The House of the Wolf

10

There was no path. They walked through the undergrowth, over a floor of fallen leaves as brilliant in hue as any oriental carpet. It crunched and rustled underfoot, giving off a sweetly pungent scent that went to her head like wine. The autumn breeze was cool, the sun on her back pleasantly warm; Chantal was reminded of country hikes with friends back in Vermont. She had already begun to miss autumn during her first week in evergreen Los Angeles: the chill air that seemed to cleanse and invigorate her lungs with every breath, its poignant sting of frost that hinted of winter to come. She loved that time of year when the sadness of summer's decay gave way to a new beauty; when the trees incandesced, the fiery reds and golds of their leaves rivaling the vanished wildflowers. As sunlight pierced the thinning canopy and fallen leaves brightened the forest floor the dim green caverns of summer transformed into light and airy chambers. Then you could walk through colonnades of birches, silver-pillared and golden-roofed; through red rooms of sumac and maple woods vaulted with amber.

A squirrel scolded them as they passed a centuries-old oak, secure and confident as any baron on his fortified tower. At the familiar sound Chantal smiled. This was, she thought, a place where she could belong... one she could call home. And then she recalled that Thérèse had used that very word. At home. Had this just been thoughtfulness on her Grandmère's part, or was she trying to make Chantal feel at ease for another reason? It felt a little bit like being seduced – which would be all right if it were being done for the sake of love, but what if it something else? Some kind of secretive manipulation...

When Yves took her hand she started, and almost withdrew it, but he winked at her. "The footing is a little difficult here," he explained, tightening his grip. They scrambled down into a little gulley and hopped across a stony stream. Down here the fallen maple leaves were piled so thick that they waded through them as if through water. Out of the golden ankle-deep drifts there rose great shoulders of grey granite, thrusting up from the earth.

"Here we are," Yves said when they reached the far side, where a massive cliff-wall of solid rock confronted them. But he did not release her hand.

She should have been pleased, flattered. Wasn't this exactly what she wanted? She'd given up on her fantasy of true love. All she wished for now was to feel a boy's arms around her again, to know the comfort of closeness. She felt a physical attraction to Yves and clearly he felt the same about her. Wasn't that enough? But instead of moving closer to him she kept on talking, as if building a barrier of words between them. "You Québecois really love your country, don't you?" she babbled.

"Mais bien sûr. It's a fact that our ancestors were the first to call themselves Canadiens. The English did not use the word until much later." He led her to a natural shelf of rock, and they sat down. He let go of her hand, but put his arm around her shoulders. That started her talking again.

"That reminds me: are my family separatists or federalists?" she asked. "I guess I should know, before I go putting my foot in my mouth."

"The Boisverts are neither. They are proud of their heritage, but they are not interested in politics." He moved closer to her, and put his other hand on her knee. If only she had not heard Lysette's foolish remarks! They had her questioning the motives of everyone, Yves especially.

"And – you?" she asked. "Do you think Quebec should secede, or stay part of Canada?"

He said nothing for a moment. Then he pointed to the grey rock face. "That is Laurentian rock, four billion years old. There are no fossils in it because it is older than life itself. Some call this a 'young' country, but that's only in terms of its human history. The land itself is very ancient – older, perhaps, than any other part of the planet's surface. We can claim this land, name it, fight over it, but the fact remains it was here long before any of us. And it will be here long after all of us are gone."