The man rounded the corner and half-walked, half-jogged after Luna. It was evening, and he needed to get to his car fast. He had promised her he’d be at the fancy place or whatever by midnight, and well; as late as the date might’ve seemed, it was a 2-hour drive back. Nobody wanted to upset her again. Jeez, why couldn’t anyone just bend over and listen to him? Somebody else should’ve gone. Not like he had a bad rep, but...
Okay, maybe he did have a bad rep. Nothing to worry about. Oh, yeah, and then there was the meeting he’d planned, plus the volunteer shift, plus....uhhhhh....
The wilderness was frosty and silent, aside from the crunch of his shoes on pine needles. it was always like this: the jays singing, the trees dancing, and the oh-so-cursed cold taking chunks out of his sanity. Since he was in high school, he’d always enjoyed the forest. He didn’t know why, but the silence was sort of a warm fuzzy pool he could sink right into. Any regular person wouldn’t appreciate the chill, however. Maybe he wasn’t normal.
Everything was peaceful, and for once, life actually had meaning. It would have it too back home if the big guy shut up.
Until.
Until!
His short reprieve was interrupted by an eerie quiet. The birds’ voices failed, the forest died. Very slowly, a chorus of howls and yelps of sorts arose from the nearby trees like a symphony, crowding into the bushes until all he could hear was their vocals. Luna stopped in his tracks, tugging on his leash and rapidly sniffing the air. His tail held still.
The man slowly turned around. Luna shook his silver coat and leaned forward, his posture uncertain. There, on the stubborn snowy slope, was a lone coyote. Its pointy and evil—looking features stared them straight back for a second before resuming on its little gay paws to do its little gay tasks.
“Hey! Coyote! Awoooooo! Awooooooooo!”
The ugly creature turned to stare at them for a second before sprinting miserably over the very thin, very unsteady ice.
About a quarter-mile away, an unidentifiable shadow swirls through the trees. It crawls steadily through the meadow to reveal a mediocrely sized shape. Pale red eyes glistening, two pricked ears emerge out of the bush, followed by the gleaming white pelt. The canid crosses the clearing in a leap and lands mutely at a turn.
An elk’s been here.
Instead of following the trail, it continues downwards under the bleak sky.
If there was anything worth worrying about, it’s that this particular canid was similar in size to a wolf. There is no such thing as a lone wolf.
Normally, a pack is a family consisting of two to 12 individuals. Not only do they share living quarters, they often team to hunt targets larger than themselves. The wolves typically surround the prey and assault it until it dies.
Today, there is an unfamiliar prey. Vocals echo off the valley and into the forest, roughly coordinating its position. The animal lets air flood into its mouth.
Man.
At breakneck speed, something sprints from over the snow and down to the wolf, leaping at the last millisecond as snow sizzles up, softly dissipating in the air. Bold amber eyes shine through the mist while a black tail hangs listlessly down.
The white wolf flicks its ears and stares unkindly back. The creatures are dead silent. If you were to walk past, nobody would see them coming.
Both creatures suddenly stiffen. The scent is growing stronger, mingling with something else. They pin their ears and drop into low runs. A growl rumbles quietly from the white wolf—for its kind, it’s abnormal. Every time it spotted a stray dog, it had devoured the mutt, much to the displeasure of the neighborhood.
From above, beautiful white snow-trails arise in their wake.