Stars Origin.
Silence reined throughout the house in the late evening after darkness had settled. The air held still, nothing moved, no one spoke, and life seemed void; which was surprising for this particular home, for the celebrations of life often happened here in the form of parties, diners, and general life. Yet on this cold day in Nome Alaska there didn't seem to be much to celebrate.
In the kitchen the family gathered around the table, all their focus on the tiny body which lay before them like a slab of meat. The little pup didn't appear to be breathing, his chest didn't heave for those mouthful gulps of life, and his little legs didn't move or squirm to find his loving mother.
The daughter of the family let tears flow freely down her face to the edge of her jaw. Her blond hair got caught in her lips and she brushed it away with her hand, sniffled, and let a small wail escape her. She reached her delicate hand out and touched the little body to see if a tender touch would bring him to life; but the touch only came back a little colder, causing a heave of emotions.
The mother hugged her grieving daughter and dropped to her height. "Hush hush." She said tenderly, letting her daughter's tears and muffled sobs flood into her white cotton shirt. "It's okay. These things happen, there's nothing we could do for him."
The girl's father reached to her with his right hand and set it on the edge of her shoulder. He let his hands rub all down her shoulder and back, trying to bring the warmth and love that she usually had back to the surface. It didn't seem to work, and before he could even say anything his daughter bolted from her mothers grip and out of the kitchen in a wailing of tears. The mother followed as quickly as she could. "Wait honey, wait." The father followed his wife leaving Mitsy, the black and white malamute who had found the pup, alone.
As soon as the kitchen was clear Mitsy jumped up and put her front paws on the table and pushed her nose close to the pup. She looked hopefully at the little body she had found in the forest and nuzzled it with all the love she thought she had in her body. The pup didn't move. "Come on." She whispered. "I know you can hear me. Don't go."
Tears formed in Mitsy's eyes. Just two weeks prior she had to give her first littler of pups to their new homes and new owners. It had broken her heart to watch each one of her children being carried off. Mitsy knew that one day she would see her pups again, but she wanted so bad to keep them with her forever. And now this little starving frozen pup had been thrown into her life in the midst of her own turmoil, only to leave before she could get to know him.
Mitsy laid her head on the pup and let her tears move down her face. Hope was all she had for this pup.
Part II
The wind had picked up from just several minutes earlier and now had a hint of snow in it. A cold flavor had spiked the air, making it a little more intolerable to endure. Soon a heavy snow would fall, and by then travel would become absolutely impossible, especially when a whiteout ensued.
From the edge of a wide treeless field on the face of an unknown mountain a set of eyes scanned for possible dangers in the open terrain. He was wary about going out into the open, and if he had been traveling by himself he would have gone around without a thought to it. But now that his mate was heavy with children he couldn't take a long detour and risk her, or the pups, health.
"Wait here." The male, Drover, said over his shoulder to his mate and his mate's younger brother. "I'll signal when it's clear." Turning without hesitation, he moved his slim, wide chest, through some brush and out into the field.
The female, Amar, knew to trust her mate without hesitation. It was something she had learned to do over the past several weeks. He knew what would be best for her and the pups and would never put her in harms way for any reason.
Amar watched Drover move away from her and momentarily marveled as his muscular coyote body; another trait that she loved about him. Yet it wasn't just his firm jaw, muscular legs, or beautiful black speckled brown fur that drove her nuts; it was his calm and caring voice that held her tight, that let her drop into a safe and secure sleep she had never had since being a pup.
Suddenly she shook the daydream away. Drover had made it far out into the field and stood sideways to her among some golden threads of grass which stuck up through the snow.
"That's the signal." Sween, Amar's younger brother, said pushing forward. "Come on." He said with a glance to his sister.
"Yes." Amar pushed forward through the brush after her brother and out into the field. Oh I can't wait until you are all out of me. She thought inside her head as if the pups inside her could hear. Walking had become one of the most horrible things on earth, and now when she should have been in a den resting up for giving birth, she was out moving around on the hunt for food.
Drover returned from the center of the field and took up a spot at his mate's side. "Sween, lead." He ordered as he looked at Amar. Sween pushed ahead with a boost of speed and began walking with his senses on full alert.
"Are you okay?" Drover asked quietly.
"Yes." Amar replied with a smile. "But we won't be able to go for many more days. I need to find a place to den."
"I know." Drover looked away as though he had failed his mate. "Just a few more days and we'll find food and a place to raise the pups until summer. I promise"
Amar smiled at her mate. She knew that he wouldn't let her children go hungry no matter what happened.
They continued on across the field, occasionally glancing towards the sky which began to fill with snow and turn grey. At the other edge of the field they ducked down into a thicket to rest for a moment.
Amar looked tired from the small stint of walking. She breathed and panted like she had been chasing a rabbit through thick brush and deep snow. Her younger brother looked hopefully at her. "Will it be soon?"
She breathed sharply, feeling a little pressure against her insides. "I hope they won't want to come out before I have time to find a den." She glanced at Drover, then the snow.
Drover could see his mate's look of pain and worry in her pitiful stance and sick look. He would have done anything if he could have taken all the pain and worry from her. Yet he knew that her pain was caused by him and his stupidity in thinking that he could find a better place to raise his pups. It was his fault that they were out here in the cold and snow. If only he had listened to her original worry about the lack of food and a den site out in this country they would be safely settled and ready for the pups, but no.
