~ The Wounded Wolf ~
SAPHIRA
When the first light of dawn casts its lazy glow over the camp, Saphira is already awake. Her silver camouflage pants and jacket are already on, along with her belt, bow, and quiver. She has made a habit of preparing for the day earlier than others because of the activities she used to partake in, and she has no desire for anyone else to suspect or know anything. Chloe is still asleep, so Saphira takes care to move without stirring her, quietly crawling outside into the crisp morning air.
A few of the other girls are already out and about, but they are the night watchers. They usually rest during the day so that they can stay on guard at night. The timber wolves are also roaming about the camp, often accompanying the night watchers in their vigil. Saphira gives them a brisk nod as she heads to the center of the camp. Lady Artemis' tent comes into view, as the largest and most spacious, though not for lack of humility. The goddess often holds meetings and discussions with the higher ranking members in her tent, and so needs the room to accommodate them. All the girls admire Artemis for choosing to spend nights with them in the wilderness rather than dwell in the comfort of her palace, like the other Olympians.
Only a few meters from Artemis' tent is the lieutenant's. Thalia shares her's with Xenia, an arrangement that had at first made everyone nervous. It wasn't certain if the two would get along, with their pride and fierce, fiery personalities, but as it turned out, they became fast friends.
As Saphira approaches the tent, Thalia steps out, already dressed and armed for the day. She meets Saphira's dark, volcanic eyes with her electric blue, giving a nod of greeting.
"Morning, Saph," she says, shouldering her bow.
"Morning, Thalia. We are going on the hunt, right?" Saphira says.
Thalia nods her head. "Just as soon as Xenia's ready, then we'll grab Laura, Fiona, and Lily."
Two of the timber wolves come trotting over to join them, each giving Thalia a friendly nudge. Both are female and bear snow-white coats. Saphira knows these two as Anemos and Dankana, with the former belonging to Thalia and the latter to Xenia.
"Hey, girl," Thalia croons, kneeling to spoil her wolf with ear-scratches. She glances up at Saphira. "You should consider getting yourself a wolf, or at least a falcon."
Saphira shakes her head in disagreement. "No thanks. I'm not sure I can handle having to look after an animal."
Xenia finally emerges from the tent, nodding at Saphira once before addressing Thalia. "I am ready, sister."
"Good. Let's go gather the others and we'll be on our way," Thalia replies.
The trio sets out though the camp to find their companions. Saphira is pleased that they will not have to wait any longer when they find the other girls already prepared to leave. Laura is a demigoddess, daughter of Hermes and an expert trapper. Fiona is another nymph, a dryad that had once been a slave to a gang of laistrygonian giants. The Hunt freed her, and in return, Fiona became one of their primary gatherers. Lily is a former mortal girl who now serves as one of the Hunt's best trackers and runners.
"Are you three ready to go?" Thalia asks on arrival.
"We are, lieutenant," Laura says while Lily holds her arm out for a falcon to perch on.
"Good. Let's get moving."
The hunting party sets out on a run into the forest, with the two timber wolves bounding alongside them. Saphira welcomes the rush of air that sweeps over her, breathing in the cool, crisp scent of pine. As they run, she pulls several thoughts through her mind as for what she should do. The Hunt has various traps hidden all around these woods for miles, mostly snares and nets, some magical so that monsters cannot simply break free. There were quite a few wolves that managed to escape last night, including the one she had shot… that one still irks her. While her proficiency is in knife-combat, Saphira still likes to think of herself as an excellent shot. To have missed a fatal shot on the wolf is more than a little irritating to her, though she tries not to let it get to her so much. Perhaps the beast bled out or succumbed to the arrow, as the Wolves of Lycaon are extremely vulnerable to silver.
They reach the scene of the previous night's raid. It doesn't seem as if anything tried to return after the hunters' departure, but the hunting party remains on guard, their bows at the ready.
"Alright. We'll fan out from here. Stay within earshot and keep your eyes open," Thalia says. "We'll use the eagle whistle if we need to call out for each other."
