Chapter 8
Be Patient
It was a blissful, humid dawn on the scrublands. Miles and miles of nothing but amber hills and shining mountains. The sun seemed to celebrate the passing of the cold night, and beginning of another scorching day.
That particular morning was quite uneventful. Beautiful sun, occasional flock gliding over.
On a cliff side, a ragged-pelted, tawny she-wolf stood tall into the wind, letting the breeze flow through her fur. She unveiled feathers, creating an epic display of her wings.
Below her, a trio of young pups scuffled. One was gray with dark patches like shadows, one was solid dark gray, and the last was tawny with a distinctive spot on his back.
"Mommy! Dante pushed me!" whined the patched one.
"Erik started it!" barked the solid gray one.
"I'm hungry," grumbled the tawny one.
The she-wolf gazed at her litter, frustrated, "In case you pups didn't know, I didn't drag you three up here just so you could squabble," she growled.
"Why did we come here again?" yawned Dante, shoving the tawny pup.
"Be patient, and I'll show you," said Holliet, the she-wolf softly, "And don't push your brother."
Together they climbed the plateau, one paw in front of the next. The heat of the day was starting to set in and reflect off the miles of sand.
"How much further?" gasped Erik, panting.
"Not far!" called Holliet.
Soon after, they reached the top of the plateau. The pups' blue, gazing eyes stared in awe at the landscape.
"Whoa," breathed Dante.
Dante outstretched his wings, "Mom, when can I fly? I see you, Dad, Owen, and Meirge fly all the time."
"Soon," murmured Holliet.
Dante stomped his paw, "But why?"
The third tawny pup, Goutu, could think of nothing but flight right now. This place was beautiful, red-amber hills and ravines. Oh, how he just wanted to jump, and glide, and...fly. While his family talked, Goutu silently outstretched his own gray wings, haunching down, preparing to jump.
Suddenly, the horizon began to cloud...as if something big were coming. The horizon grumbled. The ground began to shake. Waves of dust and red sand were being blown over the desert!
"Pups! RUN! Take cover!" barked Holliet, startled. Goutu immediately jumped and smashed himself into a dent in the side of the plateau.
Erik and Dante just stared at her, fear and confusing swimming in their eyes. The sandstorm came closer at an alarming rate, the surging winds already burred with grains of sand. Holliet bucked over her pups, just before the sand hit,
"Do you not have ears?! Follow your brother! RUN!"
Aonair's heart lurched as he jumped out of his pelt, blue eyes wide with fear.
Just a dream...just a dream.
Gravis continued working in his stores, not even flinching, "Hey, Aoair, could you bring me the coal chips I dropped?"
Well, good morning to you too, thought Aonair angrily. "Fine. And my name's Aonair."
"Sorry. Aonair, could you bring me the coal chips I dropped?"
Aonair sighed heavily, scowling. He had been in the care of this...lunatic for nearly two weeks now. At first, it was rather pleasant staying with Gravis. He would spend fifteen minutes at a time tending a wound. He shared his food and water, and kept his pelt clean. But the better Aonair got, the bossier Gravis seemed to be. Now he often forced him to do seemingly useless chores.
"And then," continued Gravis, "just take that woven wool in the corner, and dust it out. Otherwise the pit becomes impossible to clean."
Aonair stomped to the corner, his untidy pelt swaying with his movements. For a moment he simply stared at the wool. It was matted and knotted, some kind of gray-beige color. It had probably once been white, though. Green specks of mold scattered across the surface. It seemed to taunt him. Finally, he strode defiantly back to Gravis, ears brimming with annoyance.
"Gravis, all you've done since I've gotten here is make me do stupid things for you! I'm not doing it this time. I don't want to. I refuse to be your slave," barked Aonair.
Gravis maintained his concentration, not even glancing at Aonair.
"All I've done is make you do 'stupid things?' Are you sure about that? What about feeding you the five days you were to feeble to stand, or giving you medicine, and tending to your wounds? If anything, you owe me."
Aonair's hackles rose. How dare he?
"But don't worry. I'm not that kind of wolf. I do think, though, that all pups should do some kind of work. It's good for them. But if you think I'm a straight-up bully, you are free to leave."
He stepped aside, revealing the daunting exit of the den. The memory of the fox, and that horrible night alone came back to Aonair's mind. Gravis knows I need him, he thought, why is he using this against me?
Scowling with hatred, Aonair slowly picked up the wool and did as Gravis instructed. The revolting taste made him gag. Aonair's jaws tightened as Gravis hardly neither noticed nor cared. When he finished, he spat out the disgusting wool. Bits of dust and mold lingered in his teeth, making him drool and squint.
He stormed to his pelt, sat down straight, and glared at Gravis. Ten minutes later, Gravis sighed, "I take it you are not happy."
"I'm bored," growled Aonair, "There's nothing to do in this mud hole. And no, I don't feel like polishing more jars for you."
Aonair looked down on him. His scarred amber eyes seemed to glow, "I remember being your age. Spirited and rebellious. Fine. I'll take you out and show you how hunting's done. But promise me one thing."
"What?"
"Patience," whispered Gravis' raspy voice, "Don't take it lightly. But that's all I'm asking."
A moment of silence passed. But finally, Aonair met his gaze, "Fine. I'll be patient."
"Good. Then follow," smirked Gravis. With that, he took off like a squirrel out the exit, causing the fern to whip Aonair's face.
"Ouch!" yipped Aonair. But he sped up, keeping at Gravis' heels. They burst into the fresh forest. The atmosphere became darker as they plunged deeper into the trees. Aonair huffed and puffed. He struggled to keep up with the lean-muscled wolf. He ducked under branches. He hopped over stumps. He wove through the thick trees, dodging them.