Drover shook his head and came back to reality. His mate was looking deeply at him and had caught him deep in thought. "Are you worried?" She asked point-blank.
"No." Drover grinned. "No, just excited to be a father is all … we should get moving." He turned away and began to walk; Sween followed almost at his side. Then Drover stopped cold after several feet and turned to look at his mate.
Amar still sat where she had been, only now she breathed in deep breathes and scrunched her face in horrible pain. Her front legs shook violently and her entire body looked ridged and still. A groan, the likes of an animal in the throws of death sent a horrible shock up Sween and Drover's spines, sedning them bolting to her side.
"What's wrong?" Sween asked.
"Is it time?" Drover said looking into his mates face at near point blank range. She barely managed to return a painful groan of approval.
Drover looked straight at Sween and drove a look of need into him. Sween turned in an instant. "I'm going to find a den." And he bolted away through the brush and out of sight.
"Don't worry, just lie down and breathe." Drover tried to calm his mate who looked to be absolutely terrified. "Don't worry Sween went find a den site, he'll be back soon just relax, relax, relax."
Part III
Drover suddenly snapped back awake. He had drifted off for the hundredth time in his constant vigil over the nearby "den" where his mate was giving birth - and had been giving birth - for the past several hours. Drover shook his head to get the sleep out of him and looked over at the entrance to the den. Nothing moved, and nothing spoke of life. He looked away with an ashamed look again.
The den was in no way a proper place to give birth, especially for my children, Drover thought to himself as he thought of the den. At some point a tree had fallen flat on the ground near the edge of a very small clearing where Drover now sat. Then at some other point another tree fell almost parallel to the first from the opposite direction, making a small hole where a creature could sleep or pass a storm in. But the 'hole' was so small his mate could hardly lay on her side or sit up inside; and a drafty breeze flowed so quickly and abhorrently through the den, that if Amar had give birth on the snow it would have hardly been any different.
Drover sat for a long moment, and before he knew it he had closed his eyes and tried to drift off to sleep again. He shook his head violently. "Stay awake." He ordered himself. "Stay awake." He said again more gentle. It's got to be any moment now, any moment, He thought. Any moment I will get to see my kids.
Several times already he had bolted upright and stood stiff after hearing what he though were his children squeaking. The first time he neared the den to see if he could see anything, but Amar quickly growled; and in a voice that Drover would never mess with she told him to "GET BACK!!!!!" He hadn't approached the den since, but stood still and waited after every time he heard a squeal which he was sure was his children.
Drover snapped awake again, but this time it was because someone was coming towards him through the snow. Sween slowly walked towards him and gave a look of hope. He took up a spot at Drover's side looking at the den entrance. "Have you heard anything?" He said sitting down.
"No." Drover replied quietly. "What about you, see anything?"
Sween shook his head a positive no. "There doesn't seem to be anything around. I don't even see tracks of animals, not even a mouse or a squirrel, and I went at least three or four valleys over."
The answer wasn't one Drover had wanted to hear, although he knew that it would be the one he'd get. They were all hungry, no, hungry didn't cut it, they were starving. In the last three weeks Drover had subsisted on one squirrel and some slivers of meat he had stole off a dead moose. The same had gone for Sween whose ribs stuck through his winter coat like a stick in the ice. Most all the food they found went to Amar and the young ones she carried. Nothing else mattered in Drover's mind, for he knew that one day they would strike food and they would all eat well.
"Drover." Sween said quietly. "I need to tell you something else."
Drover turned his head. "What?"
"I did see some sign while I was out there, but …"
Drover pushed his head a little closer, fear and excitement both held to his face. "But?"
"But it was of human. I could see the footprints clearly in the snow. I followed his tracks to a cabin. He's not far from here."
Drover leaned back on his haunches, contemplating this over. Humans meant that there would be food, and that there is food somewhere. But humans also hunted coyotes and didn't take kindly to them. "We will have to be careful and keep our eyes open for traps. But let's not tell this to Amar right now. Agreed?"
"Yeah."
The two of them remained silent for several long minutes. Drover began to close his eyes and drift into an unwanted sleep again. Sween on the other paw had got some sleep while his sister was giving birth through the night. Fortunately it hadn't snowed during that time, and the cold that they were all sure about didn't come either. This would be good for the young pups. Although the sky had turned grey, and the sun didn't look as though it would appear, it seemed to be a good day for their birth.
Sween just started to curl himself around and find a comfortable spot on the snow to sleep when he heard Amar speak up. "Drover?" She called with a whispered hush.
Drover snapped to his paws and looked at his mate who sat in front of the den in exhausted repose. Steam floated from her mouth as thick as the clouds, and her eyes looked far and detached from her body. She looked as though she had become sick, deathly sick, and remained just a step away from collapsing into a coma. Yet she still managed to crawl from her bed and introduce her mate to their children. "There here." She said simply.
In all his excitement for this moment Drover had never really pictured it in his mind. He slowly walked forward; eye's skipping between his mate and the den, searching for the pups and the pleased look from his mate. "Are they named?" Drover asked just as he reached Amar; his eyes flashed into the darkness of the den, then back to her.
"No, not yet." Amar replied. She could see her mate's fear and excitement for the life that now existed in the den. "Go on. They're sleeping now."
