Page 44 of The Spirit of the Wolf

“Yet despite these conditions, these bushes and saplings which you observe here are young and healthy. While they might make good arrows for me, why take their lives when there are others who will die anyway in another forest?”

But Marietta hadn’t given up, and she opened her mouth to speak.

Grey Coyote cut her off. “I must also answer another question before I act. If I use these saplings and bushes now, what will I leave this land? Have I helped the Creator make this earth a better place for others, or am I destroying His creation?”

“But—”

“If I must destroy a life, and I must, then let it be a life which is already dead or dying.”

Marietta squinted up at Grey Coyote. Though only in company with this man for a few days, she was amazed to discover how different was their attitude toward this subject, which bordered, actually, on the mundane. She was also amazed to discover how much she was learning.

“Mr. Coyote⁠—”

He frowned at her, though the look was cushioned with a slight chuckle. “Who is Mr. Coyote?”

She smiled. “Husband.”

“Yes?”

“Husband, if you do this, aren’t you then playing God?”

“Perhaps I am, but there is no justification which can make this right. As the wise men of my tribe have said, none survives alone. While it is necessary to kill for food or shelter, remember that all life has the right of survival. And all life is interdependent.”

Marietta shot the man a twisted smile. No harsh words had been spoken, it was true. Indeed, his voice had been, as usual, soft, calm. Yet he had won his argument all the same.

Apparently, they were to travel to this forest.

She said, “All right. I will go. You mentioned we will need even more preparation for this journey?”

“Hau, hau. Though we have food enough, we should sew another pair of moccasins for you, and extra clothes—clothes that will not tear as yours do, for the manner in which we will be traveling will be rather harsh. Perhaps we should also have an extra robe for you, since the nights are cool. The deerskins we have already will do for this purpose. Tonight, when the moon rises, we will leave.”

She nodded. “Tonight, then. But do you think we have time to make all of these clothes and moccasins today?”

“I will help.”

“Even with your help, I think the making of the clothes you mentioned will require much work.”

“They will not be fancy.”

“Still…”

“Come, let us set to doing this.” He pulled one of the deer hides toward him. “But remember,” he cautioned, “if we are ever in camp with others…”

“I know. I know. Women have their chores, men have theirs. I have not forgotten.”

“You learn quickly.” Smiling at her, he bent and lightly touched his lips to hers.

Somewhere on the Western Plains

Was it man, or bear? It growled like a bear when it spoke. It moved like a bear when it walked. It smelled of something rank and offensive. Its body, even its face, was covered in hair. But there were two distinguishing features which gave a clue to its origin: it wore clothes, boots, and hat, though its hair was long, lice-infected and unkempt.

At present, it slunk toward a hunter, who, caught up in disengaging a wolf trap, didn’t see or hear the creature. However, after a moment the stench of the beast gave warning.

The hunter stopped still. He sniffed the air. He listened.

“Who goes there?” he called.

There was no answer. Then, like a thunderbolt, the brute struck, the surprise, as well as the beast’s strength, overpowering the slimmer constitution of the hunter.