Just an Old Legend Ch. 02

The sun shone brightly, and in this little place – as magical as it seemed to her – there wasn't much of a breeze due to the bowl shape of the cove in the surrounding rock. Helen was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. She smirked that perhaps the time had come for a bit of a reward.

Her clothes were off in an instant, and she swam quickly around the little cove. She laughed out loud once as she marveled at how warm the water was here. It surely was a rarity anywhere in the Great Lakes to find water like this that wasn't stagnant. There must be enough water being exchanged through the little channel, she decided, to keep this fresh, and the shallowness of it overall allowed the sun to raise the temperature.

Tiny minnows darted around her, dashing away from her movements, but always returning out of curiosity not long after she stopped. Helen decided the best part of having her new little friends around was when she stopped and stood up with her feet on the bottom. The minnows would come then to nibble experimentally on the tiny almost-invisible hairs that humans are covered with. You wouldn't even know they were there at all, Helen thought, if you didn't have friendly minnows to point them out. The feeling was delightful.

The delight continued for her right up until she was walking out. There on the sand was a footprint. She stopped and studied it for a moment and stepped next to it once. It had been made by a bare foot – and it was larger than her own by a wide margin. Looking around the sand in the area, she came to two conclusions: she herself had not walked right here yet, and whoever had made the print had brought a large dog along. Those tracks were noticeable here and there as well. Helen suddenly felt vulnerable and looked around quickly.

Her heart rose to her throat when she saw the huge dark head looking down at her over the tops of the tall bushes at the edge of the rim. And then it was gone. She wasn't sure that she had actually seen anything, it had happened so quickly. It took a minute, but after that, she wondered if it was more of her imagination's fancy.

She grabbed her pants and shoes. Getting them on quickly, she ran, trying to button her shirt as she went. At the top of the rim, she looked around hard, and saw nothing. The breeze puffed gently past her ear, and the birds sang their songs just inside the eaves of the woods on the one side. On the other, she could just hear the bees buzzing in the wild flowers which grew between her and the blueberry patch. Helen stood still for about five minutes and came to three conclusions.

Firstly, her imagination needed to take a vacation. Secondly, the dragonflies here were beautiful and very friendly. And lastly, the deer-flies were far too friendly. She waved them away and went back to her cove.

The rest of the afternoon, she sat thinking about this place, deciding that she really wanted it if she and Beamish could come to an agreement. She thought about the large animal that she thought that she'd seen for a little while too. She wasn't sure anymore if she'd actually seen it at all, but if she had seen it, she was certain that it was no bear.

She was even more certain of it as her adrenal gland began to dump its product into her bloodstream a split second after she noticed that the animal was now looking at her from the edge of the sandy beach off to her right.

Helen froze. Her eyes were sending images that her mind wanted very much to disbelieve. She blinked a couple of times, but the images remained. Not a hundred feet away from her stood a coal black canine, and it – well, he more correctly – was watching her intently, but making no move either way.

She blinked again and exhaled a little. This animal easily exceeded the size of any canine that she'd ever seen or had even heard of in all her life. To Helen, this could not be possible. The thought came to her that to describe him, the word 'pony' would have come to mind, and then she realized that there are breeds of pony which might make something of a snack for a carnivore of this stature.

The mouth was open a little, a long pink tongue hung out as he panted softly in the bright sunshine, and the teeth that she could see were as exceptional as the rest of him. Yellow eyes regarded her cautiously for a moment, and then the tongue was retracted, the mouth closed, and his nose lifted about an inch to sniff the air for a few seconds. He returned to his observation of her, and she wondered how she'd get to the safety of the farmhouse.

Her first rush of adrenaline had begun to fade but was replenished immediately as the animal seemed to make a decision and began to walk toward her slowly. Helen thought that her life might now come to an end which she'd have never imagined for herself in a million years, as she began to quake involuntarily.

