(COLD/Posting #8).
More from my book: <https://www.amazon.com/dp/B076VBJB62>. The Siberian wolves have now found Ewald's camp.
The first appearance of wolves…Ewald remembers the rules of survival that Nanra taught, as he uses the “stink bottle” she supplied to remove his scent of fear.
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(COLD/Posting #8)
After a couple hours of walking (I saw the sun move a couple of fist-lengths up into the sky) I drilled my first food-hole of the day. Nothing came up but some dirty ice. But I would have to keep trying. If there were turnips anywhere around I would find them. Seven days from then I would begin the process of living without nourishment, and that would spell my eventual doom. Didn't I have a wife and kid to answer to? Wasn't I going to be responsible? What would Nanra say if I got myself killed?
Dear Wife.
She had trained me so well.
Nanra had actually trained me in survival techniques from that first moment we’d met. Right away she had designed a food diet that slowly rejuvenated my system. She knew that too much food would have hurt me, while too little food would have starved me. So each day's portions were very well organized, along with the timing of when exactly meals were served. She certainly didn't want me to crave food beyond the small amount I would carry out the door the day I struck off for home.
As I lay in bed with Nanra on the fourth day after we met – actually under her covers – I heard her speaking a version of Russian to a villager who had dropped by for a healing session. With the door closed to the bedroom I still couldn't help feeling uneasy. What if that individual from her village just walked in and saw a German lying there (my ethnicity certainly wasn’t tribal-Russian)? Within one day of that visitor, Nanra had assembled all my survival- things near the door, camouflaged under a table and a rug. If I had to leave quickly then I would have had some chance to make do.
Pacing myself. Nanra had continued to train me to regulate my energies for each day’s output . Laughably, she even paced our lovemaking, because while I wanted more, to mask my situation I suppose, she made it perfectly clear that I wouldn't be allowed to overindulge. There was work to do, she reminded me, to maintain the cabin, pack additional tools, and prepare myself emotionally to leave. She showed me how to identify turnips covered with snow, by grabbing some snow outside her door and packing it around the vegetable. She even used her drill (now my drill) to show a core chunk, snow and turnip embedded together in a tube-shape. She insured that when I finally did perform a drilling that hit edible vegetation I would know it.
***
The afternoon of day seven was fairly uneventful, meaning no wolves had spotted me and that my drillings had not hit anything edible for my dinner. The wind kicked up in late afternoon as it usually did. But then I also became aware of a change in the landscape. In the far off distance it seemed like there was a wall of corrugated whiteness. I tried to sort out the view, but peering through my slotted glasses didn’t make things any clearer. A couple of hours later, by the time of tenting, I realized that I had reached the dense forests that Nanra had described during my training. She had described in minute detail the land I would be crossing, explaining the variations and signposts that I could come to expect. And she had also described the dangers in each region. For the flat plains she had said I must watch for wolves, thin ice and bogs, avoid hypothermia if I got too chilled, plus avoid infection or poisoning from rancid food. She emphasized that the tribesmen in the regions I would cross were by far the most dangerous to my health. Equal in threat to other soldiers, Russian and German, who might try to kill me just for my coat or boots.
As I approached the trees – I knew I wouldn't reach them before nightfall – I remembered her list for 'forest dangers.' There were various animals to contend with, Nanra had said. A bear could be hibernating. Rats, believe it or not, lived in the forested areas, and some were contaminated (and large). Snakes would not come out until the warming trends, she said, but that I must worry about them then. Some, like the Siberian rattler, could kill me with just a bite. And she reiterated that wolves would have the ability to sneak up on me before being spotted, because of all the trees and wild vegetation. I probably wouldn’t hear them approaching, so I needed to use my eyes properly.
I drilled my sixth series of holes for the day, selecting a special spot to set my walking stick, but as I removed the drill I saw the attributes of a turnip root caught in the bit. Finding this valuable food when I least expected it, was one of the happiest moments of my life. I had found food! I could eat something other than my dumpling for dinner that night! That would stabilize my remaining pelmeni supply. I would still have seven dumplings left when I awoke. I drilled deeper to get another chunk of the nourishing plant, then prepared myself for that evening's tent- raising exercise.
I started my count, aiming to hit 90 seconds. I wanted to speed up the protective tent construction, and figured I could use my new positive attitude (food!) to improve my score. So, by the numbers I...(a) placed my walking stick into the hole, (b) unfolded the tarp and (c) threw it over the stick, making sure the opening lined up with the flow of wind for smoke exiting. Then (d) I stretched the tarp edges to the ground and (e) hammered in tent pegs. I finished up by (f) crawling in and lacing up he doorway. This time I got it done in 88 seconds, faster than ever before.
All the bending-standing-lifting of the tent- building brought a tiny sweat to my skin, which was dangerous in the sub-zero temperature. And I heard Nanra's voice telling me to slow down–pace, pace, pace. Nothing would be won, she had insisted, if I rushed any aspect of my journey. So it was a balancing act between all the factors. But she did add that a wolf attack would make me sweat. And if I survived it, I must quickly find shelter inside the tarp. Under those conditions I'd have to work fast to avoid hypothermia after the extra physical effort.
