Spirit's Bitter End

Chapter 3 ~ Approaching Summer

        The alpha wolf awoke early in the morning, before the sun had risen from behind the great mountain of Alderon. Morning mist clung to the ground and dew sprinkled pine and oak trees like tiny droplets of crystal. The alpha examined every den, checking to see who was awake and who was asleep. Turned out every wolf was sleeping like a pup. Except that strange one called Pedrah. He was inside his parent’s den, playing with a ladybug that had made the mistake of landing on his nose. But, of course, a bug landing on any wolf’s nose would have woken them up as well. He smiled at the young pup, before returning back to the center of the camp. There, he sat down on the large block of stone that was raised slightly higher then the rest of the ground. The howling stone. Each pack had one in one place or another. From the howling stone, the alpha communicates with other packs all across the land of Kuran. No matter the distance, the howls are heard. It is an ancient and complicated ritual that had been carried on through generations of wolves.

        The alpha raised his head high, breathing in the scent of his pack. He opened his jaw and howled a beautiful, yet sorrowful sound. The howl echoed all through the mountains like the ghost of a long lost companion. The message had been sent. All other packs knew now of his own pack’s stable condition. All wolves relied on this form of communication. It had helped keep them alive through many a famine. At the sound of the howl, his pack started awakening, slowly. One by one, sleepy wolves drug themselves out of their dens like grizzly bears that had been woken up before spring.

        After a few hours, the sun had finally risen above the great mountain of Alderon and his whole pack was gathered before the howling stone. He smiled warmly down at the younger ones that were wrestling around in the dirt, unable to stay still. He stood up, ready to speak to his pack about the preparations the needed to be made for the upcoming change in season.

        "As you all well know, spring has befallen the land of Kuran." He started, checking to make sure all wolves were paying attention, even the bouncy little pups. "It is now the time for plants to open their buds and reveal the sweet petals inside. This is what attracts the herds from across the Misty Ridge. They will be coming to this land, soon. And this means we will all soon feast upon caribou and moose, as opposed to scrawny rabbits." He barked. The mention of big prey caught every wolf’s attention. They were all listening now. They yipped excited and happily at the announcement of fresh meat. "But the arrival of these animals will also mean hunters. And more stress between the packs as we compete for this food." A few more elderly wolves growled at the word ‘hunters’. Many a wolf had had misfortunate encounters with these ignorant, gun-carrying predators. The alpha himself had a small white scar on his left forepaw, where one of their ‘bullets’ had nicked him. He remembered the bee sting like pain as if it had only happened a few hours ago.

        "But do not worry. Our pack has survived many a barren winter, and summer will be a time of celebration to our long-lasted success in this territory!" He barked loudly, proud of his hard working wolves. Yips of agreement and barks of excitement sounded from all corners of the camp. Yes, indeed. Summer was a time for celebration.

        After the excitement of the approaching summer had died down, most wolves settled back into their normal schedules. The majority of the male wolves went out hunting for the day, though some stayed to help the exhausted females keep watch over the little ones. Muran padded over to Pedrah, who was sitting in the shade of a large blue spruce tree. He batted his younger brother’s tail playfully, wondering if he wanted to wrestle. Pedrah glanced at his older brother, unsure of what to do. Slowly, he stood up and swiped back at his brother. Muran gave him a surprised grin. He didn’t think that Pedrah would show any interest at all in playing. But obviously, he had been proven wrong. He easily dodged his little brother’s paw with a small sidestep and swung back, landing a soft blow on Pedrah’s leg. Pedrah winced as pain shot up his leg. He staggered back but quickly regained his balance and lunged at Muran, latching onto his scruff. Muran tried to shake Pedrah off, but his little brother had an extremely strong grip and refused to let go. He struggled but soon became exhausted to the point were Pedrah’s light body became too heavy for him. He fell over, admitting defeat. Pedrah hopped off Muran, a small smile pasted on his face.

        "You may be strong but in the end it’s the brains that count." He woofed, somewhat surprised that he had beaten his older brother. Muran looked up at Pedrah, glad to finally hear his little brother’s voice.

        "This is the first time you’ve spoken to me!" He exclaimed, climbing off the ground and walking over to Pedrah. Pedrah looked down at his paws, flicking his tail back and forth contentedly. Muran was about to ask for a rematch when he froze. Something was not right. The air had a strange scent to it. A smell that sent shivers down his spine. Terror grasped at him and he ran over to his mother, not knowing what to think of the smell or the fear. Pedrah ran out from beneath the tree and looked around camp. Every wolf seemed to be cowering from something, though he hadn’t figured out what yet. He ran over to his mother as well and nuzzled his nose into her comforting fur. Saria’s three pups were horrified, as was everyone else. But why?