Rogue Wolf

Chapter Four - I'm Not the Real Enemy

I stared at Root, shocked. "I...I swear I didn't! My br-"

"Shut up!" Root howled, his fur bristling. "I don't want to hear any excuses! You murdered Sly! You're worse than an outcast! You're a monster!"

"Wait! You don't understand!" I desperately tried to get Root to listen to me, but he was having none of it.

"I swear, I will hunt you to the ends of Aurea! You will pay!" he snarled. It was obvious that there was no reasoning with the Alpha. He was too angry, his entire body radiating hatred.

"I didn't kill her!" I shouted. But he was already gone, leaving me staring at the dead wolf stretched out in front of my paws.

It was the dead of night, and the stench of blood and fear lay heavy in the air. Root had abandoned Sly's body in his fury, leaving her with me. If I were to leave her, some animal would take her, and the only thing left of the pretty she-wolf would be bones and scraps and fur.

There was no way I was going to let her end up in a scavenger's belly. I nosed around at the back of her pack, but her pelt was so torn and her neck was too crooked for me to properly grasp her scruff. I twisted my head sideways to fix my teeth in what was left of her scruff, holding my neck at an awkward angle. I began to move her, her limbs dragging along lifelessly and leaving bloody streaks on the ground.

I managed to drag her over to a patch of soft dirt at the base of a tree, away from the blood-soaked ground where she had died. I found a spot between the oak's gnarled roots big enough to bury her, and I began to dig, scrabbling at the soil and tearing up a clump of grass. Dirt sprayed behind me, and after quite a bit of digging I had made a hole just barely big enough to lay Sly down without having to squish and stuff the dead wolf in. Even though her spirit was no longer in her body, I didn't want to bury her in a cramped hole in the ground. I wanted her to be stretched out, as if she were sleeping peacefully. Sly had been one of the few wolves that hadn't treated him like an inferior mongrel. She deserved a peaceful rest after her violent death. I hoped she approved, wherever she was now.

I carefully lowered her body into the sloppily dug grave, brushing her long fur back to try and cover her wounds. If not for the blood staining her pelt, she really could have been sleeping. Her delicate head rested on the bottom of the hole, her sleek form seeming even more fragile in death. I reached with a paw and closed her eyes, not wanting them to be frozen in such a fearful, pained expression.

Sly's head was still twisted, but there was nothing I could do about her mangled throat. This was the best I could do for her. As I began to push the pile of dirt over her body. The dampened earth fell upon her pelt with soft thuds, dirt scattering across her flank with every layer added. Soon, the only sign that Sly was there was a small mound of dirt. I dragged over a few heavy fallen branches so as to discourage any animal trying to dig her up again.

I've spent far too much time here. Root will have gathered his Pack by now. I need to go. Goodbye, Sly.

I backed away from Sly's grave and bounded away, in the opposite direction of the Pack camp. I had to flee. I needed to get away. I cast one long, regretful look over my shoulder.

I'm sorry, Wing. I'm not coming to meet you. I just hope you don't think I'm a murderer. Please, don't ever believe that I could be capable of something like that.

As I raced through the forest, I felt like I was being watched from every side. I could swear the leaves had eyes, that there were accusatory glares hidden in every shadow, under every bush, behind every fallen tree or log, and in every clump of grass. I was afraid. I couldn't have left Sly to be eaten, but burying her had taken a huge chunk out of my escape time.The Pack would be on my tail in mere minutes. With that thought in mind, I pushed myself to run even faster, my paws drumming the ground with every stride.