Runt Read Free Page B

couldn't find his pack's smell there, either. He kept moving, nonetheless. He had come too far to consider turning back.
    Runt trotted, then plodded, then trotted again, though he followed nothing now, no disappearing tail, no diminishing scent. He kept going and going until finally he had no choice but to stop and admit to himself and to the watching forest that he was well and truly lost.
    An enormous pileated woodpecker hammered at a nearby tree, the noise of his assault echoing through the woods. Runt sat listening, but even when the hammering stopped, he didn't attempt to ask for directions. Woodpeckers tended to be crabby fellows. Maybe it was all that pounding.
    A striped chipmunk scurried past. Runt laid a swift paw on his back, holding him fast.
    "Do you know where the hunters went?" he asked.
    "I know where my family is," Chipmunk chittered nervously. "Nothing more."
    Runt studied the bulging cheeks, the stripes, the tiny fluff of a tail.
    "You're much smaller than I am," he announced finally.
    "So what?" Chipmunk squeaked—rather boldly, Runt thought, for one being held down by the weight of a paw. "Now let me go. I have to carry these seeds to my family."
    Obediently, Runt lifted his paw and let the little fellow scurry away. What difference did it make that Chipmunk was small? He carried seeds to his family.
    Weasel emerged from beneath a tree stump.
    "Have you seen the hunters?" Runt called. But the sleek brown fellow disappeared into a thicket of Juneberries without bothering to answer.
    Runt was beginning to realize that following the hunters might have been a rather serious mistake. If he had stayed home, he would be napping in a comforting pile with his littermates now ... or pouncing on patient Helper's tail ... or simply waiting for the hunters to return with meat. He sat down in the middle of a patch of jack-in-the-pulpits and looked around. The forest was familiar but entirely strange at the same time. He was clearly far from home, and he no longer had any idea which way to turn to get back.
    So he did the only thing he knew to do. He tipped his head back, drew his lips into a tight O, and began to yip and cry like any other lost pup. But after the first few yips, something unexpected happened. A howl rose on the sweet summer air. The sound startled Runt. Had it come from his own mouth? He stopped, then lifted his head and tried to yip again. Another long howl, as lost and lonely sounding as he felt, floated toward the
arching sky beyond the green branches. He liked the sound, so this time he didn't stop. He just howled and howled.
    "What do you want?" The voice was deep, filled with authority.
    Runt looked down. A pair of large paws stood before him, slender legs, silver fur. "Mother!" he cried.
    But the stern gray face towering over him was not his mother's. It was not, in fact, the face of any wolf he had ever seen before.
    "Why are you in my territory?" the great wolf demanded.
    Runt wanted to answer, but no further sound would come from his mouth. It was as though the remains of his voice had sailed away on the word
Mother.
He could do nothing, in fact, before this stranger but tuck his tail, lower his body to the ground, and tremble.
    "Why are you here?" the wolf repeated. "I am king of this place. And you are not part of my pack."
    "P-p-please," Runt stammered. "I—I'm looking for my family." He didn't dare look again into the face of the great wolf standing over him.
    "Are they here?" the gray king demanded to know, the fur along his spine rising to attention.
    "No," Runt admitted. "I'm the only one. And I—I seem to be lost. Just a bit."
    "Just a bit," the wolf repeated, and Runt detected something in his voice that was almost a smile.
    For a long moment neither of them spoke. Finally, the gray king said, "Follow me." Just that. And he turned and walked away.
    Runt followed meekly. He had no idea where he was being taken, but he kept close behind the gray king, clambering over fallen