Ola looked Helga intently in the eyes with the happy, but serious look that was characteristic of him. He gave her an example of Enigma: “You don’t often be seein’ many creatures in the wilds you came through—not even the Borf be comin’ there. But three days before you saw me at the lake, I be findin’ a Borf scoutin’ party there. And a fine Lynx was leadin’ it—and wearin’ the Borf clothing. Well, Misst Helgy, I’ll be a tellin’ you...there’s never been a Lynx among the Borf a’fore that...and a fine Lynx he was, too. But, I’m tellin’ you it was a deep, deep work of Enigma—a Lynx bein’ a Borf clanbeast? Lynx and the Borf bein’ together is like makin’ something from fire and snow...it’s a deep work of Enigma. I had to meditate on that powerful enigma for three days to understand it. Then you show up, and that’s my answer. I needed a deep enigma to be keepin’ me there by that lake long enough to help you. Without that enigma, you’d probably still be wanderin’ in the wilds.” Ola paused and smiled at his friend. “That’s the power of Enigma.”
Novices taking the path of the Gateless Wolf roamed the world freely, especially the remote wild areas where they could practice the disciplines of Enigma. The path of the Gateless Wolf had grown out of the violent traditions of the old clans of warrior Norder Wolves. Stressing physical endurance, artistic discipline, service to others, and the practice of Enigma as means to realize personal powers, they were renowned for their uncanny ability to be nearby when travelers were lost or creatures needed help.
Full-fledged followers of the Gateless Wolf path could hang by their feet from the edges of cliffs for days on end, playing their flute and solving enigmas. But, Ola explained, Gateless Wolves were not hermits. Whenever they passed through a community, they worked hard at whatever was needed: fieldwork, gardening, building or repairing cabins, caring for the young, cleaning, cooking, or whatever.
Ola’s happy, good-natured strength made Helga think of her father. It seemed as if Ola helped her long unhappiness to fade. Somehow she felt that meeting Ola was helping her to find peace with the loss of her parent. She wondered if he had survived the treachery of the Cougar Bandits. Perhaps he had been able to escape in the boat. If he had, he might be alive and looking for her. Her father was a powerful Wood Cow and armed with his fishing line. Unless he was surprised or ambushed, Helga knew that he would be a formidable foe for the Cougars. Yet, she herself was strong and quick-witted...and she had been overwhelmed by the treachery and brutality of her attackers. What if they had used the same tactics on her Papa? She did not want to think of it. Yet somehow, the spirit of the Gateless Wolf brought peace to her mind.
As they walked, leaving the highlands behind, the edge of the vast wetlands stretched away before them, seemingly without end.
“I’ll be paddling into the Drownlands, Misst Helgy,” Ola said. “It’s the season for the trading people to be migrating. There’s need to help the lost and trooubled traveling beasts.”
“I’ll be coming with you, Ola, if you’ll have me,” Helga replied. “I’ll not stay behind to wander aimlessly. At least you wander with a purpose of helping lost beasts. Maybe I will find Papa’s path, and maybe I won’t, but at least I’ll be trying to help those who are lost and hurting. That will be more to Papa’s spirit than wandering without purpose.”
“Aiean, Helgy, that be the path,” Ola smiled. “That be’in the path...”
King Stuppy’s Trading Post
Ola and Helga paddled slowly into the small settlement Ola called “King Stuppy Marit’s Tradin’ Poost.” Ola knew the place. He’d visited many times in his years of roaming through the Drownlands as a wandering monk. He especially liked the Drownlands, in spite of the fact it “drew a bad-bad lot” as he said.
“The Drownlands are wilder than anythin’ nor any placin’,” Ola said. “Cuoog’er Bandits and thievin’ creatures of every kind. They all are at home at Stuppy’s.”
As they paddled into the Drownlands wilderness—a vast, uncharted wilderness of lakes, marshes and bogs—Helga hoped the trip might help her find her missing father. Ola told her that, “There’s only one spot that’s goot any beasts that might be goin’ to know anythin’...that’s goin’ to be King Stuppy’s, that’s goin’ to be the crossroads of all the travelers and spies.”
Helga trusted Ola completely, but she wondered how they would ever find anyone in the vast wilderness. They had been paddling for more than a week in Ola’s dugout canoe, following endless bayous and channels that he seemed to know well. They had met no other creatures, although they had seen several shanties that Ola said were used by itinerate Bayou Dogs who fished and collected wild marsh honey. “The Bauyoo Dogs never stay put. They’re always floatin’ and movin’,” Ola explained. No beast ‘stayed put’ in the Drownlands, Ola said. Everyone kept moving, following the best fishing, finding the marsh honey, collecting the berries and mushrooms in their seasons. Ola explained that there were “loo’ts of the creatures” around, but they were an independent lot that valued their freedom. Many of them were either sent to the Drownlands instead of jail, or escaped there to hide out. “But they all be comin’ to King Stuppy’s at the tradin’ time.”