Wolf Boy, Chapter 1

Started June, 2011. Formatting didn't work when copied.

Wolf Boy

Jarrod Sopniewski

Year 8

Blurb

Jodalnar is the wolf boy. His world has been taken away by the devil’s own accursed flame. It is Jodalnar’s destiny to destroy the fire, but the task seems impossible. He must find a mountain which cannot be found unless he has visited a cave which cannot be found unless he finds the bezoac, of which nobody knows its whereabouts. Can he accomplish this task, or is the world doomed to peril?

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Chapter 1

A World Lost

Jodalnar saw the devil’s tongue lick away the world that he had known for the whole fifteen summers of his life. Tears streamed in rivulets down his soot covered face, leaving tiny little rivers in their wake. He was overcome by grief, as he stood in depths of the River, watching the flames eat away the only life he had ever known, and the only man he had ever loved. He watched on as the deadly fire roasted the carcass of his dead father.

Smoke filled Jodalnar’s lungs, as he suddenly came to terms with what he was facing. He was alone in the wilderness, in the middle of a raging fire that reeked of demons, with only water protecting him. He was only a boy, yet he had a great understanding of how to survive. His father had seen to that.

Jodalnar couldn’t help himself. He once again burst into tears at the mere thought of his father. The boy had never known any other human being before; his mother had died giving birth to him. When Jodalnar was young, his father had taken him away from the Wolf Clan.

Crex, Jodalnar’s father, had been the Wolf Clan’s Speaker, the most holy man who communicated with the spirits themselves. When Jodalnar had been born, however, he had been supposedly deformed. The whole Clan looked on him with disgust, and expected the child to be banished, like all deformed children. Especially when he had killed the mate of the Speaker. However, Crex had been spoken to by the spirits, and told that Jodalnar had a purpose in life. The Clan would not accept the deformed child, so Crex would no longer accept the clan. He had left.

Jodalnar recalled his father telling him why they lived away from people. He absent-mindedly looked down at his hands. They were already covered in a light cover of fur. Not hair, but fur, with patterns on it similar to that of a wolf’s pelt. His hair was the same as the rest of the fur that covered him head to toe. His ears were slightly pointed, and grew much different in shape every summer, and his teeth were sharp. Jodalnar’s eyes were of a deep hazel, the pupil looked like it had been squashed in at the sides a little bit, and was the exact same as that of the wolf; they looked like they could see into your very soul. But, even with all these wolfish features, he still resembled what he was, a human boy in the later parts of his child years, nearing manhood.

Wolf Boy, his father had used to call him. Jodalnar’s father had been the greatest man that had ever lived, in the eyes of Jodalnar. The man had taught Jodalnar everything that the boy could possible need to know. The Wolf Boy was already an effective hunter, in use of both the spear and the bow. He could knap flint into almost any tool imaginable. He could cook a more than decent meal. In fact, the only thing that Jodalnar didn’t have an extensive knowledge of was the uses of medicine. He had a basic knowledge and apothecary on hand all the time. He knew that willow bark, for example, made an excellent painkiller when made into a tea.

But a painkiller wasn’t going to help him now. He needed to get away from the fire. And he knew that if he was going to survive, he had to leave his memories in his wake. Jodalnar had only basic necessities on hand. He had his basic apothecary in the otter skin bag that was strapped to his back. His bow was slung over his shoulder, with three arrows in a quiver also attached to his back. A knife made for him specially by his father was tied to his shin with a thong. He only had the clothes that he was wearing, a deer skin wrapped around his waist and fell to just above his knees, and left his torso bare. He also wore a patch of skin from the mighty wolf to represent his clan, which was attached to his wrap and would be placed on his winter parker when it was needed. Not that he would need it, with all his fur.

Jodalnar studied the fire for about a minute to see which direction it was heading. It seemed to be heading south, which was downriver. He gave a sigh and began his journey up the river.

The current pushed hard against the boy’s legs, threatening to topple him over at any second. It took great strength to plod his way through against the strong current. His coat was becoming sodden and was gaining weight rapidly, straining to pull him down as he waded.

Wolf Boy’s lungs were heavy with smoke and it was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe. The heat of hell pounded on his skin, and not even the freezing river could cool him down. He was losing the will to live, it was just too hard. He sank to his knees, his head barely clearing the water level. It would be so easy, he thought. If his head went under, it wouldn’t come up again, he knew it. Jodalnar was ready to walk the world of the spirits.

"You win," he said out loud, and immediately regretted it. Smoke trapped itself in his windpipe and the boy couldn’t breathe. He coughed and gasped, wheezed and spluttered until finally the pipe cleared. He couldn’t die. He couldn’t die. He couldn’t die. He couldn’t die. He repeated the thought multiple times in his head. What would Pa think?

