Pawn Among Wolves

PAWN AMONG WOLVES CH. 15-PT2

The night turned inky and the wind died, leaving an intense, echoing stillness. Barely discernable as a strip of deeper blackness between the dark trees, a straight road shone faintly, the hard surface reflecting the scarce starlight. The drone of a distant car had been getting steadily louder, and now a set of headlights topped a slight rise, blazing fire into the still night and highlighting a figure trotting slowly along the edge of the asphalt. The car roared swiftly closer and ruffled his fur as it zipped past.

A heavy screech of tyres biting the hard surface made Riley's drooping ears wince, but he kept his nose close to the ground and limped doggedly on, barely noticing the subsequent heavy slam of a door, or footsteps approaching, until a soft drawl said, "Hello old fellah. You're out late. Looks like you're going somewhere, are you lost? Let me just take a look at your collar."

The woman almost managed to get a hand on his ruff. He was so tired, his dodge was slow and awkward, and he winced as he landed hard on his cut paw when he swerved around her and trotted on, slightly faster. He could hear her panting as she tried to catch up, and increased his pace a bit more, tuning her out as he sunk back into his tired old lope. He had a job to do.

The car screeched and roared past him again, slewing to a halt across his path as the woman jumped out for a second time. Riley huffed in frustration, and winced his way over the spikey stones at the road edge, lumbering across the ditch into the orchard of knotted old trees while soft, cajoling words followed him, calling him back. He felt awkward, slightly ashamed, ignoring the human, but he had to. And some of them were so insistent.

The tired old hound swayed in the darkness under the fruit trees, wanting to fold and sleep. He was so hungry. A burning ache seared his joints, and his foot throbbed. He had been too tired to pay proper attention for a long time now, so the edge of his pad had been cut when it had landed on a sharp stone. He had licked it clean but was leaving a patchy trail behind him, a faint line of blood dots disappearing into the distance back down the road. Riley's brain was fuddled with pain and exhaustion and hunger, but he knew what he was doing.

Following the trail.

Guilt was partially what pulled him along. Riley wasn't a fighter, he never had been much of one and now he was too old, too stiff. Those wolves had been so big. So many. And while the old beagle had circled the horde of them savaging at the Alpha, trying to see an opening, he had stumbled over the scent trail. The same strange car scent as before, that the Alpha had told him to follow, from home. The urgency of the command had still echoed in his head: follow it. The old beagle had hesitated, watching the fight that he couldn't hope to win. And had turned to track along the scent. Hoping this was right. He was still tracking. Hoping.

His tired brain couldn't remember properly now, through the weariness, but he thought he recalled, not long ago, hearing that strong voice in his head again. Telling him to look at the white shiny board on the metal post by the roadside, coaxing him to focus fuzzy eyes on the black squiggles crossing the surface. The voice had hurt his head so much, the pain making him a little dizzy. Had he heard it?

Across the ditch, a car door clunked, and the engine purred away into the darkness. The woman had gone. The old beagle, trembling, limped painfully back across the ditch and resumed his tired lope along the faint, rubbery, chilling scent.

An hour later, Riley barely heard the next car, head drooping between his shoulders in weariness as he limped doggedly on. Then he blinked, heart aching on a sudden thud as he dodged the door opening just ahead of his nose, whining at the pain in his paw.

He stopped and blinked again, nostrils twitching at the scent of the person sliding out of the car: the boy who lived next door. He smelt funny, even more strongly wolf than earlier, but it was Adam alright.