She learned that wolves had occupied Ireland for at least thirty-four thousand years. They were called Mac Tire in Irish Gaelic, meaning Son of the Countryside, because of folk tales about people who could understand their speech.
Irish wolves were reported to be big, weighing one hundred twenty pounds on average, coincidentally exactly the same as Blackie's weight.
It seemed the species is technically canis lupus which meant that Ram and Elora had both been right. Since she preferred wins over draws, she wouldn't be volunteering that factoid any time soon.
Trying to find a way to introduce wolf stock into Elora's project looked problematic from what she could find. The easiest way would be to wait for one or more of the young females to be injured in a fight and left to die. Not a happy prospect, but maybe some other way would present itself.
She quickly scanned the rules of wolf society. Among other things she learned about the range of differences in vocal communication: growls, snarls, barks, bark-howls, growl-barks, long distance howls, defensive howls, social howls, whining, and whimpering. It was a relief to learn that most of their communication by body language is shared with dog behavior, which meant she was on familiar territory.
At every opportunity thereafter she and Blackie returned to the grassy bank that faced the dolmen lair to learn the ethology of the pack. They would sit and observe for a couple of hours at a time. Eventually the wolves became accustomed to their presence and their behavior became visibly less guarded.
In addition to Stalkson, Elora began to name the wolves according to markings or personality traits. She never advanced closer to the lair, but counted on natural curiosity to bring the risk takers closer to her when they were ready.
Surprisingly, it was two submissive wolves from the bottom of the pack hierarchy who turned out to be the adventurers. The female Elora had named Flame came within five feet. She was one of the smallest wolves in the pack and had a few splashes of orangey fur. As the little female came closer to investigate her head bobbed and weaved with every step. Elora almost laughed out loud thinking she should have named her Dancer.
Stalkson lazed on top of the flat stone as if to say the view was good enough from there. Elora could tell that, while he appeared disinterested, he wasn't missing a thing.
Blackie watched the approach calmly without making any aggressive moves or noises, which thrilled his mistress. Apparently he sensed that there was nothing to fear from the brightly marked welcome committee, not that he would have hurt her, but he would have warned her off if he had thought there was a good reason.
Elora made a mental note to bring a treat and the next day returned with pockets full of dried "doggie chicken". Blackie wasn't thrilled about any of it, not luring the wolves close to his mistress and certainly not doling out treats that should rightfully be his to stray wolves. But, he tolerated it because he deferred to the woman who had saved him from the hell cage.
She loved him. He loved her back and wouldn't hesitate to die for her. If she wanted wolves close by, even though he thought it inadvisable, he would put up with it.
Each time they came, the pack initiated the habitual escort about a quarter of a mile away from the lair, keeping pace on either side. The process was reversed when they left.
There was one particular wolf that Elora always saw before any others. He was easy to recognize because he was dark brown all over with no splashes or blotches or stripes. His eyes were the same color as his coat which made him mono-color and that was a distinguishing marking of its own. She thought about calling him Brownie or Cocoa, but decided neither of those names was dignified enough for a wolf with such an important job. She settled on calling him by his position. Point Wolf.
The gorgeous female Elora had named Luna displayed a lot of interest in the daily dance between Flame and Elora. Elora would try to lure Flame close enough to take a chicken treat from her hand. Flame would tease by coming close enough for Elora to feel the wolf's breath on her hand and then dart away as if Elora had suddenly morphed into a gorilla-sized Tasmanian Devil. All the while Blackie sat patiently prone next to Elora like an Egyptian statue, calmly observing without making any sudden movements or noises.
When the day came that Flame actually grabbed the treat between her teeth before scampering off with her prize. Elora looked at Blackie, grinned, and gave him a treat as well. Stalkson had begun to relax into ambivalence. He pretended not to care about their presence, Blackie's and hers, but all the while Elora could tell he was vigilant about watching. He knew where they were and what they were doing. This treat-stealing development seemed to renew interest in the spectator section of the rise. When Flame decided to return for seconds, Stalkson rose up as if he could get a better view of the proceedings.
