The hunt was on.
His breath hung frostily in the air, which instead of announcing the wolfs' presence only blended him perfectly into the misty autumnal night. In sight, perhaps, but not in scent. Below him the hounds wailed and howled out their bloodlust. A lesser being would have given up long ago, but not him. No, not him.
Gaunt and patchy from age, he still ran on. The hounds were closer now and he knew it would not be long before he felt their cold and loathing eyes as they spotted him and moved in for the kill. Still he ran on. He saw the lights of Little Lamb Village flickering in front of him and longed for the hills, their safety and anonymity, but that path was closed to him now. When he looked back he could see their torches moving in the trees. How beautiful they were... Then he wondered why he thought that something that would probably be his death was so enchanting, but it was undeniable.
Altair was a famous wolf, probably the most famous throughout the entire Nine Kingdoms. His name would never be remembered, but his reputation would. The Big Bad Wolf, terrorisor of children, Lord of the Night.
Still he ran on. His muscles ached and old bones creaked under the strain of the unwelcome exertion. Yet still he ran on, though much slower now and gasping for air. What a fool he had been to venture so close to the village to try and steal sheep. This was the price he paid to stop his family from starving.
He could hear the dogs' paws pounding through the undergrowth and their baying to let everyone know that he had not vanished into the hazy forest. The heavier clumping of the men's booted feet reverberated like thunder in his ears as they drew closer, or was it the sound of his own foolish heart which had led him into this fight for his life?
The lead dog was almost upon him and even the stars seemed to have turned cold to his plight, hiding their light in shame, but the moon tried to look down on him through the shifting and stealthy brume with love as She has done since the beginning of time on all wolves. He prayed silently to Her now as the lead dog's feet left the ground and its teeth fastened on the back of his neck.
Altair cried out in pain and fell, the dog hanging on like grim death. A melee of paws and fangs threw up the early leaf litter and last years mould around the pair now locked in mortal combat. Blood and fur drifted off into the woodlands as they both sought the vital life stream flowing crimson in each other's throats. A spurt of warm, metallic blood entered Altairs' locked jaws, but although this small battle was won, he had lost the war.
The men caught up and bound him tight, but he did not care any more. Altair felt a strange relief that his time of dodging and hiding was over and the men had captured him, as he always knew they would. Firelight danced in his tired and cloudy eyes and the new morning dew soaked his silver fur black. The dawning rats cut through the mist and Altair smiled as he sank into an exhausted sleep as the men carried him lifelessly back towards the village and the waiting mob.
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The light shined harshly down on the village courtroom. Dark oak beams stood out against the off-white plaster. The entire room was charged with excitement. Frantic whispering passed between the spectators. A trial of this magnitude had never come up in Little Lamb Village. The Big Bad Wolf captured in their village!
An awed hush fell as the jury flocked back into the box, the ewes and rams filling it in their own natural disorganized way. Their soft bleats echoed in the cavernous hall, as anxious as the rest for the Judge to return.
And return the Judge duly did, his red cloak creating a splash of colour in the otherwise monotonous courtroom. Seating himself on the carved oak chair he removed his glasses with a grave and solemn air.
'Bring in the prisoner!'
Two rough-shirted young men from the village hustled a raw-boned old figure into the dock. Altair had grown even thinner and more elderly since his capture but a week before. Few noticed how pathetic he looked in chains, which he could barely carry, yet still the wolf stood with pride as the Judge addressed him.
'Big Bad Wolf, you have pleaded not guilty to the murder of two of the Three Little Pigs and the attempted murder of Queen Riding Hood and her Grandmother. Do you wish to change your plea?'
'No.'
'Then we must look to the Jury. Those of you who believe him to be innocent go into the left hand pen, those who know him to be guilty go into the right hand pen.'
Altair did not even need to look at the right hand pen full of the best quality sheep feed to know what the outcome would be. He had seen it all along. The sheep bleated and shoved as they trotted faultlessly into the 'guilty' pen. Altair almost allowed himself a small calm smile as the Judge turned towards him.
