Ellaro
A story influenced by Cormac McCarthy's The Road, following a feral wolf as it survives.
A soft, almost silent wind weaved slowly through the open forest. The leaves that would have rustled in waves had long since disintegrated and the ground remained still, held tight by an ever present layer of frost. The wind never changed. Always held low by the clouds and the clouds never moved. Yet despite its familiarity, the wolf always noticed. It was a reminder that he had been here too long.
As tired eyes focused on the scene that lay ahead, the same one that he could imagine in every dream, the wolf just stared. His ears remained flat against his skull for there was no sound for them to react to, and perhaps, no desire to be aware of one either. Cold, dead trees spaced as close as nature would let them without strangling each other, shrouded the young wolf from the few rays of anaemic light. A solitary ancient bone of a small animal lay at the base of a younger tree, coated in the frost and as unchanging as the wooden graveyard where it was now destined to forever lie.
The fur across his chest parted slightly in the air, and instinct reached his ears as they swivelled and scanned the lower ground but just as he suspected, there was nothing. Just the cold, the stillness and the tone of silence. A weak sigh escaped the wolf's mouth, startling him for a passing moment with that fact that he was alive. How could this be and what purpose could it serve? The wolf ran his tongue across his jaws, pausing as it reached a broken lower canine - a memento of a failed hunt; of how the living escape death time after time.
A few empty minutes faded into the comfortless evening. Finally, the wolf pushed himself to his feet. He was obviously malnourished and even the winter fur that never moulted could not hide it. Several weeks had past since the wolf's last exceptionally fortunate meal; a cat and a hare had traded grievous wounds and lay where they fought and perished, the cat's teeth still embedded in the hind leg of its almost prey. Cold and frozen effigies of sorrow. Such an encounter was seared into the wolf's memories, and it held a precious place amongst them, for he could be certain it was real.
It wasn't long before the last residues of light leaked through the clouds. But the wolf continued, gripping each step purposefully with a claw, feeling the frozen earth beneath for any signs of lose soil. Then, just as a paw sank a fraction, he frantically swept away what he could and buried his muzzle into the shallow dip, seeking an insect, a seed, or anything that may divert the attention of his hunger. But there was nothing. Another weak, well practised sigh fell from the wolf's mouth and died somewhere in the blackest of nights.
The wolf awoke in the dark and the silence from a violent shiver. A thin shower of frost freed itself from his fur and settled gently in an aura around him. There was an essence of a dream that lingered and it painted white and blue shapes against the forest canvas, leaving streaks and trails as he chased them with his eyes. He imagined, and possibly believed, that every member of his family that ever lived had reunited for the briefest of moments, and he was their witness. But as the shapes became less defined and the colours drained, the happy phantasms were no more.
The wolf approached the gradual light of a new day like any other. A paw covered his eyes and his ears lay flat in a forlorn attempt to prolong the illusions of the night. The hunger was worse and the wolf entertained the notion of simply laying there. To stand and stretch his depleted stomach felt in itself a more destructive idea than to watch his own rapidly-cooling corpse in his sleep.
But thirst. Thirst was not a sensation he could hide. He forced himself to stand, grimacing at the tightness in his stomach before testing the ground with his claws. Some of his own residual heat allowed them to break the surface and he hauled himself forward without another thought.
Instinct was both the wolf's ungrateful companion and closest friend. It would remind him of his most basic needs without his knowledge but could never be satisfied. A world frozen in matter and soul could never provide what it craved, and its mournful lament of disappointment escorted the wolf like a night terror undaunted by the exposure of light and logical reason. What else could drive such an insipid spirit into the toil of another living day? There was no one left to shame, disappoint or craft fanciful lies to. Just the cold and the sorrow.
Several hours later the wolf approached a break in the forest. Excess light filtered through and reflected from a small clearing close to the edge. He sat and observed. The air was still, the sounds were absent, but there was definitely something strewn across ground, and the reflection had to be water.
The wolf padded cautiously, his trained ears seeking the most minute whisper, found nothing. The objects scattered over forest floor were the bones of several creatures, a couple of rodents, some were human and an unidentifiable third. Dried and faded blood coated a tree stump in the centre, compacted into the deep and numerous cuts. Close by was a site of repeated controlled fires where the brittle earth had been charred and chilled many thousands of times. His paw brushed the frost from a larger femur and he lent in to curiously sniff it.