The rest of them nod in acknowledgement. Thalia heads off directly forward with Anemos at her heels. Xenia splits into another direction with Dankana. Laura and Fiona sprint off to the opposite flank and disappear into the woods, while Lily sets her falcon off to fly ahead of her, leaving Saphira to pick the last direction to go by herself.
She doesn't mind. The others know that she prefers to hunt alone.
With a deep breath, Saphira begins her own trek into the woods. The sun is starting to shine its rays through the canopy, creating enough light for her to search the environment for signs of life. Birds are beginning to chirp and coo. Squirrels frolic in the branches above. But these are not what she's looking for.
Alone in the woods, Saphira's mind splits in two, with one half focusing on her task, the other drifting towards thoughts that often stalk the shadows of her consciousness. She glowers as she recalls the brief exchange she had with Artemis last night. It brings to mind some… sad memories, to put simply. She had looked to the night sky for the one constellation that she seeks, but thinking back on it, perhaps it was a mistake. It only makes her long for the past and for whom from which that constellation was born. It also reminds her of her own inferior legacy and the hopeless path she walks, with a destination that she can never hope to reach. She isn't like… her. She will never be like her.
"Enough," Saphira murmurs to herself, shaking her head as if to clear the self-loathing. She has to stop doing that. She can't hope to move on if she allows such thoughts to plague her.
After about ten minutes, her impatience begins to get the best of her. First, she misses a fatal shot on a wolf, now she can't even find any signs of the injured creature. Some hunter she is. There should be something, anything! Paw prints, clawed earth, specks of blood, pine needles pressed into the soil, disheveled foliage… but there is nothing.
Until she comes an oddly familiar part of the woods. Yes, she knows this area. She has been in this exact spot before when traveling with Laura to set a couple of net snares. It's a small chance but perhaps one of the escaping monsters got caught in one. Saphira calculates her position and begins heading north, where she knows is the closest trap. It's a trek uphill from here, but she still manages to quickly ascend the sharp slopes, weaving around the trees and boulders that obstruct her. The trap was set at the crest of the hill, but when she reaches the top, she finds nothing.
"Gods damn it," she curses under her breath. She investigates the scene, at first believing that nothing has come this way…
Until she realizes that the trap was indeed triggered. The net snare is nowhere in sight, and the tripwire that was to trigger it has been snapped. Something has been here, and in an instant, her bow is in her hand. A patch of ferns has been demolished, about where an ensnared target would have landed after being hit. Saphira stalks towards the ferns, kneeling down to them. Her breath catches in her throat when she catches the glint of light of metal.
A bloodied, silver arrow. Her arrow.
The realization hits her like a train. This is it. The arrow with which she had shot the wolf. It must have fled this way and triggered the trap. But if it did get caught, then where is it now? Saphira abruptly stands up, eyeing the path of crushed foliage that leads down the hill away from this spot. She sets off at a brisk pace, quickly stalking down the slope until a clump of large boulders block her path. She pays them no mind, already skirting around them to get to the other side-
When she spots it.
"Hades!" she hisses, ducking back down behind the boulders, unsure if she was spotted or not. Drawing an arrow to her bow, she cautiously peeks around the rock to get a look at it once more. There he is…
The wounded wolf.
Caught and entangled in the magic-infused net snare, lying on the ground, motionless. Saphira curiously moves closer, keeping her eyes on him at all times. She can't believe it. She actually found him! Upon closer inspection, she sees that his shoulder is drenched in blood from a small, but deep gash. This must be where her arrow struck. Following down this same shoulder, she can see that some of the silver shards woven into the netting has sliced into his foreleg.
This wolf appears to be smaller than his kin. He still dwarves any of the Hunt's timber wolves, looking like he would be just under four feet at the shoulder. Compared to his brethren, he is on the small side. How odd. That's not the only strange feature about him. His coat is dark like others of his kind, nightmare black, but he is not one solid color. He has a patch of white on his chest, and a smaller one on the center of his forehead, and a white-tipped tail. She has never seen or heard of any of Lycaon's wolves to sport a coat that isn't entirely black.