Drover smiled and looked over his shoulder at Sween who smiled. He then got down on his belly and began to squeeze himself into the den. The opening barely accommodated Drover's wide shoulders; but after some pushing and finagling, he managed to push back another three feet. Even though the den had holes all over and he could feel a cold breath on his face, the inside was dark as a cave and three times as scary for the room he had. Then he felt it touch his nose and it made him jump slightly, a soft and furry body that moved just in front of his eyes. If he hadn't been so close to the ground he would have stepped on them for sure. He touched it with his nose again, only lighter this time, and the little pup squealed to life and began to scramble around. Soon Drover could see more of them, two more, no three, wait there were five of them, all bundled together on a bare spot of ground that Amar had cleared away. They were beautiful and helpless in this stage of life.
"Hello." Drover whispered. "I'm your dad."
The pups didn't understand him; but they could feel the warmth and love in his voice and began to migrate towards his chest. Some searched for a place to suckle, others just curled up against his warm fur. Drover couldn't help but let his tears flow down his face. He set his head very gently on top of them, and smiled.
Part IV
The snowshoe hare barely let a whisker move on his face; for he knew that a hungry gaze was upon him. Scanning around with his charcoal eyes through the thick willow forest he called his home there didn't seem to be any particular shape in the snowy terrain around to worry him. No wolf, no lynx, and no coyote, there was nothing to worry about except his worrisome self. Yet he knew that something watched him with delight.
Drover's jaws salivated without control. The rabbit looked plump with meat and fat, a round ball of goodness sitting just feet in front of his face. It had taken nearly two hours of stalking to get this close and he wanted nothing more than to pounce; but Drover knew that one false step in greed could ruin the hunt even at this point.
The rabbit seemed to calm down and relax as he shifted his feet under his body and puffed his fur out.
This was it, Drover knew it, strike now, he thought.
Drover flew forward with an explosive power that extended from all his paws to the tips of his yellow salivated teeth. His body soared through two willow branches and straight for the rabbit.
Panic hit the rabbit like a bullet. He flew to the left, his heart fluttering to life for life. And with a metallic click of empty teeth, the rabbit escaped with the hot breath of lust on his back and cold breeze of life on his face.
Fur clogged Drover's lips and mouth as he chewed at what he thought was a rabbit. He opened his eyes and looked at his plump meal bolting down over the edge of a riverbank and into nothing more than memory. Drover spit the fur out and took a moment to sit in the snow and sulk over the lost meal.
It had taken him a whole day of hunting to get just one chance at a rabbit, and like a fool he had blown it; or worse the rabbit had known about Drover the entire time and just toyed him in close enough for a taste. Drover looked briefly at the sky. It was growing dark and chill breeze began to blow. Tonight would be a cold and hungry night. Maybe Sween had more luck than me; thought Drover as he stood and began his march back towards the den empty jawed.
The distance passed quickly, three rivers, two valleys, and one high round tree-barren hilltop. Drover moved towards the den with his head hung in silent repose. Sween looked to be nowhere in sight, and Drover hopped for a moment that fortune had come on him.
Amar crawled from the den at the sound of approaching feet. She looked upon her mate who lowered his head and looked away. The look told Amar everything. "Don't worry." She cooed. "It'll be okay."
"But what if it's not?" Drover sat abruptly.
Amar breathed hard and glanced once into the den at her pups in their pile of warmth. They would be fine for just a moment. She stepped out away from the den, the farthest she had gone since their birth, and walked straight towards her mate.
Drover looked at Amar and felt even worse about missing the rabbit. Since giving birth Amar had lost most all her weight, due to recovery from labor and nursing the pups. Her ribs stuck to the flesh of her sides like the bark on a tree. The fur all down along her flanks bunched up in clumps and she obviously shivered in the breeze as she sat next to Drover. Her thin body pushed up against his and she set her head on the edge of Drover's shoulder. "Don't worry. Everything will be alright." She paused. "Everything will be alright."
For a long while both of them sat in the snow thinking their position over. Drover thought of way's he could feed his mate and pups. He thought of how much he hated himself for brining his family here, for missing the rabbit, for missing every animal he ever stalked. He wanted to lash out at something, to throw all his frustrations into a fit of destruction. Yet he knew that when he grew tired he would only be in the same place he started.
After several minutes in silence Drover watched Sween come walking through the forest with empty jaws, surrounded by an unnatural silence. Amar watched him come to and felt her hopes sink.
Sween stepped up in front of Amar and Drover, shaking his head and sitting down. "Nothing … I didn't even see anything." He looked down in disappointment. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay." Amar said simply. "It's okay Sween." She stepped away from her mate and gave Sween a sweet nuzzle that said she loved him for trying. "Everything will be fine."
Amar dropped her head and walked back towards the den under a hue of depression. She dropped down onto her belly and crawled into the dark hole, leaving Sween and Drover standing in front of each other.
Sween suddenly moved to Drover's side with a quick elegance and spoke in a low tone. "I figured I should tell you about what I saw in private, so she doesn't get scared."
Drover turned his head. "What?"
"I saw food. Lots of food."
"Where?" Drover snapped in a tone louder than a whisper. He looked at the den, then back at Sween when he figured Amar hadn't heard. "Where?"
Sween breathed. "The humans."
"No." Drover stood and began to pace, not bothering to whisper anymore. "We can't do that." A moment of disgust filled his eyes; disgust at Sween for even mentioning the idea. Both of them knew very well that if the humans caught them stealing meat, they would be shot. And if they managed to escape, then there was the danger that the human would track them back to the den. "No." Drover finished his thought. "We're not going to do it. It's just too dangerous with the pups and Amar."