If it is possible for wolves to be amazed, that would describe the funny look on Stalkson's face when the day came that Luna trotted straight to Elora like a house pet, gingerly took the treat from her outstretched fingertips, and trotted away as if it was no big deal. In response, Flame's neck stretched so far upward that it was comical. She didn't make a hostile move on Luna, but she was clearly miffed nonetheless. Elora brought out another treat and held it out for Flame who had decided she no longer needed to be asked twice. She hurried toward Elora, snagged the treat and retreated, but she did so without fear.
Point Wolf was interested, but not as much of a dare devil as the girls. When Flame went by him he stopped her and sniffed her muzzle to find out what sort of treat she had gotten.
The next day when Elora and Blackie arrived to sit down on the rise, both Flame and Luna came forward for treats. The day after that, Elora and Blackie took up their position on the same rise where the dolmen was located, twenty feet closer than before. While the wolves exhibited a high level of interest in the change of location, they didn't seem to be threatened and exhibited no threatening behaviors. After a couple of days sitting close by, almost every wolf in the pack had tasted chicken treat and was beginning to associate their presence with something wonderful. Stalkson was holding out.
Blackie hated having the wolves come close to Elora. He growled low and deep in his throat on every single approach. When Point Wolf came forward the hair between his shoulder blades ruffed up, but he held it together and didn't make any overtly hostile move.
"Hey," she told him as she stroked his head between his ears, "you signed on to be the Black Swan mascot. What did you expect? It's not a purse dog position."
He was settling into the routine and starting to be halfway okay with it all when, one day Elora stood up and told him to stay. He looked at her with ears straight up, mouth closed, a worried expression that said, "Oh, hell no," but he did as he was told. At least for the time being.
She spent a full hour on her approach of the dolmen, a distance of only ten feet. She reached out painfully slowly and put a chicken treat on the end of the stone slab that Stalkson used for a perch or maybe a throne. He lifted his head and stared into her face, but unlike the real Stalkson, she didn't aggravate him by challenging his gaze.
Depositing the treat with fingers intact felt like a real victory. She began backing away almost as slowly as she had come. Luna leapt onto Stalkson's flat top stone and headed for the treat. He snarled at her and snapped so suddenly she lost her balance and fell off the side, landing on the ground with a yelp.
He sneezed and looked like he was a little embarrassed about shoving the female off the slab, but he decided he would deign to accept the offering before some other wolf beat him to it. He looked at Elora, then sniffed the chicken bit, looked at Elora, then licked at the chicken bit, gobbled it with one swallow, looked at Elora, then turned his back to her and lay down facing the other way. She smiled. The nonchalance was a show of trust. Since wolves don't use word symbols, actions are everything.
A few days later, Blackie broke away from Elora and ran toward the dolmen pack once they got within a hundred yards. She jogged after him, concerned that something might be wrong. As she was running through the forest she thought she caught sight of something off to her right in her peripheral vision that was moving through the brush and was far too large to be a wolf. She didn't stop to investigate, not that it would have been a great idea even if she hadn't been in a hurry, but she made a mental note to ask Ram to catalog the New Forest creatures for her.
When she got closer to the lair clearing she heard the unmistakable sounds of fighting and kicked up her pace so that she was there in seconds. Clearing the top of the rise she found the source of the disturbance. Blackie was fighting two of the mid level males.
Elora looked for Stalkson, but he was nowhere to be seen. When one of the two wolves circled around to take out Blackie's hindquarters while he was occupied with the other, Elora rushed in and tried to estimate just how much pressure to apply to a kick in the ribs to send a clear message without breaking bones. She gave the brown wolf a modified version of a roundhouse kick. He yelped like he'd been shocked with an electric prod and slunk away.
The mottled wolf Blackie was fighting threw himself on the ground and presented his belly. Blackie stood over him in a pose of victory with his tail raised for a few minutes, then huffed and let the other wolf crawl away with his body close to the ground. He stared after his opponent for a couple of seconds before trotting over to initiate mating behavior with Luna who had been quietly watching, waiting to present herself to whomever might emerge victorious.
Well, that explains that. Brown Wolf gave Elora a nasty look over his shoulder. Grudge holder, hmmm?