Bub Moose Page 5

  “It won’t take long. I eat fast. Come on, you can watch out for the people. They seem to like you.”

  The little wolf trotted straight to a shiny, round gray thing that was taller than he was. He started jumping at it, shoving and hitting it with his paws. With a little clank it finally tipped over and the top fell off. Snow started digging at the stuff that tumbled out.

  “Come on, Bub, this is good food. My pack eats it sometimes. But just the fresh meat—not the yucky stuff.” He licked his lips, rooting and searching through the mess.

  “I don’t eat that! We need to go.” I couldn’t believe it. The wolf tore and jerked, searching through the pile of junk that had poured out from the gray thing. He gobbled as much of the meat as he could find.

  A noise made my ears stand straight up. Looking around, I saw a glistening square on the side of the building. It was clear as water in a mountain stream—only it didn’t flow. It just sat there. One of the people looked through from the other side. He smiled at me. I could hear strange sounds from inside the building, but the people didn’t come out.

  Snow must have heard the noises, too. He jumped away from the pile on the ground.

  “Let’s get out of here!” he yelped. Tail between his legs, he loped off. “Those people will get us!”

  “They were inside the building. They’re not going to get us.” I sighed and turned to follow Snow.

  I had to hurry to keep up with my friend as he trotted away.

  “Grrr . . . Yap . . . yap . . . yap!”

  The loud sound made my legs lock. Snow backed up until his tail crunched against my knee. Beside us was a row of white boards. The sound came from behind them. I leaned my head down, staring. Through the gaps between the wood, I saw three big animals. They looked a lot like Snow.

  “Is it your pack?” I asked. “They look kind of like you. They even sound like the wolves in the meadow.”

  Snow was behind me, trembling. “No, these guys aren’t my pack! They are mean and ugly. They want to get us.”

  “Grrrr. Yap . . . yap . . . yap!” They barked and snarled. They leaped and slammed against the boards, but I guess they couldn’t get out.

  “They don’t look too dangerous to me,” I said.

  “Can’t you hear what they are saying?”

  “Grrr. Yap . . . yap . . . yap?” I asked.

  “No! They want to tear us up. They said that they were dogs and they rule the town. We are in their territory and we have to get out—now! If we don’t get away from their fence, they are going to eat us up.”

  “No, I didn’t hear that. They just yapped. But that’s okay, we need to go anyway.” I quickened my pace and cantered off. Snow stayed right on my heels. He looked scared or worried, because his head hung low on one end and his tail drooped low on the other.

  More yapping followed us as we moved on our way. People came out of their buildings—I guess they were cabins, because they were small—to stare at us. Snow crouched even lower and crept along behind me. Nobody got close to us like the little people did. They just stood still and watched as we jogged past. After we got away from the yapping dogs, Snow straightened up.

  “How are you doing, Bub? You weren’t scared, were you?” He took a deep breath and puffed out his chest. “Dogs talk pretty tough, but we could have taken them.”

  I blinked and stared down at him. “What are you talking about, Snow? You said those big animals were going to eat us. You were afraid of them.”

  “Nah. We could have beaten them.” Snow’s tail flipped in the air. “Your big hooves would have saved us. I could have sneaked around and jumped all over them.” Snow looked back at me. “We could have done it.”

  “GRRRR. We’ll see who’s tough!” A huge shaggy brown dog stood right in front of us. There was no row of white boards—no fence. He was just there! On the road—staring us in the eye!

  Chapter 8

  Yip, yip! Run, Bub, run!” Snow barked.

  My hooves clomped on the black road as I chased after my friend. I could hear his yipping in front of me. We raced away from the cabins to escape the horrible beast. In my mind’s eye I could see him chasing right behind us. I could almost feel his sharp white fangs snapping inches from my legs.

  I ran harder. My heart pounded in my chest.

  At the edge of the forest I spotted Snow trying to hide behind a clump of trees. I glanced back over my shoulder. The scary beast with the sharp fangs was no longer in sight. I was wheezing and puffing when I caught up with him. Snow’s eyes were as wide as could be.

