A Hero in the Making
Every dog has a story. Every story has a beginning
Chapter1
A young brown and tan pup sat alone in his favorite spot; a pile of rocks that overlooked a river frozen over with ice, the river itself making itself known only by the shallow gorge of which it had carved. A sizeable distance behind this shallow gorge, mountains rose dominantly out of the hazy horizon, reaching up high into the air as if they were trying to hold up the sky. In the space between these two geographical features was a flat tundra, sparse with tall, snow blanketed pines and squat shrubs of states similar to that of the trees that they accompanied. To the pup's back the forest grew thicker, the trees growing throughout this part of the wilderness being more pronounced and tightly compressed with each other, and there were places where the frozen bushes became so thick that they could almost be defined as undergrowth. The pup loved this spot, for whenever he would come out here he could escape from the world around him, run away from any troubles that he may have and lose himself inside of the depths of his imagination. He imagined himself climbing to the very summit of those mountains on the horizon, dreamed of running through that tundra during the night with the full moon and the stars shining brightly down upon him, bathing him in their subtle blue rays. The pup thought about these things and took in a long breath through the nose then let it out of his mouth, savoring the crisp freshness of the air and indulging himself in the rich smell of the pines around him.
Something moved undetected behind him, an unseen ghost creeping across the snowy ground and regarding him with tiny, anxious eyes. This silent shadow sheltered itself in the security of a snow covered shrub, crawling into its heart and coming to a stop close to the other side of it. This mysterious creature watched the pup through the icy, leafless branches, studying its prey with careful attentiveness, waiting and watching to make sure that its presence was still unknown. The creature's mind was eased when it could safely affirm that his target was indeed still oblivious to its presence and saw this as his chance to strike. Laying low onto its chest, the creature shifted its hind legs, tensing its body to pounce. Balto, the inattentive brown and tan pup, was hit from behind by a force so great that he was sent flying from his perch and to the powdery ground below, his body nearly falling down the slope that led to the river and fought for the upper hand against the creature that attacked him. After a short struggle, Balto took it by lightly kicking the furry creature in the abdomen and rolling it over onto its back. With this accomplished, he quickly pinned it and gazed down upon his younger brother, of whom was still struggling to break free; but no matter how he tried he simply could not shake his older brother's weight. He knew that he was finished.
"Darn, I'll never get you," the little pup whined giving off a defeated smile.
Balto smiled victoriously and let his brother up by stepping off his shoulders.
"It's okay Shadow Fang. Just takes practice," Balto offered with a reassuring smile.
However, Shadow Fang was not convinced and he looked sadly down at his paws. He was the youngest of the three in his litter, not to mention the smallest; and out of them all, he was the only one who had trouble pouncing on prey or winning fights. Seeing his brother's dismay, Balto nuzzled him comfortingly, causing Shadow Fang to sniffle.
"I forgot why I came to find you," Shadow Fang began weakly, "It's time for dinner, Mom wants you home."
Hearing this Balto smiled.
"Bet I can beat you home," Balto egged, giving his brother a gentle nudge.
This challenge made Shadow Fang brighten up a bit for he'd been practicing for the next time someone challenged him to a race.
"Oh ya?" Shadow Fang replied smugly, accepting his brother's challenge.
Balto took his place beside Shadow Fang and got into a running stance, looking over to his brother to see him do the same thing, the only difference between the two being that Balto always raised his right paw.
"Call it," Balto said seriously, keeping a careful eye on his brother.
Shadow Fang looked over to his brother and then turned his head forward again.
"Ready," he said monotonously, Balto turning his head forward whenever the word was spoken.
"Set," Shadow Fang continued, tensing his body to spring forward and run.
Balto did the same and waited in great suspence for the final signal that would then send them flying quickly across the frozen land.
"Go!" Shadow Fang yelled and the two exploded forward.
Balto took an immediate lead, but Shadow Fang was determined and started to steadily close the gap between him and his brother. Seeing this, Balto quickened slightly putting a more comfortable distance between him and his brother; but Balto knew how hard Shadow Fang had been working and decided now that they were half way to the cave they called home that he should pull back. Aniu, the snow white mother of the two, poked her head out the mouth of the cave and saw Shadow Fang overtake Balto in their footrace, and she smiled to herself at her son's kind gesture as Shadow Fang skidded to a halt at her paws. Balto arrived a short time later pretending to be more winded than he really was by keeping his head held low and taking in long and laborious heaves. After a few moments, he lifted his head to his younger brother.
"Good race 'Fang," he congratulated, "you sure got fast."
Shadow Fang lifted his head to his brother and smiled back at him wordlessly. Aniu licked her youngest's head in congratulations and then sent him into the den for supper. Shadow Fang nodded and bounded happily into the den, moving carelessly toward the back of the little cave where he was certain he would find his sister waiting. Once Shadow Fang was out of sight and earshot, Aniu dipped her head to even with Balto's and whispered into his ear.
"That was really kind of you, Son," she whispered proudly, "thank you for being a good sport."
Balto smiled and looked over to his mother with joy lighting up in his eyes.
"No problem, Mother," he replied humbly, "it just pleases me to see him so happy."
With that he turned and walked into the den, joining up with his siblings a mere moment later. Aniu watched him go for a while and shook her head with a chuckle and a smile.
"You definitely have your father's heart," she mused quietly and then squeezed her body through the little opening that led into her home.
Chapter 2
Nothing remained of the cow moose but an unorganized pile of pink bones scattered about a small portion of the den, these bones also accompanied by a few varying lengths of furry skin. There was also only the tiniest pool of blood on the ground where her body once lay, but that was quickly being lapped up thirstily by four bright pink tongues. Aniu lifted her head and licked her lips with a loud smack, this causing the three pups to only lift their eyes while keeping their tongues busy with the crimson delicacy at their paws.
"Bed time," she informed to the pups, receiving an onslaught of displeased groans from them as they raised their heads.
"But Momma," the solid black Berai begged, "we're even not tired yet."
"Yeah Momma," Shadow Fang backed, lifting his head and licking his lips clean of the blood that caked his muzzle, "the moon only just came up."
However, Berai and Shadow Fang's arguments were quickly made void as small yawns escaped from them for the hot meat in their stomachs was beginning to settle; but they quickly recovered from their physical display of fatigue and regained their energetic appearance.
Aniu let a small smile take her lips and chuckled when she saw this.
"Not tired huh?" she asked playfully.
The two pups shook their heads and Balto joined in the argument by throwing out a "Nope," but that was hastily followed by a yawn on his behalf.
Aniu arched an eyebrow.
"So that wasn't a yawn that I just heard then?" she asked testily, squinting the eye opposite from that of her raised brow.
Balto only shook his head and took a step forward as if to prance about the den as a demonstration of the energy that he still possessed, but when his paw touched the floor of their cave it was almost as though he had set it down on ice, resulting in it rocketing forward and out from under his body causing him to stumble and fall face first into the blood. It instantly soaked into his fur on impact and a substantial amount of it went splashing out onto Shadow Fang and Berai, speckling their bodies with tiny crimson spots. There was a groan from the two as soon as the viscous liquid made contact with their fur and hysterical laughter from their mother, for this was something that she had never seen.
"Way to go Balto," Berai seethed distastefully, using the side of her forepaw to wipe her face clean of the blood.
"Yeah," Shadow Fang answered, shaking his fur to try and free it of the sticky liquid.
Balto blushed, still lying belly down in the puddle and slowly picked himself up into a sitting position where upon he slipped again, nearly falling; but he managed to catch himself and righted his body up onto all fours then walked cautiously out of the slippery substance, leaving red paw prints and tiny drip marks to gauge his progress.
"Sorry guys," Balto apologized sheepishly, letting a nervous grin crawl across his features as he came to a stop and eased himself back onto his haunches in a position that faced his siblings.
The fur on his chest, belly, and legs was literally painted red with the aqueous substance, and was sticking up sporadically in places where it had already begun to dry, causing his appearance to become nothing short of ridiculous. But in light of just how ludicrous Balto looked, his brother and sister remained composed, for they knew what would have to happen now. Aniu, however, regained herself enough to open her eyes, and when she saw her son looking the way he did she fell back into yet another fit of laughter, this time rolling over onto her back because, one: she thought it was the cutest and funniest thing that she had ever seen, and two: his facial expression was nothing short of priceless. Balto didn't see it this way, though, and neither did Shadow Fang or Berai, each one for a combination of their own reasons and for a common interest. Each one sat in a small triangle, running their eyes upon each other wordlessly and awaiting the mellowing of their mother's humor.
Finally that dreaded occurrence became present in Aniu, her laughs beginning to become strained due to the pain that she now felt in her sides, abdomen, and lungs that were a direct result of it. She lay sideways on the ground for a moment, breathing hard and occasionally allowing light giggles to escape her, and then finally picked herself up onto her haunches, raising her head up and then lowering her muzzle down again slightly so that she may look upon her pups. It was then that she realized the gravity of the situation and she sighed.
"Look at you guys;" she mused in an exasperated tone, "you all are a mess."
The pups all lowered their eyes, knowing what was about to happen to them.
"Come here," Aniu ordered flatly.
Balto and his two siblings sauntered languidly to their mother, stopping a short distance in front of her paws. Aniu regarded the three of them for a brief moment and then, with one solid motion, she leaned her head down and took Balto's scruff gently into her jaws and lifted him up off of the ground, bringing him in close to her, and then laid down, lightly depositing the pup between her legs. Balto groaned in distaste, for this was a very humiliating thing to endure, but Aniu ignored him and slowly ran her tongue along one of Balto's sides, running the pink muscle against the grain of his fur, causing his still loose skin to become folded together in a small assortment of ripples in one place near where his mother's tongue would come to rest at. Aniu reached said spot and repeated the process, licking along the same stretch as before, for the first stroke did next to nothing in terms of getting the steadily drying blood out of Balto's fur. Balto could hear sniggering from his brother and sister, but he knew that soon enough it would be his turn to laugh, for it would appear as though they forgot that they would need a bath as well after that little episode, so for the time being their laughter he ignored. Aniu finished her run on Balto's fur and lifted her head so that she could gaze down upon him.
"You should be more careful next time," she inquired to him, causing him to blush and his siblings' hushed laughter to become more pronounced.
Aniu sighed and then went back to work, licking along his body again and then this time using her teeth to comb through the fibers of his fur so as to keep it from becoming clumped together. Finally, after a stretch of fifteen minutes, she finished with Balto, this truly being the longest and most berating bath that he had ever taken; but the result was well worth it. Most, if not all of the blood was now freed from his fur, and his pelt was as smooth as an undisturbed blanket of fresh snow. Balto rolled over from his position on his back, to his chest and then rose to his feet, stepping out over his mother's leg and toward the back of the den in search of nothing more than a soft place in which to curl up, for he was exhausted. However, on his way past his still giggling siblings, he whispered to them.
"You're next," and then he continued on toward the back of the den without so much as a single word or a double take back to see how they had reacted.
Shadow Fang and Berai heard this from their older brother and turned to each other with a gulp.
"Berai, your turn," Aniu informed tiredly, turning to face her daughter.
Berai sighed in embarrassment and conceded to her mother's wish, padding wordlessly to the spot in which her brother recently lay and then lying down herself. Shadow Fang had had all of the fun he could with the situation while it was still Balto's turn, so he merely spectated the event with eyes that grew heavier and heavier with each passing minute.
He didn't even know that he had dozed until he heard his name called firmly, and upon hearing the voice he shot his head up into attention and turned to find Berai standing beside him.
"Your turn," she stated with a yawn and then padded to the back of the den as well, where upon arrival she curled up at Balto's side.
Shadow Fang nodded and staggered tiredly to his mother, finding it hard to keep his eyes open for any substantial amount of time. When he arrived between his mother's legs he simply flopped himself down, too worn out to even care about what went on. Aniu sighed in relief, for this would be the last one, and then began her work, slowly running her tongue along Shadow Fang's back. Shadow Fang felt the caress of his mother's tongue and it began to sooth him toward slumber, though he fought hard to keep his eyes open. In the end, however, sleep took him away and he drifted off into the deep, black abyss of its realm. Aniu noticed this and decided then to call it good, for she had nearly finished with him anyway. She licked him one more time, then smiled down upon him and began to shift her body into a sitting position, her movements being made with extreme care so as to not wake the pup that slept in her embrace. When the desired position was accomplished, she slowly bent her head toward Shadow Fang and gently scooped him up into her jaws, this action failing to even cause the pup to stir. Aniu then rose to her paws and began to slowly make her way to the back of the den, stopping upon arrival and gently depositing her pup with the others, laying him down so that his body nearly touched Berai and Balto's.