"You're right." Said Sween. "But it's the only food around." He culminated with a bitter voice.
Drover sighed "I know." He sat near Sween.
Amar appeared from the den. She had heard her mate and brother talking rashly, and crawled once more from her pups to see what they were talking about. "What's going on?"
Drover smiled. "Nothing dear. We're just talking amongst ourselves. Why don't you go back keep the pups warm. We're just talking is all."
"Okay." She said submissively, all the while knowing that they were planning something dangerous that they feared she would negate. She turned around and crawled once again into the den. Curling around her pups, which wiggled towards her warmth, she kept her ears wide and keen for what her mate and brother were talking about but heard only muffled whispers.
Sween and Drover kept quiet for several minutes letting the air calm.
"Drover … we need food." Sween whispered
"I know."
Sween shifted his paws uneasily. "Amar and the pups need it most, and we're not going to do it all the time, just this once to get us on our feet again."
Drover mulled this over deeply for another several silent minutes while a new wind whisked the tops of the trees and dusted thin flakes of ice over their bodies. "Okay, tonight we go after Amar's sleeping."
Both of them shook their heads fully understanding what was about to be done.
Part V
Drover followed Sween through the dark forest, his mind ablaze with over-strung apprehension at what they were embarking on. Both of them had their senses on full alert, every snap of a twig from snow falling through the trees, every shifting and settling of hard-pack as it thumped like a boot sinking; nothing escaped them and their senses, or their imaginations.
Every few minutes they had to stop at a distant sound and wait to see what it could be, what terrors might dwell behind it. Yet every time they looked silently at each other with their original mission in mind, and continued on through the ankle deep snow, blowing darkness, and mind exhilarating cold.
Neither of them dared speak to the other for the fear that something might hear them. Both of them wanted to speak, wanted their fears calmed by the other and let a false security fall over them like a blanket. However they kept themselves silent to the point that the voices deep in their heads whispered, and only when it was safe.
After another several minutes, and three more stop to listen to the noise, they came across a deep gouge in the snow. It ran parallel with the river for several hundred feet before dropping down and crossing to the other side.
Sween stood still as he looked at the tracks, listening upstream and down. Drover stepped to his side and did the same, taking a long breath of the air through his nose at the same time. An overpowering smell came from the trail and it smelled like nothing either of them really wanted to tangle with, dogs. Dogs were the human's security alarm, they would bark and yell and taunt them until shots rang out after Sween and Drover as they ran for their lives.
Drover looked at Sween who stared back with unyielding eyes. They stepped forward at the same time onto the trail and continued upstream with even more trepidation.
The cabin sat square and squat with low walls and a low pitched roof. Rusty tin covered the entire building and a small tin porch stuck out over the only door to the building that faced the river. On top of the building a small cylinder expelled chalk colored smoke high into the night sky and stars. Around behind the cabin, away from the river, a cage built against the back wall held several small puppies in a single little log doghouse; and behind the cage a field of doghouses extended away into the trees, each one containing a sleeping alarm. There was only one window on the entire cabin and it looked black and void of life.
Drover and Sween had made sure to examine everything as they snuck in close to the camp through the trees and snow. They moved side by side, slinking low to the snow and using the trees for cover as they hop-scotched along.
Sween made the first move towards the log catch, a small building built up on stilts several feet to the downstream side of the cabin. Drover followed him to the handmade log ladder which ascended up to a door. One of the nearby dogs snuffed when a flake of snow flew up his nose. Both Sween and Drover froze solid looking at the black dog which licked his chops and set his paw over his eyes.
Mutely they sighed and looked at each other. Sween quickly moved up the ladder in the kind of awkward finesse that only a dog can accomplish. Reaching the top he bit at a string which held to a handle on the door. The door opened and picked up speed. It swung suddenly, faster than Sween had thought it would, and banged into the side of the logs sending a resounding thud through the forest.
Both shuddered and tucked their heads down into their shoulders. Nothing moved and nothing happened. Drover lifted his head from his shoulder and looked over through the forest with a single eye at the many sleeping forms in the many little houses. Like some stroke of luck none of them moved and only a distant grunt beheld any life.
Drover looked straight at Sween who shrugged his shoulders indifferently and pulled himself into the little building. For a moment Drover stood alone with his right paw on the bottom rung of the ladder impatiently looking up, and occasionally over at the dogs.
All of the sudden the entire leg of a moose landed behind Drover with a thump, causing him to jump wildly and make a bolt for the forest before stopping nearly two dozen feet away. Meat, more meat than he had ever seen in one place at one time more than a couple times. He crawled back towards the food, his eyes still on the cabin window and the dogs.
Another leg suddenly dropped into the snow next to the first, and with it came Sween carefully plodding sideways down the ladder. Reaching the bottom he looked around and caught Drover sneaking back towards him. Sween smiled at the amount of food he had procured and Drover smiled back.
Then they both picked up, or rather took hold and began to drag the two pieces of meat back down the trail and into the woods.
Part VI
Amar awoke quiet suddenly, banging her head on the log ceiling above. She squinted at the pain which ran down her back and involuntarily released her gleaming white teeth and a seethed breath of pain. "Oh." She moaned in pain. "That hurt."
For several seconds she sat still, barely breathing, trying to figure out what woke her with such a start. Everything seemed quite, and the light coming from the entrance of the den looked bright and inviting.