Anything of worth that could have been taken from this place already had been and long before the wolf ever arrived. Even the distant memory of aroma had vanished from the remains and so he gave it a little bite to test his jaws then investigated the source of the reflection.
A layer of ice held the water and the wolf almost bared his teeth at the creature that stared into his eyes. His own image appeared drained of colour making his faint brown markings invisible. Such a ghostly white, worthy of his very own dreams. He batted the ice with a paw and drank in the silence.
He followed the edge of the forest all afternoon, keeping a line of trees between him and the barren hills beyond. The light wind slowed and eventually stopped letting all but the softest sounds fall and settle with their weight. Large open wilderness was an enigma to the wolf. No vegetation of any substance would survive and with no prey to feast on it either, there seemed not a single reason to risk it. Of course, the wolf could distinguish a threat from a greater distance, but that could work against him too, and he sorely lacked the strength to run and escape a more experienced hunter.
It was too late. He had been spotted. His joints seized with a paw suspended and nothing else existed except the dark brown wolf several hundred metres ahead. In his daydreams the wolf had meandered past the tree line and was as violently exposed as the stranger that prepared to try its luck on those barren hills. He couldn't make assumptions about the brown wolf at this distance, finer details were blurred, but it was at least his size and likely to be stronger or older.
Both wolves stared intently, neither wishing to disturb the silently agreed peace. What did it mean for the brown wolf to be found here? Did it have a territory? Was there prey to warrant a life? Or did it merely wander like himself? Was each step he took just blundering into the wake of what the brown wolf had already exhausted?
The wolf created his own threatening answers to these as justification for his caution. And caution was a product of his instinct, it told him not to trust another being. Not in these circumstances. Not when he was this exposed. It was a relief to see the brown wolf as equally concerned; it made him feel that this was the right choice, and it was his choice.
Time slipped away under the stare of the wolves. The tension became bearable with the lack of unwelcome surprises and the wolf crouched low to the ground to relieve himself. He didn't want to give the impression he was claiming this corner of the wasteland and it went unnoticed as the brown wolf sat back and scratched its ear, never breaking the gaze. An agreement had been made without words. They would go their separate ways and this was as close as they would ever be.
Night fell and it fell hard. This transient connection to another wolf laid heavy on his head and he looked behind himself many times in the dark, perhaps hoping it had followed. But each turn back added an ounce of disappointment and the cold soaked deeper than ever before.
As morning broke the wolf hid his eyes. His love was aching. Nothing was strange. There were no dreams that night and no happy lies with which to indulge. Only the memory and pretence of company could deliver such crushing loneliness. A single tear dropped from his eye and burned a tiny hole in the frost. The wolf could feel his senses losing their potency in waves, leaving him entirely for periods at a time. He had never felt so tired in his life and his fur appeared to weigh him into the ground like a wet blanket. It wasn't until he had almost past the cabin on his left that he saw it, a simple yet sturdy structure sitting defiant against a row of trees. His ears followed his eyes as his instinct took charge, making a note of the sealed door, half open window and metal containers neatly placed between the two. No other threats and nothing of concern nearby. He sniffed, but there was nothing to smell either, except... an increase in humidity. Only slightly, but the wolf could always feel the change.
He padded lightly to the metal containers, lifting his head over the lip of sheet metal. The first had a small amount of stagnant ice with tiny frozen creatures sealed inside, while the second had chunks of wood in perfect sizes to burn. Even in the cold and drier air the cut wood had gone through several stages of prolonged rot.
The wolf couldn't fathom a time scale for which it had been left here. It might as well have been forever. It certainly would remain there for so, because too many had already lived. And too much had been taken by the ones that came before. A logical mind would ignore such a likely waste of its time, but he was desperate.
He hoisted his front paws up to the open window and held himself back while his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He was standing at the only window and one by one the shapes within were given form and definition.
Gently, the wolf peered forward, resting his muzzle on the window sill and taking a long sniff. A rather dank smell, ever so slightly salty, but also a few other interesting sensations he couldn't quite pin down. What appeared to have been a metal cooking unit had been dismantled close to the window, parts were missing, and some parts had been salvaged from elsewhere and forcibly built in. A few scraps of stained paper lay across the floor, a cloth bag in the opposite corner with a wooden bed, lacking the mattress but covered in blankets and rags. Jutting out from underneath was a single bony leg.
