The Wolf Oath

The hunter, caped in camouflage and armed to the bone, stole quietly through the thick brush. Careful not to make any sound, he slowly reached for his rifle. Something up ahead was stirring.

He continued to move down the hunting trial to his own slow and steady pace, making sure to stop once in a while to listen.

His own pulse was beating in his ears like drums, making it harder to hear. The thick, wet branches and leaves crunching under his boots could almost make him jump out of his skin.

Even the light reflecting onto leaves almost made him think eyes were peering right at him. The sun was just barely breaking over the mountains in the far distance.

It was early in the morning, when the hunter started his journey well before the sun would come up.

Even the tall looming trees looked like they were moving as the hunter continued down the trail. The hunter came to a stop.

The eerie howl was clear enough to be heard from a mile away. He waited, not even breathing until he heard it again: a long, rising in pitch, and then anguished note to the point of agony before trailing off.

The hunter started off again on his journey to find that beast.