The child raised his head a fraction and couldn’t believe what he saw. The fire had passed ahead, and hadn’t left a trail of destruction in its path. In fact, it looked as if the fire hadn’t been there at all. Peculiar, he thought. He had never known fires to behave in that way. It was definitely cursed flames, he thought.

He didn’t know why he did it, but he suddenly burst out laughing. "You’ll never take me," he shouted to the fire. As if the devil himself had heard this and was aroused. The flames suddenly leapt out at the river, and embers singed his fur. But even cursed fire of the demons could burn on water. The boy continued to laugh as he waded out of the devastation zone into fresh, unaffected land.

A fresh wind slapped against the Wolf Boy’s face. He breathed a sigh of relief, but knew that he was by no means out of danger yet. He looked towards the sun. It must be at least mid-afternoon, probably later, he thought. He had to start thinking about shelter. Food could wait until the morning.

As he was thinking, the wind smacked harder against his body. A chill crept up his spine. He shivered with the cold. I need to get out of this water, he told himself.

The boy started making his way towards the bank, and was nearly swept away as he stumbled into a separate current from the main body of the river. He was turned around before he could dig his feet into the bottom, and a gasp of surprise escaped his lips.

The fire. It was gone! Not even a wisp of smoke hung in the air. But he could see the trail of devastation it had left in its path. Not a single tree stood standing. Rocks the size aurochs had been shattered in the heat of the blaze. But what really startled the boy was the fact that he could see where the fire finally died.

About 5 miles downstream, the forest was still alive, unaffected, like the patch that he himself stood in now. Jodalnar had never realised it before, but the forest was on a plain. He looked to the side, and was startled once again when he saw that on either side, there was still forest. It was almost as if the devil had sent the fire for one purpose, to destroy him and his father.

Jodalnar shuddered. It pained him to think about his father, but even more so that his comfort zone had just been taken away. He knew that he would see that accursed fire again. He did not know how he knew it, but the boy knew it was true.

He often felt sudden insights like this. He had always been rather instinctual, and his thoughts like these had never been wrong before. It was the same as knowing that the fire was cursed.

He shook himself back to reality and turned to the side. Digging his heels in with each step he took, he continued his trek to the bank. After a few minutes of difficult wading, he pulled himself ashore.

He shivered in the cold; his fur didn’t keep him warm when he was wet. He lied down on a particularly large and flat rock, and dried in the little bit of sun that was available to him. Jodalnar was basking in the sun with his eyes closed, until he realised just how late it was getting.

"I need shelter," he said out loud. His voice stirred a pair of birds that were nesting in a tuft of grass near his rock. The boy absent-mindedly watched as the two of them flew into the air. He then got up and walked over to the tree line.

Jodalnar stopped to look for a good place to make shelter. He settled on a little ditch under a particularly large pine tree. He started searching for sum wood of some description to cover the top with. The Wolf Boy eyed a rather large pile of driftwood closer to the riverbank, and subconsciously dropped to his hands and feet. He began padding his way along the ground to the wood.

The child often dropped to walk like a wolf. He had been doing so since he was about two summers old, he recalled his father telling him once. He had been able to walk on four ‘feet’ quickly and sufficiently before he had even been able to stand on two.

Although his hands did not have pads on them, like a wolf, they were well worn and extremely calloused; they were as good as pads. He neared the pile and jumped to his feet. There was a lot of wood there, he thought to himself. The Jodalnar smiled. Enough for a fire as well as shelter. He began to haul the find back to his chosen camp.

Once all the wood was there, he noticed that the light was beginning to fail. The boy decided to make a fire first, and then make a shelter by the light of the fire, if it did indeed get too dark.

He got out his knife, and stripped a small branch of all its twigs. He eyed a good platform in the pile as well. Jodalnar quickly made a small tiered fire and added some kindling to the fire.

The Wolf Boy then got the de-twigged branch and platform. He placed the platform on the ground, held the branch by the top in his hands, and quickly rotated the branch so that it would cause friction against the platform and make a spark, effectively creating a fire drill.

It was tedious work, even for a fit person, but its results were pleasing. As soon as Jodalnar had created a spark, he quickly had a fire roaring. He soaked in its warmth and let it dry his fur before he set to work on the shelter.

He decided on a simple design. Jodalnar got on all fours and started digging the ditch out a little bit more with his rough hands. He then stood up and covered about three quarters of the opening at the top with the remaining driftwood, efficiently creating a roof over the ‘den’.

He stood back to admire his handiwork, and realised that he might want something else. He once again fell to all fours and gently loped a small distance away to the river. The boy quickly had a drink and then ripped a big mouthful of grass out of the ground. He did the same with both his hands and then walked on two legs back to his den. He dumped the grass on the earthen floor and repeated the process three times, when he had finished, he lied down on his newly created bed.

By now, night had clearly fallen. Jodalnar quickly replenished his fire and headed back towards his den. But something in between the bushes that he saw made him freeze in his tracks.

Hope you like it!