The Hunt for the Wolf
Prologue
By Aya-Chan a.k.a. Yukionna42
When winter came to the Kloden Wildwood, and the ground was blanketed in white, the Gallian White Wolves came down from the North. When they did, the hunters and trappers who called the heavily forested Southern tip of Gallia their home would be forced to defend their livelihoods against the large and powerful canines. It was a war that repeated itself every December to February, the White Wolves and the few human inhabitants of Kloden.
The man, dressed in thick brown boots, warm elk furs, and a tweed cap, crouched low behind a snowbank alongside his daughter. In the young girl's hands was a bolt-action GSR Rifle. She was only five years old, but the sooner she learned to shoot, the better.
Even in her warm furs, she was shivering in this bitter cold. Looking at her father, she saw that he didn't seem to be cold at all, despite the fact that a layer of frost had settled onto his black walrus mustache.
"Keep your eyes on your surroundings." Victor Wulfstan commanded. "They could come from anywhere." A bit startled by the sudden break in the silence, the girl peeled her eyes away from the man and looked straight ahead at what was beyond the snowbank, where a horse was idly standing about 200 meters away, hitched to a wooden stake sticking in the ground, making no movement aside from occasionally flicking it's tail or wiggling it's ears. This gray nag had seen better days. It was old, about 45 years in age, and it had recently come down with a disease that had ate away at it's health so badly that the outline of the creature's ribs stuck out along it's sides. The man wouldn't have used one of his healthier horses for his daughter's training. Although he had many fond memories and loved this nag very much, he was putting it in danger. However, he had faith in his daughter, believing she had the potential to save it's life.
"There's one!" Victor Wulfstan pointed out. The young girl shut one eye and looked through the scope of the rifle. She didn't see it at first, it was crouched motionless, exactly the same color as the snow, but then it turned it's head and she saw the White Wolf's yellow eyes, black nose and pointed ears.
"Get ready." Victor ordered. The girl took aim. If she could shoot and kill the wolf before it reached the horse, she would have completed her training. The wolf eyed the horse, crouched low on all fours, slowly slinking forward, then it stood up and bolted forward with impressive speed.
"Here he comes." the man spoke. The girl's hands were shaking uncontrollably. She was prepared to kill the wolf. What she wasn't prepared for, was the possibility of failure. The wolf came within fifty paces of the horse.
"Now, fire." her father commanded. The girl hesitated. What if she missed? What if she failed to kill the wolf? What kind of hunter would she be then? What if she failed her father? Disappointed him? Her hands still shaking, she rested her finger on the trigger of the rifle.
"Fire!" her father repeated. She was scared. Scared of failure. Scared of being second-rate. Scared of letting her father down. Of letting her family down. Twenty paces from the horse, now.
"Fire, Marina!" Victor shouted. She didn't want to be a failure. She didn't want to be second-rate. She didn't want to be forever remembered as the weak daughter of a strong father. Twelve paces from the horse. The girl squeezed the trigger, heard the banging report of the weapon, and felt the kickback against her shoulder.