Curious about this, Saphira gets even closer, lowering her bow as she leans in to inspect him. Without warning, his hind leg shifts, pushing her. It's barely a nudge on his part, but the sudden movement along with her nerves have Saphira stumbling backwards into the boulder. A split second later, her bow is loaded and aimed right at him, her heart racing and her breath rasping. But the wolf is motionless once again, seeming to be completely unconscious. Was it just a twitch?
Cautiously and suspiciously, Saphira stalks closer once again, creeping around towards the head of the wolf. Her breath catches in her throat when she realizes that he has an eye open and the pupil aiming directly at her. It's not the fact that his eyes are open that stuns her. It's their appearance. Wolves of Lycaon differ from other wolves in more than just size and nature. Their eye color is different. Lycaon and his ilk possess blood-red orbs.
This wolf does not.
Saphira finds herself almost captivated by the cold, icy yellow gaze of this wolf. How is it that his eyes are different? She racks her brain to think of an explanation. She remembers an old theory that newly-turned wolves don't start out with the crimson gaze of their elders and fore-bearer, not until they have first taste of mortal flesh, be it human or demigod. This wolf could be a new member of the Pack who has yet to do something so vile. However, that is only a theory and has never been proven. Who is to say that it's true, and even if it is, it was only a matter of time before this wolf had done so. He is a monster, a beast that would surely kill her given the opportunity, and yet…
He does not struggle. He makes no move to attempt at freeing himself, and does not even so much as utter a growl at her. He's simply watching her, and there's something about his gaze that unsettles Saphira. There is no malice, no burning hatred that she sees so commonly in the eyes of other wolves. Not even fear or uncertainty. He has not even lifted his head to look at her, leaving it on the ground and only stares from the corner of his eye.
Saphira shakes her head to clear these confusing thoughts and begins to draw back her bowstring with the arrow pointed straight at the wolf's heart.
"I am going to put you out of your misery, wolf," she growls, making eye contact with him. She isn't even sure of her own words as they leave her lips. "A swift death. More than what your kind deserves."
The wolf ever so slightly shifts his head, continuing to stare at her as she draws her string back farther. She takes a deep breath, preparing herself to deliver the killing shot and send this animal straight to Tartarus where he belongs. She focuses, zeroing in on where his heart is, beating within his chest. Even with her arrow aimed and her harsh words, he does not react. His breathing is even, with no fear or fury making itself evident in his body language or his gaze. That icy, yellow gaze… what if…
No. She can't take that chance. She has to end him.
With another deep intake of air, she barely holds her arrow back with only the tips of two fingers. It would only a simple relaxation of her fingers and this will be over. Her heart begins to race, not with the anticipation of the kill, but with anxiety, uncertainty, and what she can only describe as guilt. Meanwhile, the wolf continues to hold a calm, reserved demeanor. What he does next finally breaks her resolve.
He lays his head back down and closes his eyes. She realizes that he has no intention of fighting this, merely accepting his death. No monster does this. Not one of Lycaon's wolves has ever willingly admitted or accepted defeat and death like this. They are too arrogant, too scornful, too evil. It's as if this wolf wants to die, something that she finds startling as it reminds her of someone else… It is this fact that makes her decision.
With a shaky exhalation, Saphira lowers her bow and relaxes the string.
"I cannot do this," she admits to herself, a voice a whisper. She replaces the arrow in her quiver and slings her bow over her shoulder. What is wrong with her? Feeling pity for a wolf? Somehow relating it with… No. It doesn't matter. What's done is done. She figures she should probably turn around right now and leave him where he is. Before she can turn away, she's stopped by the nagging thought of what if someone else comes and finds him here? Any of her sisters would all too quickly kill him while he's defenseless.
Saphira gazes down upon the wolf. His eyes are still closed, still waiting for the end to come. She shifts her gaze to his wounds. He must be too injured and exhausted to fight back anyway. She then eyes the bonds that entangle him as an idea begins to creep into her mind. It's insane. If any of the others found out about this…
Kneeling down to the wolf's side, Saphira draws her knife. Not to kill it, but for another purpose entirely. Without another second of hesitation, she begins to saw away at the bonds of the net. Quickly, the net gives more and more slack as each rope is cut. In her mind, the wolf is still too weakened to notice or react if it does. She never noticed it had reopened its eyes, and the next piece she cuts is her last.
