The fall of Druid Peak Pack

The Fall

2010

Through the vast pine forests, over wet, slushy snow and frozen, trampled grass, grey wolves hunt and thrive. The soft glistening rivers, the many eco systems alongside them, the tall snowy mountain peaks, the wild tundras and dark forests. All a part of Yellowstone National Park, home to many breeds of wolf, elk, bison, bear, deer, moose, rabbits, beaver, birds and fish.

The wolves keep the ecosystem in balance. Without the mighty predators, all would fall apart, as it has before. Yellowstone park would be overrun with prey, who eat all the plant life. But that has not happened for a long time, because of the alpha pairs of each pack. The alphas lead their pack to victory, claiming territory, and, prey and safety while preventing an overpopulation of prey. But not everything lasts forever. The once strongest of these packs, Druid Peak Pack is rapidly falling apart. They had been through a lot; some kind of virus, losing their alpha female, and their remaining alpha male had been chased off. No pups had survived. The remaining females were weak.

The males who'd chased off 480M (the last alpha male) soon realised the remaining females were too weak to bore pups, therefore useless and bound to die sooner rather than later. They left, leaving only females in the pack. Lost and alone, the females wish for food and safety. Druid Peak Pack was growing weaker by the day.

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Lone wolf 480M lost, alone and as good as dead, hunted for any sign of food, and possibly any other lone wolves. Trudging onwards, he fights the knife-like wind unaware of the nearby human hunter. The unmistakable bang of a gun echoes through the forest, and 480M freezes, paralysed in fear. A bullet whistles slightly as it flies through the biting cold air, aim perfect, death unstoppable. Milliseconds later, it lands it's mark, digging through the thick, scraggly fur and deep into his flesh. Crumbling to the ground in slow motion, blood already beginning to stain his pale silver fur. Eyes empty and body cold, the last Alpha of Druid Peak Pack falls, dead.

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Alpha-less and weak, the once-mighty Pack is forced to scavenge animal carcasses left behind by other packs just to survive, though often they are caught and some are killed. Territory once large, now barely anything. Power gone, easily overtaken by the other packs easily stealing their territory, power, and food. Hunger, packs and bitter cold killing them, they have no chance of survival.

Every three or four days, the remaining females go out in a desperate search for "food", or at least rotting carcasses. The females push themselves forward, weakened by cold and hunger. Stumbling off in a random direction, they half sprint, moving like zombie wolves. Sniffing the ice cold air, much like breathing in knives, they search for food scraps and carcasses. One female, 690F finally gets a whiff of rotting meat. She howls at the other two, aware that the other pack would find them soon. Wearily racing forward, the females follow the younger wolf deeper into enemy territory. Drawing closer to the rotting carcass, they save little energy for the long trip home. The carcass is far from pleasant, barely recognisable as one of an elk. It only just looks edible, but it will do. Cautiously stepping forwards, the females bite and tear at the rotting meat, half covered in snow, they fail to notice the distant howls.

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The alpha male of the pack smells something off, a horrid, pungent smell much like a mix of rotting meat and dead animal. He signals to his pack, as they dash forward, at least twice as fast as the pack, eager to kill the trespassers. Arriving at the remains of a meal from a few weeks back, they spot the three other-packers, at least half the size of them. Rib cages showing, teeth stained with blood, fur wet and mangy. They get up, stumbling at the action. The trio dash off, slow, like the millions of animals this pack has killed.

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690F runs, she can feel how slow she is, almost mocking her. The other pack is on their tails, snapping and growling. Three attack the oldest of the trio, tackling her to the ground, fresh blood staining their dark fur, and the snow beneath the dead wolf. No time to waste. Not looking back, she forces her weak body to its maximum speed, which is not very fast at all. Safety just ahead, she and her companion make a final desperate dash for their territory, as the other pack drags her packmate to the ground, giving her the time she needs to escape. Large pack, now one wolf. How did this happen? She curls up against a tree stump near the centre of thei- her territory. She was a lone wolf now, pack killed until gone. She falls asleep, somehow managing to survive another four days.

She can't risk another carcass run. It was even more dangerous now, with no other wolves. The lone wolf stares off in the direction of which no wolf had territory- the human lands. Trotting in that direction, 690F pauses to sniff the air. The bitter winter cold bites at the soft flesh of her nose, as she smells some kind of prey in the human territory. Eyes lighting up, she takes off, energy flowing through her weak body. The scent gets stronger the further she runs, as the icy winds bite and tear at her fur, sending it this way and that, much like wolves tearing at the flesh of their prey. An old cut from the fight a few nights back splits open, blood beginning to stain her black fur. She pushes on.

Arriving at a poorly fenced off area, she ducks around the loose wires, lightly grazing her fur. A herd of animals she had never seen before stand grazing, tense up as they smell her foul scent, a mix between wet dog and dead animal. She crouches down, slowly sneaking up on an elderly cattle, as it has not yet noticed her presence. Inching forward, she leaps off her back legs, soaring through the air for a second, before her blunt claws and sharp, yellow teeth dig into the cattle's neck. Dragging it down, she kills. Kills out of hunger. Kills out of hope. Kills out of desperation. With a final moo, it toppled over, hooves falling out from underneath it. Beginning to tear at the food, grateful for fresh meat after weeks of carcasses, she fails to notice the human, nose buried in the meat. Her ears perk up, catching a slight shuffling of feet, but she ignores it, too engrossed in the meal to run.

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The rancher shuffles closer, gun in one hand, rope in the other. He smells it before he sees it, a pungent smell of wet dog and dying animal. A wolf. Killing his cattle for food. It would kill them all if he didn't stop it. Crouching down, he notices it's ears perk up, but before it can run, he aims his gun, a straight path with no cattle in the way, the herd spread out since the intruder's arrival. He squeezes down on the trigger, a loud bang echoing through his paddocks, startling the cattle, causing him to wince at the sound. The wolf looks up at him as the bullet hits it's neck, a devastating look in its yellow eyes. Then it crumples to the ground, much like the cattle it managed to kill.

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690F stares at him as the bang hits her ears, instantly realising why her pack hadn't hunted here sooner. She feels the cold metal bullet hit her neck, glaring at the man in a final look of pain, as her world goes black.

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The rancher walks over to check on his cattle, and to get rid of the wolf. He is pleased to find that the wolf only managed to get one cattle, an older one who he would have killed and sold soon anyway. He lifts the wolf, scent now mixed with blood as well. It's empty eyes stare up at him in a final look of pain, and devastation, but he does not care. Walking closer to the forest, he throws it to the ground, slightly burying it to rid the smell. He then trudges back through the snow, back to his cattle to better close off the fence and clear away the dead cattle.

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The last member of Druid Peak Pack is gone. Dead. But the pack's bloodline lives on. Back before all this happened, many female and male wolves left the pack. Left and survived, that is. Joining and starting packs, causing the famous pack's blood to continue on to the blood of many of today's wolves. Though the pack remains a legend, it continues on through many other pack wolves. The Druid Peak Pack will never really die, imprint in the park eternal.