It was a sunny late morning, and the air was bright and humid. The moist air made him heave harder and harder as they sprinted. Aonair wondered wildly how Gravis was navigating so well through the thick forest. Almost as it he knew every root, rock, and tree. Anything to help him ignore the pain burning in his legs.
They rushed past ferns and moss, trees and floral. It was nice to take a nice breath of fresh air after being cooped up in a den for a week.
And then, out of the blue, Gravis stopped.
"Watch out!"
Startled, Aonair crashed into him enough force to knock him over. Gravis tumbled into a bush, rustling and snapping, "Oof," he mumbled, with a mouthful of leaves.
"Ilk! Yuck! Spla! Yes, nice job, pup. Mind watching where you're going next time?" coughed Gravis.
"Oh, sorry!" Aonair helped him up.
Burrs and leaves clung to his pelt, making him look ridiculous. Aonair couldn't help but grin and giggle.
"Very funny," Gravis stood and analyzed the forest. His amber eyes darted and scanned the misty clearing.
Aonair looked around nervously, "What? What are you looking for?"
Silence.
"Gravis?"
"Not to worry. I'm just deciding whether this is a good place to start begin hunting," he looked down at him, "You probably just frightened anything within a tracking's distance with your little...slip up."
"Sorry."
"Don't worry. We can probably pick up a scent anywhere in a river's length," said Gravis as he stepped through the grass. He pointed his snout in the sunlit air, "This is the first step of hunting, pup. Scout the area of any scents that seem like prey."
"Last time I did that, I ended up getting mauled," said Aonair.
"That's true. But that's how you met me."
Aonair rolled his eyes, "Oh, well thank goodness, for foxes," he muttered sarcastically.
Gravis pointed in the opposite shadowy direction, "You look for scents over there. Yip if you smell anything."
Aonair scowled. Nonetheless, he crept into the opposite direction, sniffing. At the first whiff, he detected a plethora of unfamiliar scents. This would be much easier on the island or desert, where he knew what smelled like what. But here, in the forest, he couldn't recognize anything!
He looked back at Gravis with confusion, "But I don't know any of these scents!"
"Then learn them," said Gravis, not looking back.
Aonair huffed with frustration. How could he do anything if Gravis didn't teach him first?
He swung back around and dipped his nose into the green grasses. The more he sniffed, the more vivid the scents became. His blue eyes lit up.
Yes, yes he could smell it! In his patch he could pick up...rain, leaves, mold, lichen, but no animals.
Mimicking Gravis, he wandered aimlessly through the soft grasses. He could smell lots of new things...some smelled like wood, insects, decaying leaves, moss, mildew...
"Gravis!" barked Aonair, his voice echoing through the trees. The pup felt his heart lurch when nothing happened. But moments later, a russet pelt grew visible. Aonair was amazed by how silently he could move through the grass.
"So? What is it? Did you find something?"
"I can't find anything! This whole area literally has no animals."
Gravis sighed, "There are animal scents everywhere. Don't give up after the first few minutes. Remember your promise," with that, Gravis turned and galloped back into the woods.
Back to scouting, Aonair's chest was tightening with frustration. How old was he now? 3, maybe 4 months? He was way to young to be doing pack-work. What did Gravis think—
"Yip!"
Aonair turned and stared in the direction it came from. He froze for a moment, and hesitantly jogged through the earthy woods to where he thought he heard it come from.
In the misty clearing, Gravis stood tall, tail up, and looking over his matted shoulder.
"Come, Aonair!" he barked softly. Aonair came closer, ducking his head below his shoulders.
"Can you smell what I scented?" asked Gravis.
Aonair sniffed and sniffed, but couldn't seem to pick up—
His thought was interrupted when a strong scent hit his nose. It was similar to the scent of a clay hare, only laced with vegetation instead of, well, clay.
He looked up at Gravis, "Yes, a hare of some sort."
"That's a rabbit scent. I told you you could figure it out. Now, can you figure out which way it went?"
Unsure, Aonair sniffed around the area, trying to see the scents more clearly.
"Um, I think, that way?" Aonair pointed downhill.
"Nope. Close. That's the way it came from. See, when ground-scenting, you have to find two separate tracks: Where it came from, and where it went."
Again, Aonair analyzed the scent. He pointed north.
Gravis smiled, "Good. Now, we track the rabbit. Hope the running at the beginning was a good warm-up for you."
In a line, they galloped behind the scent. Aonair noticed that Gravis was doing what he could to keep downwind of where he thought the rabbit might be. As they tracked, Aonair had a chance to truly notice the how pure, lovely, and pleasant the woodlands are. All that could be heard was chirping, gentle breezes, and the flow of water.
Aonair was also picking up several different other scents he hadn't before, rodents, seeds, birds,
Finally, they halted. By now, Gravis only mouthed or signaled to him. They must be close.
And then, Aonair could see it. A brown, furry, plump rabbit was nibbling on grasses. The two wolves crept closer, hardly making a sound. They were only strides away...
Snap.
The rabbit stared in their direction when Aonair stepped on a twig. It twitched its nose and took off.
"Chase it, Aonair! CHASE IT!"
Aonair hurtled after it, sprinting at its heels. Aonair was defiantly faster, but the trees were hard to navigate through.
As the chase turned downhill, the rabbit sprung with all its energy.
And then, the unthinkable happened. Aonair outstretched his wings, power-flapped, and with swift aim, landed directly on the rabbit. He wrapped his jaws around his first real kill. He searched for Gravis, and spotted him at the top of the hill, his mouth open with surprise.
