Excerpt of Song of the Yukon by Trisha Sugarek

Later that night LaVerne pulled her cot over to the door of her shack. On mild nights like tonight she loved to sleep with the door open and her head sticking out just enough to watch the stars and the northern lights. Tonight swirls of red, green, gold and purple danced across the night sky. Silent and slightly eerie, they made for a spectacular show.

Earlier at Charlie’s cabin they had dined on venison steaks, red potatoes and a cabbage salad from Charlie’s garden. Charlie had announced that the venison was to celebrate the first wall going up on LaVerne’s cabin. After supper LaVerne had played her guitar and sang some of her original songs. Just at dusk LaVerne set out back to her place, Howler trotting at her heels.

Now she lay staring up at the billions of stars in the midnight blue sky. Over the tree tops and off to the east ribbons of color churned and twirled across the sky. It was one of LaVerne’s favorite sights. She sighed with deep contentment on all that she, with Charlie’s help, had accomplished so far. The walls of the cabin were going up; her garden was planted; a root cellar was waiting for her to finish and to fill. The sound of her chickens, muttering in their sleep gave her a feeling of deep peace.

Howler yipped and jerked, under her cot, as he chased a rabbit in his dreams. Does life get any better than this? She asked herself. To make such a wonderful friend in Charlie and to have neighbors who cheerfully help me at every turn? And this land, this place! Home is a pristine clearing in virgin forest with snow capped mountains to the east and south. A river, two miles wide, practically at my doorstep, teaming with fish. LaVerne drifted off to sleep as she thought about all the things that she was grateful for.

Several hours later she was startled out of a deep sleep by Howler’s crazed barking. He stood by the side of her cot and when she reached out to reassure him she felt the hair on his back standing straight up.

“Hush, Howie, what is it?”

LaVerne fumbled for the flashlight that she kept by her side and her gun lying within easy reach. Then she heard it. A low rumbling, guttural, growling. Suddenly her chickens were squawking and trying to fly, hitting the sides of the wire enclosure. Her goats had set up a terrible din of cries. LaVerne swung her legs over the side of her cot and slipped into her boots in one fluid motion.

With her light in one hand and her pistol in the other, she stood and carefully walked out of the shack and towards the enclosure where the animals were. The growling had deepened and LaVerne thought she could hear the distinct sound of bones being crushed. Her dog whined.

“Howie, stay.” She told him.

When she was half way to the enclosure and with her gun cocked and ready, she turned on the flashlight.

Crouched in a corner of the pen, his front claws holding down a dead chicken, was the largest wolverine LaVerne had ever seen, alive or skinned. He growled and barred his teeth at the unexpected light and then went back to his meal. The nerve of this monster! LaVerne thought. He doesn’t care one whit about me. Not afraid at all. He’s killed my chicken, the bastard!

Then rational thought took over. LaVerne knew that if she placed her shot well she would have a skin that was worth about fifty dollars on the fur market.