Run Little One

Run Little One

　

Prologue:

　

　

　

　

From the shadows of the pines she emerged padding the soft, crisp, dew strewn spring grass in an eerie delight. The intoxicating aroma of fresh elk blood was near and trusting her nose, she followed the sent. Wearily knowing the owner of the kill must still be close. She stepped lightly fearful her paw-falls may give her away, she crept slowly-- yet still with a pup-like excitement-- toward the other, who was now in view.

Her golden eyes now completely focused on the one in front of her and the one's kill, she did not notice the bed of pine needles that lay ahead. Clumsily she stepped. Noisily she fell. Quickly she keen eyes flashed from the ground to the young male as she stumbled to gain balance on uncooperative legs.

Snarling viciously, he whipped his head around to find the interrupter of his dinner. He turned his muscular frame swiftly and with ease as he faced the intruder. His lips curled in the most brutal way with gleaming bloody red fangs showing her he wanted straightforward dominance. This was quickly noted by her and she showed him with her body; tucking her tail under herself while looking bashfully away from his sharp gaze.

Him satisfied with the reaction, covered his blood stained teeth, and only lowered his tail slightly. She inturn, stood straight while lowering her head with pulled back fluffy ears atop her forehead, gazed upon the male with a fearful, soft eye. He growled lowly for he was protective of his kill, though she did not move.

"Mine," he growled. Watching her with pure eyes as he turned his back to her and ripped a mouthful of elk off to demonstrate. She sat on her haunches watching, waiting, her ears still folded close to her head, and studied him.

Feeling her eyes on him he snarled, "Why!" Her ears quickly trying to decide whether to perk up in question or down in fear, she yipped a quick "What stranger?"

"Why must you watch me feed? Why are you here? Why? Why?" he looked up from the carcass to see her.

"I am very hungry strange one, I've not eaten in moons. I'd hoped that your kill would possibly be abandoned," she barked hesitantly. "I find it hard not to stare when this one's belly is unfed."

"Why must a She like yourself scavenge when she has claws that rip flesh and fangs that kill?" He snorted.

"This one has not had a successful kill for many moons." She yipped lowering her head in shame. She knowing all too well that in the world of the wolves one who can not kill successfully is looked down upon and is lowered in rank and possibly exiled from a pack. The wolves have a word for it: a Drel.

"This winter was harsh," he agreed; yet a feeling of bitter disagreement was hidden under his friendly tone, " I've a full belly... though it's the act of a Drel, you may eat from my kill." He trotted toward her and towering above her, dipped his head in acknowledgement, sat on his haunches and watched the silvery-grey She as she romped over to the carcass.

"Your kind--"

"Kurticus," he answered sweetly through admiring eyes.

"Kurticus. Thank you."

He stayed and watched the She finish the calf carcass. "Shan't I know your name before we go our separate ways," growled Kurticus.

"My apologizes, they call me Lovell."

"Little Wolf?" he sneered.

"Unfortunately," she retorted before disappearing into the brush.