Amar pushed herself to her feet. One of the pups who had been close to her body squealed at the sudden burst of cold and Amar worried that he might wake the others. He quieted down just as fast as he had spoke up and curled his blind little face around into his brothers and sisters and dozed off again. Amar grinned, then stepped over her baby's and slid out of the den.
She bumped nose first into it, and it shocked her almost back into the den. "Meat!!" She yelped. Before she could even look at her mate who stood in front of her she threw her jaws into the frozen slab and grinded some small slivers away and began to suck them down without even chewing.
"Like you said," Drover grinned at his mate with a loving stance. "Everything would be just fine."
Amar grinned before diving into the meat again and grinding away with her sharp white teeth which flooded with saliva. "What about you?" She said coming up and chewing some slivers. "And Sween?"
Drover shook his head and made a quick motion over his shoulder where Sween chewed at an equally sized piece of meat like a puppy with a new toy. "We have our own. This is for you and the pups"
And it was at that moment that Drover thought, and truly believed deep down in his heart, that everything would be okay. He grinned at his mate. "We're just fine."
Part VII
Everything just seemed to fall into place. The meat lasted all of them for nearly an entire week, and in that week it had been nothing but pure bliss; they didn't need or care much to hunt, even though they continued looking for food and didn't find any. Amar began to get her shape back. Her ribs no longer stuck out and her face began to look fuller and vibrant with life. Her pups also began to grow, and even began to speak a little, nothing more than imperceptive mumblings, but it was a form of talking none the less.
Though when the meat ran out and only two large bones scattered about marked the meat they once had, things began to drift downhill again. Hunting became more prominent in the day's ritual. Every morning before the sun rose Drover and Sween would head out, sometimes traveling for thirty miles before returning back late after the sun set with nothing to show for their effort. Amar would crawl to the mouth of the den to watch the returning hunters and make as good a greeting as she could. Though it seemed very empty and cold each and every time.
More hungry days past and more cold nights came. The skin on Amar's body began to look sickly and thin again. Drover and Sween began to match her, and even came to a point where they might have passed her. The thought began to cross their minds again, the thought of the stilted cabin full of meat and how easy it would be to take it.
"Drover, I don't think we can continue." Sween whispered directly into Drovers ear. Both of them lay as close as they could together to share what little warmth they had in the dark night. "I think we might have to steal from the human again and possibly again if we are to make it until summer."
"I'm afraid we may have to to." Drover replied. He raised his head and glanced over at the den just a few feet away. "We'll go tomorrow night, it will be better."
Sween shifted uneasily. "But I'm hungry now and it's the perfect time if we leave now."
Drover shot Sween an irritated glance but he didn't see it in the dark. "I said tomorrow. Right now I just need some rest and you need some rest too."
Drover curled his head down around under his body until he was in as small a shape as he could get and the warmth he had seemed to increase dramatically. It took him just seconds to slip into sleep, especially after another long a fruitless day of hunting. Meanwhile Sween vanished into the trees.
Drover's eyes fluttered open in the early morning light. For a long while he continued lying in the same position he had fallen asleep in, soaking in how great the morning felt and how warmth seemed to be squandered on his body when it should have been going to something more useful. He could have been out hunting, or helping keep the pups warm until tonight when he would go get some food. It just felt very wasteful.
Rolling over and coming to an upright position, Drover looked for Sween. The little clearing was empty, and an assortment of different paw prints coming and going didn't point in any one direction he might have wandered. Drover stood up and walked to the den where he pushed himself into the dark opening.
Amar lay on her side stuffed up against the very back part of the den. The pups all lay in a pile at her stomach. Drover smiled and exhaled with sharpened love. It was love for his mate and just how beautiful she looked guarding over the pups.
Almost at the exact time that Drover was thinking of how much he loved Amar; Amar opened her eyes. She opened them slow and look straight at Drover, then closed them again to rest just a little longer.
"Have you seen Sween this morning?" Drover whispered tenderly.
Amar shook her head. "No, he's probably around somewhere."
Drover scowled displeased, then crawled backwards out of the den and began to walk into the trees to relieve himself and take a look around for Sween. It was then, just as he began to raise his leg to a group of trees, that he heard a distant sound which caught his ears like a pair of pliers. He dropped his leg and like a bolt ran into the forest towards the sound of very distant gunshots.
Sween ran as fast as he could down the trail in a frantic state of mind. Behind him the sound of barking dogs came closer and closer with each bloody step that Sween left. A trail of blood spurted from a large hole in Sween's right side; leading the following trail of dogs' straight down on him.
The sound of a human yelling heightened Sween's already hysterical state, causing him to lurch forward with an abrupt violence which resulted in him dropping to the snow with a screech of pain. I can't give up; he said mentally, I got to get back to the den. He pushed himself once again to his feet. Pain of the utmost horror ran his entire right side culminating in a large burst of blood from the jagged wound near his hip. It would have been so nice to just lie down for a minute, to catch his faltering breath and continue, but he couldn't.
Sween continued on as fast as he could, near unconsciousness from the pain but fighting it off with everything he could. More blood flooded his tracks. The dogs seemed to be even closer and the heavy trampled footsteps of a man walking down the trail behind a sled came closer and closer.
Drover bolted up the trail with little fear and caught sight of his mate's brother hobbling along with a long trail of blood behind him. Drover ran straight to his side and watched Sween drop to the snow and look up. "Get out of here." Sween feebly ordered.
"What happened?"