The wolf's curiosity had peaked, his ears perked and he pulled himself through the starving wolf-sized gap, landing paw first into the discarded pieces of metal. He yelped and tumbled along the floor as a tapered end pierced his pad, and he shirked away at the sound of his own cry of pain. It was the loudest sound he has heard in a long time and he lay shaking on his back, propped against the far wall.
Scared by the sound of his own voice... The wolf was ashamed, terrified and tired. Oh so painfully tired. Maybe he would just lie in the shards of broken metal. Lie in there and sleep, and then his fear would end.
He rolled to his side and stared at the object impaled in his flesh. This is precisely what happens when he isn't careful. Was he getting careless or just turning stupid? Unhealthy doses of both he feared. He held the metal in his teeth and winced as he pulled away, the cut tearing further and leaking profusely. He whined with the pain until he felt faint, struggling against his breathing as his eyes darkened, and the laboured breaths echoed away.
The wolf opened his eyes the very moment air filled his lungs. It was darker and he thought he was outside. As each frustrating moment passed his vision regained a little clarity. He was outside. Thick curved branches shielded him from the rhythmic beating of rain above his head and he stood kneading soft soil between his toes. He squinted in confusion, opening his maw to question some invisible spirit and plead for answers, but instead he remembered the injury.
Turning his head to look he hit a soft obstruction. A black tail hung loosely over his nose and he shook it off with a sneeze before trying to take a step back. Only he paws wouldn't move. They flexed against the earth but not under his control, forcing him to lean back and stretch forward to locate the origin of the tail. It was another wolf, solid black save for a strip of white along its tail. He leaned to the sides, but the black wolf stared forwards, little more than the ears were visible from here.
The wolf took a long sniff but the scent was absent. He stretched forwards and as he brushed the tail with his nose it rose high above his head, revealing the black wolf to be a female in the deepest throes of heat. She stood there proud and unflinching as the wolf took in every single detail of her most intimate and exposed area. His tongue escapedfrom his mouth and onto her lips as it gently caressed her velvet flesh. There was no taste or smell to enjoy, but the pressure against his tongue, the heat and wetness forced him to slip further inside, and the female arched her back improving his angle and driving him deeper inside. She flexed to his circular motion as he panted heavily to a forgotten need.
There was no will to wonder about times like these; the wolf just didn't care as he quite happily accepted this wet and willing female. She leant on her paws and lifted her rear higher as he retracted his tongue and gently licked across the edges of her lips. The wolf felt powerful for the first time in his life, sending shivers through his tongue into his lustful companion with light and purposeful strikes.
The wolf paused for a moment while the female's tail tumbled over his ears, mesmerised by the those hypnotic, twitching lips, mirroring the swelling in his own sheath as they craved to share attention. Something was pulling him into the female and he relaxed his shoulders in preparation to mount, but when the time came to leap, grab and pull her towards him nothing happened. Those paws refused to be loosened from the soil and a tiny yelp left his maw in sheer frustration. He was left to pant and struggle motionlessly against the invisible force keeping him from the only thing he desired.
He craned his head through his front legs to try and solve this infuriating puzzle. Nothing bound his paws or prevented his movement in any way. The only unusual sight was his swollen sheath, awoken after the longest winter, and pulsing with the heat and anticipation. It taunted him. He was taunting himself. As he turned back to the female, she was gone, leaving several wet patchessoaked into the soil and resting above in thick pools.
Before he had a chance to wonder he felt pressure against his back legs and two black ears poked out from either side alert and excited. Slowly they nudged him further forward but his paws couldn't respond and as he became more unbalanced he began to panic. He knew by now this had to be fantasy, just a single page of his cosmic imagination, yet he had always been in control and always observed; never involved and nothing was expected of him. His nose sank into the fluid and the sticky cold stole him from the delusion.
The wolf awoke frantically grasping with his paws but he realised quickly where he was and his breathing caught up before his legs slumped against the wooden floor. It was lighter now and there was enough illumination inside the cabin to highlight the blood splattered along the floor and matted into his leg. He laid his head down as he felt his beating heart match the dull throbbing in his paw, re-imagining only the choicest memories of his dream.
His wound was completely clean and coupled with a lingering taste of blood the wolf made the obvious conclusion. It was somewhat fitting that his paw became a substitute female in the night and he laughed at his own absurdity. Even the hopeless can find humour in the bizarre and he was no stranger to either.