I started my little fire. There was still quite a bit of fire-starting dry-brush left in my pack. Just seeing the flames must have raised my temperature by ten degrees. I felt a new happiness as I heated my turnips in the embers. At this point I didn't feel like ‘salting’ the ground for wolves with pelmeni number seven, so kept my full supply frozen for the coming days.
The night fell hard, and for some reason the dangers felt more immediate. To practice fending off attacking wolves who might charge my tarp, I slept with my short stick at hand. If a wolf’s jaw pushed against the tent material, teeth bared, I would be prepared to strike back with a hammer-like blow. That would hopefully back them off. Or I’d have to resort to shooting the animal, wasting a precious bullet from my side of the cloth. In any case, I knew that I had to be a lot more vigilant now. My luck at not seeing or fighting wolves couldn't last forever.
8.
In the early morning light of day eight I found myself staring toward the tall trees ahead. Even as I wrapped up the tarp and prepared to start off toward the stand, I could sense the magic of the growth. I guess my mind had been so tired of the monotonous flat landscape that just seeing a change so spectacular was a disorienting kind of thing. And remembering Nanra’s caution, I realized that I must contain the excitement I felt, because it was affecting my actions. I was stalling too long before starting my daily march. I turned my back on the trees and tried to finish up. But even angling away didn't help. Now I rushed too fast just so I could see the amazing sight again. Alas, there were some things that Nanra-lessons couldn't completely protect me from, and this was one of them. My curiosity was a powerful urge. Caught between anxiety and inertia, I decided to resort to opening her first prediction. So I slid the multi-folded paper out of the envelope, lifted the top flap and stared at the picture and word below it. In deep brown ink I saw a rough drawing of a man-figure clubbing a wolf. At the bottom of the paper Nanra had written my name, each letter scrawled carefully, with an added arrow drawn up to the human figure, It was clear she was saying, “Ewald will kill a wolf.”
Really? Of course the prediction didn’t include what would happen to me in the process of killing such a creature. Since wolves ran in packs, the rest of the pack could eat me afterwards. But I tried to take her note as a positive message...that I could at least defeat one wolf in battle. Seeing Nanra’s handwriting and drawing had given me an energy boost (Thank you, wife!). So I used it to begin my working day as a camper-traveler. I forced myself to re-examine my campsite more thoroughly than usual, thinking that mistakes could easily be made with all my exuberance. Then I made myself rehearse the actions I would need to take in case of a wolf attack: Drop pack, remove drill, cut hole six inches deep in icy ground, insert walking stick pole in hole, spread tarp over it, position flaps away from wind-side, peg the edges, slide myself in with pack, lace up flaps and prepare for attack with gun in hand and clubs nearby. That was it.
The thing I didn't like was not knowing if wolves were closing in behind me. Stalking me. I decided to cut a couple of tiny holes in the back of the tarp before nightfall. I’d put off the job for awhile, but now felt it was of the highest priority. That meant I'd stop walking a little earlier, so I could see what I was doing.
Traveling again, heading toward the forest, I approached some white trees – birch, I supposed. When I squinted, the trees became just an extension of the snow-covered flats, like a vast white ramp that had suddenly jutted up from the ground. The trees were jammed close together, or at least that's how they appeared at a distance. They merged together in their whiteness.
The closer I got, though, the more I could see. Suddenly, as if the forest had been clouded over before, the actual surface of the trees revealed something new. There were gigantic ‘eyes’ all over the bark, giant foreign-looking eye-shapes, slanting this way and that, Mongoloid or Chinese I suppose, all with dark, thick black outlines. Hundreds of eyes, thousands of eyes, millions of eyes staring in my direction. My god! I was being scrutinized by a huge wooden army as I approached. The effect was mesmerizing.
To recover, I had to divert my eyes down toward the whiteness of snow at my feet. That was just momentary relief before I weakened, looked up again. I tried to focus on different parts of the forest, so I could remain clear enough to see wolves running out from thickets or over logs at ground level. I had to repeat my most basic Nanra mantras; Don't get distracted. Don't get lulled. Refocus when necessary. Look back, then forward. Don't forget that you are the meat they want.
I spun around and checked the landscape behind me. Nothing, just whiteness. Looking ahead again I also saw nothing...but dark-rimmed tree-eyes on white stalks. I was eager to touch a tree with my gloves, just to see if these phantoms were of a static nature. On the way toward my final approach I dug out a frozen pelmeni, placing it in my front pocket near my warm skin. By the time I got to the trees it would be defrosted enough to nibble on.
How many more minutes I walked toward the trees I cannot tell, but it was as if they were receding at the same time period of my approach. A fine optical illusion. But as I finally got to striking distance I could feel a change in the weather. It seemed warmer, at least by a bit. I would find shelter once I was among the overhead branches.
I touched the first tree I reached, letting my gloved hand feel the growth of spiral eyes, examining the ridges that had spooked me. No real eyes, of course. I knew that...although I’d been very vulnerable earlier. Maybe my problems with the authority of my father had contributed to my overall reaction. After all, prying eyes – staring eyes without compassion – had been my experience. Angled eyes without softness or warmth was my life story. First at home, later at military school, I had had much exposure to large, angled, cold and unyielding eyes.
