Snow Shadows: Complete Story ( WIP )

Hidden in the dense underbrush, between two tall maple tress, a silent figure of light-gray, silver-kissed, and black-tipped fur lay still. Icey blue eyes watched the deer herd with a sharp, cunning, intelligence.

Suddenly, after a long and almost painful wait, a blur of gray shot out of the dense undergrowth. The deer herd spooked as their instincts drove them to run.

Leaping and running in several different directions all at once, they scattered. One of them stumbled. There was a sound of a sickening snap, a high pitched squeal, and a grunt-groan. The wolf saw that its leg was caught between two thick branches of a fallen oak tree. Quickly and in a panic, the deer yanked its leg free. It dangled loosely and bent at very unnatural angles as the deer tried to escape.

Every time it tried to step on its ruined leg, the deer stumbled with a moan. The wolf licked her chops. She'd eat well tonight and she knew it.

The wolf raced after the wounded animal. She sped along at a steady gait, measuring distance and pace by what lay between her and her prey. Trees, brush, fallen logs posed no problem to the long-legged, rangy wolf. Her young form was lean, and still somewhat un-gainly. It told of a wolf who had not yet left the yearling stages of growth.

As she neared her prey, the difference between their sizes became painfully apparent. The wolf was half the size of other full grown animals, giving her the appearance of being a lot younger then she was, in fact. The deer was a full grown adult female, at least 2 years older then the wolf. Even with a busted leg, she showed a health and physical prowess that few female deer boasted in her herd.

The young wolf lept up with a snap at the deer's upper thigh muscle. The deer kicked out, and nearly fell over. Again the wolf tried this tactic, and again the deer kicked and stumbled. But each time the healthy doe was able to regain her balance and kept moving forward.

With a quickness, the lone wolf lunged for the deer's wounded leg. With a snap, the female wolf grabbed at the dangling bit and yanked as hard as she dared.

The deer jerked, stumbled, and fell.

Head over hells she tumbled. Bracken, and brush snapped beneath her form as she fell. Odd bits of leaves, knocked loose from the impact of a solid doe body against a young tree, fluttered down around the doe's now prone form. She panted hard, and her eyes bulged wildly.

Without a thought, the wolf dove into the doe's belly. The wound that opened up was bright with blood and torn muscle. The doe kicked out, just missing the wolf's head. The wolf trotted a few paces away, circling the downed doe.

Head held low, the wolf watched the prey closely. Her ears pricked forward, listening to the doe's breathing.

The doe tried to stand, and failed. She dropped back into the broken brush and fallen leaves. A small rivulet of bright red ran from the open wound as her blood leaked out of her body. The dry earth under her wounded body soaked it up almost hungrily.

The wolf licked her chops, tasting the iron tang of fresh prey-blood. If a wolf could smile... hers would be cunning, and vicious.

The doe struggled again. Quickly the wolf ducked in and under at the exposed neck, and bit down as hard as her jaws allowed. The doe snorted and tried to shake her head and neck, to free herself of the wolf. Instead this movement only made the doe dizzy, light-headed, and unstable. She slipped back to the ground with a heavy thud. The wolf let go before the doe hit the ground.

Once more the wolf danced around her prey. Sniffing, tasting the breeze with her nose and tongue. Her ears were pricked forward, expressly intent on the dying doe. Occasionally the wolf dove in for another tearing bite, opening more wounds along the exposed flank and soft underside. Her movements sleek, powerful, and sure.., even if they were contained within a dainty body.

Each attack elicited either another kick, or another failed attempt to rise. The broken leg, now throughly mangled and unable to bear any weight, dangled by shreds of flesh and skin. The doe felt her body drained of energy with each effort to defend herself. With each move she felt less of the natural urge to fight back. Internally she knew she was finished, but refused to give up so easily. Maybe, if she were lucky enough to land one, good, solid, blow to the wolf's ribcage or head, she might be able to keep her herd, and her many adult children, safe from this vicious predator.

Just one hit.

Rebelliously the doe snorted, once, daring the wolf to try and attack her again. They locked eyes for a few heartbeats. After that pause where both predator and prey studied each other's resolve, the doe then laid her head on the ground. Tired, weak from the loss of blood, and in pain from several wounds, the deer slowly gave up the fight. All the wolf did was wait with a cunning patience.

It is how she survived alone for so many months. For one so small, she used her mind to outwit the animals she hunted. She took down her second deer in as many as three weeks. All by her self.