The beating rain increased in intensity and the memories of why he was lying there returned. A figment of fortune circled in his thoughts as he considered how close he became to getting caught outside with no shelter and certainly no hope of surviving the cold with wet fur. He rolled onto his front with a great strain of effort and inhaled deeply through his nose, the humid air heightened his sense of smell and the scent that reached him reeked of age and time. Naturally sour in its nature something had evidently died here and the bone protruding from under the bed supported that idea. Careful not to split his wound he dragged himself along floor with his other paw, pulling himself alongside the length of the bed and tunnelled his way through a fallen rag with his muzzle.
Two human skeletons lay underneath. One adult and a child held tightly in a bony embrace. The child's legs looked badly damaged and had suffered an unsuccessful attempt at healing before being riddled with infection. Shards of bone lay scattered at the other end surrounded by dark stains and in the adult's free hand remained the revolver that freed them from their sickness. The wolf pulled his head out from under the bed and laid back down on the floor. A sigh couldn't convey what he was feeling. Not this time. He closed his eyes and cried softly until he slept.
The wolf stirred later in the afternoon. Groggy and fatigued he raised his damaged paw into sight. It was looking better than he could have expected, with early signs of healing occurring and the wound wasn't gaping open. He sat up and leant against the rags taking a clearer look at the inside of the cabin. All the loose metal was centred around the dismantled unit in the corner, mostly flat pieces but disturbed like someone was looking for something in particular. A couple of paper scraps were now heavily stained red. Some of the scraps didn't resemble paper at all, and the wolf squinted, his eyes drawn to a large number discarded by the cloth bag in the corner. He limped over and buried his face into the fabric, pulling out an item of loose weight.
A faded packet hit the floor with a rattle, the edges showing a strain that matched its age. The same dank smell lingered only a little bloodier, and he held it down, chewed and tore the corner with his teeth. Salted peanuts spilled on the floor and while they were stale, they had preserved remarkably well. The little taste they contained still stung in his mouth, but he ground each one to a paste to lighten the load on his weakened stomach.
The wolf stayed in the cabin for several days, leaving only for short periods to relieve himself and drink from pools of rainwater. He had cleared a path that led from the window and he was careful not to split the wound open with hasty decisions and unsure footing. Small and regular meals sustained his body and slowly replenished a degree of lost energy while the temporary warmer air and shelter allowed the wolf to rest. Loose rags from on top of the bed had been pulled down and used to plug the exposed gaps to the grave underneath and the last packet of peanuts had been torn; his appetite was much stronger now he didn't have to stretch his stomach to accommodate food.
He sat in the corner by the now empty cloth bag and closed his eyes. There were still rags on top of the wooden bed but he didn't feel comfortable laying there; not with the image of broken skulls just below. He shook his fur and inhaled deeply, holding the air as he thought for a while about the delirium of the first night. The one constant in his life was his belief that when death came for him, he would embrace it. He would be the child under the bed; suffering and hurt, it would hold and take him away. And he would let it. This, however, was not the case. Stripped of conscious thought and action he had fought every attack on his life with alien tenacity. His life was his own little corner of this pitiful world and while he could wish it away in his sleep, when he woke it would always return.
The rain had brought new textures to the forest, the air just warm enough to hold the frost at bay. The wolf left the cabin behind and continued treading lightly on the soft earth, sifting it between his toes like he thought he had done a week earlier. While it would be a mistake to say the forest was alive there was most certainly a minor evolution. Geosmins from the soil lingered in the air and emitted their earthly smell but there was something else. Something positively organic. His senses realigned themselves and his pace quickened.
In the early afternoon the wolf came to a break in the forest and went to the edge to sit and observe. An old tarmac road stretched from the horizon, past him, and into a small town no more than half a mile to his right. There was lots to catch his eye and he sat for a good while inspecting the various junk discarded by the roadside, abandoned cars stripped of useful parts, and buildings further away some gutted and more akin to the empty shell of a blackened dolls house. So little promise.
Following the tree line for as long as possible he broke from cover and lowered his body, taking slower and more purposeful steps into the town. The buildings on his approach had been devastated by a long extinguished fire. Some had collapsed into the makeshift farms, that may once have yielded food, surrounding their walls. The organic smell returned a little stronger. The wolf flexed his claws and tasted the air. He didn't feel afraid or vulnerable but as the hint of a smile crossed his mouth, he knew why. He was a hunter.