Aniu gazed upon her children with a sudden sense of moroseness. Though she was happy with the way things were going, this wasn't the life that she wanted for her pups. She knew that they deserved so much better than she or her mate could provide out in this hellish place that was the Alaskan Wilderness; but she also knew that she could not provide them with a life in a place where they would all be able to at least get a future, for she knew that for Balto, his future there would be almost as bad, if not worse than the one that he had etched out for him if he were to stay with her while this was not the case for the other two; for they were lucky enough to take more after their husky father in terms of physicality. With this being fact, they looked enough like huskies to pass off in town as a stray; but Balto on the on the other hand was different. He looked just like his father, having the same color, same eyes, and the same markings; but Balto had been born with the build of a wolf, that look of which he had gotten from his mother. This being fact, Aniu knew that the three would become divided if she were to let them go and live in the nearby town, but she wouldn't separate the three; they were really all they had. Balto was a light sleeper and he could sense his mother's troubled gaze, causing him to blink awake. With a yawn he lifted his head and looked and up to her, noticing immediately that she was upset.
He yawned and asked sleepily, "What's wrong, Mother? Is everything okay?"
Aniu heard her son's voice and it snapped her from her thoughts, but seeing him resurrected them. He was so innocent; it broke her heart even more to think about that tragic truth on his behalf.
"It's nothing sweetie, just lost in thought," she replied slowly, giving off a halfhearted smile of assurance.
Balto knew better, for he could easily read others' emotions, and carefully rose to his feet, stepping carefully out to avoid disturbing his siblings, and then padded over to his mother's feet. Upon arrival, he
curled up into a little furry ball and closed his eyes. Aniu stood wordlessly for a few moments, simply gazing down upon him for a few moments and then sighed softly; laying herself down in a fashion which placed her eldest son pressed up against her chest and then gently laid her head down on her paws. She closed her eyes for a moment, but sleep simply wouldn't take her, for she could smell an awful storm brewing in the nearing distance. This storm would normally not concern her to this degree, but this would the first time she would have to endure the stress of the unknown that it brought with it; that worry being centered upon the whereabouts of her mate. How she prayed that he was not out in what she could sense was quite possibly the worst storm of the winter.
Twenty Five Miles Out of Nenana
"Ross!" came a strained voice that was quickly carried away in the stiff breeze that whipped across the land like bats out of Hell.
Snow fell from the sky above, but it never made contact with the ground. The tiny crystals of ice whipped and circled through the air sporadically, throwing itself boldly at anything that lay in its path. It stuck instantly to anything that it touched, freezing itself to the faces and backs of the seven dog team that drove their way helplessly through it. Their faces were caked with a thick mask of ice, one that would crack with motion and tug irritatingly at their fur, only to be frozen back in place a few seconds later by ice that was more than willing to fill the voids. Their frosty breaths rose in long puffs of steam from their mouths, but that would be quickly stolen away by the frigid breeze, freezing nearly instantly and depositing itself upon their backs or the dog behind them, resulting in a team of seven icy, dog-like ghosts plodding desperately through the wrath of this squall.
"Keep on there, Ross! Hike!" the frozen-clothed musher yelled over the whistling of the wind, though it did little to carry all the way up to the lead dog's ice filled ears.
"Ross!" the voice called again, this once significantly stronger than that of the musher's.
The normally brown and tan husky paused for a moment and turned to the dog behind him. Though it was hard to tell due to his thick blanket of white, this dog was small but powerful, and had a heavy black coat that ended and merged into gold from his belly down.
"This blizzard is getting worse by the minuet!" the swing dog to his back left yelled above the wind, "Maybe we should look for a place to bunker down! I don't know how much longer the musher or we can stay out here before we freeze to death!"
Ross turned and looked out in front of him, evaluating the situation carefully. He couldn't even see past his own muzzle. All he could see were just millions of tiny snow crystals blowing and swirling before and into his squinting eyes.
"Come on there now, Ross! Move on! Hike!" the musher called again over the roar of the blizzard.
Ross stood motionless for a moment more and thought as he finally came to his decision. Being a well experienced leader, and having run this stretch of forest so many times, he knew they were off the trail, and he also knew that there was no way that they would be able to pick it up again until the storm died down anyway. There was no point in getting everyone killed trying to achieve the impossible.
He turned his head forward once more and strained himself against his harness.
"Come on!" he ordered with a pained groan.
The other six followed suit, getting down low in their harnesses and began to pull with all they were worth; but this task was made extremely difficult seeing as that their brief pause had caused the runners to become locked in the frozen grip of the snow on the ground. The musher yelled out over the storm for his dogs to press on, but they still made no progress, and after only a moment's thought was he able to understand why. To affirm his suspicions the musher leaned his beaver skin and ice masked head out to the side of the sled, running his gaze down to the runners and finding that they were indeed frozen. The musher cursed his luck under his breath and called out to the dogs.
"Gee!" reached Ross' ears and he and the others forcefully lurched their bodies to the right, causing the sled to in turn pivot a slight degree in that direction.
"Haw!" came the command to break left, which they did by throwing their bodies to their west, which then caused the sled to pivot in that direction in a manner similar to that of earlier.
Satisfied that he had succeeded, the musher firmly gripped the handle bar with his nearly frozen fingers and made one final morale boosting command.
"Get on up there guys!"
Though it felt as though they had traveled a good five miles or so, the truth was that they had only achieved half of a single unit of that measurement. The initial adrenaline from his musher's inspirational words had long since faded away into what was now a subconscious and robotic drive. His feet were beginning to fail him and were far past the point of numbing out. The blood that seeped from his cracked pads froze nearly seconds after leaving his body, leaving irritating chunks of blood and ice between the digits of his paws, normally a very painful thing if his feet were not so numb. The blizzard was ruthless and it swallowed them alive in its great white washed hell, beating the very life out of their bodies with its bone chilling cold, cutting wind and stinging snow. And yet, in light of the situation at hand, Ross found his mind drifting away from all of this and back to his beautiful mate and three pups that were anxiously awaiting his return. He could not let some storm take him away from them, and he knew this, but it was beginning to look as though that was an increasingly growing possibility if he didn't get out of this damn weather soon.
"Don't think like that," he scolded in his mind, "You're gonna find shelter and you're going to get home."
Ross' self-talk seemed to give him new life and he let their faces once again creep into his mind, further building this newfound life into a strength that he didn't know he possessed. This allowed him to keep pushing, even though his body screamed at him to simply quit. He refused to give up now. Focusing his mind once again upon the task ahead, Ross dug down deep and brought forth the strength that he was able to summon out of the depths of his failing body. The dogs behind him, however, were not able to attest to his new strength and openly groaned in their agony whenever they felt their leader's pace quicken. The musher did his best to keep the morality up in both the team and himself, but even he was finding it harder and harder to keep his mind where it needed to be and soon found himself seeing images of his family dancing in the ever present crystals that whipped past him.
Soon enough though, even Ross' iron mentality began to break and he once again found his mind wandering, causing him to walk headlong straight into a rock and his team to ram him from behind. The pile up that resulted only made matters worse and only added to the desperation of their situation, and as the musher strained against the wind to their side so that he may unharness his dogs, Ross found himself beginning to lose hope of ever seeing his family again. However, as luck would have it, when the musher arrived to free Ross from his harness, he stood high enough to see over the rock in which his dog had hit, finding that it was part of the outside of a relatively deep crater in the ground, about seven feet near the base of its walls. Exuberant over his find, the musher found new strength begin to surge over him much like it had for Ross a few moments ago, and he used this to quickly unharness his dogs and lead them one by one down into the crater and to the wall farthest from them so as to get them out of the wind. The last dog was lead inside and then the musher ascended the slope a final time, breaking the ice on the tarp that covered his supplies and pulled only enough of it up so that he could find his tent, of which was also balled around a thick bear skin blanket and a coffee tin of hot coals that he had saved from their last campsite. Smiling at his own cleverness, he gathered the items into his hand threw the tarp carelessly back over his sled and then quickly descended the slope into the crater. He reached the lee wall and found that his dogs had already begun to make nests for themselves, and hastily began to set up his tent, a task made difficult due to the fact that his fingers were nearly frozen solid. He unraveled the plastic item and then did the same with his blanket, being careful not to shake the coffee tin too much to assure that he did not accidentally extinguish the smoldering coals that he had inside. Once he had accomplished the task of freeing the tin he looked inside and smiled, seeing the little orange ember still clinging to life inside of its soft bed of tinder and small twigs. He then looked around the quite lengthy span of ice that was the bottom of the crater, assuming that a place such as this would also gather wood inside of it like a grease trap whenever runoff from the melting snow pooled into it. He smiled victoriously when he saw a sizeable piece of a branch sticking up out of the snow a short distance to his left and hastily picked it up into his arms.
Though he had to dig a couple of times, the musher was able to gather more than enough wood to build a fire and as he settled the last stick into its place in the pile that would soon serve as fuel for fire, the man reached to his side and again produced his ember tin, carefully removing said ember inside of all of its wrap and then blew into it, causing it to smoke significantly. After a few more gentle blows, the kindling and twigs suddenly burst into a tiny flame, to which the musher laughed at happily as soon as the sight reached his eyes. He then quickly inserted the flaming mass into the base of the small sticks and began feeding it more as they were slowly engulfed. The musher repeated this process, adding gradually larger and larger stick, until what was once a smoldering ember became a large and roaring fire that crackled over the scream of the wind. The exhausted musher then spent a solid twenty minutes warming himself and after said time was elapsed he looked distastefully to is tent, said "to Hell with that," and wrapped himself up in his bear skin blanket, and simply lay himself down beside the fire, close enough so that he could feel its warmth while far enough away that the heat radiating off of it didn't singe the insulating fur. With a tired grin, he lay his head down on his arms and let his eyelids fall slowly closed.
Chapter 3
The next morning, Balto roused with the gentle movements of his mother as she slowly eased her way up onto her haunches and then to her feet, the latter doing so as an attempt to not wake the former of whom still slept against her body. Her efforts, however, proved pointless, for as soon as she righted herself up onto her paws, she heard a soft groan from Balto and turned her eyes down to him, watching as the pup gently stirred with a slight kick of his paws and then flipped himself over onto his chest where upon he slowly blinked his heavy eyelids open with a tired gasp. For the briefest moment, he remained in this position, simply laying on his chest, blinking heavily as his eyes adjusted to the light creeping slowly into the den. Everything about his body signified the fatigue of his rousing on this morning. His eyelids were baggy, his normally attentive ears drooped half way erect above his skull, and his movements were languid and strained; but this would all go away soon enough. With a yawn, Balto slowly stretched his body out, extending his forelegs out before him while lifting his rear into the air, all the while keeping his chest hovering about an inch or two above the dirt floor. He completed this maneuver in almost perfect sync with the closing of his mouth after his yawn was expunged and sat up on his haunches, rolling his neck slowly, resulting in a cascade of dull pops. These actions taken care of, Balto ran his gaze up to his mother, already beginning to feel his energy returning to him.
"Good morning," Aniu greeted happily.
"Morning Mom," Balto replied, rising to his feet with a happy, swaying tail.
Did you sleep well?" Aniu asked.
Balto only nodded and looked to his left when he heard groans, finding that his siblings were awoken by his and Aniu's voices. Aniu and Balto watched as Berai and Shadow Fang each rolled over onto their chests, the both of them falling into their own routine of morning preliminaries as they tried to wake their still sleeping minds. Deciding that he was going to help them along in the process, Balto padded silently over to the two of them as they reached the halfway point in their routine, stopping behind them with a dubious, almost evil smile. He timed what he was planning perfectly, waiting until the absolute last moment before screaming in their ears as loud as he could and simultaneously pinching each of their rear ends with his claws. Just as he expected, Shadow Fang and Berai quite literally jumped out of their fur, screaming so loud that Aniu was certain their fits of horror could be heard for a solid half mile around. Of course, Balto, as soon as he saw their initial reaction, rolled over onto his side and fell into a gust busting fit of hysteria, hugging his chest in his forelegs as he did so. Aniu simply chuckled at this and watched as the two frightened pups landed with stiff legs and every fur on their bodies bristling on end. Berai and Shadow Fang stood trembling for a moment, heaving heavy breaths, but they were snapped out of their terrified trance when they heard their brother's fit of laughter and turned to him with hatred boiling in their eyes.
"Great Spirit's Ghost, Balto!" Berai yelled, "That wasn't funny!"
"Yeah man," Shadow Fang backed with a trembling voice, "you nearly made me wet myself!"
Balto only laughed harder, pitching over onto his belly and pounding the ground with his paws.
"Ye- yes-s-s-s it was!" Balto spat through his laughter and heavy breathing, "You sh- shoulda seen your faces!"
With that said, Balto then fell into yet another fit of hysteria, this time louder than before.
Berai growled in distaste and stormed over to Balto, pausing by his side and promptly inflicting a less than gentle nip on his flank. Like flipping a switch, Balto suddenly went from laughing to yelping in pain as he felt Berai's teeth score on his flesh.