  “Was that thing part of your pack?” I looked down at the panting wolf.

  “That was another DOG! That was a mean dog! A really mean dog! He was running free, and he may be right behind us.” Snow shook his fur. “My daddy would tear him up if he was here.”

  “He didn’t even follow us. He’s probably still standing there yapping at the air. Do you have any idea how we’re going to get back to the mountain-top? My mother must be very worried about me.”

  “My pack will find us. We just have to keep watching for them.” Snow didn’t seem quite as sure of himself as before. He plopped on his rump in the grass and scratched his ear with a hind foot.

  I sighed. My head hung low. “I’m hungry. I need my mother.”

  The shadows from the trees seemed to race across the ground. They grew longer with each passing moment. Soon the sun would go hide behind the mountains. It would be dark and lonely and scary. We had to find our way home. I started walking again. Still panting, Snow followed me from the trees and into a small meadow.

  Suddenly I saw her. Mother was standing near the center of the clearing. She nibbled on a pile of dry-looking grass.

  “Mother!” Eyes wide and heart pounding, I bounded toward her. The closer I got, the more excited I was! “Mother, it’s me!”

  The big animal turned around and glared at me. “Mooo! I don’t know you.”

  I didn’t even look at her. Mother never said “Moo” to me before, but I was so excited and so hungry, I didn’t even listen.

  “Mother, it’s me, Bub!” I raced to her and leaned down to get some warm milk.

  A huge hoof flew out. It almost clunked me on the nose.

  “Mooo! Get back. I’m not your mother.”

  I stepped away and blinked. The animal was big, like Mother. She had brown eyes, like Mother. But her face was not long and beautiful. She had sharp pointed things on her head near her short ears. She stomped her hooves at me.

  “I’m sorry.” My head hung low, and I couldn’t look her in the eye. “We’re lost. When I first saw you . . . well . . . I miss my mother so so much . . . I . . . I wanted you to be her. I know you are not my mother. I just . . . just . . .”

  The big brown animal glared at me. Then her look softened.

  “I understand. When I was a little calf, the farmer took me away from my mother. I missed her so much and I was so hungry, I chased a horse all over the pasture.” She blinked and wobbled her head at me. “I’m Daisy. I’m a dairy cow. This meadow is my home. I’m not your mother, but you may share my hay. My milk is for the family that takes care of me, though. Maybe if you stay here, your mother will find you. Does she live nearby?”

  “I don’t know. We were on the mountain and we fell off. We have been looking all day. We are trying to get back up, but we can’t find the right place.” Suddenly I felt very tired and hungry.

  The shadows of the forest were longer. It was almost dark. Snow crouched in the tall grass near the trees.

  “Wheeee . . . tweet . . . tweet!” A human sound came to my ears. It was sharp and loud. When I looked toward the sound, I saw a big building. A people stood near it.

  “I’ve got to go. The family needs me at the barn.” The cow turned and waddled toward the building.

  Sticking my nose into the pile of hay on the ground, I munched on it for a while. It wasn’t very good, but I ate some anyway. I felt nervous. I wished that I could feel brave. The wind blew hard
er as darkness swallowed us. Snow moved closer. We were alone, apart from the rest of the world. I had to be fearless, I couldn’t let Snow feel how scared I really was. I had never been away from Mother at night. Inside, my stomach was churning from hunger and fear.

  I settled down into the hay. Snow nestled against my back watching the other direction. We would figure out what to do in the morning. We were both worn out and needed some sleep.

  • • •

  The morning light streamed into the pasture. Snow lay on his back with his front legs folded by his chest. His hind legs stuck straight out. My tummy churned and growled. Another sound came to my keen ears. I looked up.

  Two people stared down at us. They were really close.

  Startled, I jumped and clamored to my feet. Snow sprang up, too.

  “Yip,” he said, scampering off to the edge of the meadow. “People! Again!”

  I started to run, but I didn’t. There was something about the little people’s eyes that held me where I was. Something caring. Something gentle.