This was about the most primal fear that a human can feel - the one where they look into the eyes of something which might easily regard them as food. She remembered her mother telling her when she was little that a dog can sense fear in a person, and to never show fear to one, no matter how terrified she might be. Well it had usually worked back then, but now? With this beast? She had far more doubt than certainty. One look and they both knew full well who was in charge of this encounter.

He stopped after a few steps, and Helen found herself willing some control back into her body. She tried to actually make observations, hoping that doing so would give her back some muscular command. She didn't think that she could ever come out ahead in either of the fight or flight scenarios that came to her, but she watched intently, now that he'd stopped.

His head wasn't down to emphasize his massive shoulders as dogs do when assuming a threatening posture. His mouth was open again, and on him it looked like a silly grin. His eyebrows were raised, not lowered, and his tail swung very slowly back and forth a little. This last she knew was not necessarily an indicator of anything in dog behavior, not unless it swung widely in welcome to a pack member, be that a dog, wolf, coyote, or human. He stepped forward again hesitantly and then stopped.

Helen took the opportunity to slowly and deliberately stand up. The result was a bit of a short, quiet growl of surprise, but he stood his ground. Helen had no idea what to do now, so they looked at each other for a few minutes. He sniffed the air again for a second, and his nose led him to her basket, covered with a dishtowel in the shade. She almost admired the sleek sheen of reflected sunlight from his black fur. Helen took a small step toward him. She really couldn't say why, when to her the more logical thing to do might have been to try a screaming dash for her life away from this animal.

He stepped away from the basket and she walked very slowly to pick it up and return to where she'd been sitting. As she walked, she decided not to look back at him. It was another decision that she couldn't explain to herself, but she knew that wolves and certain other wild canids had learned about guns. You can make any wolf in North America disappear with a ski pole if his ancestors had any unfortunate human contact before and you held it like a rifle. She looked around for a stick like that, but saw nothing near at hand, and now cursed herself for doing such a good clean-up job.

Anyway, she shrugged mentally, if he'd wanted to kill her he could have done that many times over already. Who knew how long he'd watched her silently if he were hunting her? Then the thought came to her that this animal might just be tame to begin with. He was obviously cautious, but he sure wasn't afraid of her. Well, the possibility of her having a gun aside, there wasn't much for him to be afraid of, was there?

When she'd sat back down, she found that he was closer now and appeared curious. Helen decided that if her last conscious act on Earth was to enjoy a handful of blueberries before she died, then she'd better get on with it. Pulling back the dishtowel a bit, she reached in and ate some berries. Looking over, Helen almost laughed out loud at the wolf's facial expression as he twisted his great head sideways at her. Looking him over again, she was sure there were no signs of possible aggressive posturing in him, and she smiled a little, before doing something that would have made the least amount of sense to any human alive in that situation.

Helen slowly held out a handful of berries to him.

He tensed just a little, but remained where he was, watching her hand approach. At last, her arm was fully extended. He sniffed at the berries and her hand carefully and then looked at her.

"Well, Buddy," she said very softly, "you seemed interested in these over there a minute ago. I'll share with you if you want. Um, please don't rip my arm off, I only have two."

The wolf looked at her again with his head cocked comically for a moment. Helen felt foolish. He wouldn't eat the berries, and what was there to offer him now? She wondered again if he was tame, or just supremely confident. There was that aura about him - that he knew how this would end at any second of his choosing. Maybe he was even playing with her, she thought.

Just as she was about to pull her hand back, he began to sniff the berries again, and to her surprise, he carefully took some from her hand and tried to eat them. He seemed to have trouble with it, but did eat them after a struggle. His nose came back to her hand, and he snuffled some more, but took a pass on more berries. He carefully licked her skin on all of her fingertips and the side of her thumb. Helen was amazed, and smiled.

