The White wolf had been hunting for days.
He had caught the scent of a dead horse found in a muddy thicket. Two bolts stuck out of its neck and head. The scent of the bolts made him lust for its blood.
Few humans had dared enter the Dark Forest. Yet this foolish one had dared to enter. Sniffing its tracks, he could make out its size, stature, strength, and weakness.
A female. A girl in the prime of her youth. Delicate, with a slender build. Small, and vulnerable.
Her scent? My, her scent made his blood burn for the desire to find her. When he put his nose to the air, he could catch her smell: The smell of desert winds, the salt of the sea, the scorching embers of a strange flame in her heart, and the smell of fire.
He knew that scent.
Yes, the girl would be his. His alone.
He and his pack had been searching for the human girl for five days. They had followed her ragged breath through the forest of black trees. A smouldering fire remained in a small clearing surrounded by a thicket. The ashes coated his white fur but did not burn his flesh. Nothing would kill the wolf, no wound, no bite, no severed limb, or blade. The ashes only reminded the wolf of the girl's powerful scent. The scorching embers of a strange flame beat in her heart.
Her ash-coated footprints covered the forest floor. She was scavenging.
Food was scarce, no animal lived a long life without the wolves tackling it first.
Mmmm...What do we have here?
His black nose touched overripe blackberries. And a spot of blood.
"Hún oon-går særð, Mer lin." She is wounded, my lord.
The maws of Rain and Daniel drew beside him. His commanders.
The girl was scavenging on berries. The smell of the fruit was strong on her scent. A handful lay scattered here, squashed and trampled, and some whole. Drops of blood scattered the rotting earth.
What had happened to her? Fear? Pain? Danger?
"Iig går videre," he said. We move on.
The pack of wolves moved through the undergrowth of the trees, white against spots and boles of black and brown. Their paws imprinted the soggy earth and strong muscles rippled against the remnant of leaves sagging off the trees. The whip of tails sliced through the air, sending all small furry creatures within fifteen feet bolting for holes and safety.
Rain and Dariel stepped in line with their lord, their massive size a force to reckon with. Stronger bodies, sharper maws, teeth edged like daggers, and a will to protect their lord to the end of their lives, no matter the cost, even if it were to cost them their own lives.
The White wolf was the alpha. The alpha male asserted dominance over his pack through aggression, power, fear, and his right as their King. Through the years of mud, snow, ice, blood, and pain, his pack had followed him as their King with one hope: To find the Maiden.
Stinking steam arose from the earth.
A rotten, putrid smell filled his nostrils, the stench of decaying flesh, and a bubbling mire.
The smell of an animal. Sucked into the mire and lost to its depths.
No feed for the ravens scavenging the Dark Forest for food. Yet the birds the colour of pitch and beaks of knives followed the wolves for a feed of their meat.
A hopeless wish.
********************
A bloody deed. A bloody deed, indeed.
Drops of blood trailed deep into the forest, a drop every metre and a beacon of scent for the White wolf.
Every deed must be proven by the strongest proofs. Such a deed showed its gory mark against the leaves.
If she were a child, she would surely be dead by now. Yet this one has a fire, a fire to burn and plunge into another day to live. He chuckled low to himself. A rare one, indeed. The smell on the arrow shafts told him she was a true shot. The barest hint of metal and steel brushed the leaves as he kept his nose to the ground.
She was scrambling over the forest floor. Broken twigs, loose rocks, and trodden small brushes showed him her path. She was heading south. Blood and tears washed the ground.
Why do you weep? Do you weep for one life you have taken? One life, or a thousand, what does it matter? All are the same and one flesh of humankind.
***************
Ravens circled the air, searching for leftovers of the kill of the wolves.
Bones crunched in the maws of his pack.
The White wolf's eyes gazed over this wretched land before him. What desolation. How could a human even survive in such a cursed place?
A deer's hindquarters was dropped before him by a bowed wolf. "Mer lin. Hearivin." My King. Eat.
"Verireitti oon-går vikande, Mer lin," the wolf said. "Antingen de tyttö vara olla i gryningen eller så har hon bedövat såret." The blood trail is receding, my King. Either the girl shall be dead by dawn, or she has staunched the wound.
The White wolf dipped its snout. "Hearivin, Rain, í einu, við veiðum áður en tunglið rís." Eat, Rain, at once, we hunt before the rise of the moon.
Rain, his Beta commander, nodded. The faintest light of the night caught the scarred black lines scoring through his snout.
A snarl of order alerted the pack of their king's wishes.
The pack ripped into the small doe they had killed at dusk, splitting the brown fur open and snatching chunks to retreat and devour.
No scraps were left for the ravens.
YOU ARE READING
The Cursed Prince - Fire and Ice (Book One)
Fantasy"What she remembers can never be spoken... " A young prince is raised by a king. His adopted sister hides the dark secrets of her mind within her heart-one that is locked away-filled of secrets. But all secrets and promises made are shattered when t...