Sween didn't answer; he shook his head. "Get out of here before they get you. Quick they're almost here. Tell my sister I love her"
Drover looked over Sween one more time, the gaping hole in his side, the already growing puddle of blood that steamed under Sween in the snow.
"GO!" Sween yelled. "GO! HURRY!"
Two dogs running side by side turned a corner up the trail and, upon catching site of Drover standing over Sween, bolted forward with everything they could, barking and screaming with the lust for the hunt. Behind the first two dogs more came, and at the end of the long line of fuming dogs a sled bumped and slid around the corner, two men, one in the basket with a gun, and one standing on the back, caught sight of Drover. They raised there voice and the dogs rushed forward with a power that made Drover want to hide and cower, to drop down in a dark hole where he could hide forever.
Drover bolted from Sween – who had stopped breathing and stared up with lifeless eyes – and down the trail with more vigor than ever. He kept running faster and faster, further and further, never once daring to look back and see those snarling teeth or hate-filled human-eyes behind him. His entire body felt light as air, and his paws felt like they could float above the snow and possibly take flight if he wanted to, which he really did.
But after five miles Drovers heart began to hurt and his eyes began to grow dark around the edges, his paws felt tingly and heavy and he felt incredibly sick to his stomach. He was forced to slow and grow some courage to look behind him. The dogs and the humans were nowhere in sight. Drover breathed easily and sat down in the snow with his tongue lolling out the left side of his mouth.
Drover knew that he couldn't sit on the trail for to much longer, and so moved off to the side, taking exceptional care to cover and hide his tracks by brushing the snow behind him with his tail and using the bare spots of earth left under the pine trees as a trail. He found a good spot several dozen feet off the trail where he could watch the humans pass in perfect safety.
It began to take Drover over and drag him down. Sween was dead. The humans had probably stopped and took the fur from his back in a single swish of their blades and a laugh of approval at what they were doing. They then threw him on the sled and continued down the trail searching for the other one that they had seen. Or maybe they were searching for the spot where he had entered the trail so hastily so they could backtrack to the den and set some traps.
Bolt upright with a new a terrible fear, Drover flew down to the trail and out across the river making as quick a trail as he could across the icy river, soaring over open leads of water and up through the trees on the other side. He had to get back to Amar and get the pups out. The humans and there dogs were coming, and Drover knew they wouldn't take pity on his pups.
Amar sat just outside the den shivering in the late morning sun. She couldn't help but look up at the sky and feel warm inside though. Bands of color stretched across the sky behind the shadows of the trees; red, yellow, and a very mauve-white color like some sand she had seen near a big lake the very fist summer she was alive. Those days had been beautiful days, playing with brothers and sisters in the short green grass, daring each other to walk out to the very end of a beaver-chewed log that twisted and turned more and more as they neared the end of it. Chasing after squirrels through the underbrush just accented those beautiful young days of careless youth.
Her heart came back to the moments at paw, the unbearable hunger which grabbed at her stomach and began to pull and jangle her insides in a hundred different directions; how her fur just didn't seem to keep her warm anymore. Nothing seemed to be very good or carefree these days, nothing.
A distant sound suddenly caught Amar's ear and twisted her face into a curious expression. She stepped away from the den and began towards the edge of the clearing and the noise. Not daring to leave the pups, she stopped and peered carefully for the noise. It wasn't a loud noise, but it sounded close, like something was sneaking up on her and sliding it's belly through the snow. She sniffed the air but the breeze was moving sideways to her.
Then she saw them coming through the trees. Dogs. At least ten of them all tethered together in a neat and orderly line, their noses to the snow in hot pursuit of a faint trail. Behind them two humans walked behind a sled, guns in hand, clothing pulled up over their heads until only the faint whiskers of their beards pushed out through their hood. They looked evil and sinister to Amar, beasts who took everything, shared nothing; they were animals without souls or hearts.
"No." She whispered in horror. "No, no, no, no." She continued.
Amar turned and walked briskly back to the den, then stopped and looked back to the forest where she could see the moving forms coming closer. She had to move. She had to think. She had to act; and she had to do it now.
The humans shouted out impulsively like kids on a scavenger hunt. They had seen something. The dogs barked and lurched forward. Yelling, screaming, and passion all played into the unstoppable slither into madness.
Amar panicked. She had to save her children. One of them, all of them, just a couple, she had to save them.
She grabbed one by the scruff of the neck, a small light-brown runt with sideways stripes running up and down his back. Amar turned and began to bolt away from the den with her single pup swinging in her jaws when she heard the shot, felt the pain, and dropped to the snow with a violent roll. The pups skittered away into the snow.
Amar screamed out in pain and tried to push herself up with her front paws but the pain caused her to stop and lay back down. Out of the corner of her eye she began to see blood pooling and melting the snow away. She tried to look over her shoulder and see where she had been hit. More pain flooded her senses and made the corners of her eyes grow dark, but she still remained awake with the pain.
It was to late, Drover thought when he heard the single shot. He expected to hear more, and in a way hoped to hear more because it might mean the human had missed; yet none came and Drover pushed harder and faster up the hill towards the den.
He came to the little clearing, the den, and saw the dogs standing with tongues lolling out the sides of their mouths, a bloodlust satisfied by the skinless body which lay across the sled, and the shaking quivering body which lay in the snow near the den.
Drover barely paused to notice any of this. He had to kill these humans, kill these dogs; he had to make them pay for Sween, and now his mate. Bolting foreword out of the forest into the tiny clearing he ran straight for the human nearest his mate. The dogs began to bark and bay and the humans turned to the coming attack.