She put the berries back into the basket and brought her hand to his face again. He curled his lip for just a second, looked a bit apprehensive, but then held still finally as she touched the side of his muzzle and lightly scratched there. They looked at each other for a second, and then he did something that she'd have never foreseen. He slowly lowered himself down to lie in front of her there on the sand. It came as a small shock to her that even with her sitting down and him lying there, they were pretty much eye-to-eye with each other.

Helen began to speak to him softly, but though the terms and sentences that came to her mind of speaking to one's dog were there, she found that they couldn't possibly fit this situation. How the hell can you say, "Good doggie" when the doggie – good or otherwise – stands on all fours with his head level with the bottom of your sternum and outweighs you at least two to one? It was just absurd, she thought.

Besides, this big boy carried himself far too regally for any of that nonsense even if he didn't understand the words. Most dogs have at least a bit of their desire to please written on their faces, even in a situation like this. Even without that, most dogs sense a human's superiority somehow.

But her pal Buddy here – he looked like he didn't give much of a damn either way. She saw cold intelligence in those eyes. In a moment of fancy, she might have thought that they were trying to appear less cold, but clinically? This beast was far brighter than any dog that she'd ever seen. The eyes held the look of calm recognition, mild interest, and absolutely no fear.

In the end, she just spoke to him as though he were a human that she'd just met there on the beach. The conversation was one-sided, but it seemed to fit. The really odd thing was how intently he seemed to listen to her. It went on for a little while, and Helen thought about how this might be a good time to slowly stand again and see if he'd allow her to leave.

That thought flew from her mind a second later when his ears picked up, and the head swung away from her as he stood up abruptly. She watched as his mouth was open just a tiny bit, and his nose rose up into the air as he sniffed. When his brain had gathered enough information to come to a decision, Helen felt another thrill of adrenaline when his lips pulled back fully and his deep growl began. That growl turned into a roaring snarl as he sprang away from her.

He was at the edge of the sand - right back where she'd first seen him in less than a second, and in two bounds, he was over the rim. The roar continued, and then ended in several very deep and angry barks that turned to roaring snarls once more. She was relieved that she didn't appear to be the cause of this, but the sounds that she heard now chilled her. She had no idea what his opponent was, but the conflict was short and sharp, ending in grunts and a painful bellow.

It took several minutes before the birds began to talk to each other in the distance again. Helen wondered if she had just better take this opportunity to make her exit.

The moment was gone a few seconds later as he appeared at the rim of the depression once more. He didn't even stop to look, he just made his way to the sand of the little beach and trotted to her again. Helen laughed as he basically threw himself down in front of her again with something of a satisfied look, she thought. But after a moment, her good humor vanished as her eyes fell to his large front paws.

There was blood there on his claws. A fair bit of it, too. She was suddenly concerned that he'd hurt himself somehow, doing whatever he'd done – to whatever he'd done it too. Yet he didn't seem to be aware of it, or be in any pain.

"Look at your feet," she said, "are you hurt?"

He tilted his head in that crazy way that he had and looked at her quizzically. He watched as she reached toward his paws, and pulled them away from her hand, first one and then the other. He considered the blood for a minute, and then looked up at her, before getting back up to walk with his feet in the water along the beach. He didn't look back, but just walked off.

Helen was more puzzled by this new behavior than ever, but decided that it was maybe better now if she left. The sun had already begun its descent toward evening a while before, and she had a way to go on unfamiliar ground. She realized that had she not met him, she'd have been in the farmhouse and working on her light supper by now. She gathered her things and set out up the rise. Some vegetation had been disturbed in whatever fight had occurred there, but Helen saw no body of any kind and was thankful for that, until she saw the blood.

There was blood on several of the berry bushes, and a few had been crushed. She didn't stick around, but wondered about it as she walked. Remembering what had been on his paws, he didn't seem injured in any way. She supposed a bit later that she shouldn't have wondered all that much, and that it would have been a better idea to concentrate on the way back instead. It didn't really take her much time at all to get lost in the woods. She tried to keep herself focused on the path, but something bothered her. When it finally hit her, she stopped.

