From Stardust We Are Born

Grey Paw, an Alaskan timber wolf, sat atop the rocky outcrop, looking at the dark and endless sky above, littered with scattered stars and ghostly silver clouds. His pups played nearby, rolling and growling in the dirt. Life was good, peaceful. Food was bountiful and hunting was easy. Having survived ten summers, he knew his time on this planet was coming to an end, and that he would greatly miss the beauty of this amazing and fascinating world.

Yapping gently, he calls his pups to him. The time had come for them to learn to hunt. He had gone through this many times with previous litters, but it still remains a lesson in patience. Pups are, by nature, inquisitive and often impatient, but they are also eager to learn.

Turning to call them a second time with a more impatient yap, and a few nips if necessary, they obey his call and lope over to sit beside him. Although all five are litter mates, they vary greatly in size and colour, with the three females being smaller than their male siblings. With time and luck, those who learn to hunt well will put on weight quickly and survive. The other's will be less fortunate.

Rising from his haunches, Grey Paw lopes off down the hillside, the pups following close behind. The other pack members, including his lifelong mate, are resting amongst the pine trees at the bottom of the hill. He howls gently calling for the rest of the pack to join him in the hunt. They move forward together into the darkness of the woods in search of prey. They flit like ghosts between the trunks, silent and all but unseen.

A full moon has risen and gives a luminous light to the open plains and meadows. Tonight, those being hunted will find that hiding from the hunters will not be easy. Ears alert and noses constantly raised to sniff the gentle breeze that brushes over them, they continue moving silently along the edges of the forest.

Being downwind, the scent of the prey reaches the pack before the rustling sounds became audible in the long grass near the river that flows along the outer forest. Creeping forward slowly, the pack position themselves in a semi-circle to steer the prey towards the open field. The rustling becomes louder and more agitated as something sizeable in height and width rises from the grass. The moon reveals a large dark shadow that stands high above the grass, horns reflected in the moonlight, and hooves stamping the ground in fear, as it searches for the danger it can feel hiding in the long grass.

Without warning, the massive creature breaks from the grass and gallops towards the forest. The wolves swing around and force it to circle back. If it reaches the forest, it will become difficult to make a successful kill. Snorting and stamping, the powerful creature resists being pushed in a direction that it does not want to go.

Howling and yapping to maintain positions, the wolves circle around the creature before it tries to break for freedom, charging through the line of hunters. Acting in unison, the pack members take turns biting at the haunches of the wild young bull, leaping and twisting to avoid kicks from the deadly hooves. Leaping at its back and throat, their fangs grasp and tear through flesh, blood beginning to flow freely from several vicious wounds.

Coming to a sudden halt, the bull swings round and heads for the trees once again. The wolves respond to the change of direction, hurling themselves at the throat and haunches, gnashing at the back legs, forcing the bull to turn to defend himself. Half the pack swing to the rear of the bull to block his retreat to the trees, while the remainder launch themselves at the bull, snapping and snarling, attempting to get a throat hold that will be fatal.

Feeling the danger setting in, the bull blindly looks for an escape route. He is tiring and it is evident to the wolves. In desperation, the bull flings himself around and runs straight towards the pack. Having the experience and skills of many years of successful hunting the senior pack members leap from the path of the fleeing bull.

One of the female pups is not so fast, or fortunate, leaving her reaction too late. The bull lowers his head and then swings it high as he charges at the young pup. Connecting with the young wolf's shoulder blade, he hurls her through the air as she yelps in pain, and lands with a heavy thud. Spinning around, he prepares to charge at her again.

Without hesitation, Grey Paw leaps in front of the pup, growling as the bull charges. In a blind panic, the bull continues forward, lowering his head for the next charge. Knowing that he could not leave his pup unprotected, Grey Paw holds his ground, leaping towards the bull at the last moment in one final attempt to clench his jaws around its throat. As he gnashes his jaws together, Grey Paw feels the warm flesh and blood on his tongue and clamps tighter. In terror and fear, the bull swings viciously, trying to hurl the wolf from his throat.

The blood begins to pour freely from the throat wound, but Grey Paw can feel himself tiring. Understanding the pup is in danger still, he attempts to pull the young bull to its knees. As he pulls his weight downwards, the flesh rips from the bull's throat, and the bull swings its head around in agony, bellowing in pain. Grey Paw releases his grip as the bull swings his head downwards, piercing the horn through Grey Paw's fur and into his chest. Falling to the ground, he tries to roll out of the way but is unable to move. The bull staggers to his knees, pinning Grey Paw beneath him.

The pack respond instantaneously, leaping upon the bull and tearing out chunks of flesh, keeping him on his knees. Slowly the knees buckle, and the weight of the wolves pull him over on his side, allowing Grey Paw to lay his eyes upon his pack one last time. He had been right, his time on this planet was near its end. Watching the slowly fading movements in his line of vision, he is aware that one wolf was limping. He whines softly. His daughter was alive and would survive her first hunt.

Closing his eyes for the last time, Grey Paw calls to the animal spirit god that protects his kind and has done so for millions of generations, allowing himself to pass into the next world. The soil beneath him is cold and rough against his fur, and he can feel his energy flowing from his body. His final breath escapes him, and stillness descends.

The wind picks up and begins to howl, ripping and tearing at the fur of the feeding pack. Looking around, they can feel another presence born upon the wind, but their hunter's eyes do not allow them to see the glowing green light that descends from the sky, swirling and ebbing, as it flows over the body of the deceased wolf.

The green light flickers softly in the moonlight as two arms reached down and encircle the wolf, raising his limp body from the ground. For those who listen carefully to the wind, a soft voice sings slow and sweet, the prayer being carried upwards on the spiralling wind. The green light moves skywards towards the stars, fading as quickly and softly as the voice until it is no more.

Nor do they notice the young she-wolf who has stopped licking her wound, and sits back staring intently at the sky.

*****************************************

Thank you for taking the time to read my story. This little action by you is greatly appreciated by me. If you enjoyed what I have written, please make sure to click on the heart button, and leave some love... and please feel free to share with others (if you enjoyed my story they might too), this is a wonderful (and free) way to show support for me. If you are truly impressed with my writing, tips are also most welcome (but are completely optional and not expected). :)

Contact Information:

Twitter: @JulesMcKenna13

Instagram: @theblingprincess

Facebook: Julianne McKenna