Bitter cold February. The days are growing longer, but the cold is hard, like God’s fist. Still implacable. The sun is nothing more than an image in the sky, the air is like solid glass. Under a thick white blanket the mice and voles find their way about. The cloven-footed animals gnaw through the icy bark on the trees. They are growing thinner, waiting for the spring.
But minus forty degrees or the snowstorms that cover the whole landscape in a slow white wave of destruction don’t bother the wolf pack. Quite the contrary. This is the best time. The best weather. They have picnics with outdoor activities in the blizzards. There is sufficient food. Their territory is extensive, their hunters skillful. No heat to torment them. No bloodsucking insects.
As for Yellow Legs, her days are numbered. The glint of the alpha female’s sharp teeth tell her it’s time. Soon. Soon. Now. Yellow Legs has tried everything. Crawled on her knees, begging to be allowed to stay. This February morning, the time has come. She is not permitted to approach the family. The alpha female lunges at her, jaws snapping at the air.
The hours pass. Yellow Legs does not leave straightaway. Stays a short distance away from the pack. Hoping for a sign that she will be allowed to return. But the alpha female is implacable. Gets up and drives her away.
One of the males, Yellow Legs’ brother, turns away from her. In her mind she wants to bury her nose in his fur, sleep with her head resting on his shoulder.
The young wolves look at Yellow Legs with their tails down. Her yellow legs want to run, to chase them through the trees, tumbling over and over in a play fight, then up on her feet being chased by them in her turn.
And the cubs, soon they’ll be a year old, cocky, foolhardy, still like puppies. They understand enough about what’s happening now to keep calm and stay out of it. Whimpering uncertainly. She wants to drop an injured hare at their feet and watch them set off after it, ecstatic at the chance to hunt, leaping over one another in their eagerness.
She tries one last time. Takes a tentative step forward. This time the alpha female chases her right to the edge of the forest. In under the gray branches of the old fir trees, stripped of their needles. She stands there watching the pack and the alpha female, calmly making her way back to the others.
Now she must sleep alone. Until now she has rested among the sleepy sounds of the pack, yelping and hunting in their dreams, grunting and sighing, farting. From now on her ears will remain alert while she herself drifts into an uneasy sleep.
From now on unfamiliar scents will fill her nose, eroding the memory of her sisters and brothers, half-siblings and cousins, cubs and elders.
She sets off at a slow trot. Travelling in one direction. Yearning to be going the other way. She has lived here. She will survive there.