Thanks for checking back people!
I have the first installment of this short story now up, like I promised and so I hope you are satisfied. I do not own Narnia or any of Narnia's characters, just my Oc's and this story plot.

Without further ado...


Maugrim's Rancor: Chapter 1
The Hunt


The dark woods were all silent except for the trees.

Their rustling leaves whispered to one another about the pack of three wolves moving steadily through the shadows.

A pair of working eyes did not need to be very sharp to see these wolves were up to no good. There was a dark aura around them, and with them came the distinct scent of ill intentions.

One could read it in their quiet, confident prowls, and the way they held their tails high.

The lead wolf was an all black male. His body was big and well muscled, with yellow eyes that flickered orange in the occasional stray beam of moonlight. The male was followed by his two sisters.

They were both common looking wolves. All feminine beauty they might have possessed was warped by the permanent snarls on their faces.

A twig snapped suddenly, causing all three wolves to slow to a halt in their travels.

"What was that?" questioned one of the females.
"Shh," the other female snapped towards her sister.

The male said nothing, standing statue still with ears swiveling. The trio had left their cave at midnight, looking to make their way through the more populated part of the woods unnoticed, in hopes that the usual forest dwellers were all asleep.

They had to get to the nearest Narnian road unseen and from there, they would travel towards Cair Paravel.

But wolves usually never stepped foot outside of these woods, which was why it was essential now that they travel under cover of darkness. The trio could not afford to be seen and talked about.

Word traveled fast through this country, and if rumors got out about three wolves traveling beyond their boarders towards the castle, all element of surprise would be lost.

And surprise was the most necessary factor when on a mission to hunt down King Peter, the Magnificent...

Two years prior:

"Come along Rancor, pick up those feet! A rhino can walk quieter," barked a beautifully silver, female wolf.

She turned her head to peer into the bushes several feet behind her.

"I'm tired mom," returned a whining voice. Rancor, a one year old, black pup, trotted up out of the brush to his mother's side after a moment.

"We've been training for hours..." he groaned.
"Training would be over by now if you learned to pick up those feet!" the mother returned, "How will you ever stalk a King if you can't even properly hunt a rabbit?" she bit back.

Rancor looked down at the dirt floor beneath his paws.

"Burbite and Ripclaw don't have to practice so long..." he protested wearily.

"Your sisters have mastered this lesson," the mother reminded harshly, "You on the other paw, refuse to focus on the task at your nose. Concentrate!"

Rancor growled in frustration and moped back off into the trees. Only after the black pup was out of sight, did an old, scraggy male wolf wander up into the clearing. After a minute, he addressed the mother.

"You know, Shredla, there comes a point where frustration and tiredness cloud the mind and make learning impossible. Give the pup a break," the aged wolf suggested.

"My methods for training Rancor are none of your business, Flatfoot," Shredla growled, "If he is to accomplish his task and successfully destroy King Peter, he will need to push himself beyond all limits of frustration and tiredness. I am teaching him resolve and determination," she defended, glaring pointedly.

"No. What you're teaching, is how to run himself into the ground. That's what you're teaching," huffed Flatfoot as he turned, swishing his tail, to walk off. Shredla stared after the old wolf with bared teeth.

It was yet another hour later when Rancor finally found himself back at the pleasant and homey den site. Shredla followed her pup but sat down in the shade to watch him scamper inside the warm darkness of the cave and plop down to stretch on the cool floor.

"Wow... that took even longer than we expected," snickered Burbite as she trotted over to her exhausted brother. Ripclaw followed suit of her sister and smiled ruefully down at Rancor.

"Yeah, what happened? Get lost out there?" she snorted.

"I hate rabbits..." was Rancor's only reply.

He'd never been one to retaliate against his sister's taunts, nor had he ever made an effort to get into fights with them, to Shredla's dismay. The fact that Rancor did not have the mean streak she and Maugrim had both shared was discouraging.

He was taking far too much after his grandfather, Flatfoot. Shredla vowed to work that calm, good natured personality out of her son. The pup would need ferocity and anger to survive this world, and more over, to survive his impending encounter with Sir King Peter Wolfsbane.