One of the humans smiled through his hood and grizzled beard, beady eyes filled with excitement. He raised his gun with his right hand, aligned it with Drover, now only feet away with open jaws and bright red eyes full of hate.
The shot came, cold and malevolent in the forest. It entered Drover square in the chest going right through his heart, killing him before his body hit the snow at the man's feet.
"Did you see that?" The man who shot the attacking coyote exclaimed with excitement. "I've never seen a coyote try and attack somebody like that."
The second man seemed less impressed. "Never mind the coyote." He grinned. "Look at the shot."
The first man rolled the coyotes body over with the barrel of his gun and looked at the bloody black hole square in the middle of his chest. "Yeah." He grinned with satisfaction at such a well placed shot. "This boy's a big boy to."
Moving around the first man, stepping over the body, the second man moved to the den where they had been going. He squatted down on his knees and looked far back into the darkness where the pups moved and squirmed, scared to death of the horrible sounds which pierced their ears and filled them with dread. They looked around through half open eyes making shrieks for their parents to come and help them. The man pulled his head out of the den and looked at his friend. "Looks like we have some young pups here."
"Really?" The first man replied squatting down and looking into the den for himself. "Yup. What should we do with them?"
"Well coyotes are no good for pulling or any work. And because they're so small we couldn't get anything for their fur." The second man stood upright, leaving his sentence off as if something was unfinished. "Here, I'll get these pups out. You start skinning those two." He pointed halfheartedly towards the two coyotes in the snow.
The first man walked casually over to the female coyote, fumbling to remove his beaver-skin mitten, as the second man began to tear at the logs which held the den together. Looking down at the coyote with one hand out of his mitten and reaching for his knife the first man realized that she was still alive, still breathing. "Hey, what should I do about this female here? She's still kicking."
"Well don't put another hole in her fur. Just get her with the butt of your rifle." The second man replied with a cold indifference.
Raising his rifle with a casual shrug of his shoulders as if to say what he was doing was as normal as mailing a letter, the first man brought the butt of the gun down on the side of the female's skull resulting in an explosion of blood and brain which came out of her nose, through the top of her skull and out her mouth.
"There," The second man said looking in at the pups that shivered in the open air through the side of the den he had ripped away. The first man rubbed the but of his rifle in the snow to remove all the blood and brain and other soupy gunk which stuck so stubbornly to the mahogany. "Yeah?" He called over his shoulder.
"Got the pups out." The second man said. Then without even a flash though to his actions, a momentary burst of heart, or even a bit of pain at what he was about to do; the second man raised his right foot as high up as he could and began smashing the young pups in their nest.
The pups screamed out as the man continued, stomping bodies, heads, tails, and legs. Faster and fast he stomped, blood, brain, and gore flying from his boots with each stomp. And the faster he stomped, the quieter the screaming became, until nothing but the silence and peace of death remained in the little clearing.
After the men had finished with their work of skinning the bodies of the two coyotes, they went home under a veil of satisfaction at a hard days work, all wearing smiles.
Part VIII
Mitsy walked through the woods at a brisk pace, brisk enough that she made good time yet slow enough that she was able to take everything in at a leisurely pace. Small stains ran down the sides of her face, they were old and set deeply in her face from many tears over many days of much crying. It had been two weeks since she had had to sit and watch all her pups be taken away one by one; some of them cried as they left, others just didn't seem to know what was going on and they went in silence.
It had been one of the most heartbreaking things Mitsy had ever done. Everything in her life just seemed useless and void. For a long while she laid in her extra large bed, feeling the emptiness of the spot where her puppies had been; running her paw over the cold blankets in a deep effort to connect with her children again, and feel what they were feeling.
As days turned into weeks Mitsy knew that she had to get over the pain. Her mate, Drum, began staying with her until she fell asleep. The pain just felt too deep to comprehend, so early one morning nearly two weeks after loosing her pups she walked out across the tundra to the forest and it's river to get her head right. The walk felt good after spending two weeks inside crying. Tears still flowed, yet they weren't as painful anymore. The day just looked a little brighter and felt a little better as it turned from late morning into late afternoon. But the temporary joy wouldn't last for long.
Mitsy continued walking through the forest, her eyes dry and feeling fresh in the cool forest air. The smell of pine flooded her nose and made her smile and twinkle her ears at the hundreds of different sounds, until she caught the faint smell of blood.
It caught her whole-heartedly and pulled her to a dead stop. Her first reaction was to run, to get away from whatever was in this part of the forest. But something stopped her from doing this; something made her want to know what was out there.
Mitsy put her nose to the snow, lifting it occasionally to take an air sample and make sure that nothing else, nothing dangerous, was in the area. She continued on, plodding her way through the thick undergrowth with a head full of apprehension. An uncontrollable dread shook her as she crawled under a low hanging log, the words in her head screaming at how stupid she was. A clearing began to open up in front of her and the smell of blood became thick.
She broke into a small clearing and saw the most horrible scene her eyes had every beheld. Blood covered the snow like some morbid fight had broken out and two creatures continued fighting until all the blood in their bodies had bled out. Everywhere there were signs of blood in the snow, the most predominant being two large pools separated by some distance which looked deep and frozen. Several bullet cartridges stuck up from the snow among a mass of human prints which had stomped through the blood and what appeared to be pieces of flesh, possibly brain, like a bear rolling in it's kill.
