The savage wild

1. Gone

It had been so peaceful. Just another afternoon with the moon blazing and the scent of pine trees in the air. The hearth held a warm fire and the floor underneath my feet was comfortably hot. I’d been playing with my toys when suddenly I heard screams and yells outside. The peace shattered with a loud crack. Fear played with my body as I sometimes played with my toys. I didn’t really understand what those screams meant. I only knew to fear it. To cower in the presence of danger that I wasn’t yet befit to fight.

I don’t know how long I’d sat there, frozen. Silent tears ran down my face. Hearing screams and grunts and agonizing moments of silence. I wished my mother was there to hug me and tell me that everything was fine in her soothing voice. Or bite me with her teeth because I’d done something stupid. Like showing weakness. 

Then suddenly I heard footsteps running to the door of my room. Heavy breathing on the other side of the room. I knew it to be mother, but I wasn’t reassured. Because behind her I heard the silent approach of an enemy.

She burst through the door crying with panicked gasps, bearing claw marks on her face and shoulders. She screamed soundlessly for me to run. To get the hell away from her, from this place. From here. 

Behind her a menacing snarl came and she was cut down, right before my eyes. Cut in half. The glowing eyes of the predator behind her watched with glee as she fell. Her blood splattering the walls. Her flesh ripped, her mouth shut. Her soul gone.

I dropped the toys I was still clenching in my little fists. I screamed. Screamed her name with an agony I had never known in my three years of existence. I scrambled to my unsteady feet and sobbed. Half growled at the monster behind  my mother. The stank of blood permeated the air. I scented my mother, but only her flesh was what I smelled. The presence of her soul was gone. Her special scent did not coat her body anymore.

I hissed at the monster, but the predator only watched me. It’s cruel eyes laughing at my horror and grieve. It took a step forward. His claws were extended. Ready to cut me like it had cut my mom. I cowered and snarled at it, but I was too young. I knew I had no chance. Looking at my mom, I didn’t want a chance.

The predator took another step forward, over the body of my mother. He stalked me slowly, knowing I had no chance. After all, I was just a cub. I could do no more than pinch his skin with my not fully developed teeth, I could only scratch him with my small claws. I could only run and take revenge when I was older. When I did have a chance.

Then he suddenly whirled around, as if there was a threat from behind. And surely, my father was there. His white, sharp teeth bared, he stood in his mighty wolf form. His formidable size smelled of power and virtue. His malicious eyes furious as the monster threatened his cub and killed his mate. I had never been so glad to see him. Pure, white hot rage filled the small space of my room directed at the monster. The two predators faced each other.

The monster threw a knife I hadn't noticed untill now at my father and changed into wolf form. One moment he was human, then he was wolf. In the split second the monster needed for the change, my father pounded on him. He had expected the knife and he had expected the change, but the enemy had also expected his reaction and was able to deflect the sharp teeth with his shoulder. His brown coat was slashed almost to the bone, but it was no killing blow. The two predators circled each other, their teeth bared, growling and snarling. Slashing forward at each other, trying to find an opening. They both attacked each other repeatedly, but no killing blow was ever delivered.

They were equally matched in strength, speed and experience. But my father had rage on his side; as well as the need to protect his cub. He surged forward and tackled the monster with his shoulder, overthrowing him with sheer strength. The monster growled and slashed his teeth at him, wounding him from his neck till his shoulder, but my father was faster and bit down into his neck. Finding the vein that held his life, he bit down. Ripped his neck open and left him to die.

My father walked toward me and touched my nose with his. He whined softly, nudging me with his nose; compelling me to also change into wolf form. I complied and changed.  The change was a sweet pain, but I was already used to it. Cubs changed even before they were born; in the belly of their mother.

I stood on my four legs. I was better at walking in wolf form than as a human. After all, the first few weeks of my life I had been a wolf cub. Normal werewolves didn’t change until they were two months old. I was no exception. 

 My coat was completely snow white with the exception of a black slash in the middle of my head. It was the same color as my human hair, with blackish highlights.

My father gently took my scruff between his teeth and picked me up. We paused when we came across the body of my mother. He sat me down again and I touched my nose against her neck and whined softly. I could still not fully comprehend what had happened before my eyes. Couldn't understand why she lay so lifeless in a body that had never known rest. Father licked her face. His eyes were so incredibly sad. His body drooped low and I saw that this death was like a psychical blow that wounded him to his very core. If my father had been anyone but who he was, he would have cried. He would have teared every single rogue apart that he could find. And he would keep on bleeding from that wound in his heart. Losing a mate was like that. There was never redemption. Only more pain. My soul cried for his eyes. His sadness leaving almost more impact than the body before my eyes. It was as if his look made it all real. As if this wasn't like the nightmares I sometimes had. I licked his snout and he whined at me. Then he picked me up again and he silently stalked through the house. With his belly low to the ground, he stuck to the shadows. The smell of blood and death was everywhere. With my night vision I could see it stuck to the walls and windows. Death bodies littered on the ground. In some of those bodies I recognized my family and friends, as well as complete strangers who smelled all wrong. I whined softly, but my father growled low in his throat; telling me to be silent. I didn't want to look at the horrific scene that played before my eyes. But I couldn't seem to be able to look away. 

I heard some people walking and fighting around the house, sometimes hearing screams and grunts, but my father evaded those rooms and slipped outside the house. My safety before the others. Cubs before the elders. It was the way of the pack. 

The garden was worse than the house. The whole place was covered in body parts. Among them prowled predators. Something told me they weren’t friends or part of our pack. My father pressed himself against the ground and slowly moved away from those figures. Our house was completely surrounded by forest and we were moving towards the east. If we managed to enter the cover of the trees, we might have a change to survive and escape.

Miraculously, we made it. My father stopped bellying and regained his footing, and started to run in the gait known of wolves. A fast moving pace they could run for days without rest.

We managed to run a few miles, but our luck didn’t hold and soon we encountered an enemy. My father scented him almost at the same time as I did. The enemy tried to tackle us as a suprise attack, but my father evaded it skillfully. The enemy wolf stood silent. His glowing, red eyes like a fire in the night. He was a very big wolf. Bigger than my father. But I had seen many wolves go down who were larger than their opponents. 

My father quickly put me down and I heard his voice in my head: “Go! I will catch up to you if I can. Try to go farther to the east. Friendly pack lives there. Don't worry about me.”

I whined softly, and he licked my snout. "Shivani, you must remember I love you. We all did. No matter what is going to happen, we will watch over you," his whisper carressed my soul, but it didn't reassure me. It sounded to close to a goodbye. 'Run,' my mother screamed at me in that other room, full of blood and horror and grieve. I complied. I knew my safety was important to my father. That he couldn’t focus if he had to keep his eyes on me. And in my three years I had enough experience to know which way east was. It was born in every werewolf’s system to always know the way. Like an inner navigation system. It was a survival instinct really.

I whined at my father one last time, selfishly wanting to stay, but he only growled and didn’t take his eyes off the enemy once. I drank in the vision of him, so strong, so proud, so tender in those three years that I knew him. Feeling a sense of foreboding deep in my small bones, I stalled again. Then I shook myself out of my trance and ran towards the east. I had not yet managed to learn the gait of the wolf, so I was clumsy and sometimes even ran into trees.

Yet I kept on running, hoping that any moment now my father would come out of nowhere to join me and go to the other pack.

But nobody ever reached me.