"Ouch!" he yelled, jerking up into a sitting position "what on earth was that for!" he demanded in an offended fashion.
"For scaring the dickens out of us," Berai answered firmly.
Balto rubbed his flank gingerly where he had been nipped and then ran an angered gaze over to his sister.
"I was only joking!" he yelled in indignation, "You didn't have to-"
"That's enough you two!" Aniu stated sternly, causing the two of them to turn their attention away from each other and to her.
"But she started it!" Balto pressed, getting to his feet.
"No, you started it by-" Berai answered in rebuff, only to be cut off by Aniu.
"I really don't care who started it," she said firmly, "I'm just here to end it. Now apologize; both of you."
"But Momma!" Berai begged.
"I don't wanna hear it," Aniu interjected, "Now the both of you apologize to each other or so help me I'll not let you leave this den for a week. Got it?"
Balto and Berai sighed in defeat and turned to each other, neither one meeting their gaze with the other.
"I- I'm sorry I scared you," Balto finally stated miserably, also looking over to Shadow Fang, for he knew that he deserved and apology as well, but failed to meet his eyes.
Aniu nodded approvingly then turned to Berai.
"Now, Berai, what do you have to say?" Aniu asked in a motherly tone.
"And I'm sorry for biting you," she replied lamely, sweeping her paw in a displeased manner before her.
Balto sighed.
"It's okay," he replied with an assuring smile, "I probably deserved it, but are we okay now?" he asked to his sister, gesturing with his head and neck that he wanted a hug.
Berai chuckled and shook her head, for her brother was always the type that you could never stay angry with for long, and stepped forward to him, wrapping her neck around his and touching his opposite shoulder with the underside of her muzzle. Balto returned the gesture, doing the same thing.
"We're okay," Berai answered and the two separated.
Balto then walked over to Shadow Fang and playfully tussled the fur on the top of his head.
"And what about you Fang?" he asked with a smile, "Can you forgive me?"
Shadow Fang only smiled and gently shoved Balto's shoulder with his paw.
"Of course," was his simple reply.
Balto shifted with the shove and then rocked back into proper position.
"There now isn't that sweet," Aniu teased, gaining the attention of the three pups, "and I hate to cut this beautiful family moment short, but it's nigh on time that you three went out on your first hunt."
This drew an excited yell from the three pups and they all fell in side by side with each other, their little tails beating back and forth rapidly.
"You mean it Mom?" Shadow Fang asked excitedly.
Aniu nodded with a smile.
"Yup, you guys are gonna come with me and observe so that by the time you are a few weeks older you may go out on your first real hunt and help take down your first real kill. Besides, you definitely need to burn off all of that energy you all have."
The pups all squealed with joy and began to dance around in sporadic and happy leaps, consisting of vertical bounds of varying lengths of circumcision.
Seeing their reaction, Aniu smiled broadly and chuckled.
"Well, come on then you three," she called, turning and making her way to the front of the den, "let's go."
The pups landed and took off toward the entrance, Shadow Fang turning forward since his end point of the last leap landed him with his back facing the mouth of the den and took off in pursuit of his siblings, the three of them tripping and stumbling over each other until they all slid to a train wreck pile up stop at their mother's feet. They then picked themselves and danced excitedly out of the den with Aniu striding casually behind.
Dawn came silently over the vast emptiness that was the Alaskan Wilderness, the giant yellow orb known as the sun just thrusting its rosy face over the mountains to the east, marking the slow waning of the winter, and the nearing of spring. The thick, grey clouds that hovered ominously still in the sky betrayed no sign of this though, for they swallowed up the entirety of that vast empty span of baby blue as it attempted to lock the winter inside of it forever. And yet, against all will of those things dark, the rays from the sun still managed to pierce their way through the negative void, casting their meager light upon the sleeping land. All seemed dead on this morning in lee of the storm that finally ceased its rage in the early hours of the morning, and yet life still stirred, for the spirit of life was a curious being that willed itself to exist even in the most unforgiving of places. To demonstrate its fragile dominance over Mother Nature, four wolves trudged through the frozen forest, sauntering chest deep through the fluffy new powder with their noses to the wind as they all worked together to scent out their next meal. They were all relieved to say the very least as they plodded along, the snow licking the underside of their ribcages unceasingly with its icy tongue, each one with relatively high spirits, for the recent storm, now since passed, had made any attempt to hunt impossible, but with the mellowing out of the weather, new hope began to arise for them all. And so we find the four, now knowing that their pack was depending on them to bring it back its first sustenance in nearly three days. However, it was beginning to look as though they would have to continue their involuntary fasting for yet another miserable day because of the absolute desolation that had swept across the land. Nothing, no game of any sort, moved on this morning, and as such, the wolves were having little success in finding scents that would lead them to their ultimate goal. Tensions were high amongst the four, and nerves were on edge; each one knowing as much as the next that the extremity of the situation ahead was so that one false move could start a fight, quite possibly resulting in the death of one, if not more, of them. The leader to this hunt, a well-built grey wolf with obvious prowess and control suddenly stopped dead in his tracks and scented the air, thrusting his nose skyward and sweeping it slowly from side to side as he tried to pinpoint the exact location from which it originated. He pivoted his head and flicked his ears; lifting his right forepaw to about chest height and holding it there as he continued to carefully waft the gentle breeze. The others did the same purely out of curiosity and desperation, though they each held poses of their own based upon their level of confidence, age, or size.
The hackles on the leader's neck suddenly rose until every hair on his mane and back stood erect and ready for anything when an all too familiar scent mixed together in his nostrils. Humans, based off of the scent, only one, burnt wood and smoke, dogs, about seven, and fish, possibly salmon? But that didn't matter. The only thing that was of importance to them now was what these scents represented; the presence of a sled team in their territory. This enraged the leader, for his resentment of humans and dogs was that of a toddler's resentment of broccoli, and every time he even heard of them it sent a bitter taste across his tongue and down into the base of his throat where it would always be converted into a low growl. The others heard such a growl and immediately diverted their attention away from the scent and back to their leader. They asked no questions through words, only through anxious gazes, for they were each as concerned as the next about what his plan of action was.
"Runt, go scope it out," the leader simply ordered with a flat whisper toward the wolf on his left.
The bony tan wolf twitched nervously, but did what he was told, knowing well through observation what would happen to him if he were to object. So with a nervous gulp, the bone bag started off in the direction of the scent, disappearing over a small hill a mere moment later, and leaving the others in great suspense for his return. Runt trekked alone through the forest, his size causing the snow to cover his body half way up his sides, and came upon his objective much quicker than he could have ever anticipated. He cautiously rounded dune made up of freshly blown snow and nearly snarled in alarm as he threw himself to the ground behind the cover of the mound, for, there in front of him, just on the other side and sheltered in a bowl like depression, lay seven mounds of snow spread out along the ground. He knew that within each one of those little mounds of snow was a dog that would be more than glad to rip him apart if they were to see him, and knew that if his presence were to remain anonymous, he would have to observe quickly and silently, so as to not disturb the enemies in the ice. He then slowly ran his eyes out over the emptiness that was the bottom of the shallow crevasse, searching for two very vital things; one of those being the sled, and the other, quite possibly the most important of that pair, the human musher. He was able to spot the musher rather quickly, finding his un-pitched tent balled up a short distance away from his fire, while he himself slept was wrapped up snugly beside the life giver in a large fur. However, what troubled him most was the absence of the sled; that is until he chanced a look at the rim of the crater, finding the desired item resting unattended near its edge. Seeing all that he needed to see, and recognizing such a fatal mistake, Runt smiled to himself then turned and began making his way back to the waiting party, using the same trail in which he came so as to reduce the effort and time that it would take to deliver such great news and also to assure that he didn't get lost.
Ross blinked slowly awake and rolled over onto his chest, the crusty layer of snow above him cracking slightly with his movements. His movements, however, caused him pain throughout his entire body, this being dull, but still enough to make him wince. He evaluated his body through touch inside of the dark cocoon in which he resided, finding nothing out of the ordinary with his bones or joints, and then was able to accurately deduce what was wrong. He was sore all over his entire body from the intensity of the toil the previous night, and boy was he grateful that his musher had failed to rouse as of yet, giving him time to loosen up his frozen joints and muscles before they set out upon the trail to home. He slowly rose out of his warm nest, breeching through the layer of ice above him and was immediately slapped in the face by the cold of the morning. He shivered slightly and bristled his fur against it and then shook free the snow that still clung to his body. This accomplished, he sat, wrapping his tail about his forepaws to help keep them warm, and looked out over the remaining six mounds and then over to the musher, of whom he found still sleeping soundly. With a slow shaking of his head and a small chuckle, he whimpered out the wake up call to his colleagues, making sure that it was loud enough to rouse the other dogs while keeping it muted enough inside of his throat that it did not wake the musher. Seconds after the whimper was administered, five nests bulged and five sore bodies rose out of the snow and began their morning preliminaries. Ross looked them over, checking each one for any injury and counting them to make sure that they were all present and smiled to himself when he only counted five. Normally it would have angered him, for even though he was a fair and just leader, he still demanded discipline from his subordinates and missing wake up was one of his biggest pet peeves; but this time he could be lenient and overlook it seeing as that the one who failed to stir was their youngest and most inexperienced recruit. Having once been a rookie himself, Ross could understand what the young stripling must be feeling seeing as that he had just endured his first storm, and decided to go easy on him.
He padded in a businesslike fashion over to the mound and stopped near its base.
"Wake up, Legs," he called, referring to him in the name that they gave every fresh set of paws.
The nest still didn't stir so Ross poked the soft mound with his paw, penetrating it a short depth that was not enough to punch through, but still enough so that the snow poked the dog's back. No response.
"Come on, Legs, get your ass up," he called again, this time more firmly, and pressed his paw further into the mound, this time punching through completely and poking the dog inside.
There was still no response, so Ross once again withdrew his paw, but whenever he did and the seal of the snow was broken, a warm and rather disturbing scent rose into his nostrils.
"Oh no," Ross muttered silently to himself then began relentlessly scooping the snow off of his friend, praying and hoping beyond all false hope that he was mistaking the scent with that of something else.
The rest of the team gathered around, crowding Ross in curiosity as he continued to shovel the snow off of the young dog.
"Come on Aaron," Ross begged under his breath as he continued to dig for his friend, "don't do this to me now. Wake up."
After about the fifth scoop, a tuft of fur came into view, and on the sixth, a portion of a muzzle. Ross brushed away the remaining ice carefully until the entirety of the stripling's features came into view and he finally drew back his paws, gazing silently down upon the face that was always so full of spirit, finding the eyes still closed as though Aaron were merely sleeping; though he knew better, as did everybody else who now looked upon him. The inside of the nest was still warm but the dog that lay inside didn't appear to be breathing. His mouth remained slightly ajar, his still pink tongue lolled out of the side of his open lips, lying flat across the ice, and the all-important rising and falling of his chest that would signal respiration, was unseen. Ross placed a paw onto his friend's neck, checking the dog for any signs of life at all, but after a few moments he hung his head, letting his ears fall sadly onto his skull, knowing the tragedy of the situation they now faced. With a regretful sigh, he pushed the snow back over Aaron's lifeless face and then turned to face his team. They were silent, each of them awaiting the verdict and hoping that what they already anticipated wasn't true; but no words would pass Ross' lips, for no words needed to be spoken. They all knew the answer as well as he, even though it may not necessarily be one that they wanted. His team mates hung their heads solemnly as they mourned their loss, but none would shed any tears, for in their long lives on the trail, death had become a second nature of their lives and they found themselves immune to its omen. Finding nothing else to do with the situation, the group of dogs gazed morosely down upon their fallen comrade for a few moments more, and then turned around, walking aimlessly about the bottom of the crater with no specific destination in mind. But Ross stayed where he sat, staring wordlessly down upon the snowy hill before him, almost as though if he were to stare at it long enough Aaron would suddenly stir and gaze up upon the others as they flooded over him, pondering over their joy with an innocent ignorance. He would say "What has you guys so happy to see me this morning?" and the others would explain to him how they thought he was dead and he would simply laugh, saying "Yeah, that's usually how it is when I sleep." He would then chuckle and say, "Trust me when I tell you that I've had my mother become frantic over me before in the past whenever I was a pup; I would always wake up as I did now and she would be so relieved." But Ross knew that that was impossible. He knew Aaron was gone, and there wasn't a thing in the world that was going to change that. So with a heavy heart, Ross slowly rose to his feet and fell in with the others, joining in their aimless wandering with his head held low and his tail hanging limply between his legs.
