew, but they never came back.

Grandmother had not literally gone up the mountain though; they had found her dead in the den one spring morning looking rather peaceful.  She had not gone away to die because she had still been useful, staying back to watch the cubs while the other adults hunted and chewing hides until they were soft enough to make clothing or laces.  She always said that when her time came the gods would have to come down from the mountain to get her, and she had been right.  They had laid her on a rocky shelf and covered her with stones the night she died but the next day when Dawn and her mother came to place flowers around the cairn they found that it had been disturbed.  Grandmother's body was still there but the god collar she had worn for most of her adult life was gone, reclaimed by the gods, no doubt.

Thinking of that day, Dawn reached up and touched her own collar.

Like her parents, she was one of the Chosen.  She had been out hunting small game alone one day when she had heard a horrible noise coming from the sky.  She had looked up and saw a giant dragon fly descending toward her and she had turned to run for cover but before she got five steps something had stung her in the back.  Her vision had gone cloudy and then black as the terrible beating of the creature's wings got louder and louder and louder and then she had passed out.  When she woke she was sore all over as if she had been poked and prodded everywhere and she was wearing a god collar, just like the ones her parents had.

They were made of some mysterious material that was not bone but as stiff as one.  They fit around the neck, not tight enough to cut off the circulation or wear off the fur underneath but too tight to pull one's head through.  Hers was dappled in shades of grey like her fur, so it did not give her away when she was stalking.  Storm's was similar, but Snow's was as white as her fur.  By this they knew that the gods had not chosen them at random but had planned and come prepared for specific wolves.

Why they had been chosen they no idea, but since it was always the strongest and the leaders that were chosen, the collars were seen as a sign of favour.

Dawn found Black by the river as she had expected.  He was poking at the ice left behind when the puddles made by the rain the day before had frozen over before draining through the loose soil.  She could hear the claw he was using tapping away until the sheet of ice shattered and then he moved on to the next one and began tapping again.

“Black Wolf!"  She called in a stern tone to get his attention.  His head came up as his foot came down on the ice and he lost his balance, landing on his face in the chilly wet mud on the riverbank.

Dawn hurried to help him up.  “This is going to sting."  She told him in words and gestures as she splashed freezing water over him to wash the mud away.  “Go roll in the dry grass," she instructed, “before you catch a chill.  Where is your loin cloth?  You should be wearing it."

“I didn't have to wear one last year."  Black grunted and mimed before he threw himself down on the grass and began to roll about.

“You have to wear it now."

Black retrieved it from where he had left it.  He had been using it to collect late season berries that grew along the river.  He offered them to his mother.  “Don't worry, I turned it inside out before putting the berries in it."

Dawn almost smiled as she sat down and indicated that Black should sit beside her. She took a handful of berries and rinsed them in the river before popping them in her mouth one by one.  Black was about to eat them straight from the cloth but the frown she gave him changed his mind and he rinsed his too.  They ate in silence for a while before Black worked up the nerve to speak again.

“Why do I have to wear a loin cloth?  Why do any of us wear the skins of other animals?  We are covered in fur, like the foxes, and they don't wear skins."

“The foxes are wild, and if you look you will see that their fur is much thicker than ours."

“It's thinner on their bellies."

“But they don't walk upright, so their bellies aren't exposed, like ours.  We wear skins with the fur on for warmth in the winter and without fur to protect from the rain in the summer while the hide from the back of a bison tied around your feet will keep them warm and protect them from the sharp ice and cold stones.  And you are not built like a fox.  Male wolves of a certain age wear a loin cloth to protect their parts while running through the bushes and the brambles, or from being kicked or clawed in a fight.  You can't pull them inside like the ancient wolves could.  If you get damaged down there you can't reproduce and you line will end before it's started."

“What about the females?"

“Females bind their breasts outside the den to protect them so they can feed their young when they become mothers, and to keep them out of the way when fighting.   They wear loin cloths for other reasons."  She did not want to elaborate on the sanitary necessities of adolescent and adult females.  That was another thing that the grandmothers said had changed from the old days when the desire to mate came only once a year and all cubs were born in the spring. 

“How come I don't have any younger brothers or sisters?"

The way he could change a conversation to something similar to what she was thinking never ceased to amaze her.  “Cubs are not born every year as they were in the old days.  We have fewer births but wolves are living longer so the number of offspring over a lifetime is about the same.  I am only fifteen so I have a good ten years to have more cubs.  Besides," she hugged him tightly as she continued, “I have enough to do chasing you all over the valley.  Now let's go before a coyote tries to make you his supper."

“A coyote would never try that while you are around."

“But three or four hungry ones might, so keep an eye out."

Black walked backward most of the way back to the caves in case some coyotes tried to ambush them, as unlikely as that was.  Whenever a coyote came into the valley it was chased off.  The wolves were much larger and stronger and they had spears, while their diminished cousins had barely mastered the club.  Still, they sometimes snuck in looking for carrion to scavenge and they were not above attacking a lone wolf, especially a cub.

