Hard Vacuum: Short Episodes In The Future

The Cenozoic Wolves

The howls were getting louder, closer.

Belith shuffled as fast as she could through the snow coated forest bed, trails of steam from her breath hanging briefly in her wake.

The wolves of the Black Wood had been on her scent since nightfall. While she could out distance them if it came to the long run, it was more likely that their speed would bring them upon her before morning.

Another howl, signaling her scent back to the pack. They were getting closer.

She remembered the dogs of the southern plains. If you weren't watchful, they would snatch up a fowl you were keeping for eggs, or a small child who had wandered too far from its mother. They were smart, and would flee from fire or hunter.

Belith stopped again to sniff the cold, still air. Her animal-like senses, honed in a savage world of survival, could pick up the smell of damp dog.

The wolves of the Black Wood were a different sort of monster all together than those of the plains. If you weren't watchful, they would drag off the auroch you were hunting, or your mother. They did not fear fire nor the hunters' spears. They were giant, prehistoric beats, and they fared quite well on a diet of man-flesh.

They were likely drawn by the scent of her kill the night before, though they wouldn't be satisfied by just the carcass she left them.

She was tired, and missing the night's rest. She considered climbing a tree. Looking about her, the trees of the Black Wood were giant pines, bigger around than her reach, and the lowest boughs were a long climb up. In better weather she might grip the black, textured bark and hope it held her weight, but in the cold of winter her fingers were numb and slow to flex. The inevitable misstep would drop her to a final doom. She would have no choice but to fight.

A part in the canopy afforded her a brief view of the sky, and she could see the Day Star directly overhead, signifying the night was only half over. The Day Star was so named because, if you looked carefully, you could see it during the day. It rose and set exactly five times a day, and five times a night. Her father had taught her to mark the passage of time by it.

The muted quiet of the wood became punctuated with a rustle to her right. Belith bared the magic blade with the flaming edges and braced herself, trying to pierce the trees with her sharp eyes for signs of movement.

A twig snap, now to her left.

The sound of panting, coming up from behind.

Ahead, a large, black shadow of a form moved in.

She was surrounded.