Her father would be pleased. She was efficient, effective, powerful, and swift. Oh yes, he would be pleased.

~~

The dainty female wolf waited until the doe stopped struggling. She waited until the eyes closed. Still she waited and watched for the signs of death. When she was sure that the doe looked dead, she stood up.

Tentatively, the gray, silver-gray, and black marked wolf stalked towards the doe. Her head lowered, she kept all her senses focused on the fallen animal.

With her ears were pricked full forward, she listened intently for the doe's death sounds. They twitched at even the soft paw-pad steps she took as she carefully approached the doe. The female wolf's hearing was exceptional, even among other wolves. So much so that a summer's storm caused her to cringe in pain when the lightening struck close enough. She heard the soft, raspy, struggling breath that pulsed through the doe's nostrils. She heard, before she saw the visual evidence of, the bubbling of blood in the throat caused by the partially crushed windpipe. There were song birds in the distance, other predator noises in the far distance, and the sound of raven wings close above in the trees. These sounds the wolf ignored. They posed no threat.

She stepped closer and sniffed at the fallen form. Still out of range of a solid hind-hoof kick, she smelled for the doe's death scents. Urine, and heavy-scented feces smells mixed with the odor of blood and other internal visceral liquids. It hovered in the air around the doe's wounded body. Fear, anger, frustration laced these scents subtly. They told the story of the doe's struggle. The wolf pieced together these scents like a fascinating puzzle. Her mind forming the doe's fight.., from the doe's perspective.

It was another odd mark, and one of the reasons she did not run with a pack. Her mind was different. She thought differently, she remembered better, and it showed in her actions. No other wolf wanted to be near her because of this.., oddity.

She took another step closer. Using her eyes she looked for visual clues and cues that the doe, was indeed, close enough to death for a safe approach. She knew better then to assume that the doe would not fight back, even downed. She saw other wolves nearly killed in a last-ditch defense attempt by prey. She looked over the doe carefully. She watched the struggled breathing of the chest and sides. She saw the viscera, the internal organs and wounded flesh and the slowed blood flow. She witnessed the doe's calm features in the mask of death. Eyes partly shut, facial muscles slackened, and her mouth hung partially open.

A twig snapped beneath the wolf's fore-paw. She winced at the sound. In that brief momentary reaction where her hearing shut down, she stopped sniffing, and she closed her eyes.., the deer opened her eyes to look at the wolf.

The doe watched and measured the distance between the two of them. She waited with a angry patience. She had one last chance to strike a solid blow, and needed the wolf closer. She closed her eyes and moved the ear on the side of her head that was closet to the wolf.., and listened.

The wolf looked again, not daring to move forward. All senses were tuned into the doe. She shivered in anticipation, and the one paw that hung in the air twitched. She bared her teeth, hungrily, and stepped forward.

Waiting, the deer concentrated on her possum-like behavior. She needed to appear dead or as close to death as possible. Each step brought the wolf closer to her. As it closed the distance between them, she mentally measured the distance needed to lash out one last time. The doe suppressed a shiver, sighed, and held her breath.

The wolf witnessed the doe's sigh and paused. She watched the animal's body for signs of subterfuge. She knew that deer played dead in order to survive. So the female wolf hesitated. Hunger and her own sense of self confidence drove her forward once more.

Closer to the body she walked, more at ease with each step. She finally reached the doe and reached out her nose to touch the wounded flesh. Her tongue licked out to taste the blood on her belly.

In that moment all of time seemed to slow down for both creatures.

The doe swiveled her ear around towards where the wolf stood. Her eyes popped open as she swung her head up. With an angry defiant glare, the deer kicked out at the wolf with her hind foot.

When the deer moved, the wolf saw it from the corner of her eye. The motion triggered alert-danger instincts that surged through the female wolf's body. She jumped back and to the right....

The hind foot brushed the wolf's far shoulder as it moved up and in towards the deer's body, for the violent and deadly kick. This triggered another set of instant instincts of "look out!" in the wolf's hind brain. The wolf jumped back even as that vicious hind-hoof came at her.

The fast-twitch muscles of the deer's legs were quicker then the slow-twitch muscles of the wolf's whole body. It connected. The wolf jumped back far enough to keep the sharp points of the hind hoof from driving home a killing blow. The force of the kick still flung the wolf several feet away. The direction the wolf's body flew drove it into the trunk of a tree with a heavy thud. There was crack and the wolf dropped to the ground at the tree's base.

They both laid there in pain, hurt, and angry. A strange juxtaposition of predator and prey.