The wolf suddenly snaps back to life, a snarling blur of black fur and snapping fangs throws Saphira hard on her back against the boulder, her knife flung into the ferns. Whatever air that was in her lungs that didn't get knocked out from that impact, is forced out by the sudden slap of his huge paw on her chest, keeping her pinned down. It wasn't so much the speed of his movement that stuns her as it's the taste of his raw power that she receives. Such incredible strength exerted from him… she is utterly, and completely powerless beneath him, unable to move under his pin.
Saphira ceases her pathetic attempts at struggling when she meets his gaze again, his face mere inches from her's, looming over her like an immense shadow. Her heart is pounding in her chest as she is forced to stare up into his cold, yellow orbs. A low rumble stirs from his throat, but he does not bare his fangs. He's so close that Saphira can see her own reflection in his eyes, and the terror that seizes her. She has just made a mistake that is going to cost her life, she is certain of it in the moment that he has her at his mercy.
Gasping for breath, she grasps the wrist of the paw that is holding her down with so little effort, terrified that he's about to kill her for her stupidity. Yet, he withholds, merely staring down at her while that rumble continues. His pupils flick ever so slightly, as if he's searching for something within her own eyes. What could it be? What is he trying to see?
This question is expelled from Saphira's mind when he begins to rise to his full height, the fangs finally making their appearance as his lips curl back. He's preparing to finish her! Suddenly, he dives towards her face with open jaws and Saphira cries out, snapping her head away reflexively, only to have herself deafened by the thunderous snarl that he unleashes upon her, so powerfully that it sweeps strands of her hair back. She flinches away from him, but as quickly as he had subdued her, he releases her. The immense pressure on her chest is lifted, and when she reopens her eyes to look, he is already running away into the woods. Or rather, he's trying. In the few seconds that she catches a glimpse of him, she can see a very evident limp in his stride. Still, he's making ground and he's making it fast. For a moment, Saphira is still too stunned by what just happened to even move. It's only when the wolf disappears into the brush that she finally snaps out of her shock and scrambles to her feet.
She doesn't know what compels her to do this, but she takes off after the wolf. Even while injured, he's moving quickly and she has to sprint to keep him in her sights again. The chase doesn't last very long. The wolf suddenly dips into a wide, bowl-shaped ravine. A small waterfall feeds into the ravine's small lake. Saphira does not follow him in, stopping at the edge of the narrow path that leads down. There is no other way to go from here. What is he planning to do?
The wolf answers her question by promptly dropping onto his stomach and curling onto his heaving flank. He turns his neck to inspect and lick at his wounded shoulder and leg. Saphira can tell that the wound is starting to get to him, his heaving flanks and feeble attempt to stand again are signs of his exhaustion. Finally, he seems to give in to his exhaustion and lays himself down again.
Saphira can't believe she's feeling pity for the creature, especially as she's the one who injured him in the first place. Yet, she still doesn't feel as if she did the wrong move in sparing him, for he also spared her. He could have taken advantage and killed her when he had the chance, but he let her off with only a earful of a snarl. He is not like any wolf she's ever seen before, both in appearance and behavior. He is unique.
The wolf does not stir or move again, save for the rise and fall of his flank with every breath. He must be resigning himself to rest. Saphira frowns, wondering if he may die of his wounds. Wolves are typically far more resilient than that. With a sigh, Saphira begins to back away from the ravine. She's already done all she can for him. His fate is his own now. She also must get going to meet back up with the others, as she's been away for a while now. She doesn't want to stir concern and risk them sending a search party for her.
Still, even as she begins to run away from the wolf's resting place, she can't help but feel uneasy with herself.
"Saphira!"
The sudden call of her name has her snapping out of her thoughts. It's Laura's voice.
"I'm here!" she calls back, sprinting in the direction of her sister. She finds the rest of the hunting party all assembled, having been on their way to her.
"Where the hell have you been?" Thalia demands, looking irritated. "I thought I told everyone to stay in earshot."
