Stripe

Another story from Split Sir in Alaska

            It was three years after I stared to take care of the mother wolf’s pup, whom I called Stripe. It was winter again and we found ourselves hunting around the Alaskan tundra. I carried my leather backpack, filled with three rabbits and some other equipment, and my hunting rifle. We stood atop the peak of a small hill and looked out over a nearby forest. In the distance we could see a heavy snowstorm headed our way. Stripe sat on his haunches and waited for me to make a judgment on the situation. With his big eyes trained on me, he waited patiently as I figured out a new root. I figured that any attempts to hunt would be unfruitful, and though I was not satisfied with what we caught so far, I decided that we should head back to the cabin. I turned around and started trudging down the hill, and Stripe eagerly followed suit.

            We were some thick forest when the snow started to fall on us. Up until that point, I had been relying on my memory and Stripe had been following the scent of the path, but we both lost our way. Though grey clouds above blocked the sun out, I could tell that night was almost upon us. That night, we ended up taking refuge in a den under some tree roots. I had to lay on my side with my knees pressed up against my chest and Stripe laid on his belly next to me with his nose pressed up against mine. The snow was piling in around us outside, but my main concern at that point was keeping warm us. As the night went on, I felt the hair on my face hardening into little icicles and Stripe started to shake viciously. I unzipped my coat and quickly pulled Stripe under my shirt and zipped the coat up again. Stripe poked his head out of my collar and surrendered to the warmth. I minded the fur next to my mouth as I fell asleep and began to dream.

            “Where are we, mom?” “Where we should be.” “I don’t like it here.” “You’ll grow to love it.” “I guess…” “Don’t guess.” “Okay.” “…This is our new home.” “It’s smaller.” “It’s only for you and me, that’s why.” “Right.” “What?” “Nothing.” “You thought I forgot, didn’t you?” “You usually forget.” “I didn’t forget this year.” “Oh really.” “Go on and check the garage.” “Wait….mom, you didn’t actually…” “I did.” But we just moved out here and…” “I know. Don’t worry about it.” “Where’d you get the money to�"“ “I said don’t worry about it.” “Mom, it’s a brand new Harley. It must have cost you an arm and a leg.” “It was worth it.” “…I can’t thank you enough.” “Thank me by not getting yourself wrapped around a telephone pole.” “I promise I won’t.” “Don’t promise. Just don’t.” “Okay.” “Happy birthday.” “Can I take it out on the road?” “That was the idea.” “I’ll be back soon.” “I hope so.”

            In the morning, I woke up to blackness and nearly went back to sleep, but Stripe’s movement forced me to stay awake. I remembered where we were and realized that the snowstorm must have layered on a foot or two of snow outside. I kicked at the snow by my feet, and a ray of white light came in through small hole. Stripe made his way out of my shirt and peer through the hole. He dug hastily and made a hole big enough for him to fit through. I crawled on my knees and squeezed through the crevasse. Stripe sat on his haunches outside of the den, waiting for me with his tongue hanging. When I finally climbed out and stood in the fresh snow, Stripe nudged my leg and gave a slight whimper. After sitting down and rummaging through my backpack, I laid out the carcasses of the three rabbits. Stripe looked at the rabbits anxiously and I threw one of them at him. He caught the rabbit in his mouth and proceeded to strip the rabbit of what meat it had. I gathered some wood to make a fire and a makeshift spit. Following suit of Stripe in a more elegant manner, I remove the innards of the rabbit with my skinning knife and cooked them. Stripe sat, with the hide of the rabbit at his feet, while I started my meal.

            The snowstorm caused many trees to fall over, and it was only after another night in the forest that I began to think that we were lost. The next day, Stripe rushed ahead of me to try to find our path again and after an hour or so, he would come back with his tail down and filled with disappointment. I pat him on his head, as if to tell him that he did the best that he could, and we walked side by side for the rest of that day. That night, I made a bigger fire, and took the last rabbit out of my bag. My stomach growled angrily, trying to persuade me to keep the rabbit for myself. I looked at Stripe and his big eyes stared into mine. He wasn’t exactly begging as much as he was stating the fact. I was bigger, with more built up body fat. He was smaller and leaner, and couldn’t last very long without the rabbit. I threw the last rabbit at him and he dealt with it more gracefully than he had with the last one, savoring it. I lay down on the ground and wrapped my arms around Stripe. We fell asleep, huddled close to the fire, and I began to dream again.

            “Where were you?” “At a friend’s house.” “You were gone for hours.” “I know, I’m sorry, I was going to call you but�"” “But you didn’t” “…” “What? Know you won’t even talk when you are here?” “Sorry, I just was�"“ “Was just thinking for yourself.” “Ma, I’m just finally getting settled in.” “You think you are the only one? We are here together. We need to be her for each other.” “Ma, I swear I’m here for you.” “Oh sure. You show that by going off whenever you get the chance.” “You did give me the motorcycle.” “I did. And I would expect so gratitude for it. Like staying around the house and cleaning up for once. Just helping me out.” “I will, I will” “Will you? I don’t believe you.” “Well, maybe I don’t want to help out because this isn’t what I wanted.” “…” “Ya, you never thought of that, did you? That I was happy with things before. With dad.” “No…no please don’t.” “No, if you are going to pester me about not helping around, I’ll tell you why I don’t. I hate it here and I liked it before.” “…leave.” “What?” “I said leave.” “What do you mean ‘leave’?” “I mean if you are going to be an ungrateful brat, then you can get the f**k out of this house.” “…Fine. I will.” “…” “…I’m taking the Harley.” “You better.” “Okay.” “Well.” “….Goodbye, mom.” “Goodbye.”

            I woke up in the morning, with Stripe still in my arms. Something seemed off, and I couldn’t quite figure out what it was for a while. Then I noticed that Stripe didn’t have a pulse. I turned him over to look at his face. His eyes were closed and the area around his mouth was covered in a misting of eyes. The lack of food and exhaustion must have killed him. I held his face in my hand for a while. My stomach grumbled angrily. I gave a small apology under my breath to Stripe and his mother, for taking Stripe out here and getting lost. When I finished, I took out my skinning knife and did what I had to do to survive.