The musher finally roused with the stirring of his blanket and sat up on one arm in his sleeping space and gazed out over the clearing as he attempted to awaken his still sleeping mind. His heavy eyes settled upon his dogs, finding them scattered all about the campsite already and smiled at their "enthusiasm" for their job. He sat up in his "bed" and threw the blanket off of him midway through stretching his back and arms, turning to his right and regarding the pile of grey and black ash that was once a roaring fire, knowing that with delicate work, he could salvage the heat that remained incubated in the center and turn it once again into a lively, dancing display of flames. He rose stiffly out of his blanket, skipping the process of dressing, for he had never shed so much as a garment the previous night, and set about to looking about the clearing for more firewood. He walked with a happy stride amongst his dogs, patting each of the ones he passed, but failing to take heed of their moroseness, and their sudden shortage in number. After a short pass over a small area of the crater he had more than enough wood and tinder to get another fire going and dropped the load from his arms next to the place in which he wished to begin his delicate work. He used a stick to shift about the ashes, of which still consumed a substantial amount of heat, and stopped when he unturned some still smoldering embers. He reached to his side with one hand and produced a clump of dried bark fiber that he had worked on stripping and gingerly placed it on top of the embers, blowing softly into the mess and with that done, the procedure was water under the bridge from then on, the fire taking life in a time of only a few minutes. Smiling down upon his creation, the musher then ventured through the thigh deep snow, scrambling ungracefully up the slope to the sled, of which was half buried by a snow drift. However, this did not deter the musher, and he promptly set to work unearthing it, scooping the powdery snow away by the handful until his tarp was completely free of any significant amount of the cold substance. He then pulled the tarp by the corner, lifting it skyward and flinging any remaining ice to the ground where it belonged. He rummaged through a burlap sack, once tied with a caribou gut made string, producing a can of beans, paint tin, a bag of ground coffee beans, and a silver spoon. He hefted all of these items into one arm and then reached across the sled for yet another burlap sack. He seized said sack into one of his gloved hands, and flung it with relative ease over one of his sloping shoulders and began back down the slope, stumbling along the way, but succeeding in keeping his balance. The dogs watched him wistfully, knowing what was inside of that sack their master carried, but they had no appetite regardless of how bad their stomachs roared. The musher reached his fire and dropped the items carelessly to the ground, picking up the can of beans and reaching to his thigh for his hunting knife, of which he used to punch a hole through the top of the can. This done, the musher set the can near the rim of the fire, burying it half way in the hot ashes and then scooped a tin-full of snow, placing that in the fire beside the beans. Next came the burlap sack. He squatted down and unfastened the caribou gut string, pulling the bag open and straightened up with it held firmly in one hand. He looked out to his dogs and called for them to receive their well-deserved ration of breakfast. The huskies merely regarded the call with a simultaneous sidelong glance and all sauntered their way over to him, gathering lamely in a group a few feet away from him. The musher then reached into the bag and began to collect chunks of scrap meat, gathering enough to feed a single dog and straightened up, pitching said meat to the paws of the first dog that he saw. Normally he would have expected to have to break up a squabble over the food, but as the meat made contact with the ground, the dogs didn't even so much as move. The butcher paid no heed to this and repeated the process a total of four more times, pausing midway through his sixth toss to ponder something that he hadn't noticed before. He counted the eating dogs, totaling a number of six, and recounted them just for good measure, coming up with the same result. He scratched the stubble on his chin quizzically and straightened up, looking about the camp sight and called the young dog's name. When there was no reply by either sound or appearance, he tried again, also with the same result and he began to feel anger washing over him through the assumption that the yearling had run off on him. Just to affirm his belief, the musher ran his eyes out over the clearing, the two steely blue orbs falling upon the motionless pile of snow a short distance to the east. For a while he simply stood, betraying no emotion at all, failing to so much as blink regardless of how the cold in the air stung his eyes; but after a moment, he brushed it off and simply returned to his previously set task, walking over to the fire to tend to his now boiling water and can of beans. He would see to the dead dog later, but for right now there were more pressing matters to be attended to. As the musher took the tin of boiling water into one hand and began to pour the ground coffee beans into it with the other, he silently cursed the dog that lay dead under the ice, bitter that all of the money he had paid for such a "fine animal" would simply go to waste; not to mention the fact that the other dogs that were actually worth their salt would have to work that much harder in lee of his absence. He set the strengthening liquid down and carefully took the hot can of beans into his hand, promptly punched the top in enough to slip his spoon inside and grumbled his misfortune through mouthfuls of food and sips of coffee.
The fawn bleated helplessly as it wandered alone across the hard packed snow, wailing its distress out to any who should hear and come to its rescue. It was a strong little thing, nearing four weeks in age, with a thick, full body, and muscular legs; but in light of this, the youngling was still dependent upon its mother for protection, and since their separation during the previous night, was rendered helpless. It simply trudged across the land, looking every which way, peering through the thick maze of the frozen trees, and calling its quite baby like call, hoping desperately to be found. Though the fawn was observant of its surroundings, it was panicked, causing it to use only its eyes and very seldom, its ears, and therefore was quite oblivious to small details such as scent and hidden movement in its vicinity. This was exactly what the snow white wraith wanted as it silently stalked the offspring from a distance of roughly twenty yards, keeping itself in a direction that was downwind of its quarry. Its paw steps were that of what it represented, a silent spirit of death that quickly and floated across the icy forest floor. At its feet padded three more of these ghosts, following on its right side and doing their best to mirror the image beside them. Though they were consistently smaller than the white wraith, these three were not afraid of conquering the world that they had recently come to know, and followed it closely with a fiery anticipation brewing down in the depths of their bodies. The adrenaline that surged through their bodies was that of an almost uncontrollable dose of dopamine, this pleasure and thrill giving chemical causing them to become giddy with excitement. And yet, as remarkable as it may sound, the three remained as calm and composed as their mother, keeping their motions deliberate and quiet as they trekked across the frozen earth. Another bleat emitted from the moose fawn, causing the quartet's already attentive ears to flick excitedly forward. The little fawn stopped for a brief moment of time, thinking that it saw something move off to its left, and it was then that the white she-wolf made her move. With one sideways motion of her paw, knee high above the snow, she signaled for her pups to stop, then to lay down low by lowering her paw to a few inches above the ground. The pups obeyed the command without question and assumed the position without so much as a sound. After all, they were simply learning how to use and perfect what instincts they already had laced inside of their minds, these having been born into them through the many generations of their ancestors before them. The white she-wolf gazed down to the pups and then out to the moose fawn, twitching her tail enticingly before she set off in pursuit in a low crawl with her tail erect and her ears flat to her skull. She trotted along with the slightest bounce in her step, picking her paws straight up and placing them straight down so as to eliminate any noise at all that they may make when they crunched down ankle deep into the snow. She was careful to keep her eyes fixed on the fawn all the while remaining completely aware of exactly where her feet were falling, mechanically avoiding the thin twigs that littered the ground beneath the trees. Ten yards...
She slowed her trot to a dragged stalk, crouching lower still and letting her tail hang just above the snow behind her as she began to prepare herself to move in and engage the target. Her fiery yellow eyes burned with excitement and hunger as she watched her helpless victim continue to scan its surroundings, the little creature still trying to decide upon whether or not it had actually seen something out there in the trees, or if it was merely a cruel trick that its mind was playing on it. The she-wolf began to count down from five inside of her head, using this system that her father had taught her so many years ago as a tactic centered about keeping yourself calm and waiting for exactly the right moment to move in for the kill.
"Five," she whispered in her mind, crouching her body so that her chest and hind end were hovering just inches above the ground.
"Four."
With quick glances she evaluated the situation before her, quickly plotting out any possible outcomes of her initial attack, and figuring the proper course of action that should be taken if any of those variables were to occur.
"Three."
Measure up the target, find its weak points, and act upon them accordingly.
She noticed now as she reached this step that the fawn seemed to have nothing wrong with it physically, but was able to sense its fatigue from the stress that it had been forced to endure as of late. Good, so it was already worn down; anything else? She studied the animal before her for a moment more, but found nothing other than the previously observed fatigue and desperation.
"Two."
Tense for attack and begin to advance upon the objective, get to a distance of about four feet if possible, and-
"Now!"
With one fluent leap and a snarl, the white she-wolf rocketed herself at the fawn, of which only had time to turn to face her and shriek its horror as it was suddenly burdened by a substantial amount of weight on its back. The she-wolf sunk her claws deep into the fawn's back, digging down into the skin and muscles to get a firm hold on the creature that now screamed and thrashed about as it frantically tried to shake her off. The she-wolf's body was pitched hither and tither by the small creature's bucking, but she held fast with her claws and began to set her sights upon the back of her target's neck, knowing that with one simple clamping of her teeth perpendicular to the spine and a quick jerk of her head, she would break the fawn's neck, ultimately ending its life and granting her the success of providing her family a meal. She let her next course of action be influenced by the fawn's bucking of its hind legs, raising the she-wolf up where she could look down upon the back of her prey's neck. It was in this short window of time that she made her final move, launching her upper body forward while keeping the lower half attached, and locked her jaws onto the back of the fawn's neck, sinking her teeth down into the muscle just behind the place where the skull met the spine, and completing this attack by twisting her own neck in a quick quarter length of circumcision. There was a choked squawk from the stripling, nearly drowning out the dull snapping sound that came from its neck as its spine was severed in two, thus ending its short existence and sending it heavily to the snow with an icy splash. The she-wolf yelped slightly when she hit the ground, for she had struck her hip against a rock beneath the snow when she fell with her kill, but was quickly up and on her feet almost as though nothing had happened. For a moment she stood with her head low and her tongue lolling out of the front of her mouth, her sides contracting heavily from the heaves of air that she greedily sucked into her lungs; but after that allotted time was finished, she lifted her head once again and turned back to the place in which she had left her pups, finding them standing in a small, oblong triangle with Balto standing point and Berai just behind him to his left with Shadow Fang at his back right a short distance further than his sister.
"And that," Aniu said in a cocky tone, "is how it's done."
There was an onslaught of mouthed "wow"s from the three pups, for this was the first time that they had ever seen their mother kill something and now they were even more anxious to get to try it out for themselves when the opportunity arose. That is, for everybody except Balto. He had never witnessed death of any kind first hand, and as he watched the young fawn twitch helplessly upon the ground in the throes of its death, he couldn't help but feel sorry for it. It didn't deserve to die, because after all, nothing ever did; but he liked the taste of meat, so if killing something was what it took to get it, he would simply have to get over his good conscience and nut up. In killing this animal, even though he still thought that it was wrong, he was guaranteed a meal, so he let his apprehensions roll into the back of his mind and began to stride his way toward his mother. Berai and Shadow Fang followed suit, falling in on each of his sides as they all approached Aniu and the now motionless fawn. Regarding their mother briefly with sidelong glances as they passed her, the three began to slowly walk about the fawn, admiring their mother's work in silent awe. It was so precise, what she had done, and so incredibly deadly, and it gave them a new sense of respect for their mother knowing what she was capable of. After about their third round of circumcision consisting of observing and prodding the dead animal with their paws, they all came to a stop and sat in a line beside their mother, gazing silently down upon the fawn.
"Learn anything new today?" Aniu asked the three, receiving quick nods from them.
"Well good," Aniu replied in lee of their nods and walked casually over to the fawn, lowering her head down toward its body, "help me get this home," she ordered and took a hind leg into her mouth.
The pups did what they were told, each of them lining up side by side and taking a portion of the other hind leg into their teeth and began to tug at it with all their might. Aniu did the same on the other leg, though it was significantly easier for her being as strong as she was, and the fawn began to slide across the snow in a half circle as they spun it around so they could walk forward instead of back, and then began to make their way back home, leaving behind just the slightest trail of blood from the cuts on its back and neck. Lucky for them they had not journeyed very far from their den, maybe an eighth of a mile, so the haul was relatively short and not as strenuous as it could have been. The pups, however, were exhausted for they had never worked so hard in their lives, but they were not going to give up on their mission because they somehow knew that in helping their mother in dragging the fawn back, they would only be making the meat more satisfying with the knowledge that they had helped to bring it home. Finally, the den began to come into view, the small opening between two large, snow covered rocks growing nearer and nearer with each passing moment. However, when they were about fifty yards away from their den, the swirling breeze shifted directions on them and carried with it a very disturbing scent that made Aniu immediately stop dead in her tracks and made every hair on her body stand on end. She stood for a moment, and then let a low growl rumble deep inside of her throat and released the leg from her grip, letting the stiff appendage fall limply to the ground. The pups heard the growl and saw Aniu drop the body and did the same, excluding the growl. They let the leg fall and looked up at their mother with a nervous curiosity, pricking their ears in a questioning manner.
"What is it mom?" Berai asked in a concerned tone, gazing up at Aniu with wondering eyes.
Aniu didn't answer. She cocked her head to the side and flicked her ears rapidly, letting her paw raise up off of the ground slightly as she sampled the wind again just to confirm what it was that she had smelled, and after a few moments more she lowered her paw and turned to her pups.
"Be quiet, find cover, and be still," Aniu whispered through the corner of her mouth, turning back to the front and crouching down into a fighting stance, leaving her ears erect above her skull so she could use every one of her senses in case she needed to detect an attack from the threat that she felt still lingered in the area.