  The smaller people held out its front legs. I saw her hooves. They weren’t like mine. My hooves only had one cleft or split down the middle. They were strong and sturdy and hard. Her hooves had a whole bunch of splits. Instead of hard and black, they were soft. They were wrapped around something—holding it.

  Clear and shimmering like water, what she held wasn’t water. It didn’t move. Maybe it was ice. Mother had told me about ice. She said it was clear like water, only hard. I tilted my head to the side. There was something white and creamy looking inside the ice. My nose twitched. Whatever it was, it smelled delicious. Moving closer, my lips wiggled as I reached out to touch the warm soft thing at the tip of the ice.

  It was food!

  I licked my lips. It was like Mother’s milk. I couldn’t stop as I pulled at the warm yummy liquid that came from inside.

  “See, he’s just hungry.” The big people spoke very soft and gentle. “Hold the baby bottle steady and don’t make any fast moves. The moose is easy. Let’s see if we can get this little wolf to eat the dog food.”

  The big person stepped away and dropped to one knee. I stopped sucking the warm milk and looked around. Snow was still crouched at the edge of the meadow near the trees. I shook my head and grabbed at the milk again.

  The big person dumped something out on the ground, stood up, and stepped back. My person watched me closely. I looked up into the face. Her small strange-looking hoof reached out slowly and touched my nose. I wasn’t the least bit afraid, now. These people made me feel comfortable.

  The big person held her hooves up to her face. She had a black box or rock or something. Suddenly a bright light flashed. It made me blink. For a second all I could see was a blue dot.

  “Thanks, Mom. The kids at school would never believe it without a picture. I don’t believe it myself. He is so cute and cuddly. Do you think he will find his way home? What about the wolf? How do you think the two of them ended up together?”

  “I really don’t know. They’re an odd pair. We have to go, Leah. If we handle them too much, their mothers might reject them. The little moose has had enough milk to get his strength back. The wolf will get the scent of the dog food when we leave.” The little one pulled the last of the warm milk from my lips and stepped back. Then they walked away.

  The moment they were gone, Snow raced toward me. Sliding to a stop at the pile on the ground, he sniffed and sniffed. Then he started gobbling it up.

  “I was starving.” Wagging his tail, Snow paused and gave a little burp. “That was pretty good stuff. Not as good as a juicy MOUSE, but it’ll do for now. We better get out of here before they come back and hurt us.”

  I cocked my head to the side. “Did anybody hurt you? You keep saying that, and nobody has hurt us yet. I like the people. Their touch feels good, and those people brought us some yummy food.”

  Snow’s sharp pointed ears twitched.

  “We’ve just been lucky.”

  Both of my ears pointed at my friend. “Do you really know where we are going?”

  Snow puffed his chest out. Then his shoulders sagged.

  • • •

  Tall trees, short trees, they all seemed the same as we moved along the dirt trail. We found a road. It still wasn’t like the one Mother showed me. It didn’t have lines down the middle. We followed it anyway. There were cabins on either side of the road. Sort of like the trees, they all began to look the same after a while. Snow trotted on in front of me. My legs felt heavy, but my big hooves kept moving.

  Noises came from somewhere ahead of us. There were strange sounds and unusual smells. The clamor grew louder as we moved along. It made both of us nervous. Our pace slowed until we stopped, held our breath, and listened.

  Snow glanced over his shoulder at me. His whiskers wiggled up and down on either side of his snout.

  “I know that noise.” He blinked, but he kept looking at me. “I’ve heard it before. Mother has a name for it. If I could only remember. . . .”

  A steady thump, thump, thump came. Relaxed and low, like the beat of my heart, it almost made the rest of the racket seem connected or together, somehow.

  “Music!” Snow yipped. “That’s what it is—music.”

  My nostrils flared and crinkled up. “What’s that?”

  “The sound. That’s what Mother calls it. The sound is called music. I heard it one evening when we sat in the woods and watched some campers.”

  “Campers?”

  “Yeah.” Snow nodded. “That’s people who come and stay in the woods in tents.”

  “Tents? What are tents?”