Shock was the only feeling that Mitsy could bring to the surface, her body tense and jaws open. Once again she wanted to flee to the forest and get away from everything. She wanted to go home and crawl into her bed. She didn't need to see this; but something drove her on yet.
Mitsy carefully moved about the little clearing trying to sidestep all the blood and the slivers of meat from men who had done a bad job of skinning. She made a large birth around the two puddles of blood, moving in a clockwise circle towards the end of a log. Then a small rivulet of frozen blood clawing down through the snow came up just under her nose from behind the log. There was more blood on the other side of the log.
Carefully she moved around the log with the thought that it was nothing more than another puddle like the other two. Yet when she saw the blood, brains, fur, and the little legs of puppies sticking out among a tangled mass of gore she nearly fell sideways with shock. It took her half a second to spew her guts into the snow. She looked back at the pups and felt tears of sorrow racing down the gutters of her face where the tears had flown before. A few more dry heaves and she felt safe enough to stand facing the woods away from all this, she had to get home, she had to get away.
Mitsy turned and began to trot briskly away from the horror with her head held low and full of tears when something caught her again; a helpless yelp, a dying gasp reaching out for anyone. She stopped and turned back towards the clearing slowly.
A single young pup crawled out from behind a tree, sneaking a quick look at Mitsy before realizing he had been seen and bolting away again. For a long while he didn't return and Mitsy, recovering from the shock of seeing all the blood and brain, then this pup, shook her head and walked halfway back across the little field. "Hello?" she called quietly like a mother would.
She watched as the pup poked the side of his head around the edge of the tree and pulled it quickly back. "Wait." Mitsy pleaded with a yelp between her tears and uncontrollable emotions. "Don't be scared." With as much care as she could she began to creep closer. "Don't worry. I'm not here to hurt you. Let me just take a look at you." Mitsy continued as she grew closer and closer to the tree. The little pup stole a quick glance at Mitsy before hiding again.
Mitsy moved around the side of the tree and expected to see the pup dash away through the snow for her to follow and catch or he'd be hiding under his paws crying; but the little pup just sat back on his haunches looking up into Mitsy's eyes. His eyes were full of hope, yet reserved with fear and shock. His coat looked shaggy and malnourished with a light grey color mixed in with darker stripes running all up his back. A tremor from deep inside where the cold from the day had grabbed him came through. Mitsy could see it in his eyes, even though he looked full of life at that exact moment, ready to run and play with brothers and sisters, he was dying, and dying quickly.
"I need to get you help." Mitsy said in a panicky voice. She grabbed the pup by the scruff of the neck and bolted towards home as fast as her feet would take her. The pup hung lifeless in her jaws.
Part IX
The little house remained quiet besides the distant tears of a little girl and the comforting voices of her parents. Mitsy held her head tight to the cold little body, tears still flowing down her face and dropping off onto the counter. Her lungs felt like fire after running nearly ten miles in a single shot; the blood that pooled in her muscles during the run began to come back to her body and brain with a rush of endorphins following along to ease the physical pain. But the mental pain lingered strongly and would never be vanquished by any amount of body ease.
Nothing more, there was nothing more she could do for this young pup. Everything that had happened could never be changed, would never be changed. The young pup was dead, his family was dead, they were all dead. In a way Mitsy felt sick and disgusted with herself. All this while she had been mourning over how her pups had been adopted out, while somewhere out in the woods a family was starving and trying to feed their young ones only to be killed, have their skins taken, and have their young pups stomped to death.
Mitsy lifted her head off the pup and tried to suck the last bit of tears running down her face back through her nose. She dropped down off the counter and turned towards a different room in the house. It was enough for her to endure for one day; she had to get away from this pain, away from the anger, away from everything for a while.
Suddenly a small sound caught her mid-step, a tiny breath, a tiny movement unperceivable to any other ears. It took her just a flash to jump up onto the counter and look at the pup who breathed uneasily on his back. Mitsy instinctively nosed the skinny pup sideways so he laid more on his side; it seemed to ease the lack of breath the pup had making him breath better. She had to let her masters know.
Barking echoed throughout the house and the family came running back to the kitchen, the daughter of the family forefront with tears flowing down her face. All of them looked down at the pup who breathed, in, and out rhythmically. Smiles broke across all their faces as they realized that the pup was alive
"Well." The father of the family smiled and put his hand on his daughters shoulder. "Isn't that amazing?"
"Yeah," The daughter agreed. She then turned directly towards her father. "Can we keep him? Please, please."
The father smiled halfway and looked at his wife who stood by his side. She glanced at him then down at their daughter. "We can for now, but we need to see if anybody is missing a puppy and be sure that we can keep him. Alright?"
"Okay." She said impulsively. "What should I name him?" Her eyes flashed to the little pup, then back to her parents.
"I don't know. I'm not good at naming things" The father said uncomfortably.
"Well you should name him." The mother said looking at her daughter. "After all you were the first one to find him, besides Mitsy of course."
Looking about the room in deep thought, hand to her chin, mind to the grindstone, the daughter quickly came up with a name and flashed back to her parent's expectant looks. "How about Star?"
"Why Star?" Her mother asked in a sweet tone.
"Because I know he's one in a million, like the stars." She looked at the young pup that seemed to be breathing better now. "Yeah Star." She giggled through her tear-stained cheeks. "Don't worry Star; you'll be just fine here."