The pups stood where they were for a few moments, confused and frightened by their mother's sudden apprehension, but when Aniu turned to them and waved her paw firmly in a backward motion, they hid fearfully behind a rock, peeking over the top and watching their mother nervously. After affirming that her pups were hidden, Aniu bristled and low crawled her way to the mouth of the cave, taking her time and keeping her body ready for anything as she prepared for a potential battle with the unseen threat. Her progress was painfully slow, and as the pups watched her inch closer and closer to the den they could not escape the fear of the unknown that circled around in their minds, and because of this they were afraid for the safety of their mother. Finally, after what seemed like eternity, Aniu arrived at the mouth of the den and she paused on the right wall, and then peeked her head around the corner and into the cave, peering through the dark with anxious eyes. Much to her great relief, she found it empty; the lynx that had been there recently having already moved on. With a sigh of relief, she turned and began to make her way determinedly back to where she had left her pups and she called the all clear for them to come out of hiding. The pups heard the call and bounded over to her, meeting her half way and escorting her back to the dead fawn.
"What was that about?" Shadow Fang asked curiously.
Aniu surveyed her surroundings briefly and then turned down to the pups.
"Nothing," she answered flatly, casting yet another nervous glance over her shoulder.
The pups were not entirely satisfied with her answer, for they knew that she was lying; but they did not press the issue because they could also sense that their mother had a lot on her mind at present.
Their assumptions were indeed true, because Aniu's mind was in turmoil at the given moment. She was not sure what they should do. Should they stay and risk an attack from the lynx if it came back?, or should they relocate? This decision was definitely proving itself to be one of the toughest in her life because she knew that either way there was a possibility that they would run into trouble. She knew that if they were to stay, there was a high chance that the lynx may return sometime during the night, and she also knew that there was a storm on the way, for even now she could feel an unpredictable and cold breeze brushing through her fur. She ran through both options in her head carefully and chanced a glance up to the sky, finding a front of low grey clouds already moving in ominously overhead; the warning signs that suggested that the storm had already made its way to them and would be upon them in a matter of hours. This answered her question for her, for she knew that if they were to try and find a different place to stay, they would more than likely get caught out in the brunt of the storm. Staying here was risky but, due to circumstances beyond her control, it was their only option now. She knew that they couldn't bear the full force of a storm and live to tell the tale.
"Come on, let's get inside," Aniu inquired and scooped the hind leg back into her jaws and began to quickly make her way to the den.
The pups watched her urgency with concern and turned to each other with questioning glances; but only received shrugs from each other as answers.
"Come on," Aniu called again as she dragged the carcass into the den, disappearing from view.
The three pups hesitated for a moment more and then silently rose to their paws, regarded the sky briefly, and then began to make their way toward the den.
The four wolves watched the events of the camp unfolding from a distance of only fifteen yards, making sure that they stayed downwind so as to avoid being scented by one of the dogs in the hole. They arrived just in time to see the musher pitch his empty can to the ground and kick out the fire, watched as he balled up his blanket into his tent and carried it up to the sled, where he simply stuffed it in any place that it would fit and then staggered his way back down into the hole. They saw the musher tie two dogs at a time to leather thongs and lead them up the slope, then place them in their harnesses, repeating the process a total of two times until all six were loaded and ready to go. They saw him check their feet, make a final check on the sled, and then place his feet on the runners, grip the handle bars, and prepare himself for departure. Seeing that the team was about to head out, the hunt leader quickly devised a plan.
"Runt," he whispered to his right, "go make yourself known."
"What! But I'll be killed!" he objected in an urgent whisper.
"Perhaps, but if the goal is to be achieved and you enjoy the luxury of living, you'll do as you're told!" the hunt leader snarled back coldly.
Runt dipped his head in defeat and padded out of their hiding place in the trees, pacing the fifteen yards slowly and then stepping out in front of the sled and coming to a stop a short distance away. The musher was just about to make the "gee" call to break the right side of the sled free from the snow, when a bony tan wolf appeared in his field of vision and he felt his voice get caught inside of his throat. For a long moment he did nothing except stare at the wolf that stood before him and fancied the rifle that he had tucked into a sleeve on the strut by his right foot. Steely blue eyes made contact with the chocolate eyes of the wolf and it turned and glanced uncertainly out into the woods, seeing the cold gazes of his comrades and gulped nervously, bristled his fur. For a while, musher, dog, and wolf regarded each other silently, watching and waiting for the other to make the first move.
The musher made this move by quickly reaching down by his boot and pulling the long range hunting rifle from its sleeve, hoping that the sight of the weapon would frighten the wolf into running away.
But Runt moved closer and began to growl, doing his best to sound intimidating even though he was nearly petrified with fear and upon seeing this the musher raised his weapon, preparing to end the canine's life.
Chapter 4
CONTENT WARNING: Coarse language and tense violence ahead.
It happened quicker than anyone could ever have anticipated. Before the musher's weapon even made it to his shoulder, there was the sound of an onslaught of fearful snarls from the dogs, causing the musher to avert his attention briefly from the wolf before him and toward his team, seeing them growling and lashing out against their traces at something off to his right. He swiftly swept the area in that general vicinity with his eyes, but found nothing and turned back to the front, only to find yet a second wolf make its final bound and then leap out at him. The musher fumbled with his gun, but it never reached his shoulder, for a mere second after he lifted his arms, he was tackled to the snow by the large animal, landing with his back down and the snarling canine bestriding him from the top, his gun clattering to the snow a brief distance away from him. The musher struggled to shake the wolf, punching it madly and holding the sides of its face in his hands, using all of his strength to keep those snapping teeth from reaching his face or his neck. The musher grunted and groaned as his muscles strained against the animal's brute strength, and the wolf growled in frustration as it continued to snap at his face. The musher threw an elbow into the side of the wolf's face, but with a quick snap to the side, the wolf sunk his teeth through the layers on the musher's sleeve, digging deep into the flesh on his forearm. The musher screamed in pain and kicked at the wolf, landing a solid blow to its abdomen and sending it a short distance away with an incredulous yelp and snarl. The muscles flesh on the musher's forearm was destroyed, his now crimson sleeve shredded by the wolf's teeth; but he paid no heed to this as he reached to his hip and drew a long hunting knife into his good hand. For a while the musher and the wolf circled each other, each one snarling in their own way as they danced around the other, pure lust for blood in each of the combatant's eyes. The wolf made the first strike, leaping in at the musher, of whom took a quick step to the side and made a slice at the courageous animal, but missed wide to the right with an empty swish of steel as it careened through unoccupied space. The wolf landed and turned back to the musher, hackles raised, ears flat to his skull, lips drawn to the roots of his teeth, and his muzzle wrinkled back into a terrible snarl. Back into the circumcision the two went until the musher heard yet another fit of snarls from his dogs; but these he paid no heed to and he kept his attention focused upon the wolf that circled about him. That is until he felt a small tug on the tail of his fur jacket. With a quick double take, he found yet a third wolf standing a short distance behind him. The musher's eyes widened and he turned away from the new wolf and down behind him again when he felt a small amount of pressure on his right thigh, finding the wolf that attacked him with its jaws around his leg. The musher damned the animal and made an attempt at it with his knife; but again came up short.
The entire time the team of dogs watched as their musher was slowly being overwhelmed by their lupus enemies, knowing that he would not last much longer if they did not help him.
"Come on," Ross demanded, "we have to help him."
With that said he took his harness into his teeth and began to frantically gnaw on the leather, but the frigid temperature made the material as hard as a rock, and it hurt his teeth to chew on it; but he knew that if he didn't break free the musher would surely die, so the pain in his mouth he ignored as he continued to worry on the leather. His teammates followed his lead, but also ran into trouble with the harnesses. Regardless, they let the fear of losing their master compel them into digging deep into their wills to somehow syphon out the pain and get through their restraints.
What it was that the wolves were trying to do was working substantially well as they continued to play their exhausting game with the musher, the latter's motions and attacks becoming more and more restricted by fatigue with each passing moment. By now, all three of the wolves, even the frightened one, were toying with him, nipping him, tugging his clothes, nudging him with their muzzles, only to leap swiftly away when the musher made a strike with his knife. And in the midst of all of this, between the musher's occupation with the three of his assailants and the team's concentration on chewing through the restraints, yet a fourth wolf, much larger than the others, sauntered out into the clearing, padding casually down the slope of the crater and out toward where his cronies were doing battle with the human. He paused with a short distance between himself and his objective, studying the situation carefully and planning his next course of action accordingly. He could tell based upon the inescapable and overwhelming scent of human sweat and the sound of his heaving breaths, that it was nigh on time to engage. Crouching low, the wolf slowly stalked around to where he predicted the human's back would end up after his next attack and waited, but not too long, for mere seconds after he arrived at his checkpoint the desired position was presented to him. It was then that he made his presence known. The wolf let a loud snarl emit from his throat, thus gaining the musher's attention and, using the momentum of his previous strike, the exhausted man turned; ultimately resulting in what would be his final mistake. As soon as the wolf saw that the human was turning to him, he leapt and latched onto the musher's throat in perfect sync with the time that his target's face was directed toward him and bit down hard, spraying the man's life into the snow. There was a silence, one that was both unexpected and disturbing for the dogs, and their apprehensions were made ever more predominant when a gurgling cough sounded, followed shortly thereafter by a soft crunch as a light object fell to the snow. The six removed their mouths from their harnesses and shot their eyes out to where their musher once stood, finding him now leaning limply at a narrow angle with his legs and hips lying flat across the ground, while at the mid-section of his back, was the vertex, the upper half of his body supported from the neck by a large wolf's jaws. His arms hung limply under his body and dripping from the wolf's teeth was a sickly crimson liquid that immediately stained the snow in an increasingly expanding puddle of putrid slush. Directly beside their musher's now lifeless body, laying half buried in the powder, was his knife, and surrounding this entire scene were three other wolves, each of them seeming to admire their handy work. The sight horrified the dogs, seemingly petrifying them to their very souls. They found themselves unable to do anything except stare at the body and at the wolves. And as Ross studied the face of the wolf that held the musher, he could not shake a foreboding sense of familiarity with its features. He vaguely recognized those harsh blue eyes and the jagged scar on his right cheek. He ran his eyes to the matted ears, torn and scarred from many upon many fights, and to the quarter-sized white spot on the bride of his battle fatigued nose. Ross knew that he had seen this wolf from somewhere; but the question to arise in his mind now was: Where? After a long moment, the large, grey wolf dropped the limp corpse and licked the blood satisfyingly from his maw, savoring the iron-like taste, and then ran his cold gaze out to the terrified team, grinning smugly, his lips still coated in a thin layer of crimson.
"Well well, what have we here?" he asked rhetorically, looking left and right to his fellows, "You guys are a little far from home aintcha?"
His voice was mocking and evil, and it was laced with venom so potent it made the blood in each of the dogs' veins become ice.
The wolf began to strut dominantly over to Ross with his three adversaries behind either side of him and came to a stop a short distance away from the sled leader, where upon the wolf laughed mockingly into his face. Ross was horrified, but he just stood firmly, doing his best to keep his sky blue gaze firm. The wolf noticed this and chuckled.
"There is no need to falsely portray bravery dog," he said pointedly, "I sense your true feelings. I know what it is you fear."
The three wolves behind him laughed menacingly at the remark, further adding to the frightful situation.
Ross, much like a soldier on the frontlines, was somehow able to find a remarkable sense of courage given to him through his fear, and by channeling this he was able to come up with a reply, for he knew not to let them gain control of the situation early.
"Or perhaps it is that your mind has given you a false perception of another's fear based upon, if I may say, a quite inaccurate and over-exaggerated sense of prowess and self-image," he stated firmly.
Hearing this, the wolf cocked his head to the side.
"Not bad," he answered flatly with a slight bobbing of his head, "but let's just see what kind of balls you really have when it comes to making tough decisions."
Ross let his eyes remain locked with the wolf's, while the eyes of his team glanced nervously between their leader and the four of their murderous accompaniments; but they did not dare open their mouths through fear of what would become of them if they did.
"What kind of tough decisions?" Ross asked in an amused tone.
The wolves all looked to each other approvingly and the obvious superior turned back to Ross.
"I'm glad you asked," he stated, sarcasm dripping from his every word, "because I'm actually looking to make a deal with you."
Ross let an eyebrow arch in curiosity.
"Go on," Ross said in an intrigued fashion.
"If you kill your team, you will live to face the judgment of the alpha," he offered in quite a demonic tone, "but if you don't kill them, you will all die, starting with your little friend right here."
