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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=368795" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Wolf Knife</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the mid August, in the second year<br>of my First Polar Expedition, the snow and ice of winter<br>almost upon us, Kantiuk and I<br>attempted to dash the sledge<br>along Crispin Bay, searching again for relics<br>of the Frankline Expedition. Now a storm blew,<br>and we turned back, and we struggled slowly<br>in snow, lest we depart land and venture onto ice<br>from which a sudden fog and thaw<br>would abandon us to the Providence<br>of the sea.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Near nightfall I thought I heard snarling behind us.<br>Kantiuk told me that two wolves, lean as the bones of a wrecked ship,<br>had followed us the last hour, and snapped their teeth<br>as if already feasting.<br>I carried the one cartridge only<br>in my riffle, since, approaching the second winter,<br>we rationed stores.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As it turned dark,<br>we could push no further, and made<br>camp in a corner of ice hummocks,<br>and the wolves stopped also, growling<br>just past the limits of vision,<br>coming closer, until I could hear<br>the click of their feet on ice. Kantiuk laughed<br>and remarked that the wolves appeared to be most hungry.<br>I raised my rifle, prepared to shoot the first that<br>ventured close, hoping<br>to frighten the other.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Kantiuk struck my rifle down and said again<br>that the wolves were hungry, and laughed.<br>I feared that my old companion<br>was mad, here in the storm, among ice-hummocks,<br>stalked by wolves. Now Kantiuk searched<br>in his pack, and extracted<br>two knives--turnoks, the Innuits called them--<br>which by great labor were sharpened, on both sides,<br>to the sharpness like the edge of a barber's razor,<br>and approached our dogs<br>and plunged both knives<br>into the body of our youngest dog<br>who had limped all day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I remember that I consider turning my rifle on Kantiuk<br>as he approached, then passed me,<br>carrying knives red with the gore of our dog--<br>who had yowled, moaned, and now lay<br>expired, surrounded<br>by curious cousins and uncles, possibly<br>hungry--and he trusted the knives<br>handle-down in the snow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Immediately after he left the knives, the vague, gray<br>shape of wolves<br>turned solid, out of the darkness and the snow, and set ravenously<br>to licking blood from the honed steel.<br>the double-edge of the knives<br>so lacerated the tongues of the starved beasts<br>that their own blood poured<br>copiously forth<br>to replenish the dog's blood, and they ate<br>more furiously than before, while Knatiuk laughed,<br>and held his sides<br>laughing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And I laughed also, perhaps in relief that Providence had delivered us<br>yet again, or perhaps--under conditions of extremity--<br>far from Connecticut--finding there creatures<br>acutely ridiculous, so avid<br>to swallow their own blood. First one, and then the other<br>collapsed, dying,<br>bloodless in the snow black with their own blood,<br>and Kantiuk retrieved<br>his turnoks, and hacked lean meat<br>from the thigh of the larger wolf, which we ate<br>grateful, blessing the Creator, for we were hungry.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Donald+Hall">Donald Hall</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=368795" data-title="Wolf Knife de Donald Hall" data-description="In the mid August, in the second year
of my First Polar Expedition, the snow and ice of winter
almost upon us, Kantiuk and I
attempted to dash the sledge
along Crispin Bay, searching again for relics
of the Frankline Expedition. Now a storm blew,
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