Oliver spread the large chunks of antelope carcass around the center of the wide clearing. To the south of him the main arm of the river, which had many eons ago carved its way through the multitude of brightly colored sediment layers to create the canyon in which he stood, lazily wove its way through banks populated by cottonwood trees. The bare sentinels had lost most of their heart shaped leaves already but the wind still gently clanked the empty branches together as though they were wind chimes. In the distance he heard the deep baying call of Black Elk as he repeated over again his signal. The sun was just beginning to go down and the elk-man was rushing from rim, to plateau, to opposite rim, as fast as his dexterous legs could carry him. Sending out his message in as many directions as possible.

Black Elk had deposited him here, in the place that had been chosen for the meeting, with instructions to spread out the to be offered meal in wide circle. This meat was meant give the wolves something to fill there bellies and hopefully put them in a better mood to listen to Black Elks proposal. He had been initially confused as to why his presence was needed for this meeting; something he had expressed to Black Elk long before the first freeze. The elk-man had explained that having him there, a know hunter to the canyons many creatures, would add weight to Black Elks words.

“That you would come with an offering of food and a warning of ill tidings... It will be seen as a great showing of respect to them.”

“Ain't like I can talk to um though.' he had complained

“They know this. Having come despite this with prove your intentions are honest.”

Black Elk had seemed very sure of himself and Oliver doubted that he would not have gone through the trouble of practicing with the blanket and surcingle if he hadn’t been. Now, with the last of the meat dropped in a rough circular shape at the center of the clearing, he watched the sun disappear over the rim of the canyon. As the light grew dimmer the temperature began to drop and he hunched his thick wool cloak up on his shoulders, watching the tree line for now familiar shape of his half elk friend.

It was eerily quiet in the canyon as if the whole of the place knew something was about to happen. The coyotes did not bark and cry. He heard no owls hooting or insects chirping out their nightly protest. Only the quiet running of the river and the soft, intermittent, tinkling of the cottonwood branches played through the chilling air. Humans, being singularly adept at creating monsters where there were none, would surely find their small hairs standing on end in such a silence and Oliver was only human. There came a soft, rhythmic, crunching of dead and drying grass through the trees he had to fight to keep his heart from leaping out of his chest. He had left his trusted Sharps Borchardt behind at Black Elks request and now suddenly felt very naked. Oliver took a deep breath, held it and then let it out slowly. He told himself that it was Black Elk coming back. He repeated as much to him self as fast as him mind could form the words.

Oliver scanned the tree line slowly for any moment, any wobbling shadow. A sudden quick sound, as if something was frolicking in the dry grass, accompanied a sharp yip and then a sudden return to silence. He slowly turned; closing his eyes and willing Black Elk to be there when he opened his eyes. The young grey wolf who stood at the edge of the tree line, ears erect and staring wide eyed at him, was clearly not seeing what he had wished to see either. Oliver and the wolf stared at each other, both of them frozen where they were. Two more canine shapes materialized out of the darkness behind the pup and these were not so gangly as the first. The two adult wolves stopped just outside the tree line and sat down, there bright golden eyes gleaming at him in the dim light of the stars before moonrise.

There was a splashing from the river and Oliver groaned; not wanting to break eye contact with the wolf who was still standing in the clearing not more than ten yards from him. The urge to know what was coming up from the riverbed and the begrudging acceptance of what he hoped would be a quick death were two waring parties within him.

“Luck 'as the dickens out fer me don’t she?' he grumbled under his breath

“What are dickens?”

Oliver whirled away from the wolf and found Black Elk almost on top of him, his legs and the edge of the blanket he whore under the surcingle damp with river water. He fought a new set of urges now: one to dance and the other to punch his friend as hard as he could in the gut!

“Bout time ya showed up! Some of yer friends are early.' He settled for just being happy that he wasn’t alone. In a circle of meat... with no weapon... He would punch Black Elk later.

Now that the elk-man, the true host of this odd party, had arrived several more sets of wolves emerged from the trees and tall grass. Oliver counted the dark shapes as they materialized but stopped when he reached eighteen. All of the wolves moved forward to the ring of antelope meat on some silent signal from Black Elk. Some of the wolves sniffed at the offerings and then let them lay untouched while others hungrily set into devouring the chunk closest to them without any such caution. Once those who were going to eat had done so the mishmash pack of hunters arranged themselves in twos and threes and settled down the grass to listen to what Black Elk had to say.

Oliver understood none of it. Black Elk would go from at times making chopped barking or growling noises deep in this throat to long stretching silences. Occasionally there was a yip or a whine from one of the wolves. Once one of the wolves had jumped on a wolf from another group and a fight had ensued, ending with the winner returning to his seat as if nothing had happened while the looser limped a few yards away from the circle of wolves to like his wounds. None of the other wolves had moved to intervene instead choosing to watch quietly then, when the tiff was over, they had gone back to watching Black Elk expectantly.

By now the moon had risen and added both more light and more shadows to the conference. The odd interaction continued on for what seemed an eternity. There were pauses in what he could only assume was a discussion, as he heard no words, where the wolves would all turn to look at him in unison. It unnerved him when they did that. Black Elk would usually go back to his barks and growls for a short time afterwords, occasionally he would point at the bare remnants of the antelope strewn throughout the now matted down grass. At some point a few pairs of wolves rose and broke off from the group; disappearing back into the canyon from whence they came. The first to go was the wolf who had lost his scuffle, its slim mate had trotted out behind it. The trio that had announced their arrival to Oliver first left some time shortly after. More and more of the wolves took there leave until there were only three individuals left.

None of these wolves had come with a partner or group, they had arrived alone. They had also abstained from eating the offered meal. One gave Oliver what he could only describe as a leer and then it padded off into the underbrush. That left two very unhappy looking wolves.

“It is time to go Oliver.' Black Elk said shortly

The elk-man body language had changed ever so slightly. He had squared his shoulders, pushed his weight slightly forward, and raised his head high so as best to display his antlers. Oliver took it that meant that these two hangers on were not still here just because they liked the company. He took a slow step back and wrapped one gloved hand around the padded handle of the surcingle. One of the wolves curled its lips back, winkling its snout in a growl as its ears pinned back as Oliver moved. He swung himself up and before he was even properly seated Black Elk had leapt forward, striking out with his sharp hooves, before turning tail and racing for the bank of the river.