Free Spirit of a Mountain Wolf by Rosanne Hawke Page A

explained. “He works the other side of the dump. He wants my section, too.”
    “He will not treat the children well?”
    “No.”
    “Then he must be stopped.”
    Zakim grunted. “And you have an idea how to do that, mountain boy?”
    Razaq thought of his and his father’s rifles buried under the destroyed house. “Do you have a gun?”
    Zakim gaped at him. “A gun?”
    “It is how we protected our family and herds from wild animals. Everyone in the mountains had one. It was very effective.”
    Zakim glanced at the cardboard shelter and back to Razaq. “The bear has a knife.”
    “You do not?”
    “It is my knife he has.”
    “So you have fought before.” It was a statement not a question. “How much is a knife?”
    “I know where to get a used one for twenty-five rupees.”
    Razaq thought a moment. Did Zakim know how much money he had? He glanced at Moti and Raj, who were cajoling Hira to keep picking up papers, then lifted his chin just as his father did when he had made a decision. He pulled the money out of his pocket.
    When he looked up, Zakim was grinning. “I knew I hadn’t picked you up for nothing, Chandi.”

    When Zakim returned that evening, he had two knives and dinner in a square plastic box.
    “How—” Razaq began.
    “Don’t ask, Chandi.” Zakim passed him a knife.
    The little children sat in an eager circle around the box of curry, and Zakim handed out chapattis. Razaq suspected his money had paid for the food so how did Zakim get the knives? Zakim saw him watching him and made that curious gesture with his eyebrows and nose. Razaq grinned. He guessed he was never going to find out. He joined in with the others, scooping curry up with pieces of chapatti.
    “Just like my mother used to make,” Zakim said with a sigh.
    “I say it is not,” Raj said.
    Zakim looked at the boy with mock sadness. “You need to use your imagination more, Raj.”
    The cardboard shelter had been made with the same care that Razaq’s father had taken when building their house. Part of it was a box that some sort of machine had been sold in, which Zakim had tied together with another box. Over the top were sheets of plastic, then more scraps of cardboard held down with wire.
    “Welcome to our palace,” he said and ushered Razaq inside, where he lit a candle.
    Moti put the other two and herself to sleep on a cardboard mat at the back of the box. Zakim laid a thin blanket over them then came to sit with Razaq near the opening. He pulled a tube from a small bag.
    “What is that?” Razaq asked.
    Zakim squeezed something out of the tube onto a piece of dirty cloth and handed it to Razaq. “You sniff it.”
    “Why?”
    “It makes you feel better. Helps you forget you haven’t eaten or are only a prince of a small part of a rubbish dump. It can even make you feel warm—no need for blankets. Magic.” He grinned.
    Razaq frowned. “It is like hashish?”
    “Hash is too expensive.”
    “In the mountains, men who smoke too much hash cannot fight.”
    Zakim lowered the cloth. “What is it you are meaning?”
    Razaq ignored the threat in Zakim’s voice. “What if the bear comes tonight? He would finish you off.”
    Zakim brought the cloth to his nose. “This will make me forget about him.”
    “Then you will not realize when he kills you. I would rather know when I am being killed.” He lowered his voice. “Maybe the two of us can overpower him.”
    Zakim shook his head. “He is a bear.”
    “Bears still have blood like we do, and it pours out like ours. Even a bear feels pain when a ring is put in its nose.”
    Razaq watched Zakim put the cloth away. A gun or a knife was no protection against an earthquake, but the bear surely couldn’t be as strong as the earth in a rage.

Chapter 9
    When Javaid arrived home from the tribal areas, Sakina jumped into his arms as soon as he entered the courtyard. “Abu, why were you away so long? I missed you.”
    “I missed you too, beti.”
    Javaid held her