Finer details were ignored as he skulked around corners keeping low and padding softly across the road so his claws wouldn't click. Movement of life was the target of his sight. He followed around the wall of a house and squeezed through a gap in the wooden railing surrounding the porch and with his back to the wall, he sat tall and silent.
Water dripped irregularly from the roofs and across the road a weather vain ground harshly against the rust occasionally catching his attention. A gust of wind patted against his ears frustrating his ability to distinguish the sounds before his nose inflamed with the smell of prey. He raised his head, and sure enough, a grey rabbit was tucked between some farming tools and a decayed metal barrel just past the houses on the other side of the road; eating the few weeds that dared to try and grow.
The wind continued to blow in good fortune towards him, eliminating his scent from the rabbit's path and he took a quick sweep of his surroundings and the cover he could use. Houses with blind corners flanked his prey the edges mere metres away from the perfect spot to pounce. Nothing to gain a height advantage but plenty of obstacles to maskhis approach. He could be silent and unseen but the wind in his favour gave him the edge he required; especially with a wounded paw that could not be trusted to cope with a sustained chase. The rabbit was exceptionally cautious, taking only a mouthful or two before darting its head about with the sharpness of bird. He raised his claws and slipped out the gap in the railing.
The wolf could feel his heart rate quicken with the anticipation of the hunt. Each pulse resonated a little louder as he crept forward onto the road and behind the shell of a truck, out of direct sight he imagined the pattern of movements of the rabbit and timed his glimpse when its head was down. He was close enough to see the rabbit's whiskers bounce every time it moved. Now he had to decide. Was it worth getting closer? Was the cover as good as he judged it to be? This was the first live prey he had seen in a long time and the decisions he made would have to be the right ones.
He timed the creaks from the weather vain and prepared his muscles for the short dash to the nearest house, flattening his body closer against the front of the truck. The rabbit stopped. The wolf felt his heart drop. It stood bolt upright, fixated on something unseen to its side and hung in the rhythmic squeaks like a picture. Just the rusted metal. His eyes darted from object to shape while his ears strained to force a way to find the intrusion, something only the rabbit seemed privy to. With the crack of a twig the rabbit burst into a sprint around the barrel and straight towards the wolf and the road.
There wasn't even a moment of thought in his mind. The instant the rabbit crossed an invisible line the wolf leapt into its path, ensnaring the head and front legs with his jaws and bringing it crashing down onto the tarmac with an audible crunch. It struggled in his mouth and flailed one last time as his teeth caught the back of its neck and the rabbit stopped moving. He lay on the road with eyes wild and a mouth full of fur, waiting and listening intently. Nothing else stirred save for the incessant weather vain. Something had disturbed the rabbit and he needed to know why before he moved on with a fresh kill.
Slowly he stood, checking every open doorway and crevice and then checking again. Now he could feel the presence of another hunter. Or perhaps it was the most subtle of scents that alarmed his brain. Whatever the cause it was very close.
With the rabbit flapping in his jaws the wolf made his way first to the soft earth and then low and fast to the house just to the left of where the rabbit had been eating. The door was open and he weaved through, down a corridor to a room at the very back and hid under a short table amongst a clutter of abandoned furniture. With great care he laid his prey down and leaned to the side, securing an unobstructed view to the gap in the front doorway and the only stealthy entrance. Droplets of blood dripped from his teeth and onto his tongue. The weather vain greatly muffled by the walls.
Several minutes passed before the flick of a tail and mirroring shadow shook the wolf and caught his undivided attention. He rested a paw over his kill and pulled it towards him. Total silence. Escaping would have to be his last resort; only if he was threatened, only if he could hide no longer. He tucked the rabbit behind his legs out of sight and waited. A solitary click by the door frame confirmed his fear and he gripped the wooden floor beneath him even tighter.
A canine head stretched around the open door, silhouetted slightly in the dimmer light. Its casket black nose pointed at every corner, contrasting with the dark white fur and tan highlighted ears. It shyly stepped into the corridor, melting away a layer of the wolf's fear with its timid face and graceful flow. He loosened his grip with his paws. He felt his anxiety dwindle in defiance of the prize he rightfully won and would have to defend, rising slowly to greet his new guest.
