Twi-Fic
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author.
Author's Note: If the wolves were literally wolves...
Whispers of the Hunt
Tonight. We hunt.
Nineteen days without food is too long for us.
He leads. We follow.
This is how it works – how it has always worked – our mothers, our fathers before us...
The Alpha leads. We follow.
We hear the leaves scrape across the ground in the evening breeze. Some of us, distraught and edgy from hunger, think maybe it is a scampering rabbit. Some of us are hopeful it is a skittish deer. Still... some of us know better.
It is just the dead and crumbling tree debris.
Our quiet life in the forest keeps us hidden from view. The echoes of our hunts whisper of our sins and warn of our arrival, yet the only witnesses to our desecration no longer draw breaths. We consume. We feast. We devour. We are strong, and we will survive.
But it has been nineteen days – too long for us.
Our claws dig into the soft earth as we run toward the clearing ahead. But he stops us – the Alpha. He raises his snout to the dreary sky, surveying the air and halting us in our advance.
His growl is low and hostile – because we all smell it, because we are all hungry – he is threatening us. This is a line we must not cross. We all know this, but some of us think it might not be that bad. Some of us think it is less than bad – good even. Some of us think it is a gift… think she is a gift.
Just one missing human. It couldn't really hurt.
And nineteen days is a long time – too long for us.
Our chance to attack is escaping. Our chance to mutiny never was. She is turning to leave, to continue walking her midnight path. The Alpha is our leader, and we will follow him even as he tells of the promise of death.
A cold drizzle begins to fall. The dewy drops cover our muzzles and cling to the wiry strands of our pelts as we shine under the moon. Our glistening coats will not give us away. Our movements, cloaked in stealth, will hide our intent beneath the illusory facade of peaceful certainty.
Our prey will be deceived.
He has caught a new scent. Our Alpha leads us across the dirt path, and our instincts tell us we are headed to the stream.
The pulse is slow, the heart is large, the beast is magnificent. We think this could be it. This could be our kill. We are starving, and some of us are too eager.
Because it has been too long for us – nineteen days.
The younger ones make us fearful. Their inexperience could alert the oblivious caribou.
But our leader is strong. He is unrelenting and will not tolerate disobedience.
We all know this, but some of us allow the pangs of hunger to replace the memories of discipline. Some of us try to remind the others. Some of us can't focus past the beating heart and allure of fresh meat.
The Alpha growls – a clandestine warning easily understood – and we fall back into the synchronization of a prowling grace.
We stalk the caribou in unison. We are good hunters, and we will claim this beast as our own.
This time the whispers of our hunt will sound like screams.
This carcass will tell of our sins. It will tell of our survival.
* Alright, hit me with your thoughts and "feels" if ya wanna. ;-)
