The Sleeping Army Awakes

Part 72 Revenge

For the wolves, this was no longer a case of hunger or survival for them, although they could probably manage to force some more meat down their gullets, despite Samuel's generosity in supplying them food. And they weren't stalking their prey merely to chase it to the caves this time; no this was going to be out and out revenge.

The two packs had been joined by a third, albeit related, pack. By silent agreement they were all of common mind. This was no ordinary hunting expedition. They all knew that it was necessary to prove that that no-one could get away with damaging the sacred hills of their ancestors and go unpunished.

They knew that that this stupid human, the one that the humans called "the count", was responsible for this abomination, or at least part of it, because they had watched him setting the charges earlier in the day and cold hard resentment burned in their hearts. They didn't quite understand how Count Mikula had devastated their hunting grounds but they had pulled the snakes from as many of the charges as they could in the time available. They held him totally responsible for the destruction. There had been little enough to eat before anyway without humans shattering the hillside and drowning everything below.

All territorial disputes, petty squabbling, and rivalry between the packs had been suspended. The three blood related packs had a common purpose now, so they had formed an unprecedented, but temporary, lupine axis of vengeance. This had the single aim of ridding their lands of this destroyer. The two younger alpha males leading the smaller packs were Adolphus' sons and they had both learnt, to their cost and injury, that he could be most persuasive at times and the lessons had been brutal and memorable.

At first the wolves merely stalked and observed. They worked well together, they were disciplined, and with Adolphus leading them, they knew that it wouldn't pay them to be otherwise. So they kept quiet and they maintained a discrete distance from their target. It was easy for them to dislike their prey. Count Mikula was odd even for a human. He moved with a jerky nervous gait. 

The older males in the hunting party guessed that something had alerted the human to their presence. This was despite their silence and their valiant efforts to stay unnoticed, invisible, blending effortlessly into the undergrowth and never confronting their prey. They could smell the fear. The fear excited them, a frightened foe was a weakened quarry; a terrified foe was almost a defeated target and the prospect of several kilos of meat and bone.

Count Mikula, kept on looking all around him as if he was expecting an attack at any time. The wiser of the wolves surmised that the Count had many other enemies to look out for besides them. As quickly and as quietly as they could, the two younger packs went on ahead, one each side of him, overtaking the human's progress and sweeping around in a pincer manoeuvre, so that he was essentially surrounded.

There was a distant rumble of brooding thunder that made the Count feel even more nervous and twitchy than he had been previously. He was now absolutely convinced that something was following him. He could feel lupine eyes burning into him from all sides. 

The rain was still falling and there was no sign of any substantial cover to keep him dry. Because of the lightning he was reluctant to take shelter under the trees. Then he caught sight of an inexperienced and incautious tail as its owner trotted from one tree to the next on the fringe of the clearing and it confirmed his suspicions.

The Count headed for more open ground so that he could see his foe more clearly. This was a huge mistake because this was just what the assembled packs had been hoping for. On clear open ground they could easily outpace him and in a clearing more of them could attack him simultaneously. This was the advantage of the combined packs, when they attacked in force they could overwhelm anything, if they worked in unison.

The three alpha males, simultaneously launched their attacks from three different directions. Each was closely followed by their lieutenants and these were followed by the younger wolves sprinting towards their target. As the Luger wouldn't fire, the Count reached into his bag for a fuse and intended to light it and at least distract his enemy but Adolphus leaped through the air and sank his teeth into the count's neck knocking him off balance before he could find his lighter. The other two alpha males sank their teeth into his arms and their lieutenants bit deep into his legs. Under the weight of so many wolves the Count dropped to the ground and became pinned to, losing the unlit fuse in the process.

More and more wolves joined the fray until it was impossible to see their victim for the writhing mass of fur, drool, blood and teeth. The furious onslaught continued with wave after wave of snarling wolves, biting, tearing and renting the first count's clothing and then once his body was exposed ripping his body to pieces. Twenty eight wolves, full of outrage and blood lust, pinned the desecrater of their land down by anything that they could get a hold of whilst Adolphus tore at the count's throat in a death hold simultaneously throttling him and venting his blood.

The Count expired within seconds. The stuff of life gushed from the ragged wounds in a strange and fearsome parody of the water escaping the reservoir. But the wolverine brotherhood would not be sated by the count's mere death alone, they wanted to obliterate any sign of his existence from the planet.

By the time that they had finished there was little evidence to speak of the Count ever having been there, other than some blood soaked scraps of fabric and his false teeth. Most of the signs that remained were slowly dissolving away in the rain. The last evidence was the large blood spattered canvas bag containing the blasting gear and the Dudat.

Finally, when he was satisfied that there was nothing left of their foe, Adolphus sniffed the bag and its strange smelling contents suspiciously. He decided that the best course of action would be to take the abominable bag to Wuhuku. Wuhuku, Adolphus' name for Samuel, would know what to do with it. Adolphus didn't know what the strange smelling canvas material contained but he suspected that what ever it was was connected to the explosions and had a malignant presence.

The bag was relatively heavy. It was too cumbersome for a single wolf to carry in its snout anyway, so one of his lieutenants took one of the other straps and the two of them, half carried and half dragged the bag to the mine entrance. The other two packs simply melted into the forest now that their job was done before any infighting could break out.