We left nothing, but our paw prints in the snow

Chapter 10

Chapter 10:

It was lovely. For the first time in a whole moon, I was running. Running with a purpose that was materialistic. I wasn't looking for a source of a smell, or running for joy, or chasing something for fun. I was running to hunt.

To hunt...

I felt My Mate next to me. I sensed that our pack was following us. Was trusting us. I could feel their emotions. What they felt, I felt... What I felt, they felt. Strongest of all, was My Mate. We were one. We moved as one. We smelt scents as one, and we heard sounds as one.

Never before had a hunt been so thrilling for me. No, not even my very first hunt.

I came to an abrupt stop. I had caught the scent of a bigger animal, maybe a moose... Ideal prey in these circumstances. I knew that those who hadn't yet caught the scent, were casting around for it. I waited for them. Every one should know what they are hunting.

Once I was sure every wolf of my pack knew what prey we were about to hunt, I started after it, following the scent. My Mate, me, the pack... We were all paying attention, because if one of us, so me or My Mate, over-looked something, they would be able to point it out immediately. That way we would quickly catch our prey. This was how wolves have hunted for the past millennia.

It wasn't long until I heard a moose bellow. I hope that the moose was alone, or else we wouldn't be able to kill it, even if it was sick and week, and literally dying.

I heard it bellow again. It sounded angry, but at whom?

At this time of year, they weren't supposed to be fighting over females. And females only bellow when something is trying to attack her young... But I had only smelled one moose anyway.

It just didn't make any sense at all!

I took a glance at My Mate.

I listened to every one's emotions and feeling. They were also confused. All of them. That didn't make me feel any better. If not a single wolf in a large enough pack could figure something out, then the something was definitely out of the ordinary.

I stopped running.

My pack stopped running.

Now comes the part where we approach quietly, and prey to Nature that we will make the kill, and all survive, because killing a moose is dangerous. But if you succeed, the reward is priceless.

I was getting my pack this moose.

He was angry already anyway. He isn't going to feel too bad about being eaten by a pack of wolves.

But when I saw him, I knew that I wasn't going to have to kill him.

The red snow around the moose indicated a brutal kill. Not even us wolves make the blood spray at such a radius. The death didn't look too clean either, and if I had been the moose, I would also have bellowed in anger.

I couldn't quite tell what would make such a mean and pointless kill. It had been too silent. Surely I would have heard something. Surely one of my pack members would have heard something. And any animal that kills, either takes their kill with them, or at the very least, eats a mouthful. The moose was, in that sense, untouched.

Not even humans are that heartless.

Every living creature kills with some sort of a purpose. Be it hunger, or to protect some one, or to bring their kill somewhere and do something with it. I'm not quite sure what humans do with their kills, but they bring them away. They don't just leave them lying there.

I started to approach the dead moose carefully. I hadn't even realised that I had stopped. My pack followed me, but I told them all to stay back with a growl. Every wolf listened, except My Mate.

Together we approached the moose.

I cast around for scents. Maybe the predator would come back later for their kill. That would make some sort of sense.

I could only smell blood.

I got a bit closer to the moose and smelt it. Surely I would be able to smell who had killed it.

Nothing.

Only blood and death.

I couldn't even smell that odd smell that the humans' death-sticks leave behind.

Nothing.

I was getting panicky.

I smelt again.

Nothing.

This wasn't possible.

It was against the laws of Nature!

I had to make sure.

Nothing.

I looked at My Mate, pleading him to smell something on the moose other than blood and death and moose.

He looked at me for a while, then bent down and sniffed the moose. He sniffed it first in one place, then another.

He looked up at me.

His eyes said it all.

Nothing.