'Now, Big Bad Wolf, you have been found guilty on all accounts. You know very well the sentence for wolves that commit these crimes - death. I will give you one last chance to redeem yourself. We know you are not the only wolf living near the village. If you tell us their whereabouts I will decrease your sentence to a life imprisonment.'
Altair raised his eyes to the Judge, his voice resounded like the cracking of stone, 'Even if there were any more wolves I wouldn't tell you where they were for they would only share my fate of living out their miserable lives in cages in the village square where they would be constant objects of mocking and torture. Besides, you killed my wife and you killed my daughter, I'm the last one.'
The Judge stared back at Altair, ice meeting ice, 'Then you leave me no choice. Big Bad Wolf, in the name of the good Queen Snow White, you are hereby sentenced to death by burning.'
Altair was dragged by his two guards up the steps to the doors. All the onlookers cheered wildly, but one. He alone looked into the old wolf's eyes and felt pity and shame. He alone saw the old wolf's lips moves in one word that seemed only meant for him, "Remember".
Before they reached the door, Altair had one last parting shot, one thing he wanted all to know. 'My name is not Big Bad Wolf, it's...'
But he never got to finish. He was drowned out by the yelling mob in their lustful cry of "Burn the Wolf!"
The entire courtroom emptied save for the one man who had heard the message on Altairs' lips. Unique in his emotions, he laid his head against the bench and wept.
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The man trudged wearily up the slope, occasionally looking back to see the pyre still burning brightly on the opposite hill. He shook his head in sorrow, pulled his threadbare jacket tighter and continued into the benighted forest.
He heard animals on either side of him in the trees, going about their nightly business, and he even thought he heard the howl of a wolf far off to the west. A youngster, no doubt, trying to find a mate of its own, but it was a fool to make its presence so obvious in dangerous country. He hurried on faster towards the small stone hut in the clearing.
Polaris stopped short. A large sand-coloured wolf was laying across his threshold. Its head lifted and stared at him, the golden colour of its eyes dimmed to rich ochre in the starlight.
'Polaris, is that you?'
She had sensed him even though he had not broken the cover of the trees, she knew him far too well. The man loosened a small catch at the back of his trousers, allowing a curved grey tail to emerge. He grinned at his mate and left the darkness of the forest, 'Ara, what are you doing out here?'
The couple sat together at the entrance to their little home, continuing to ask each other questions but neither answering. As time went on the answers became more difficult to avoid.
'What was the judgement?'
'How are they?'
Finally Ara deigned to reply to her husband's questions, a protective, maternal smile on her face, 'All asleep, and safe. Are we?' The last question was serious, concern radiating from her gentle features.
'The old goat wouldn't give an inch. They don't know we're here.'
'I take it from yonder light what his fate was.'
'He sacrificed his life for us all.'
'May we, for him?'
Polaris wanted to howl in the old wolfs' honour as much as Ara did, but reason prevailed, 'Not tonight. The fires not only burn on the hills but in their hearts. If they hear us pay homage to him in that way they will surely hunt us down until we are all dead and not a single wolf remains in these parts. Could you really bare to have them murder our children with their dogs, all for the sake of one howl?'
'Stop, Polaris, please...'
The image burnt itself into her mind. Their quartet of innocent cubs, their milk teeth not even beginning to be lost... It didn't bare thinking about.
'I suppose the old fool brought it on himself, going that close to town and...'
'Pigging out?'
'That's what I don't understand. He always hated pork. And I can't believe he could muster that much breath. He had trouble blowing out a candle, let alone anything else. And fancy that girl thing coming back to haunt him after all this time...'
'He probably got bored being cooped up here, coupled with a hunter's moon and his own senility, it was bound to happen sooner or later.'
Polaris sighed reflectively, his heart heavy with grief; 'I'm going to miss my father, no matter who he was.'
'We all will, my love, we all will. May the Lady of the Moon be with him.' Ara nuzzled her husband affectionately and turned to go back inside to care for her four young cubs, the continuation of one of the most infamous lines of wolves.