While walking into the forest that evening I’d found no new turnips in the four drilled test holes I’d made. I then set up my new camp halfway between two tree trunks. The branches weren't wide enough at the base to use as a tarp-holder so I followed my usual procedure of drilling a hole and using my walking stick pole as a central support. The timing for tent setup and jumping inside improved a little. I had done it in under a count of eighty.
Because I had stopped while there was still light, I had been able to cut peepholes in the back of the tarp. After that, I had spent some time sewing around each opening to insure that no wolf could tear it into a larger gap. With the extreme cold it took much longer for my frozen fingers to operate, but I finally got things done. Now I had the ability to watch my backside.
Wolves, Nanra had explained, were highly intelligent. They could be expected to have almost any thought a human might conjure up. I had questioned Nanra about this, but she held to her beliefs. She said if I noticed a tree limb directly above where I placed my tent, then I could expect a wolf to possibly use that same branch as an advantage. She had warned that a wolf could launch himself off above me and attack from there. I needed to be that savvy, she said.
As hours passed I tried to sleep, but certain new noises kept jolting me awake. Maybe I had heard a howl off somewhere, but also closer sounds made me concerned. Did I hear a twig- snap? Or paw steps? Real or imagined? I stared through my back peepholes, but could see nothing except for the trees. My small fire kept me warm enough, and the smoke behaved well enough, venting out past the laced doorway.
Then, suddenly, the wolves were there. I spotted the first animal, stalking around, snarling, trying to understand the situation. Surely it could see and feel the smoke from my fire, as it floated out from the pyramid-shaped enclosure. I guessed that the smoke helped mask my human smell, but I couldn’t be completely sure of that. I watched two other wolves join the first one. Quietly, I gathered up my short stick in one hand and my revolver in the other. The fire was still going strong, which was a critical thing, and that probably made it harder for a critter to press up against the laces and spot me hiding in the interior darkness. Nanra’s prediction calmed me slightly, but I could still feel the dangerous surge of fear.
Following Nanra's orders, I put down my short stick and removed a wad of cotton from inside one of the small pockets in my jacket and stuffed a small piece in each of my nostrils. Next I pulled out a small jar with the foul-smelling, rotted part of a small rodent. I opened the bottle and let the fumes escape inside the tent. Even with the nose plugs I got a whiff of the horribleness of it, but continued to follow instructions while keeping my gun close.
I couldn't see much of what was happening outside, except for spotting a moving shadow here and there through the peepholes. Like any good predator, the wolves were pacing about, trying to figure out the location of prey. But the stench was working. They were widening their circle, avoiding the smell that came from the space I called ‘home.’ Smoke and stench. What creature would want any part of that?
I fed the fire occasionally, maintaining its constant flame. Coldness of the air wasn't a problem for the hour that wolves stalked me. But it seemed that after they’d left I could feel the presence of the frigid night more strongly than before. Bitter cold that mixed with my heat source seemed to jolt me into a more alert mode.
Waiting and wondering in the cold, still fearing an attack, brought another of my Nanra- lessons to mind. Perhaps the most difficult one. She said that I must not spend time 'fearing' when confronted by wolves or other threats. If I was scared, she explained, I would give off a scent that would allow predators to locate me easily. It would be as if I drew them a map to my chewable neck. So, remain without fear, she had insisted. Easier said than done.
A glance out the peepholes registered no visuals of any animals. I tried to keep very quiet as I changed my position for sleep. Back at the cabin she had given me a demonstration of the bottled stench, and it had made quite an impression. She had explained its use as we had stood just outside her door so as not to ruin the sweet smells of the living quarters. The power of the smell had traveled faster than I could have imagined when she uncapped it. I had involuntarily coughed just to push the odor back from me. She had laughed and I smiled to myself remembering the scene. But while I enjoyed returning to a nice memory, I couldn’t afford even that brief a diversion. I quickly returned to the present, and moved the stench bottle closer to the laced flaps. That helped give me confidence that I could successfully catch some rest. I laid my head down on the bunched- up cloth of my parka and released myself to dreams of safety and better times.
9.
Within seconds, or so it seemed, the tarp glowed with the new light of day nine. Of course the first thing I did was recap the foul stench Nanra had supplied. While the smell still brought me to the edge of vomit, it had also become a friend of sorts. One of my most precious tools for survival. I placed the cotton from my nostrils back in the bag – not so easy because it took sliding my fingers out of gloves into sub-zero air. Then, unlacing my door flap carefully, I peered out. All I spotted were the birch-like trees that surrounded me, and all their replications as far as the forest extended. But a glance out the back peepholes showed footprints in the snow where I'd been repeatedly circled by wolves. Consequently , I proceeded cautiously. By the time I fully emerged – clearly no wolves in sight – a wave of relief washed over me. I wondered if my elevated mood gave off a scent to faraway carnivores. That thought made me cap the elation, do the difficult mental work to control my feelings.
(To be continued…)