09. White Fang.pdf
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Jack London
White Fang
Retold by Anna Paluchowska
w
o r y g i n a l e
Chapter I
© Mediasat Poland Bis 2005
The Love-Making
of the Wild
Mediasat Poland Bis sp. z o.o.
ul. Mikołajska 26
31-027 Kraków
www.czytamy.pl
czytamy@czytamy.pl
Projekt okładki i ilustracje: Małgorzata Flis
Skład: Marek Szwarnóg
ISBN 83 - 89652 - 18 - 8
Wszelkie prawa do książki przysługują Mediasat Poland Bis. Jakiekolwiek publiczne korzystanie w całości, jak i w
postaci fragmentów, a w szczególności jej zwielokrotnianie jakąkolowiek techniką, wprowadzanie do pamięci kom-
putera, publiczne odtwarzanie, nadawanie za pomocą wizji oraz fonii przewodowej lub bezprzewodowej, wymaga
wcześniejszej zgody Mediasat Poland Bis.
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It was cold and the pack was hungry. In
truth, they looked more like skeletons than
wolves. At the front of the pack ran a large
gray wolf. He was one of the leaders of the
pack. He snarled at all the other wolves if
they tried to go faster than him, but he did
not snarl at the red-haired she-wolf who
ran next to him. He didn’t even show her
his teeth if she happened to run in front
of him. In fact, he seemed to like it. He
seemed to like her. In her opinion he liked
her too much. He tried to run too close
to her. He even tried to touch her neck
or shoulder with his nose. But then she
snarled at him irritably and showed him
her teeth. He never snarled back.
The large gray wolf was not her only
admirer though. On her right ran an old
one-eyed wolf. He was one of the older
leaders of the pack. His body and fur
showed many signs of past battles. From
time to time he also tried to touch her
neck with his nose. Then she snarled at
him warningly. He never snarled back at
her either.
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But if the two leaders were all kindness
towards the red she-wolf they were all
hatred towards each other. But they weren’t
fighting openly yet. They were both waiting
for the best moment. They knew it would be
a battle of life and death. The best moment
came first for old One Eye. He noticed how
the young wolf turned his head to lick his
shoulder, showing his neck to his rival. The
old wolf attacked him suddenly and without
warning, closing his fangs on the younger
leader’s neck. His teeth opened the great
vein of his neck and blood began to quickly
flow out. The younger wolf snarled painfully
and tried to fight back, but his legs would
no longer hold him and he fell to the snow.
The battle was over.
Through all of this the she-wolf sat
and watched, and smiled. She was glad
with the battle because this was love-
making of the Wild. This time experience
triumphed over youth. When One
Eye came up to the she-wolf again she
didn’t snarl at him any more. Instead she
touched noses with him. The dead rival
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was already forgotten. Soon they were
best friends running happily side by side
through the snowy woods.
After some days, the she-wolf began
to feel uncomfortable. She seemed to be
looking for something. She looked under
all fallen trees and into empty caves. Old
One Eye was not interested at all but he
followed her anyway. And so they travelled
across the country until they got to the
banks of Mackenzie River. There they
hung about the Indian camp for some time.
One Eye didn’t like it but the she-wolf
seemed more than comfortable with the
human voices nearby.
She was very heavy now and could only run
only very slowly. She was also less patient
than ever. She was not quick enough to
catch meat herself and she was angry with
One Eye if he failed to hunt successfully for
both of them. Fortunately for the old wolf,
she finally found what she had been looking
for. It was a cave. Old One Eye watched
her patiently as she inspected it carefully
for hours. In the end, she lay down, put her
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