News of the Kings' and Queens' influence over the country of Narnia was spreading fast, and the young King was growing bigger and more experienced every day. Shredla would take every precaution in giving her son and daughters the best chance at victory over their father's murderer.

...

The next morning was the dawn of autumn. The wind smelled sweet and leaves were turning the brightest most beautiful shades of oranges, reds and yellows.

Rancor sat by the brook just a few yards outside the home den, and admired the trees around him. Birds were chirping cheerfully between branches and the gentle flow of the creek water over pebbles was soothing.

Rancor often preferred taking naps in such serene surroundings. He'd much rather spend his afternoon's sleeping peacefully than in hard training with his mother. The sessions would last a long time, sometimes even into the night, and Rancor's legs would often get sore after so many hours of running, leaping, and clawing at victims he'd rather not be forced to kill.

He didn't enjoy one minute of his lessons, for they were very physically taxing and Rancor could never tell if he was even progressing in the skills his mother was straining to teach him.

Perhaps the training would not be so gruesome if he could only fully understand and partake in his mother's raw passion for vengeance.

Rancor had barely known his father before he'd died, therefore lacking the need for revenge that his mother seemed to live and breathe on. All Rancor had to inspire him were stories of who his father had been and what Maugrim, Captain of the police, had achieved in his years of respect and loyalty to the White Queen.

All the same, stories could not make his father very real to him.

Rancor constantly struggled with finding the inward anger he knew he should be feeling for having his father stolen from him. In fact, the anger he so tirelessly worked to cultivate in his heart, often made him weary and in want of rest. This was why he had a knack for napping.

His sisters however, were very rambunctious, always full of energy and ready for whatever task their mother asked of them. They were both sufficient hunters and prided themselves on their quickly acquired skill sets. Rancor disliked them, even if he was determined not to hate them. They were family after all. The only friend Rancor had was his grandfather.

Flatfoot was forbidden by Shredla to offer advice or pose much influence to his grandpups, but that hadn't stopped him from taking an instant liking to Rancor. From the beginning, Flatfoot had perceived that Rancor was exactly the opposite of what Shredla wanted him to be, and for that reason, he loved the pup.

As Rancor snoozed in the sunlight, Flatfoot approached the pup, aware of the rare occasion where Shredla and the daughters were gone out hunting, leaving the two males alone to themselves. Flatfoot took a paw and gently nudged Rancor's shoulder with it.

Startling, the black wolf woke, yawning and shaking his head to look up at his grandfather.
"Your mother and the girls are out hunting. I figured it would be a good time to talk to you alone," Flatfoot stated.

Rancor sat up, looking interested and scratched his neck before giving his full attention to the older wolf.
"I know, that your mother is doing her darnedest to train you to be the best wolf you can possibly be," Flatfoot began, "But out of everything you learn and accomplish, no matter how brave or how strong you become, never throw away who you truly are inside. Kindness, mercy, and love are the most important capabilities you possess, and they should always outweigh any cruelty, vengeance and hate," he finished.

Rancor had been watching Flatfoot carefully, taking in his grandfather's words and storing them away. He didn't know it now, but this bit of advice would be the most impactful words of his life...

Now:

SNAP!

Another loud crack of a twig disturbed the silence of the woods. The trio of wolves were now assuredly locked on to their target. Having surrounded a certain group of bushes from where the sound had echoed out of, the siblings prepared to corner whatever threat was hiding from them.

Even if it were nothing but a squirrel, appearing to be very harmless, they knew squirrels were fast and could spread news quicker than any other critter in the woods. It was absolutely vital that whoever was watching them could not get away...

Steadying his paws in the cool dirt, a growl rose in Rancor's throat. His sisters waited silently for their brother's mark. Rancor crouched for the lunge, and then... all chaos broke loose.


How was that folks? Pretty good for an opening chapter eh? I figure all my chapters will be about this length for your convenience. Let me know what you thought and I will have the next chapter up by the end of this week.

-Stokin D Embers