Two wolves chased each other through the warming light of the morning, yelping and tussling, running about, tripping over their own paws in an effort to get to each other. Their tails were wagging uncontrollably, eyes glowing in the reddish light. One let out a yap of pure joy, barreling into the other with a bark.
Aamu smiled at her pups. They were strong, and beautiful in her eyes. She looked lovingly at them, her first litter. She hadn't known this feeling before, this feeling that she would give her all for these tiny pups. These tiny lives that were entering their sixth MoonCycle.
Eligible for the Game.
She shivered at the thought of her tiny, perfect pups being slaughtered mercilessly by some careless Career. She whimpered at the mere image of her darlings in a puddle of their own blood. Like her sister.
She shook her head violently. No. She would not think about Annikki. Never. No.
She turned back to them, playing, carefree in the dawn sunlight. Her perfect babies. She smiled again.
Meanwhile, in the First Pack, the Pack of Large Game, the Selection was beginning.
The wolves never knew how the Choosers did it. It was like magic. They would walk through the crowd of eligible pups, eyes closed, head swinging wildly about. First the females. Then the males. Suddenly they would stop, open their eyes, and select the wolf nearest them.
Laine held his breath as a Chooser made his way through the females, his eyes glued on his sister. Liisa. He knew his place, to be a Career, to win, to become an Inner Packmate, but his sister did not. She was young and frightened, anything but brave and not exactly the strongest pup of her litter. But he felt a special connection to her, and prayed to Lupus that she wasn't chosen. He couldn't bear to see her die.
The Chooser stopped. Laine flattened his ears. Liisa was right in front of him, cowering at his paws. She was shaking like a leaf, and a low whine escaped her throat.
The Chooser sniffed the air.
Liisa shook.
Laine held his breath.
And the Chooser turned, snatching a large black she-wolf by the scruff and hauling her to the front. He let the air escape his lungs, letting out a low whistle. His friend. Well, his enemy now that they would be pitted against each other. That was how it worked. He would either be chosen or volunteer. One and a half hard years of training had brought him to this.
The Chooser called her name. "Margo, daughter of Toni." Margo stood tall, surveying the crowd with an air of importance. She looked around, a faint smile of smug satisfaction etched on her face. "Tribute One."
"And now the males." The Chooser smiled nastily. "We expect our tribute to live up to Ville, yes?" Ville was the male tribute, and victor, of last year's Game. He now lived in the Inner Pack, a pack made up of victors and the families of Alphas. Ville's reign in the Game had been brutal and bloody, and he held the record for shortest Game.
The Chooser entered the crowd. His eyes were squeezed shut, and the ghost of a smile danced upon his lips. Did he enjoy this? Did he like choosing who was to stay and who was to go? Did he like toying with their fates? The lives of pups rested in his paws. Did he like that?! Laine bared his teeth in a silent snarl of fury.
The Chooser floated about, darting carelessly from left to right. Laine had seen it twice before, and it disgusted him. The Chooser seemed to tire of this, and grabbed a tiny six-MoonCycle pup by the scruff.
Laine swallowed. Hard. His throat was dry. His heart was beating out of control. His head spun. He felt sick.
Almost as if he wasn't controlling himself, he lunged forward, doing what he had been trained to do. "I volunteer as tribute!"
As he sped up to the front, the tiny pup shot him a look, half of fear and half of gratitude. He nodded slightly, smiling inwardly at the thought that he had saved this pup from doom.
But that left another question.
If he was so happy about this pup's survival, how would he deal with killing the other pups?
Liisa shot a pained glance at him. He smiled, wagging his tail encouragingly at her. Don't worry, I'll make it!
She returned a weak smile. Her white fur was bristled anxiously, and her eyes were wide with fright. He longed to dart over and comfort his beloved Liisa, but a Keeper lead him roughly away. He glanced at Margo.
This was it.
One and a half years of training.
He was born to win.
In The Fourth Pack, or The Pack of Fishing, the females were being herded into a group. Adine, a small red wolf, pressed close to her best friend. Jannie smiled down at the pup, glancing at Aamu. Aamu paced restlessly at the edge of the female group, eyes shadowed with fear. They darted from Adine to Kenith, worriedly meeting Jannie's for a second before looking quickly away. Jannie licked Adine's forehead.
The Chooser stepped forward, taking a moment to look through the large group of wolves. His face was serious, doubt shadowing his tired yellow eyes. He was old. Jannie remembered him from last year, and the year before. His left eye had been torn out in a fight, as the story went, and the Alpha had made him a Chooser. Long, long ago. Some said that he was as old as the Game itself, but Jannie disagreed. She said that he was older.
Adine shivered, eyes locked on the Chooser. He slipped into the crowd. This way, that way, left, right. He darted about, eyes closed. She sniffled. He turned. She seemed to shrink as he neared her. Fear consumed her, her eyes were wide and her ears flattened. She couldn't hear anything over the thudding of her heart, hammering away like a StoneCutter in her chest. She was trembling uncontrollably, and her teeth clacked together. The Chooser drew closer, and she tried to sink into the ground. To disappear. To simply leave existence. But his massive head descended upon her, and she felt her paws leave the ground.
Shameless, she burst into tears. Sobbing and sniffling and carrying on. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks. She stared helplessly back at Jannie as the Chooser drug her away.
But her loyal friend was rooted to the spot, terror clutching her like talons, piercing her heart, digging into her soul. She let out a thin wail, and dissolved into tears herself. She couldn't volunteer! She had made a promise to Aamu that she wouldn't. Aamu apparently hadn't thought of this. She collapsed under the stares of the other females, but no one snickered or laughed or made any snide comments. They knew her pain. They knew the sharp jab of loss that was twisting her gut like a claw. Adine, little Adine in the Game. The thought made her cry harder, and she barely heard Adine's name announced.
"Adine, daughter of a widow!" Called the Chooser, the grief in his lone eye obvious. He stared at Adine with an expression somewhere in between sorrow and sympathy, then trudged off to the males.
A black male was selected, his head high in determination. His yellow eyes were filled with disgust as he looked at Adine, who was slouched in the dust. Her little body trembled, and her eyes were on her paws. "Jay, son of Bryce!" Called the Chooser, and as he instructed them to touch noses, a wolf sign of respect, Adine gave Jay a small smile. Optimistic, despite her position.
"She-wolves and gentlemen, welcome Adine and Jay, Pack Four's tributes for this year's Misery Game!"
The wolves stared silently at little Adine. Fragile little Adine, whose size had prevented her from playing with the other pups MoonCycles ago. Adine, who cried when she got lost in the woods. Adine, who stood no chance in these games.
Jannie started the howl. It began at a low note, sliding gracefully up the scale, then back down again. Jannie's pure, sweet voice rang out, carrying over the hills and down by the rivers, where the fishers paused to listen.
They knew what had happened, and they, too carried up the call.
A pup, lost to the Game.