The Cry Of The Wolf by Melvin Burgess

Author:Melvin Burgess [Burgess, Melvin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781849399708
Publisher: Andersen Press Ltd
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

9

SILVER’S WOUND WAS not so serious as last time but she needed time to rest and recover – time which she did not have. The initial run she made with Greycub took them a mile further north. There she lay down to gather breath. Greycub whined and licked her wound, but there was no time for sympathy. After only a few minutes, Silver picked herself up and forced herself on. Again she was on three legs. The other, though undamaged, put an unbearable pressure on her shattered ribs.

In this last run Silver gave up any hope of throwing the Hunter off her scent; everything she had done had failed – all her tricks, all her cunning, all the centuries of wolf culture were useless before this man who had wiped out her race. There was little point laying false trails that fooled no one. Instead, she just ran, fast and straight, hoping that some chance would free her again from his attention. Rain, perhaps – but the sky above her was clear and blue, the air still. Only a few thin white clouds scattered at the edges of the afternoon.

Behind, the Hunter understood her intention and he too pushed on as fast as he was able. Poor Jenny, miserable to her core, kept looking up at him and trying to lick his hand, unable to understand. He gave her no reassurance but cursed her on. He was keen to end his three-year hunt. He did not even bother to take care of Conna’s corpse but buried him in a sack, hoping to be back soon enough to deal with him before the skin was much damaged by decay.

Silver continued north-west. She avoided villages, except in the dead of night. She followed the beds of streams from time to time, but beyond this she wasted no effort with cunning, but ran and ran. She cut through woodland along a stream in a valley north-west of the village of Liphook and then turned north to avoid Alton. When she hit the river Wey she swam upstream a couple of miles, and then directly north, curving a little to avoid Farnham. All the time she was losing blood and getting weaker. They did not stop to eat; they drank as they swam. There was no plan, only to go as far as they could and then to hide, and to hope.

The wolves ran into the Basingstoke canal at Crookham Village. For the last time they took to the water and swam westwards. Silver was now at the very end of her strength. Greycub swam forward and back, forward and back, trying to bring her along. But it was obvious she was finished. The cold water, that had refreshed her momentarily when they plunged in, drained away the last of her strength. With difficulty she clambered out and staggered along the banks, heading north. Soon they came to a motorway and here Silver did not pause but cut straight across, putting one last barrier between her and her pursuer.

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