To demonstrate his point, the wolf nodded to the dark brown wolf standing to his right, said wolf rising to his feet and padding in a quite business-like fashion toward a copper coated husky by the name of Harv and promptly smacking him to the ground. Harv yelped with the impact and tried to pick himself up off of the snow, but was quickly pinned down onto his chest by the larger animal. Horrified gasps erupted from the other dogs as the wolf then began to slowly fit his jaws about the struggling Harv's neck; but Ross offered no reply. He simply hardened his gaze, boring it deep into the wolf's.
"Well, what's it gonna be?" the wolf asked sternly, "You have ten seconds. Ten...nine..."
Ross weighed his options in his head, going over and over in his mind about what he should do. What could he do?
"Six... five..."
"Don't do it, Ross! He's bluffing!" yelled the left wheel dog, a white malamute named Butch.
The superior smiled evilly.
"Bluffing?" he reiterated with sarcastic questioning in his tone.
Butch gulped, but turned an assuring eye to Ross and gave him a nod of affirmation.
"Fatum?" the superior asked the wolf that held down Harv, "why don't you show them just exactly how serious I am?"
The tan backed wolf smiled, Harv's neck still in his mouth, and promptly began to apply pressure to the jugular, that pressure steadily becoming a pricking sensation. There were screams of horror from the two females of the group.
"No please!" one of them yelled with tears rolling down her face, "Please don't hurt him!"
Fatum only smiled broader and applied ever more pressure, this being enough to compromise Harv's breathing, and he began to gasp and struggle with bulging eyes as he fought for breath.
"Stop it! You're killing him!" the two yelled together, nearly breaking down into fits of hysteria.
Fatum bit harder, and Harv now whimpered, a small stream of blood beginning to run out from under his neck.
"God damn it, leave him alone!" a tan male with a black patch around one eye yelled out, lashing aggressively against his traces and then turned a desperate gaze over to Ross, "Ross fucking say something!"
"Three... two..."
"I think I'll take a third option," Ross replied calmly and then slashed the grey wolf's cheek, drawing a slow seepage of blood from four equivalent cuts running vertically along his jawline.
The large wolf placed a paw on his wound and then looked at the blood that smeared onto his pads and smiled to himself.
"Fatum, leave him," he ordered, not even looking back to the wolf he addressed, and placed his paw back down onto the ground.
Fatum released Harv, of whom fell into a fit of gasping, his burning lungs sucking in the air greedily as the others sheltered him with their bodies, and fell in at the unnamed wolf's side.
"You know, it's funny," the superior mused, leveling his eyes with Ross' again, "no one has ever gone for that option." An evil smirk snaked across his muzzle once again. "Though I do have to admit, I'm not at all surprised."
Ross shrugged.
"Sorry to disappoint," he answered flatly.
The wolf smiled, but it was not one of friendship, nor happiness or respect. Its main purpose revolved around one thing, and that was the idea that he had formulating inside of his head.
"Cut him loose," he ordered flatly.
Fatum nodded and moved determinedly over to one of Ross' sides and took one of the leather straps into his teeth, sliding his top and bottom rows in directions opposite of each other; but he ran into the same problem as Ross had, finding the leather hard frozen. With a sniff of distaste, he began to draw his head back when something clicked on inside of his head. He wasn't sure if he had imagined it, but he thought that he smelled something vaguely familiar on Ross and leaned his head in for a waft of affirmation. Yes indeed, there was a scent on this dog, but he could not recognize it; though the nagging sense of familiarity was driving him nuts.
"What the hell are you doing?" the leader asked, "you gonna cut him out or are you gonna go down on him?"
Fatum shook his head in agitation and slowly withdrew it from Ross' vicinity, turning it out to the afore spoken leader.
"Check this out Leo," he said in an amused tone, "see what you can make of it."
Ross' heart sank when he heard the name and his blood once again froze in his veins for he could remember very clearly now who this wolf was.
(FLASHBACK)
Ross was finding it quite difficult to comprehend, this situation that he had found himself in now. He didn't know the first thing about living with a pack of wolves, let alone even truly wish to affiliate himself with them; and yet, here he was, running with a pack of wild beasts and all because he had to follow that alluring white she-wolf. He was grateful to say the least that he wasn't killed just as soon as he had set foot into their territory without the protection of his musher or of the team, but now he was almost wishing that he was. He did not know the first thing about lupus politics, and yet he was now to be the pack's newest representative and political speaker. He knew not the reasons why, nor did he question the Alphas as to why he had been placed in this position rather than have him killed; but for right now he wasn't going to argue. The pack was not happy about his presence, though, not one bit; but he felt relatively safe with the Alpha male making it publically known that he was to be let alone or the aggressor would face the punishment of having their rank stripped. This, however, did not protect him from the incredulous glares and hateful mutterings or unkind physical gestures that were thrown in his direction. They were inescapable, looming over him no matter where he walked, even to the place where he had been assigned as his sleeping quarters, and they made him feel small and powerless against such a numerous and unforgiving enemy. There was one, however, that did not say or do anything unkind at all, that being the white she-wolf. Rather than insult him, calling him unclean or impure, she merely sat at a distance and regarded him with curious golden eyes, her right ear erect while the other drooped limply about halfway above her skull. Never once did she move to follow him whenever he would walk out of her sight, nor did she make any attempt to approach him. No words were ever spoken by her either, and to him she seemed the quiet and shy type, only an innocent and mysterious yearling just like he was to her. But despite the awkward vibe that he felt with her constantly lingering above him, he couldn't help but feel... it was strange, something that he could not find a word to describe; but he felt almost as though there were some sort of spiritual connection between him and this mystical being, like they were since the day that they were born supposed to meet and speak with each other. But he didn't know... maybe he was going crazy. After all, what could he possibly have in common with some wild marauder, somebody who killed and stole for a living? This question turned over and over in his mind as the days wore on, and finally, after the morning of the third day, his curiosity got the best of his better judgment, compelling him into scratching all of his apprehensions for a moment and approaching the she-wolf. She sat in the same place that she always did when she would observe him, just beneath a tall, snow blanketed spruce, her tail wrapped about her forepaws with that same curious and quizzical look visible in her eyes. The mental debate had been controverting for far too long, and after nearly frying his brain, he finally took his first steps in her direction.
But as Fate would have it, Ross would not get his chance to speak with her today, for apparently, there was somebody else who had been watching him from the shadows.
"You will not speak with her dog," Ross heard an intimidating voice growl from behind him.
Ross turned around rather quickly upon hearing the unexpected voice and found a quite large grey wolf with a set of piercing blue eyes padding in his direction with a very businesslike pace in his step. This particular wolf carried himself with very high esteem, keeping his head held high above any who he passed, except for the Alphas of course, and in each step that he took there was an indomitable sense of self confidence, and any who saw him coming immediately gave him a wide birth. This concerned Ross, especially since this obviously ill-tempered and hostile wolf had made it a point to call him out personally; but Ross knew that if the wolf approaching him were to sense fear on his behalf, he would only capitalize on it, and Ross could not let that happen. He could not allow himself to be intimidated, for if he did, he would never be taken into account by any of whom he spoke to. A coward he would be called, yellow, and nobody listens to a coward. And what happens when he becomes the coward, the pessimist that nobody listens to, he would be rendered useless, and he was not too fond of finding out what would become of him then. So, with these thoughts in mind giving him strength, Ross squared his shoulders and met the wolf's gaze with his, keeping his head and his tail high as an authoritative and confident gesture. The wolf saw this and he smiled as he drew nearer to Ross, slowing his pace down with each foot between them that he consumed until he stopped with a mere yard between himself and Ross, his scarred face cemented with a permanent scowl. Ross met the scowl with one of his own, meeting the steely blue eyes of the wolf with his and locking his jaw out. For a moment, neither of the two spoke, but the pair standing each other off was drawing quit a substantial amount of attention from the other members of the pack, especially the illusive and omnipresent white she-wolf. Though Ross was consciously unaware, he was actually hoping that she would watch him; just another one of life's little mysteries that he would never comprehend, nor would he be able to understand. The wolves that spectated the unfolding that was about to occur began to gather in a loose circle, sensing the fight before it was to ensue. For now, though, they stood at a distance with attentive eyes and pricked ears, content with simply watching it play out for the time being.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Ross spoke.
"Is there some sort of problem here?" he asked, trying to keep his voice level.
The wolf that stood before Ross let his scowl deepen and he locked his jaw as well, taking a single step closer.
"It depends," he answered venomously, boring his gaze deep into Ross'
Ross, despite all of his apprehensions, remained firm.
"Depends on what?" he asked with the same amount of sarcasm that the wolf had presented to him.
The wolf pricked his ears forward accusingly and turned his head up slightly.
"It depends on if you plan to quit eyeing my girl," he answered threateningly.
Ross only let out a small chuckle.
"Now what's so wrong with simply going over and having a small chat with her?" he asked out of fallacious curiosity, clocking his head to the side, "I mean, unless you fear that I, a humble dog, could snuff her out from under your nose."
The wolf growled and delivered a forceful blow to the side of Ross' face, using one of his claws to carve a deep gash horizontally across his cheek. Ross' head jerked sideways with the blow and then he turned forward again, blood seeping slowly out of the laceration on his face and staining his fur a dark crimson color.
The strike to Ross gained the attention of every spectator and they drew in closer, their loose formation about them now tightening into a well-defined circle.
The wolf smiled, seeing what he had done to Ross, but Ross seemed unfazed and he simply wiped the blood free from his cheek with one of his paws.
"It would appear as though I was correct," he mused, looking the wolf square in the eye.
"Shut your god damn mouth!" the wolf yelled out and made another slash at Ross, but this time Ross ducked to the side and delivered a blow of his own to the top of his assailant's muzzle causing the latter's head to shunt downward.
This was it, the wolves that watched knew, the fight was now, so they wasted no time in tightening their circle even further until the sixteen of them all stood shoulder to shoulder around the brawl, giving the combatants only about ten feet to do battle.
The wolf that Ross had struck had by this time lifted his head after the blow, snarling terribly with his muzzle wrinkled back and his lips drawn to the roots of his teeth.
"Poor choice," he seethed evilly, his eyes aflame with rage.
Ross was just now beginning to grip what he had done. He had picked a fight with this wolf and all because he didn't want to look like a coward. That truly was a poor decision on his behalf and he was frightened, but he had already committed to this. There was no dignity to be spared for him if he were to back out now, so the snarl he matched, allowing himself to become enraged once again by the strike that he had been administered earlier, allowing the pain to course over his face again. He let his ears fold flat to his skull and snarled maliciously, exposing his fangs as well.
"We'll see," he answered as they squared each other up, circling slowly.
Ross snarled and let his tongue flick out of his mouth like a rabid wolverine and the wolf clipped his teeth together, the two rows of bone slamming together with ringing metallic clicks. Their manes were bristled on end, each individual fur erect and their eyes flashed over each other rapidly, searching for an opening. The opportunity to strike was first given to Ross when the wolf focused his attention solely upon a minor cut that he had on his shoulder, and upon noticing the wolf's aversion of attention, he leapt in with a snarl, scoring his teeth across the wolf's muzzle. However, the wolf was quickly able to recover from this, and before Ross could leap away, landed a crushing blow to the side of his head, knocking him sideways and impairing his senses very briefly, but in the very minute amount of time, the wolf had already capitalized once again and was moving in for another attack, sliding sideways to throw off Ross' aim and then rolling him over with his forepaws, keeping his shoulders locked and his forelegs as stiff as the ice beneath their paws. Ross tumbled over twice and then came to an unsteady stop on his paws. This caused a tremendous uproar amongst the wolves that spectated and they all began to shout in excitement, shifting on anxious paws and waiting for the stricken combatant to fall so they could finish him off, for that was their favorite part of the battle. The wolf let Ross regain his footing, for not only was he going to kill him, he was going to make him suffer, make him hurt, make him bleed for having the audacity to insult and humiliate him. Ross recovered from his tumble and he squared himself up with the wolf once again and the two began to circle each other anon, falling into yet another round of preliminaries. They snarled and snapped, faking lunges and making rakes at each other with their claws, keeping their tails erect behind them and their blazing eyes flashing over their opponent as they once again searched for an opening at which to strike. This time it was Ross who let himself become exposed, for he could not discipline his focus enough to not cast a quick sidelong glance over toward the audience that they had drawn, and it was then that the wolf made his move, leaping in and raking his claws just above Ross' left eye, causing the blood to leak out slowly and drip down his brow, but luckily it did not go into his eye or he would have died right there on the spot for a blind dog is a dead dog. However, since the blood circumcised his eye, he only felt the sting of a minor laceration rather than the crushing black of death, and henceforth was able to quickly recover. He snarled and threw all tactics out the window, simply making a leap at the wolf, one of which the latter did not expect in the least and, therefore, was caught completely off guard. However, this moment of surprise was only the briefest, for midway through, Ross' leap, the wolf analyzed the situation and acted accordingly, leaping in to greet him, and with a snap and snarl, the pair collided in the air, landing on their hind paws and swinging strikes with their forepaws. However, each of these attacks would be stymied immediately, not a single one meeting its mark, and in the end of this, the two fell back to the proper position with all four paws on the snow and continued to fight, leaping in, slashing, and then leaping swiftly away. Still the uproar from the onlookers built in intensity and it wasn't long before it caught the attention of the Alpha male, causing him to lift his attention away from his mate and look off to the east, and upon seeing the circle he sighed in exasperation.