His breath hung frostily in the air, which instead of announcing the wolfs' presence only blended him perfectly into the misty autumnal night. In sight, perhaps, but not in scent. Below him the hounds wailed and howled out their bloodlust. A lesser being would have given up long ago, but not him. No, not him.
Gaunt and patchy from age, he still ran on. The hounds were closer now and he knew it would not be long before he felt their cold and loathing eyes as they spotted him and moved in for the kill. Still he ran on. He saw the lights of Little Lamb Village flickering in front of him and longed for the hills, their safety and anonymity, but that path was closed to him now. When he looked back he could see their torches moving in the trees. How beautiful they were... Then he wondered why he thought that something that would probably be his death was so enchanting, but it was undeniable.
Altair was a famous wolf, probably the most famous throughout the entire Nine Kingdoms. His name would never be remembered, but his reputation would. The Big Bad Wolf, terrorisor of children, Lord of the Night.
Still he ran on. His muscles ached and old bones creaked under the strain of the unwelcome exertion. Yet still he ran on, though much slower now and gasping for air. What a fool he had been to venture so close to the village to try and steal sheep. This was the price he paid to stop his family from starving.
He could hear the dogs' paws pounding through the undergrowth and their baying to let everyone know that he had not vanished into the hazy forest. The heavier clumping of the men's booted feet reverberated like thunder in his ears as they drew closer, or was it the sound of his own foolish heart which had led him into this fight for his life?
The lead dog was almost upon him and even the stars seemed to have turned cold to his plight, hiding their light in shame, but the moon tried to look down on him through the shifting and stealthy brume with love as She has done since the beginning of time on all wolves. He prayed silently to Her now as the lead dog's feet left the ground and its teeth fastened on the back of his neck.
Altair cried out in pain and fell, the dog hanging on like grim death. A melee of paws and fangs threw up the early leaf litter and last years mould around the pair now locked in mortal combat. Blood and fur drifted off into the woodlands as they both sought the vital life stream flowing crimson in each other's throats. A spurt of warm, metallic blood entered Altairs' locked jaws, but although this small battle was won, he had lost the war.
The men caught up and bound him tight, but he did not care any more. Altair felt a strange relief that his time of dodging and hiding was over and the men had captured him, as he always knew they would. Firelight danced in his tired and cloudy eyes and the new morning dew soaked his silver fur black. The dawning rats cut through the mist and Altair smiled as he sank into an exhausted sleep as the men carried him lifelessly back towards the village and the waiting mob.
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The light shined harshly down on the village courtroom. Dark oak beams stood out against the off-white plaster. The entire room was charged with excitement. Frantic whispering passed between the spectators. A trial of this magnitude had never come up in Little Lamb Village. The Big Bad Wolf captured in their village!
An awed hush fell as the jury flocked back into the box, the ewes and rams filling it in their own natural disorganized way. Their soft bleats echoed in the cavernous hall, as anxious as the rest for the Judge to return.
And return the Judge duly did, his red cloak creating a splash of colour in the otherwise monotonous courtroom. Seating himself on the carved oak chair he removed his glasses with a grave and solemn air.
'Bring in the prisoner!'
Two rough-shirted young men from the village hustled a raw-boned old figure into the dock. Altair had grown even thinner and more elderly since his capture but a week before. Few noticed how pathetic he looked in chains, which he could barely carry, yet still the wolf stood with pride as the Judge addressed him.
'Big Bad Wolf, you have pleaded not guilty to the murder of two of the Three Little Pigs and the attempted murder of Queen Riding Hood and her Grandmother. Do you wish to change your plea?'
'No.'
'Then we must look to the Jury. Those of you who believe him to be innocent go into the left hand pen, those who know him to be guilty go into the right hand pen.'
Altair did not even need to look at the right hand pen full of the best quality sheep feed to know what the outcome would be. He had seen it all along. The sheep bleated and shoved as they trotted faultlessly into the 'guilty' pen. Altair almost allowed himself a small calm smile as the Judge turned towards him.