"Sorry," Saphira replies, quickly thinking of an excuse. "There was a mother grizzly with cubs that I ran into. I didn't want to risk having to kill her if she attacked, so I just had to wait for them to relax and move on."
Thalia at first raises a brow at this, but then seems to accept it. "Alright. Next time, don't go so far off like that."
"I won't."
"Did you find anything else?" she asks.
Saphira shakes her head. "Only a trap that was triggered, but it looked like whatever was caught managed to break free. I found only the mangled netting."
"Break free? How? Nothing breaks free of my traps," Laura protests, looking offended and confused. Saphira shrugs her shoulders.
"Perhaps the beast was stronger than others, or got lucky. It seemed as if it was also smart enough to cover its tracks because I could not pick up the trail again," she offers.
Laura grumbles. "Hmph. Maybe I need to double the strength of the bonds."
"In any case, we need to head back," Thalia says. "Gather up and move out."
Saphira breathes a small sigh of relief that her story was bought, only now realizing how tense her muscles have been. She can only assume that her confrontation with the wolf is the cause for her tension. It had moved so fast, and pinned her so easily. Saphira has fought plenty of powerful beasts before, from hellhounds to cyclopes to even dragons, but it was so different experiencing the strength of the wolf. Perhaps because it was not even a fight, but her complete and total apprehension. She could do nothing but be pinned and terrified of what he would do. The intensity of his stare, inches from her own… she can still see his icy yellow glare in her mind.
Then he just… let her go. Why? Even though she spared him and released him, she only did so because she was under the assumption he was too injured and exhausted to fight back. No monster ever spares a hunter, or demigod for that matter.
Then there is that old theory behind a wolf's yellow gaze. Perhaps the wolf is a newly cursed, confused and scared about what has become of him and knows only to stay with the ones who changed him, and hasn't consumed mortal or demi-mortal flesh and blood yet. If that's the case, then some shred of humanity must still dwell within him. After all, during the night raid, he had been attempting to escape, not fight.
The hunting party's return to camp is welcomed back by the smell of breakfast being prepared over the fires. Saphira spots Chloe working the fires and operating over multiple pans of food, and heads over to greet her friend.
"You're back," Chloe welcomes her with a smile, only briefly turning her gaze up from her task. "How was the hunt?"
"We didn't find anything, which I suppose can be a good thing as it means that any remaining monsters have fled the region," Saphira replies, taking a seat on a log nearby.
"Well, let's see it as a good thing," Chloe suggests as she serves her breakfast. Quail eggs and fruit seems to be the meal this morning, as promised yesterday. Saphira thanks her friend and begins to dig into her food. As always, when prepared by Chloe, it's delicious, and Saphira relishes the taste.
As she eats, Saphira reflects on her encounter with the wolf and the state she left him in. Even though he had a burst of energy upon being freed, it seemed he exhausted himself again since he only ran for a short distance before collapsing to rest. His wounds have to be too severe for him to recover from any time soon, not without help at least. But as far as Saphira knows, monsters do not look after each other. He will be on his own. Simply abandoning him to his fate feels… wrong. But what else can she do? She cannot possibly entertain the idea of bringing him back to the camp to cure his wounds.
Unless she goes to him.
Then, an idea begins to creep into her mind. An insane, absolutely stupid idea that can have so many ways to go horribly wrong. Despite this, she's finding it impossible to dismiss the idea from her thoughts, and this idea slowly begins to develop into a plan. She will have to be careful in her actions, looking over her shoulder and make sure she has a way to cover her tracks, but the more she thinks about it, the more confident she becomes.
Finishing her breakfast, she makes up her mind.
"Thank you for breakfast, Chloe," she says, standing up from the log.
"Where are you going now?" Chloe asks with a frown.
"Just a quick hunt. I need to get some air, you know?" Saphira replies. She then realizes how dumb that sounds. They're in the middle of the wilderness. She has all the fresh air she could possibly want. Luckily, Chloe seems to accept this. Saphira guesses it's a good thing that it's usual for her to go off on her own.
"Alright. Be safe. Remember, eagle whistle if you need help."
"I know, Chloe. I'll see you later," she says.
It's time to begin carrying out her plan.