The wolf's head met the underside of the table with a dull thud and he swore under his breath as his eyes squinted with the shock. The tan-eared wolf shirked back and stared straight back at him with a same look in its eyes he had seen in the rabbit just before it landed between his teeth. This was very different to the wolf he saw on the hills. Now he had much to lose, and now he was trapped. There was no distance to protect their emotions and he could smell the terror of the tan-eared wolf seeping into the air. He opened his mouth to speak but his voice cracked, exhaling an unintelligible noise and sending the other wolf into a terrified spin, scrabbling at the floor as it tore along the corridor and out the doorway. He lay back down and held his kill tight against his chest.
By the time it was dark the wolf had finished eating. Among the bright red of the bloodied bones he felt a vigour he had not felt for a long time and it came from inside. His stomach filled with warm meat and a hard fought sense of achievement guided him blissfully towards towards sleep as the last of the adrenaline drained away. In his dream he stood as his family circled around him stroking along his flank and curling their tails into his. This was to be a goodbye and he returned the affection to his parents and siblings and one by one they left in different directions, looking back at him all the way. He couldn't tell if he was supposed to follow and who he should choose. As they faded in turn into the frosty mist he turned around and took his own route. Alone.
The wolf awoke just before dawn to the stench and taste of blood, hints of light touching the clouds in the distance. He felt noticeably stronger, his abdomen weighted with food and a sharpened coherence took charge of his head. He had to move. The butchered carcass was bound to attract others like him and perhaps worse; a few insects had already found their way to the bones. After licking his face and paws clean as best he could, he left through the front and into the silence. The cold would return and it would be at its most unforgiving. He headed for a copse on higher ground, opposite to the direction he first arrived from, with a perfect panoramic view of the whole town. He didn't feel ready to leave just yet. He could sit and watch a little longer. And because his instinct told him to stay.
The cold returned over the course of the day taking along its gentle wind and sending an occasional distant creak of rusted metal in the wolf's direction. Fallen branches provided the wolf with some necessary cover to break up his pattern and he watched undisturbed for several hours. He was eager to see something stir and confident in his chances that he would.
The little town with its previous history of self-sufficient occupants had been enough of a lure to call out to three different animals in a short space of time. He took a long hard look at his healing paw and the scar forming in stages across the pad before glancing behind through the edge of the copse. A short barren stretch and then another infinity of graveyard trees. Mile after mile of sheltered and claustrophobic cold. But how long could he even stay here for? He roamed for the very reason that there was nothing left worth staying for. And lingering for any amount of time would mark his scent like a beacon to ward off others. He estimated the distance to the town again and forced the doubts to the back of his mind.
Darkness encroached over the land as gradual as always, slowly congealing the edges of eroded bricks and dead trees alike. Flickers of gunmetal light in the dulling shades creating illusions of motion around every corner. A tiny white rodent emerged from the forest on the far side, merely a speck in the wolf's eye, before it changed its mind and scuttled back into the trees. It is easy to forget your place in the world when it changes. White was the colour when there was frost, to hide and lurk unseen, and in only an instant the order had changed. The rodent was learning slowly, or it was reckless, and unlikely to survive for much longer. The wolf had learnt to be careful and fearful, and often despite his wishes otherwise.
Moments before the last remnants of diminished sunlight faded the tan-eared wolf returned on the opposite hill. Peering out from fallen branches and broken limbs it waited for the final retreat of the day and crept down the hill in measured steps. The wolf followed its every move, his ears dancing in tune as its feet trotted along the cold and solidifying earth. It was as careful and terrified as he was at his worst, and it would seem, as curiously desperate to survive. Stopping to listen on every corner and meandering an unpredictable route it made its way back to the house where they had briefly met. Leaning against the sides of the walls it pulled its head through an empty window pane and betrayed its frustration with a flick of its tail. There was something about this wolf that he couldn't define or explain, but simply felt right. It didn't appear to be hostile or vicious and that alone was a happy curiosity.
It spent only a few more minutes searching a small area around the house with the rabbit corpse. There was no doubt the smell was still potent but it was nothing more than a lie in which to satisfy its hunger, and it circled the house a final time before heading back towards to hill. The wolf pictured the leftover bones lying on the wooden floor. He had picked them pretty much clean himself but for the tan-eared wolf to ignore them so readily meant the insects had already feasted well. But if he was to return they would be nowhere. Always in the right place at the right time and nowhere at all when it mattered. As the tan-eared wolf entered the tree-line he slipped out from under the branches and sprinted to the bottom of the opposite hill, taking a long sniff at the path where it crossed. A hint of scent rested on the loosened grains of soil and he followed it slowly to the trees where he stopped and peered back at the town. Darkness covered everything. Just darkness and the charging cold.