The doe felt her life as it ebbed away. She glared one last time at the fallen form of the wolf. She believed, in her heart, that she won and her children were now safe. Satisfied, she died.

~~~

The sound of Ravens woke the female wolf from her shock-induced sleep. She opened her eyes with a heavy weariness. Her head spun as she lifted it to look around. Her vision was blurred, her ears rang painfully, and her head hurt. The raucous noise of the Ravens made her ears hurt more and caused her to growl with an irritated tone.

The Ravens, brazen and willful beasts, stopped their noise and stared at her. The biggest of them hopped up on the head of the doe. His beak was marked with the blood of the fallen doe. He warbled softly to his companions. They knew the doe was her kill. They also knew she was in no shape to defend it.

They laughed.

She growled again. This growl was more vicious and threatened physical violence against the feathered thieves.

They laughed.

She forced herself to stand up. With a wobble, she took a single step forward. She snarled again.

They laughed.

She lunged at the carcass. This caused them to take wing briefly. Her physical action was too much for her wounded body to control. She landed flat on her chest with a barely audible 'offt' and grunt of pain. From above her, the Ravens laughed again and again.

She staggered up, only to feel a vicious peck land on her head. It made the incessant throb inside her skull brighten. The wolf yelped and staggered back. Spots danced in front of her eyes, even as another vicious peck landed on her backside.

The Ravens intended to not kill her, only drive her off until they had their fill of fresh flesh. She did not know this, and fought back as if her life depended on it. So the pecking onslaught continued, even as she jumped and snapped at them.

One Raven left the scene, cawing angrily, with fewer feathers on his tail. Another left after he landed against the same tree the wolf was driven into earlier, from a lucky paw-strike. The big bird was much wiser, more cunning, and faster then his companions. With the help from the last two smaller Ravens, he succeeded in the intended action. Driven off, she limped under some thick brush to watch and wait.

Sore from several vicious bird pecks, in pain from two cracked ribs, and dizzy from a concussion.., she laid down to rest. In her heart she knew that the Ravens could not eat the whole carcass. In her mind she was angered that they'd get the best parts of the doe -she- killed.

She waited, watched, and eventually slept.

~~

She muttered softly as her damaged-body floated in the realms of a deep, healing, vibrant, sleep. Memories of a softer and warmer time, rich with mother's milk and other soft squirming bodies, filled the wolf's dreams. Scents very familiar to her processed through her brain as she slept. Mother, litter-mates, and den-smells made her nose quiver. Smells of dirt, roots, and the soft scent of grass carried on the soft breezes just outside the entrance stimulated old memories within her dreaming mind.

Time's movement differed between a wolf's understanding and a human's ability to track it and keep it for themselves. This wolf, like all wolves, tracked her days as if they were an eternity. All days blended into one, marked only by a change in seasons, new litters, death, lost pack-mates, and dominance scuffles. She sighed as her life relived itself behind her closed eyelids.

Birth.
First sights, scents, and sounds.
First time they emerged from the den to explore.
First meat brought back by pack-members in their belly baskets.
First toy.., a scrap of hide tangled about a bit of bone.
First joint howl, sung with the pups.

She shivered at that memory and focused on it. The sounds as crips and clear in her mind and memory as the day it was first sung. The pack shared several Tales of their adventures that day. Her father shared the most unbelievable Tales...

'But they happened....'

The voice that reached into her mind made her shiver. Her dreams paused in their seemingly endless spiral outwards from the past and into the present. It was both familiar and distant. Something felt more then heard, it flowed through her.

'You know they happened, wolves do not lie.'

She shivered again. This caused her dream-scape to fragment and fade. She fought to keep it there, to hear the Tales again and remember them.

'For another time, pup. Your old pack needs you.'

She snapped awake. Pack? Where? Here? She looked around, all her senses perked and alert. No familiar family-scents wafted on the breeze, only the death-scent of a dead doe and the excrement of Ravens touched her nose. Her ears, as sharp as they were, did not pick up any familiar family-voices. Her eyes scanned the area to no avail, as there was no sign of her old pack.

Living alone was.., lonely. Her heart jumped into her throat. She whined softly, the loss and emptiness of her days hit her hard this time.

'Go find them.., go south.'

She swiveled her head around. That voice was so very familiar and held a -very- familiar touch of dominance and no-nonsense. It was her father's voice, but she did not see him anywhere near by. She shivered again. This was NOT natural.

She got up and half-limped over to the dead doe. She mulled over this strange occurrence while she ate.