"Not again," he muttered bitterly and rose to his feet, but he felt a paw land on his shoulder and this caused him to turn slowly around, finding his mate staring back at him with her aqua blue eyes.
He met her eyes with his and sighed.
"Let me handle it," she offered kindly, but he shook his head.
"That boy will never learn," he answered firmly, "Not unless you beat the lessons into him. I'll take care of it."
With that he stalked his way slowly over toward the battle, feeling the eyes of his mate upon him as he walked, growing nearer and nearer.
Ross' shoulders were scored multiple times with cuts of varying length. Each slash bled profusely, and if it weren't for the adrenaline coursing swiftly through his veins, blocking the pain, they would almost be immobilizing. However, in the heat of the battle, his wounds were the last thing on his mind, and he focused all of his attention on destroying his opponent.
The wolf was not in much better shape, for he also sported multiple gashes across the vicinity of his body and along his face, and from his mouth dripped a steady stream of blood from his slashed gums. One of his ears was badly bleeding, and Ross was sure that he had either pierced it significantly or had gashed it, but he couldn't tell through the blood that dripped down, covering the wound from sight. They separated from each other again and circled, snarling and leaping in for another wave of attacks, parrying them with their paws, dodging with well-timed sideways leaps or yelping in pain when gashes or bites would score upon their flesh.
Both Ross and the wolf were far past the point of physical fatigue, for they had been at this for nearly ten minutes, and it was in this state of physical exhaustion that the wolf excelled in his skills as a fighter; for, he had trained himself throughout his life to be mentally strong, even if his body was far past the point of physical enervation. However, what he did not take into account was that Ross, being a well renowned sled dog, was able to withhold the exact same preservation of thought and consciousness, for that was one characteristic out of many that showed the signs of a true leader. Nevertheless, it matters not how strong your mind is if your body has no blood left to shed, and henceforth, Ross could feel himself beginning to slip, his motions becoming more deliberate and sloppy with each moment that passed. This did not go unnoticed by the crowd, neither did it slip past the wolf of whom he fought, and when the latter realized this he smiled, launching himself forward and locking his forelegs before his body, sailing swiftly in and jamming his forepaws forcefully into Ross' side. Ross stood no chance and he rolled to the ground, coming to a complete stop on his side. This caused a tremendous cry of approval from the audience and they all shifted on their paws anticipatingly, anxiously awaiting the delivery of the final blow.
Ross struggled to gain his footing, squirming about and trying desperately to flip his body over onto his chest, but now that he was down, he simply couldn't find the strength to, and he felt the paw press firmly into the side of his neck, just beneath his jawline, and he closed his eyes in acceptance of his fate. He heard the dark chuckle from the wolf and he took in a long breath of collection, feeling the jaws begin to fit themselves around his throat just as it was expunged, and in this brief moment, he met the fiery golden eyes of the white she-wolf, finding them to be laced with unshed tears. This hit him soundly in the heart and he knew not why, nor did he have the time to mull the situation further, for he could now feel the pricks of teeth on his neck becoming more pronounced. He then felt the first puncture and then the second and he let a black void begin to overtake him, consuming his body and making it feel quite restful, and he suddenly felt that dying wasn't going to be so bad if it meant forever feeling the feeling that he felt at this very moment, absolute peace and tranquility within himself. Yes, he was going to die here and he was going to join his parents in eternal life up in-
"Leonard!" Ross suddenly heard over the commotion around him, this voice being a deep and booming articulation from a figure Ross knew held a substantial amount of authority within the pack.
Ross then heard the wolf that he assumed was named Leonard growl and felt his throat being quickly released; but Ross did not rise. Instead, he simply lay there in the blood-ridden snow, panting heavily with his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth and his glazing eyes squinted open so he could try to see what was going on about him.
The one named Leonard turned his head to the wolf that had called him out and it was then that he was struck hard across his face, the claws from the second wolf gashing four deep cuts vertically along his jawline. Leonard jerked with the blow, his head nearly touching his left foreleg, before he turned back to the front with tears in his eyes.
"Just what in the hell do you think you're doing!" the wolf demanded sternly, but he only received a low growl from Leonard.
Well, the Alpha of the pack was not going to tolerate this, so with a growl, he struck him again, this time a crushing blow to his eye that caused the latter to fall to the ground where he was soundly kicked in the side, causing him to pitch over onto his other side where he lay in a heap, groaning in the pain and the indignation. It was then that the Alpha let his steely green eyes flash over the group of onlookers, of whom all failed to meet his eyes.
"Get Leonard out of here," he demanded, his voice laced with venom, and then turned down to Ross.
The others nodded and three of them walked out toward the downed Leonard, getting on either side of him and helping him to his feet then walking him away, more than likely to the healing den.
The Alpha waited for them to move a sizable distance away and then turned to those who still remained.
"Go about your own way," he ordered, "you have no further business here."
The others that gathered quickly dispersed, leaving him alone with Ross. He shook his head and he walked forward, arriving at his side.
"And as for you," he growled, picking the barely conscious form of Ross up by the scruff of his neck as he passed.
Ross had not the energy to resist, so he simply rose, allowing himself to be manhandled by the Alpha as he was steadily dragged away, his heavy paws dragging the snow lazily behind him. The Alpha mumbled under his breath, this being muffled even further by the fur and folds of skin on the nape of Ross' neck, and once they got to the cluster of shrubbery where Ross had been assigned to sleep, he simply dropped the dog to the ground and moved a short distance away before sitting down and regarding the injured canine with anger in his eyes.
"Why must you insult me so?" he asked pointedly to Ross after a brief moment's silence, pricking his ears forward accusingly.
Ross groaned from the pain he was in and lifted his head, but offered no reply.
"You intruded on my land, an act punishable by death, and yet out of the kindness of my heart I spared your life, and this is how you repay me? By picking a fight with him on the first day that you are here?"
Ross coughed.
"I was stupid," he began weakly, for his fatigue was quite dominant in his body.
"You're damn right you were stupid," the Alpha rebuffed harshly, boring his gaze into Ross, "you're lucky to even be breathing right now."
Ross sat up slowly, painfully onto his haunches, his limbs quivering like the water in a disturbed puddle beneath him as they struggled to sustain his weight.
"I know, sir," he answered, "I was just trying to keep my honor intact," he finished without shame.
The Alpha rolled his eyes.
"And you chose to do this by nearly getting yourself killed," he accused incredulously, "that was a poor decision."
Ross sighed, for the term was beginning to grow quite decrepit in his mind and he lifted his eyes to the Alpha.
"I know sir," he answered weakly due to his weariness, "but had that son of a bitch minded his own damn business none of this woulda happened in the first place."
This time it was the Alpha's turn to sigh.
"I could have figured as much," he answered regretfully, "that boy has always been trouble ever since he was a pup, always picking fights and sticking his nose in places where it doesn't belong."
Ross nodded.
"Yeah, I don't see why me simply wanting to ask somebody a question would irk him so."
The Alpha shook his head slowly.
"Who did you try to speak to?" he asked slowly.
Ross cocked an eyebrow.
"I don't know her name, but she's the white she-wolf with the black tips on her ears and the golden eyes."
The Alpha chuckled.
"So you were trying to speak to Aniu eh?" he asked him.
Ross shifted his eyes from side to side in confusion.
"Umm... I guess so?" he replied in a questioning manner.
"That would help explain it," the Alpha said thoughtfully, nodding once.
Ross cocked his head to the side.
"Explain what?" he asked in a perturbed fashion.
The Alpha grinned.
"Nothing, he's just very protective over my daughter," he answered
Ross nodded slowly in understanding.
"Mate? Crush? Girlfriend?" he asked, "that is, if it isn't prying too much into your affairs.
The Alpha let his ears fall slightly and then straightened them again.
"None of the above," he answered, "here, the only of those that exist is a mate. We know not the customs that you follow, but here we chose a court of whom we believe was chosen out of many by Genetrix himself to be solely for us. Some are not destined to become mates and others who are impure will desecrate our beliefs and adulterate, but many remain true to the ancient ways and it is because of this that we mate for life. Leonard believes that Aniu is his rightful court, and though they are not officially together as of yet, he will do anything to assure its integrity."
Ross took all of this in with wonder evident in his eyes, for he realized that, though the religious factoids entwined into their beliefs differed, they shared similar customs with the wolves, for in Nome, marriage was the most special bond that two lovers could share, and this bond was not one to be severed or compromised by acts of adultery, for such an act was, aside from murder, the most shameful and disgraceful acts that one could commit.
A long silence ensued between the two and Ross shifted uncomfortably on his haunches, biting back the urge to wince, and then he looked to the Alpha.
"Do... do you believe that this s the path that Genetrix has chosen for Aniu?" Ross asked hesitantly, for he was quite fearful of offending the Alpha.
The Alpha only dropped his head slightly and shook it slowly, pinning his ears back at acute angles before lifting his head back up again, letting his eyes reopen and his ears return to their natural position on his skull.
"I can honestly not say for sure," he answered flatly, "for only time can tell us now what destiny lies ahead for my daughter."
Ross nodded and quite suddenly he began to feel an immense fatigue begin to overtake his body again, causing a black veil to fall across his eyes again. He began to shake noticeably, his legs straining to sustain his weight, and he let his head fall. The Alpha noticed this and he cocked his head to the side in concern.
"Ross, are you-"
But he never got to finish his sentence, for midway through, Ross bucked, falling to the ground and landing heavily on his chest where he lay completely motionless save the subtle swishing of his bloodstained fur as the wind blew softly through it. The Alpha saw Ross fall and he stood up, walking casually over to Ross and taking his scruff into his mouth, digging his hind legs into the snow and then beginning to drag him slowly across the frozen earth toward the den where the healer resided, the same den where Leonard had been taken not too long ago.
This was the first time that Ross had ever fought with Leonard and it certainly would not be the last, for on this day, a bitter enmity had been formed, one that would ultimately one day result in death for one of them.
(Flashback End)
Leo debated for a moment about actually complying with what his adversary had suggested and after said time was elapsed, he moved in closer to Ross, pausing beside him and leaning his head in, sniffing the fur on his shoulder slowly. Every dog and wolf present watched them anxiously, for each moment that passed with this Leo character only further built tension in the atmosphere. Leo wafted Ross again, this time moving his nose a little further to the right and he snorted in disbelief, pulling his head back with his ears pinned back curiously, for a very familiar scent emitted from Ross' fur and reached up into his nostrils. This particular scent was very faint, almost completely dissipated by now, but was present all the same, and by now it could only be detected by close contact. Ross was shaking violently under his fur, for he knew now that it was only a matter of time before he would be figured out, but keeping the fallacious hope of not being caught giving him strength, he managed to compose himself. Leo, much like his brown companion, sniffed carefully one last time and then growled in frustration, moving his snarling face up to Ross.
"You!" he yelled and lashed out with a quick swing of his paw, bringing a crushing blow to Ross's head.
Ross fell and rose again on shaky legs, growling now himself.
This caught the attention of the other wolves and they all turned in the direction of Leo and Ross, watching the pair expectantly, thus averting all attention away from the dogs.
A white malamute used this diversion to his advantage and began to chew on the leather harness, of which he had held in his mouth for quite some time now, his hot saliva causing the hard material to soften significantly, and he was henceforth able to worry his way through it with relative ease and when he was through, he held it in his mouth, letting it fall lightly to the snow to avoid nose, and then slipped off into the forest. The other dogs saw the success in this action and made to follow him, each one surreptitiously taking their traces into their mouths and holding them there, using the heat in their mouths to thaw out the hard leather. All of them did this except for two, those being Harv and a grey female named Ali, for she could not allow herself to escape and simply leave her friend behind, even if that meant compromising her own safety, so rather than worry about her own harness, she took to Harv's, for she knew that he was too weak to do it himself. Their hopes for survival began to rise up substantially inside of their hearts, for they saw Butch escape, and they knew that now it was their turn to do so as well. It was then that the small and meek looking wolf turned back to them, seeing them with their traces in their mouths, and he smiled maliciously, his normal lackadaisical appearance vanishing in an instant, being replaced by one that was quite repugnant indeed.
"It's pointless," he mused to them, causing them to all take their mouths off of the traces, "those things are like iron shackles. There is no-"
It was then that he noticed the empty spot and the missing dog. He growled, but he made sure to keep himself quiet, for he feared what would happen if Leo were to find out that he had let one escape, and slowly sauntered his way over to them, stopping just before the black-backed male and exposing his fangs.