Bears absolutely love blueberries. This is what had been on her mind a few days before. Could it be possible that her large companion had fought with and bloodied a bear? The more that she thought about it, the more it seemed likely. All right, she asked herself, why? Why would he have jumped up to attack like that? Had she been in any danger? These were black bears after all, not grizzlies. Then again, this was an island. She didn't know if it was within a bear's swimming range to be able to get to the mainland. She supposed that it would be. But if it wasn't, then food here among the carnivorous types might be at a premium. Maybe he'd done her a huge favor, she thought.

Her musing was cut short by the sounds of a large animal moving through the woods not far off. Almost every forest creature has over time developed a way to move fairly quietly – except the ones who are either too stupid or have no need to care much who might be listening. Normally, that would boil down to two. Humans and bears. And humans, Helen thought, probably earn themselves far more 'Stupid" points than the bears. She listened and realized that even with no breeze here in the forest, a bear would eventually catch her scent, What it might do then was not predictable, but Helen hoped that it had a full belly right now all the same.

She was about to turn away when she noticed him there. The wolf had been right with her the whole time. He stood off to the side with his head looking over his shoulder at her. He walked a little way off and then stopped. When she didn't move, he silently came back and began again, stopping to look back at her. It didn't take three tries for Helen to figure it out. She began to follow, as quietly as she could.

It was working out pretty well for her for a time. She noticed that she was hearing more and more separation between herself and the source of the crashing through the forest. But humans, modern ones, don't walk barefoot in wild places. They wear shoes and they don't feel with their feet for little things. Like dry branches.

The one branch that she stepped on solidly in this gathering gloom broke underfoot with a sound that carried through the woods like a rifle shot. All of the forest fell still instantly. Every moving living thing stopped to listen. All except one. That one began to snuffle loudly. The snuffling stopped with a snort, and then the crashing began anew, this time getting louder very quickly.

Helen was about to turn and run when a black streak flashed by her tearing back the way that they'd come with that same roaring snarl that she'd heard earlier. She could just see the rise in the trail, and knew that the bear, by the noise it was making now, was just on the other side of that. The wolf had just disappeared over that and Helen heard the sounds of a new fight.

Two things stood out for her in this – her new friend, as she supposed him to be, was putting his heart into it this time, and though she couldn't see anywhere near clearly in the dimness of the forest just after dusk, she saw that he reared up during the fray. She could just see that long enough to notice it the first time, and then it happened again. The next thing she knew the big wolf was coming back down the trail to her again. He trotted past her, and she trailed her fingers along his back lightly as he passed. "I don't know for sure," she said very quietly, "But I think you're trying to help me here, so thank you."

She didn't know if he understood or not, but he did turn his head around to regard her very briefly before leading her on at a quick pace for her in the gloom. There was darkness around his mouth, and she wondered if that might be blood. She tried not to think about it as she struggled to keep up. He seemed to want her out of there, so she did her best until they came out near the farmyard. She wondered how he knew that this was where she belonged.

She sat down on the top step to catch her breath for a minute. He stood looking at her and her earlier presumption was confirmed. There was blood from his nose to his chest, but none of it, by his actions, was his own. He seemed totally unconcerned with it. She wondered if there was any food that she could offer him as she looked into the yellow eyes that regarded her calmly. He seemed to read her thoughts just then and turned to walk slowly away. He stopped once in the gloom to look back at her and then continued on into the woods, stopping just at the entrance to urinate against a tree.

Helen smirked at that, and was about to make a quiet comment to herself about men being the same the world over. But she stopped before she began. She had thought that he must have belonged to the other set of human footprints that she'd seen in the cove earlier. She certainly didn't think so now. He was obviously quite wild, and if this huge beast liked her enough to keep any half-starved bears from bothering her, well that just couldn't be a bad thing, could it?