The wolf tried to track through the night but the dead vegetation was thicker and the air blacker than he had ever known. After hitting his third tree face-first he decided it best to carry on when it was light and he settled down where he stood and slept with the faintest smell of another wolf touching his nose. He dreamt he was being chased through the forest by a wolf perhaps just a third his size while tracking another himself, the markings glowing a bright green through the trees and then ending suddenly. He stopped at the end of the trail and turned to face his assailant who ignored him without explanation, sweeping the ground and sniffing like a pig hunting for truffles. It could well have been himself as a pup. Filling those short days with idle playtime and cotton wishes.
Milky sunlight woke him and he knew he had slept for too long. Precious visible time wasted and of the scent he was to follow? Now only a rumour, as lost and diluted as ancient traditions passed through generations and saturated with superstition. He swung his head around but he no idea from where he came and the only clue to where he was going was the direction he woke up facing. A single thought of food appeared and dissolved and he stood, stretched and continued onwards with the practice of a few hundred cold and frosty mornings.
The ground started to incline, sharply in places with large rocks protruding like signposts and once decorated so. Names of those long forgotten and places that once were, weathered and indecipherable. Like the world itself wiped away the last traces of their existence itself. If this was the earth starting again then nothing was its guest and nothing was welcome any more. The wolf checked the rock for scent and sat by it to rest.
While cleaning his paws with his tongue the wind turned along the contours of the mountain base. A gentle and constant hiss of running water. The slopes themselves were mostly free of the dead trees, time had pulled them from their moorings and gravity had thrown them cascading into the forest below. He gripped with his claws and hauled himself up the slope, following the distant hiss as it bounced between the rocks. The ground started to level out, the edges framed in stone and beyond them a crevice with the top of a miniature waterfall lowering in steps. He watched the never-ending stream rushing and pouring and drowning the silence. Water had never looked so pure.
The wolf stepped slowly to the edge of the rocks and right by the edge of the water facing away and several feet below was the tan-eared wolf. Its distinctive namesake ears twisting and flicking around while it drank. A shift in its stance dislodged its tail and confessed to him it was female. She looked perhaps his age, maybe younger. It was difficult to be sure, nothing could be nourished enough to reflect it truly, although she seemed to be faring well enough.
The cause of her allure was now so obvious to him. Tracking blind on a mystery whim was something he could ill afford but now he had his reasons he was relieved. Perhaps he was not so hollow after all.
He gently lowered himself to his paws and continued to watch her softly, the potential scenarios flashed through his mind. A claw to the face. A bite to his neck. A final image of her running away. He absently scratched the rock below him and a small piece broke away hitting another with a clack and rolling into the water. She turned immediately, water dripping from her chin and as she looked up, it rolled down her neck. He jolted to his feet but they froze but wouldn't move any further. His ears flattened against his head and her's did the same. Suddenly he was petrified. He hadn't thought what he should say or do and all he wanted to do was run. It dawned on him what a stupid idea it was to stalk from higher ground like a hunter and leave her no choice but to defend with tooth and claw. He averted his gaze for a moment and returned it to trace her outline with his eyes. She was scared but defiant and turned to face him then widened her stance.
She looked ready to chase him if he ran. Delicately he compressed the still healing scar of his paw against the stone and visualised his options once again. Mostly running. And another he scorned himself for thinking. There would be more options but he had difficultly in embracing happy resolutions. His time was up and in an instant she took control.
What are you doing?
The question threw him. The voice of ordered sounds made him doubt he ever heard it. But he knew he wasn't about to suddenly awaken in the darkness of the forest. This was it.
I'm just... surviving, he said. His voice was deeper than he remembered it. A little coarse before its time.
She loosened her stare a fraction and slightly cocked her head. As if having heard his mind through his mouth and seen his intentions in his eyes. Without breaking the line of sight she moved to a lower part of the rock and pulled herself up. The two wolves only yards away both leaned forward to catch each other's scent. He was larger than her, but only slightly. He felt his guard drop as she leaned into him. What's your name?
Ellaro, he replied. The reward for his honesty a soft lick on the nose.