"Where did he go?" he demanded firmly, though being careful to keep his voice down, so as to not draw attention from Leo and the others sitting only a few feet away, their backs turned to him.
The male offered no reply, keeping himself firm and locking his jaw to show that he was not afraid of this wolf.
Seeing this, the wolf growled again, slightly louder this time, and stepped closer.
"I'll ask again," he seethed out, "where did he go?"
Ross righted himself, stabilizing his body, and then set his eyes upon Leo.
"You know me?" Ross asked smoothly, mainly as a means of mockery, for he knew, and Leo knew; he knew everything.
Leo growled assuming a fighting stance.
"Yes, yes I do," he answered, his voice seething anger.
Ross scoffed.
"And just what is it that you know of me, Leo? Can't be much; after all, I'm none but a lowly sled dog. I couldn't possibly be known by a wolf of your stature." He tried in vain to keep the sarcasm out of his voice and found himself smirking slightly with the corners of his mouth.
Leo's low growl rose out of the depths of his throat, growing in intensity until it became a low volume snarl.
"I know plenty you son of a bitch!" he yelled back to Ross, lifting one of his forepaws off of the ground.
He was barely able to control his anger and this fact began to make even his accomplices nervous.
But Ross remained firm, meeting his eyes with Leo.
"Okay then," he answered flatly, "who am I?"
Leo snarled.
"You're that mutt that my court ran off with!" he screamed, "she was the love of my life and you took her from me! Ran off with her and now I'm sure you've got some little freak half breed pups running amuck somewhere, fucking up the natural order of life!"
He finished this off by lighting into Ross with a quick slash beneath his eye, carving the flesh down to the bone. Ross jerked his head with the blow and turned back to Leo, a low growl emitting from his throat. Leo saw this and he grinned evilly, knowing that there was no possible way that Ross could do anything to him so long as he was restrained within his traces. However, Ross had a little surprise up his sleeve. Using a trick he had learned a few years ago, one that he alone knew, he shook his harnesses free from his body, and then stepped forward, much to the surprise of his team.
"No, not freaks," he answered in rebuff, using the time of silence created by Leo's initial shock, "They are only misunderstood."
He strode up to Leo's face with an angry scowl on his features and then stopped, only a very short distance between himself and his lupus assailant.
"And if Aniu was the love of your life," he began again, pinning his ears back accusingly, "then answer me this. Why. Did. You. Hit. Her. All. The. Time?" he then asked, putting a significant amount of emphasis on each word that he spoke, "I don't exactly call that love."
Ross knew he was pushing his luck; but, frankly, he didn't care. These things he needed to say. These things he needed to get off of his chest.
Leo barred his teeth to the accusation, more than ready to rip Ross apart, but then calmed slightly, smiling with his eyes closed and shaking his head slowly from side to side. He then took in a long breath through his nose as he let his head swivel to a stop in its natural position, studying Ross with cruelty deep in his eyes.
"You still have not learned when to keep your mouth shut," he mused to Ross mockingly and then turned around to look at his advocates; but his eyes settled upon the empty slot and then moved slightly northward to find Runt standing rigidly in front of a black and gold husky. He growled.
"Runt, what the hell is this?" he asked angrily, pointing to the slot with his paw.
The bony wolf jumped and turned to Leo, stuttering sporadically and slowly backing away.
Ross debated making a strike at Leo, but his moral code of honor stated that he would not attack whilst his enemy's back was turned, so he remained composed. However, he couldn't just sit there and do nothing, so he once again moved Leo's attention to himself.
"Your business rests with me Leonard," he called out to him firmly, "they have nothing to do with this."
Leonard heard this and he stopped, turning his head back to look at Ross. Ross breathed out heavily and puffed his chest, causing Leonard to cock his head to the side.
"You know what?" he asked rhetorically, "You're right. What _ was _ I thinking? These guys have no business being here."
Ross mentally sighed in relief, but he stiffened when he saw Leonard continue on his way toward his team. Ross took a step forward nervously, but he stopped whenever Fatum stepped before him, warning him to stay back with his massive size and malice snarl.
Leonard came to a stop beside Harv and he put a paw down near his neck.
Ross' eyes widened and he bolted forward, but was obstructed by Fatum, of whom caught him with his teeth and then threw him to the snow. Ross scrambled to get to his feet, but Fatum quickly pinned him, much like he had done to Harv earlier. Ross struggled and fought beneath the immense weight, but it was useless. However, he was not going to give up. He would fight back until his dying breath. He dug deep and squeezed his eyes shut, thrashing his body around forcefully as he continued to try and break free.
Leonard saw this and he smiled evilly, turning back to Fatum.
"Hold his eyes open," he ordered maliciously, "He needs to see this."
Ross thrashed his head from side to side as he felt Fatum's claws slide under his eyelids, but had to stop when he felt them begin to dig into his flesh as a result of his struggle.
Leonard then turned his head back down to Harv and without warning, he used his claws to quickly slash out his throat, causing the young dog to cough and gurgle as he slowly drowned on his own blood.
"NO!" Ross screamed out, struggling to break free again, but was held fast.
The other dogs on the team screamed in horror at the sight of what happened to Harv and struggled in their traces, bucking about and growling loudly, frantically trying to slip their harnesses as Ross had done or took the leather to their teeth again. However, this did not deter Leonard and he moved over to the next one, waiting and buying his time before slashing her throat, resulting in a quick spurt of blood that shot from the wound and to the ground, of which she fell into only moments later, choking and gasping in the final throes of her life.
"Stop! God damn it Leonard fucking stop this!" Ross screamed desperately, trying to fight back his tears, but these pleas Leonard ignored.
He chuckled at how pathetic Ross had allowed himself to become and then approached another dog, slapping her hard across the face and then tearing out her throat with his teeth, spitting the tissue like flesh to the bloody snow. Ross' friends were being massacred and there was not a thing that he could do about it, no matter how hard he fought, he could not help them. He was trapped here, useless, weak, pathetic. They were going to perish all because of...
No. He was going to help them. He was not going to let them die like this. Not a fucking chance. He felt a sudden surge of anger well up inside of him when these driving thoughts coursed through his mind, pushing his adrenaline through the roof and his anger far out of the banks of self-control. He growled and began to struggle again, snarling, snapping, rolling, pitching, pressing, and all just as Leonard approached the fifth and final dog.
"You son of a bitch!" Ross screamed, lurching himself forward under the mighty weight of Fatum, with such force that it knocked the latter off kilter slightly, forcing him to try and recover his position all the while fighting to keep the raging Ross under control.
Leonard turned back and saw this, but he was undeterred by it and he looked over to the third of his cronies.
"Care to do the honors?" he asked her maliciously, receiving only a nod from her as he passed her enroute to Ross, stopping before him and slamming his paw down on the top of his head.
Ross' head crashed the ground with concussive force, nearly knocking him unconscious, but this fact and the pain pounding deep inside of his skull, he ignored. He wrinkled back his lips and his muzzle, signifying the resurrection of the snarl that had died as a result of the impact, and lifted his head shakily from the snow, turning his eyes back to Leonard. Leonard chuckled and hit him again, then turned back to the female, of whom was just about to deliver the fatal stroke, and called out to her.
"Timber, hold back for just a moment more," he said to her, causing her to prick her ears and turn her head to him.
Leonard then turned down to Ross anon, placing his muzzle directly next to the downed dog's ear.
"I want you to grasp the situation that is now presented to you," he whispered maliciously, his hot breath agitating the sensitive hairs inside of Ross' ear, "and then I want you to assess the options very carefully."
Ross was not in the mood to listen to any more shit from Leonard, so with a snarl, he quickly threw his head sideways, and before Leonard could even think to react, his cheek was slashed wide open by one of his antagonist's teeth, immediately drawing a steady seepage of blood.
Leonard rubbed a paw along the wound and then growled, using said paw to deliver three quick strikes to each side of Ross' face, causing the latter's head to jolt left then right, and to the left a final time, and then limply down to the snow, for the force of the final strike sent him into unconsciousness. Leonard was panting heavily in the wake of his rage, quick puffs of steam emitting from his agape maw and blinking nostrils, and then dissipating a short distance above his head. His three cronies and the solely remaining tan husky stood in awe as they watched Leonard, afraid to speak, perplexed of even breathing, for they were quite apprehensive about what the result may be. Leonard eyed Ross' seemingly lifeless body and then turned aggressively back to Timber, causing her to jump.
"Well? What the hell are you waiting for!" he yelled to her, "Kill the mutt!"
For a moment, Timber stood rigidly, still too frightened to move, but she was able to articulate; however, very sporadically and for the briefest of moments, she merely fell into an unintelligible fit of stuttering, but after hearing an angry snarl from Leonard, she snapped out of it and walked over to the tan husky, stopping a short distance away from him, and for the most concise moment, the pair connected eyes. The she-wolf was absorbed by the calm and composed orbs of green, taking in with great awe the acceptance of death before delivering the fatal stroke, dragging her claws quickly across his jugular, ripping it open with four deep gashes, and then watching as the blood poured from it like some malodorous fountain, rolling out in thick clots and depositing itself slowly across the snow; and yet, the dog still remain righted upon his four paws, his head held level with Timber's, his eyes boring their understanding into hers, before they closed and his shaky legs buckled, his body dropping to the snow with a soft crunch where it lay motionless in an ever expanding puddle of its own blood.
The she-wolf's eyes remained indifferent as she stood watching the fallen body, fixing her eyes on the dead dog briefly before turning around to find a much more composed Leonard standing her.
"The most rewarding kind of kill," he mused to her, receiving only an agreeing nod from Timber.
Leonard then spat on the body of the dead dog and swiveled his head around, finding Fatum and Runt falling in about him, gathering in a semicircle and stopping a few feet away.
For a moment, nobody spoke, the four of them simply regarding each other with sidelong glances and inquisitive eyes. The silence droned on, growing thick in the atmosphere. On the prevailing breeze was carried the soft whispering voice of the forest around them, and with it came the strong scent of blood and sweat, one that was inescapable and quite overwhelming; but the wolves didn't care. The trespassers were neutralized and the bodies could be used as sustenance for their pack, provided that they had a good explanation when they arrived back where they called home. Of course, now the question of the day was: What should be done with Ross?
This question plagued Leonard's mind and he could sense that the same was for his company, for they would always sneak quick glances in the direction of the fallen sled dog, regarding him questioningly for the briefest of moments before returning their attention to Leonard. Leonard pondered the situation thoroughly, mulling the options over in his head carefully, evaluating the variables, the outcomes, and the risks of each of his choices before he finally reached his decision. Without a word, he turned around to Ross, walking over and stopping by his face where he spoke harshly and began to deliver ambient slaps to his jaw.
"Get up," he demanded firmly, slapping the side of his face in rapid succession.
Ross groaned painfully and began to stir, his eyes pinching together and then parting a slight way before falling closed again.
"Get up!" Leonard demanded, slightly increasing the force administered by his slapping.
Ross' eyes opened up half way and his body quivered briefly before his eyelids parted completely, but he had not the energy or the sense to stand and he simply lay there in the snow.
"On your feet!" Leonard demanded harshly, roughly grabbing Ross the scruff of his neck and wrenching him to his paws.
Ross groaned in pain as he was yanked to his feet, his blurry vision bobbing spastically with the motion of his limply supported head. Runt, Fatum, and Timber gathered about Ross's dazed spectrum, falling in around his body, pressing close to him while keeping just enough distance between them that they were not touching each other. Leonard then forcefully shoved Ross' shoulder, causing the latter to turn quickly to the right, staggering slightly but being caught by the nape of his neck again to prevent him from falling.
"March," Leonard demanded and administered a shove to Ross, causing him to shunt unsteadily forward.
Ross could not protest, nor could he resist, for he knew that it would only get worse for him if he did, so he simply began to saunter clumsily through the deep blanket of snow before him, using it as a brace to support his weight. Leonard followed him and then took the position before the dog, walking forward without so much as a glance to Ross, and the others fell in around the staggering dog, covering each of his remaining three points, and following his track.
It was then that Fatum resurrected the information regarding the absconded malamute and he called out to Leonard.
"What about the runaway?" he asked Leonard flatly, causing the latter to turn his head back.
"Leave him be," was the leader's monotonous reply, "and if he's dumb enough to pursue us then he's dumb enough to die as well."
Fatum only nodded, a cruel smile plastered to his features as he continued along Ross' left side.
Ross was delirious, but he could still comprehend sound and process thought, and upon hearing this he became worried, for he had known Butch since the day he was first administered to the team, and he knew that the malamute would not sit idly by while Ross was marched away, more than likely to his doom; but for the sake of his friend, Ross hoped beyond all false hope that the malamute took to his heels and was far away from here. Ross' thoughts then wandered to his mate and his three pups once again, to the human and the team that he lost, to all that he had seen and all he had endured and he had to fight back his tears as he sauntered languidly through the deep powdery ice.