The Trace of the Wolf by Siegfried Wittwer

Author:Siegfried Wittwer [Wittwer, Siegfried]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-03-17T18:30:00+00:00

A week later Mischka set off again. The days had become long for him. In the small cave he had felt like a prisoner. Sometimes he had to force himself not to leave the hiding place prematurely. The vastness of the taiga seemed like a paradise to him.

The wound had healed quite well by now. Because he had lived the past days only from his supplies, his luggage was no longer so heavy and hardly burdened him. The wound still hurt, but it was bearable. The charcoal envelopes had helped him.

Although his pursuers had probably extended their search to a larger area by now, he moved with extreme caution. Again and again he searched the area for treacherous signs like flags of smoke or flying birds.

Because the embers in the clay pot had gone out during his cave stay and he also had no time for hunting, he fed the next days mainly on raw plants, sometimes only on moss or grass, because nothing else could be found. It tasted disgusting at first. But he could only eat it raw. A cooking fire could betray him.

Mischka tried to make further progress to the northeast. Swamps and impenetrable thickets made his escape difficult. Often he had to make large detours before he could continue his way. His feet and trouser legs were always wet. But he'd gotten used to it. There were worse things. As long as he was moving, the wet wouldn't make him sick.

Twice he watched people from a hilltop. They were too far away for him to know whether they were civilians or militia. In any case, he became even more cautious.

At the end of the next week Mischka reached a river. It came from the north, meandered through a valley and turned north again. He didn't know that he was on the headwaters of the Tunguska. Mischka sat down on the steep bank between two birches and watched the course of the river until evening. But no ship or boat could be seen. Probably only a few people lived here. So, he decided to continue his escape on the water. As long as he drifted down the river in the darkness and stayed away from the shore, he would not be discovered. He already had a plan. Satisfied Mischka rolled into his sleeping bag and slept deeply and soundly.

The next morning, he woke up early. The sky was blue, and the first rays of sunlight made the dew drops on blades of grass and cobwebs sparkle like diamonds.

A roebuck stood on the bank of the river and quenched his thirst. Mischka checked the wind. He was in a favorable position, so the animal couldn't smell him. He cautiously crept up to fifty meters to the roebuck, hooked his spear into the catapult, aimed and threw it with all his strength. Deadly wounded, the animal collapsed. Mischka pulled it behind a bush, grazed it and took off its fur. Then he cut the meat into thin strips and hung them in the sun to dry.

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