'Now, Big Bad Wolf, you have been found guilty on all accounts. You know very well the sentence for wolves that commit these crimes - death. I will give you one last chance to redeem yourself. We know you are not the only wolf living near the village. If you tell us their whereabouts I will decrease your sentence to a life imprisonment.'
Altair raised his eyes to the Judge, his voice resounded like the cracking of stone, 'Even if there were any more wolves I wouldn't tell you where they were for they would only share my fate of living out their miserable lives in cages in the village square where they would be constant objects of mocking and torture. Besides, you killed my wife and you killed my daughter, I'm the last one.'
The Judge stared back at Altair, ice meeting ice, 'Then you leave me no choice. Big Bad Wolf, in the name of the good Queen Snow White, you are hereby sentenced to death by burning.'
Altair was dragged by his two guards up the steps to the doors. All the onlookers cheered wildly, but one. He alone looked into the old wolf's eyes and felt pity and shame. He alone saw the old wolf's lips moves in one word that seemed only meant for him, "Remember".
Before they reached the door, Altair had one last parting shot, one thing he wanted all to know. 'My name is not Big Bad Wolf, it's...'
But he never got to finish. He was drowned out by the yelling mob in their lustful cry of "Burn the Wolf!"
The entire courtroom emptied save for the one man who had heard the message on Altairs' lips. Unique in his emotions, he laid his head against the bench and wept.
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The man trudged wearily up the slope, occasionally looking back to see the pyre still burning brightly on the opposite hill. He shook his head in sorrow, pulled his threadbare jacket tighter and continued into the benighted forest.
He heard animals on either side of him in the trees, going about their nightly business, and he even thought he heard the howl of a wolf far off to the west. A youngster, no doubt, trying to find a mate of its own, but it was a fool to make its presence so obvious in dangerous country. He hurried on faster towards the small stone hut in the clearing.
Polaris stopped short. A large sand-coloured wolf was laying across his threshold. Its head lifted and stared at him, the golden colour of its eyes dimmed to rich ochre in the starlight.
'Polaris, is that you?'
She had sensed him even though he had not broken the cover of the trees, she knew him far too well. The man loosened a small catch at the back of his trousers, allowing a curved grey tail to emerge. He grinned at his mate and left the darkness of the forest, 'Ara, what are you doing out here?'
The couple sat together at the entrance to their little home, continuing to ask each other questions but neither answering. As time went on the answers became more difficult to avoid.
'What was the judgement?'
'How are they?'
Finally Ara deigned to reply to her husband's questions, a protective, maternal smile on her face, 'All asleep, and safe. Are we?' The last question was serious, concern radiating from her gentle features.
'The old goat wouldn't give an inch. They don't know we're here.'
'I take it from yonder light what his fate was.'
'He sacrificed his life for us all.'
'May we, for him?'
Polaris wanted to howl in the old wolfs' honour as much as Ara did, but reason prevailed, 'Not tonight. The fires not only burn on the hills but in their hearts. If they hear us pay homage to him in that way they will surely hunt us down until we are all dead and not a single wolf remains in these parts. Could you really bare to have them murder our children with their dogs, all for the sake of one howl?'
'Stop, Polaris, please...'
The image burnt itself into her mind. Their quartet of innocent cubs, their milk teeth not even beginning to be lost... It didn't bare thinking about.
'I suppose the old fool brought it on himself, going that close to town and...'
'Pigging out?'
'That's what I don't understand. He always hated pork. And I can't believe he could muster that much breath. He had trouble blowing out a candle, let alone anything else. And fancy that girl thing coming back to haunt him after all this time...'
'He probably got bored being cooped up here, coupled with a hunter's moon and his own senility, it was bound to happen sooner or later.'
Polaris sighed reflectively, his heart heavy with grief; 'I'm going to miss my father, no matter who he was.'
'We all will, my love, we all will. May the Lady of the Moon be with him.' Ara nuzzled her husband affectionately and turned to go back inside to care for her four young cubs, the continuation of one of the most infamous lines of wolves.