Bears were much more dangerous.  They were even less intelligent than the coyotes but their size and strength was unmatched by all save the mighty bison.  The bears wandered wherever they cared, looking for fish, berries and mates and largely ignored the wolves.  When one came through their valley the adult wolves would stand off at a safe distance and make threatening gestures with their spears to encourage the bear to move on.  Things usually ended without any physical confrontation but on those rare occasions wen a bear decided to charge the wolves were bound to lose one or two hunters, no mater how superior their numbers or their weapons.  Black had never seen a bear but he wanted to very badly, from a distance of course.

He had never seen a mountain lion either, none of the pack had.  But the older ones had seen what was left of young female that went up the mountain alone to collect basil.  What was left of her had been found three days later on a high ledge.  They whispered that there was no meat at all left on her body, just her head and paws were intact.  There was a tuft of golden fur clenched in her dead fist, so no one ever left the den alone after dark anymore.

When they reached the den Dawn was pleased to see that Rascal had emerged but only far enough to stoke the fire and prevent it from going out.  She rubbed his head and tilted hers to indicate that his punishment was over.  With a joyful howl he rushed off the see what mischief he could cause his sisters with what was left in the day.

Dawn turned to her other son, who had remained.  “Help me get the den ready for the others' return." 

With a nod he set to piling wood near the fire.  If Grandfather's hunting party came back with an antelope or an elk there would be much meat to roast for a feast tonight and more to dry for the coming winter.  It did not look like rain so even if they came back empty handed the wood could stay out for the night, not even the boldest coyote would steal wood, or fire -  they wouldn't know what to do with it.  But it got him thinking about her earlier warning.

“Will Rascal be okay by himself?"

Dawn looked around the peaceful valley again.  “Yes.  There is no danger here today."

* * * * * * *

“As you can see, students, translation without video to pick up the gestures and body language is very difficult.  Fortunately, on a clear day like today we can use drones with advanced cameras flying high enough as to be invisible and silent."

Doctor Cheng paused.  She was about to go off script but Doctor Dupuis, Robert, she reminded herself, had said that the kids appreciated spontaneity.

“Now I know that some of you are wondering about the tracking collars and how that fits with the First Protocol.  There was a wolf tracking program in place here before the Great Exodus and when the first scientists returned to evaluate whether Earth would ever again be inhabitable, they reinstituted the practice before realizing that more than the wolves' bodies were evolving.  By the time they had collected enough data to grasp the fact that the wolves had developed to be the equivalent of stone-age humans their subjects had already formed a deity myth based on the helicopters, the tranquilizer darts and the collars.  Since the damage was already done it was decided to allow the program to continue, but only on select wolves."

Mary did not add that the issue came up at the FEC Science Council every few years with opposition to the use of collars growing each time.

“The collars look like pretty old tech, and they are.  We tried using implants at first, but the wolves could somehow sense them inside them and kept digging them out, which led to a lot of dead wolves and very little data.  They seem to fine with the collars though, and regard them as a status symbol.  Along with the tracker we put in miniature cameras and a microphone so we could collect more samples of their peculiar combination of verbal and physical language."

Mary brought up a map of Mist valley on the screen, showing the area where the pack was hunting, including the den.  There were three red dots on it.  One was where the den was located and the other two were in the middle of the valley where the hunting party was.

“These dots show the location of every wolf with a tracker.  The one on the right of your screen is Dawn and the other two are her parents, the Alphas Storm and Snow.  The numbers beside them is correspond with the number we have assigned to those wolves.  Storm is number 127 and his mate is 128.  Their daughter is 212.  If I zoom out to show the entire conservation area you'll be able to see all the wolves with active collars."

She turned a dial and the map shrunk.  Dozens of red dots crept in along the edges.  As she pointed out the different pack locations a chime indicated that a new question had been submitted by one of the students.  Mary read it aloud.

“We have another question from Rhiannon. She asks 'Who are the other two dots in Mist Valley?' … wait … what?"

Mary spun the dial back and centred the map on mist valley.  Sure enough, down in the south in an area that would have been just off the map at first there were two more red dots.  She turned on the data display to show their identity, pack affiliation, speed and trajectory.

They were the Alphas of a larger pack that originated two valleys south of Mist Valley.  Mary recalled from her studies on the final approach to Earth that they were very aggressive and had expanded into the territory between them and Mist Valley just two years prior by wiping out the smaller pack that had lived there.  They were moving fast directly towards Storm's hunting party.

She switched to a thermal feed from one of the drones in the area.  She counted approximately thirty large healthy adults carrying spears and clubs converging on the fifteen from the mist valley pack.

“Oh my God …"

A caramel coloured hand reached from behind her and cut off the communication with the students.  Mary spun around to see Robert looking at the screen with concern.

“Robert!  Why did you do that?"

“Because the First Protocol says that we can't interfere with what is about to happen … and seven year-olds do not need a graphic lesson in survival of the fittest."

“You mean … ?"

“Yes.  I'm afraid that this is the end of the Mist Valley pack."