  Snow gave me a disgusted look. “Tents are like the cabin caves that people live in. Only these cabins have soft walls that flop in the breeze. People can fold them up and carry their cabins around on their backs.”

  “No way!”

  “Yeah. Really.” Snow nodded. “I’ve seen them. Honest.”

  I looked up the road where we stood. There were cars on either side. They didn’t whiz or race past, so I guess they were asleep. All they did was sit. Still, there were a whole lot of them. The noise—or music, as Snow called it—came from someplace beyond where all the cars were.

  It wasn’t bad, but with all the cars around and all the cabins on our left and the buildings on our right . . . I just knew there had to be people.

  “I don’t like it,” I snorted. “The ‘music’ is getting too loud. Let’s leave.”

  Off to our right was another road. It was more narrow and darker than the one where we stood. It went between some tall buildings that were made of stone. The road was littered with paper and cans and lots of other . . . other . . . What was that word that Mother taught me? Oh, yeah. Trash.

  “The racket doesn’t seem quite so loud, that way.” I pointed with my ears. “Let’s go there.”

  Snow followed me. We moved into the shadows between the buildings. Cautious and careful, we eased down the narrow, cluttered road. Beside us was a big square thing with trash on the ground, all around it. As tall as I was, it was three times as big as Snow and me put together. Kind of brown like the trees, it was hard and cold. Farther down the road was another and another. I leaned closer to the one beside us and sniffed.

  Suddenly my eyes crossed and my tongue stuck out the side of my mouth. The smell that came from the brown box was horrible. For a second I thought I was going to throw up.

  “That’s the most disgusting thing I ever smelled in my life.” I gasped, taking a step or two back.

  Snow raised up and put his paws on the side of the big box. He sniffed, only he didn’t stagger backward like I did.

  “Garbage.”

  “Garbage?”

  Snow shot me another irritated look. “You sure don’t know much, do you, Bub? Garbage is people stuff they don’t want anymore. They put it in a place called the Dump. Our cousins, the coyotes, hang out there all the time. They find all sorts of rotten meat and chicken scraps. I guess they like the ta
ste. Us wolves, on the other hand—we like our meat fresh. No self-respecting wolf would ever eat out of the Dump. We eat fresh stuff from garbage cans, at a campsite, of course. I mean the Dump . . . that’s just not cool. It’s not something . . .”

  “Beep . . . beep . . . beep . . . beep!”

  The strange sound stopped Snow right in the middle of what he was saying. Eyes wide, we both spun to see what was making the weird racket behind us. An enormous car came down the path. I guess it was a truck, because it was so big. It had those black hooves that spun round and round. It looked hard and cold, like a truck. Only this thing was huge.

  “Beep . . . beep . . . beep . . . beep!” it called over and over as it rolled down the narrow road toward us.

  Snow and I scampered to get out of its way. We wanted to run and keep running, but all at once it quit yelling “Beep, beep!” at us. Looking back, we saw it stop beside the big brown box that held the stuff my friend called garbage. The thing growled. It stuck out two legs, grabbed the box with the garbage stuff, and lifted it clear off the ground. (The truck must have been really strong, because that box was full of gunk and bigger than Snow and me and even Mother—all put together.)

  It growled again. This time it opened its mouth. Right at the very top, this gaping, black, bottomless hole appeared. With his two legs, the truck lifted the garbage box. Holding it above his mouth, he tipped it until all the junk inside poured out. It went right down his throat. Finally the truck monster growled and closed his mouth. Then he put the empty box back on the ground.

  Eyes and mouths wide as could be, my friend and I could only watch.

  “Beep . . . beep . . . beep . . . beep,” it said again. Then it started moving. It came toward us.

  “Run, Snow!” I snorted. “Run! It’s going to eat us, just like it did that garbage. Run! Run for your life!”

  Chapter 9

  The Beep-beep Monster quit chasing us. I whipped around and watched the strange beast. He stopped beeping, but . . .

  He growled at us!

  He growled when he reached out his legs to pick up the next big box. He growled when he opened his enormous mouth. He growled when he swallowed the garbage. Then . . .