• Chapter VIII
    A New Leadership

    Years come and gone. Buck has had children, three beautiful pups, two girls and one boy. Buck’s son had potential to take leadership. He showed great aspects of Buck’s leadership and became Buck’s pride. His son was a brown timber wolf with one white paw, his front left paw. And he also had a snow white chest; he was a truly magnificent creature, a natural born leader. All was perfectly right with the tribe.

    The evergreen trees were covered with a light layer of snow. The sky was a nice gray color, the sun hidden by clouds, which were carrying a night’s worth of snow. Holes were scattered all over the area marking beds for all of the wolves. Mountains over the horizon making a picture perfect scene.

    Gunshots could be heard from over the distance, they were becoming increasingly louder each day. The noise was no longer of any importance to the wolves; gunshots had been heard for months now. Maybe there was no more yellow metal left up here in the north. Maybe the people were going to leave.

    Another gunshot echoed from the distance, not very far from here. Probably less than a mile away from the wolves’ territory, they needed to leave. Buck barked, his nose pointed to the opposite direction. That was where they would go. There were more gunshots, even closer than before; they were now less than half a mile away.

    The pack of wolves ran due east, the hunters coming from the west. The hunters were so close to the pack of wolves they didn’t even know it. The wolves were able to step almost silently, while the hunters sounded like they were very inexperienced. The escape from the hunters remained like this for a good while the wolves running along and the hunters being oblivious to what they should be doing until a gun was fired and the yelp of a wolf was heard. The pack had been spotted. Two more gunshots fired, two more wolves shot down. The hunters were apparently more experienced than one would think.

    Buck race with his son to an opening. The two wolves were side by side, father and son. The opening was clear, an empty patch of snow. They had put themselves into clear sight. Three gunshots were then fired. A sharp yelp struck soon after, echoing the sound of pain, one of the bullets had hit one of Buck’s hind legs. The two dogs were enraged. Why were these hunters coming through here? Didn’t they hear from any Indians about what had happened? But it was too late to be asking any questions. The hunters had come for a battle, they were going to get a full out war.

    The remaining wolves of the pack ran by and into some trees that would lead them to a hidden cave. There they would be safe.

    Buck and his son snarled at the three men. One man was small and seemed to be unsure and worried about this. He had a buzzed haircut; he was also short and was trembling with the gun aiming at Buck. The other man was a good bit taller and muscled. His gun was aimed firmly at Buck as well as looking quite experienced. The third man was bigger than both of them and quite fat. He had a beard and was red-faced from all of the running. His gun was the only gun pointed at Buck’s son.

    Another shot was fired from the small man but missed Buck and the dogs charged toward the muscular man first. Buck bit his hand until it bled and his son knocked him over, and started clawing at his chest. The small man not knowing what to do dropped his gun and ran off. The fat man still had his gun pointed at Buck’s son but was getting some distance. Buck bit the man’s neck like he had to the first Indian he killed to save John Thornton.

    A sharp pain then hit Buck’s hind leg where the bullet had hit and he recoiled and fell over onto the ground. His son charged over to the fat man and took him to the ground, knocking his gun to the ground out of reach for the man.

    Buck’s son knew that his father would be gone at some point or another so he left Buck there, but Buck wasn’t ready to go yet. He got up to his feet and limped over to help his son fight the man.

    The wolf was on top of the man, but he was stronger than he looked and pushed him off and got his gun. Three bullets were fired. On lodged itself into a tree, another went out into the distance, the third hit the wolf in the stomach. Buck then ran weakly over to the man and bit his leg. The man cried out in pain and fell onto his stomach, the gun now under him. Buck then bit his neck open and limped over to his son.

    The wolf got back up before Buck was able to get over there and so the two wolves slowly found their way into the dark cave and laid there for rest. Three fourths of the pack was there, all but one of the little ones and most of the adults. The pack had done very well to get away.


    That night while all of the wolves were asleep Buck still laid there whimpering and whining in pain. Buck knew his time had come and slowly made his way out of the cave. He didn’t want to look weak or make his pack mourn over him. He knew what it was like to lose a companion like that and didn’t want the pack to go through what he did.

    Buck remembered John Thornton very well still, never forgiving himself for leaving the camp that day. He remembered the bad names he called Buck and the times they shared together. He remembered the love the two shared and the times Buck had saved his life. Buck remembered the time he pulled the half-ton sled for John Thornton and the countless adventures they shared.

    It was a clear night sky now, the clouds had blown over and the moon was full. Buck limped up onto a rock and howled. He mourned for John Thornton. He then howled again, this time for the pack. The he howled one last long howl for the valley to hear. Buck then collapsed to never get back up again.

    Buck knew that the pack would be safe under his son’s leadership. He knew that soon he would be with John Thornton again and longed for this moment. He yearned for John Thornton, to see him again. To be held in his arms again. Buck the closed his eyes.

    The stars shined very bright that night. All was right again, the hunters had left, the pack was safe, and Buck was with John Thornton. The moon’s glow was also just as bright and gave the night peace. The next morning Buck’s son knew what happened and led the pack back to the spot they had left to hide. The next night Buck’s son howled long and hard, mourning his father and taking leadership of the pack.