him from the far bank. “I knew zat vood happen. It vill take me two whole days to rebuild it.”
Fell snarled, but the beaver, far out of reach now, held his ground.
“Vy do you zink I didn’t run ven I first zaw you? I knew you’d spring and damage my lodge.”
“I thought you zed you veren’t frightened,” snorted Fell angrily, mocking Ottol, and licking his paw again.
“No, zo I’m not,” said Ottol proudly, “for vee are from a family of vorriors, and one zing my father alvays zaid to me, ‘Don’t be afraid, Ottol, courage my boy. And remember, strike upwards. Strike upwards, if you strike at zee stars.’ But I’m not stupid, and I’m not ready yet to be zee meal for a zilly voolf, legend or not.”
“If the river weren’t so cold, you’d be a meal soon enough, bold beaver,” growled Fell dangerously, his breath smoking in the air, and hiding the fact that he feared the water too.
“And how vood you catch me with a voonded paw?” asked Ottol scornfully.
The beaver paused though, and something kindly came into his intelligent eyes. “Yet vee are even now, are vee not, Fell?” he said. “You damaged my lodge and it damaged your paw. You’d better doo zumthing for it. It vill be dangerous in zis vether.”
Fell eyed him slyly. It was absurd for a beaver in the wild to be trying to help a wolf like this, and the Putnar suspected some ulterior motive. In fact Ottol did have an ulterior motive, for quite apart from wanting to protect the new lodge, of which he was so extremely proud, his hide was deep below it and inside it was the beloved family he was guarding. He wanted Fell’s focus away from his home.
Yet Ottol, for all his Bavarian beaver bluster, was not an unkind animal, and he had seen something in Fell that he liked too.
“I can bring you zum plants I know to help it heal.”
Fell looked up.
“I’m all right,” he growled proudly, “and I don’t need any help from you.”
“Don’t you indeed?” said Ottol. “And vere are you going?”
Fell’s eyes narrowed. How could he tell the beaver of the voice, and his vision of a human with a mark on his arm, that he had been told he must help. In truth Fell had still not accepted the mad injunction, and although the voice had said the child was close, he had no idea where he was going at all.
“I wander,” he answered sullenly.
“And all alone, vithout a mate and a family of little ones to care for?” said Ottol. “I can’t zink of anyzing more terrible.”
“A family?” said Fell softly, thinking of Huttser and Palla, and their cubs—his brothers and sisters—Khaz and Kipcha, Skop and little Larka, whom his parents had named after her . “What point in a family, Ottol? They grow to face the same pain and darkness as everything else, and then to die too.”
At this the beaver dived into the water again and swam back towards Fell, who marvelled at the creature’s lack of fear of the water. He pulled himself out on the lodge once more and shook his coat.
“You’re dark indeed, voolf,” he said. “Why zo, Fell ZlipPaw?”
“Because I’m a Kerl and have seen much darkness. Because it’s my nature.”
“Is it indeed?” said Ottol, “and vould you doo zomething for me, Fell?”
“What?” asked the wolf in surprise.
“Vould you turn zat log for me vith your good paw? Zee one on top of zee smaller, over zere. It vill free zee first, and help me get back to vork.”
Fell was surprised by the request, but for some reason he got up and limped over to the log. He began to nudge it with his muzzle towards the lodge, but as he did so felt something warm and pleasant on his back. A shaft of hot sunlight had come slanting through the winter trees, and after sitting in icy shade, he now felt warmth on his back. It was exactly as the clever beaver had intended.
“Zere,” cried Ottol, “you zee?”
“See?” said Fell, rolling the log and looking back.
“You know zee zunlight too, voolf, and you like
Fell snarled, but the beaver, far out of reach now, held his ground.
“Vy do you zink I didn’t run ven I first zaw you? I knew you’d spring and damage my lodge.”
“I thought you zed you veren’t frightened,” snorted Fell angrily, mocking Ottol, and licking his paw again.
“No, zo I’m not,” said Ottol proudly, “for vee are from a family of vorriors, and one zing my father alvays zaid to me, ‘Don’t be afraid, Ottol, courage my boy. And remember, strike upwards. Strike upwards, if you strike at zee stars.’ But I’m not stupid, and I’m not ready yet to be zee meal for a zilly voolf, legend or not.”
“If the river weren’t so cold, you’d be a meal soon enough, bold beaver,” growled Fell dangerously, his breath smoking in the air, and hiding the fact that he feared the water too.
“And how vood you catch me with a voonded paw?” asked Ottol scornfully.
The beaver paused though, and something kindly came into his intelligent eyes. “Yet vee are even now, are vee not, Fell?” he said. “You damaged my lodge and it damaged your paw. You’d better doo zumthing for it. It vill be dangerous in zis vether.”
Fell eyed him slyly. It was absurd for a beaver in the wild to be trying to help a wolf like this, and the Putnar suspected some ulterior motive. In fact Ottol did have an ulterior motive, for quite apart from wanting to protect the new lodge, of which he was so extremely proud, his hide was deep below it and inside it was the beloved family he was guarding. He wanted Fell’s focus away from his home.
Yet Ottol, for all his Bavarian beaver bluster, was not an unkind animal, and he had seen something in Fell that he liked too.
“I can bring you zum plants I know to help it heal.”
Fell looked up.
“I’m all right,” he growled proudly, “and I don’t need any help from you.”
“Don’t you indeed?” said Ottol. “And vere are you going?”
Fell’s eyes narrowed. How could he tell the beaver of the voice, and his vision of a human with a mark on his arm, that he had been told he must help. In truth Fell had still not accepted the mad injunction, and although the voice had said the child was close, he had no idea where he was going at all.
“I wander,” he answered sullenly.
“And all alone, vithout a mate and a family of little ones to care for?” said Ottol. “I can’t zink of anyzing more terrible.”
“A family?” said Fell softly, thinking of Huttser and Palla, and their cubs—his brothers and sisters—Khaz and Kipcha, Skop and little Larka, whom his parents had named after her . “What point in a family, Ottol? They grow to face the same pain and darkness as everything else, and then to die too.”
At this the beaver dived into the water again and swam back towards Fell, who marvelled at the creature’s lack of fear of the water. He pulled himself out on the lodge once more and shook his coat.
“You’re dark indeed, voolf,” he said. “Why zo, Fell ZlipPaw?”
“Because I’m a Kerl and have seen much darkness. Because it’s my nature.”
“Is it indeed?” said Ottol, “and vould you doo zomething for me, Fell?”
“What?” asked the wolf in surprise.
“Vould you turn zat log for me vith your good paw? Zee one on top of zee smaller, over zere. It vill free zee first, and help me get back to vork.”
Fell was surprised by the request, but for some reason he got up and limped over to the log. He began to nudge it with his muzzle towards the lodge, but as he did so felt something warm and pleasant on his back. A shaft of hot sunlight had come slanting through the winter trees, and after sitting in icy shade, he now felt warmth on his back. It was exactly as the clever beaver had intended.
“Zere,” cried Ottol, “you zee?”
“See?” said Fell, rolling the log and looking back.
“You know zee zunlight too, voolf, and you like
Similar Books
