Run with the Pack: Chapter 11

When Bahr returned from his night’s hunt for food, unlike Elha, he did not bring a freshly killed carcass with him. His muzzle was hardly bloodied from the scraps and carrion that he had unearthed on his circuitous route through the labyrinth of the forest. There would be no family feasting that morning. A wolf could not expect to feast every day and would soon grow to a lardy, disfigured lump, if it did, and would likely fall prey to the forest. Feast followed by famine was what kept the wolf sleek and fast at the chase and allowed it to fight off any kill thief, whether wolf, bear or just a mangy, scavenging no-wolf.

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Approaching the den’s entrance, Bahr was assailed by the thick wall of odor wafting up from within. With all the mingling smell of wolf was the growing smell of ripe meat. Conscious of the attraction this stink could have for other carnivores, Bahr was beginning to grow uneasy in this comfortable location that they had luxuriated in for so long. Perhaps now it was time to move on and range further into the never-ending forest.

Before he had a chance to get close to the burrow, Elha appeared, closely followed by the ragged bunch of mini wolves. They did not run to him, they did not beg for food, but seemed somehow subdued. As they emerged into the dazzling early morning light, so Bahr noticed another smell and one that did not belong. Elha stood facing Bahr, the pups in an untidy group behind, with no word, no song, no sound.

Looking at the pups it was now clear what was wrong. There was one missing. Taking in the sight of them all, he could see that they were many pups, but he could also see that they were less. Looking again and again in the hope of seeing something that was not there, Bahr became unsettled. Try as he might, he could not see what he sought. They were many pups, but they were less. They were many less one.

It had happened as Bahr was furthest away from the burrow, ranging across an open plain, searching for the food to sustain them all. He was unaware that as he did so, another wolf stalked through the forest not far from the hiding place of his family. Thinking them safe, Bahr did not give Elha and the pups a second thought, concentrating the whole of his imagination on the task of locating meat, be it alive or be it carrion, the meat they all needed to sustain them.

As Bahr patrolled the forest on his quest to feed himself and his new family, so the lone wolf wandered without a set purpose, though ever on the alert for the scents that would portend danger, food, or a mate. An adult male wolf at this time of year, an adult lone wolf, regardless of the degree of its hunger, was conscious of another hunger, the hunger to find an unattended female ready to couple. As a lone wolf there was little enough chance of him satisfying that particular need, and so the lone wolf did not pay too much attention to the subdued desire. He was not a wolf that paid much attention to anything that was not immediately before him, either physically, or in his mind’s eye. If he detected the scent of nearby food, he would pay attention to it. If he detected the name of a wolf as he passed a tree or a rock, he would avoid any incursion into that wolf’s territory. For a stable wolf pack would not take kindly to a lone wolf muscling its way into their home.

As this lone wolf passed a particular tree, he could be in no doubt of the name of the wolf that had marked it, that very night. Instinctively he turned away, fearful of the wrath of another whose strength he did not know. Then he stopped in his tracks and returned to the tree. Carefully measuring the name, the unmistakable name, this wolf with little imagination conjured a picture before his eyes that was crystal clear. It was a picture of the wolf that had shamed him. The wolf that had stood against him and his brothers, the wolf that had hurt him and sent him packing, tail between his legs. So, while this wolf felt fear and the closeness of danger, he also felt something else, he felt a feeling that was mostly alien to a wolf’s instinct. He felt the desire for revenge.

Revenge is probably too strong a word for it, and this wolf with little imagination could not have articulated the desire had he tried. This need showed itself to the wolf’s mind as images. The wolf saw before his eyes images of the humiliation he had suffered. He saw himself, his head pushed into the mud and his neck bloodied. Anger rose within him, and he saw other pictures, in which the roles were reversed, with him on top, pressing the other wolf down, sinking his fangs into the other’s throat, tearing out sinews, with blood gushing from the dying foe. For a moment, these visions were enough. Recovering, he again examined the name on the tree with his snout. Then, low to the ground, he followed the wolf’s scent trail first one way and then the other, picking up the stronger scent in one direction, the direction of travel.

With a moment’s desire to follow the direction of the wolf and ambush him, he also felt the excitement of fear. The feelings of vengeance battled with those of fear and, after only a moment’s further thought, fear won out and he followed the scent trail in the other direction, as it weakened, still strong enough to mark the path the other wolf had followed earlier. He was able to trace the path that led back to the burrow.

Ambling along the scent-mark trail, the wolf picked up another scent, a mixed scent of female, pups and rank meat. With little thought, he followed the trail and eventually arrived at the scene of the den. Without hesitation, Elha appeared at the entrance to the Burrow and immediately launched into a tirade.

“Out, off, away, begone, cur, you have no business here.”

The lone wolf stayed out of harm’s way, anxious to avoid the gaping jaws and dripping fangs of the ferocious wolf that stood before him, making such noise.

“Calm, sister, I mean you no harm.”

“Out, off, away, begone, cur. Don’t sister me.”

The lone wolf stood his ground, examining the scents given off by the other wolf. It was evident she was not ready to mate, so he thought instead of food, having not eaten for days.

“Feed a stranger?” he whined.

“Food is for family, not for passing dogs, begone!”

The wolf kept his distance, in no hurry to approach so ferocious a stranger. And yet amid the multiplicity of scents given off by this wolf, mostly rage, there was also a hint of fear and something else. The fear he could detect emboldened him, and it kept him from departing in the face of so ferocious a stand. He was not a wolf to put himself in danger when he could just as easily have walked away. But with the hint of fear from the otherwise ferocious wolf before him he remained, and a tiny thrill started to build up within him amid his own fear. A thrill of the possibility of him turning the table on this ferocious stranger.

As he kept his distance and Elha kept up her ferocious tirade of barking, howling threat, the lone wolf continued to examine the scents that she gave off, and the scents from the burrow that he could barely see. It was then that he recognized amid the many scents the scent of a name. And it was a name he had scented before, that time in the forest that Bahr’s name had reminded him of. It was the very same shiha that he had detected but had not seen when Bahr had chased him off. Now his feeble imagination began to catch on. Now he was beginning to understand. As he detected yet another distinctive scent, the scent of young wolf, the picture came together in his mind’s eye.

Again, the full picture came before him as the enormous sound wall of barking, howling, raging wolf kept him back. The picture of being attacked by the impudent wolf that had shamed him, the scent of the shiha in the distance, the one that the impudent wolf denied him. The shame and humiliation of being bloodied and chased off when he should have killed the other wolf for his impudence and had the shiha for himself. It all came back, conjured up by the scents that he could see before him.

“Back, cur, back, cur, begone….” So the tirade continued as he continued to conjure before his eyes the scenes from the past.

As his imagination came back to the present and he again backed away from the ferocity of Elha’s jaws, the excitement brought on by fear began to be surpassed by another kind of excitement and, again, the excitement of fear battled with the excitement of this strange desire for what could only be thought of as revenge. Now, he could picture a scene with Bahr and Elha and young wolves, hiding somewhere close as Elha guarded them. He had already followed the scent trail away from Bahr and so he knew him to be far away, no doubt hunting. Far enough at least that he could not come to the aid of his family. Raising his snout to the air, the lone wolf tested the scents on the breeze and could smell nothing of his foe, only the nearby wolf who guarded her young so ferociously. At that very moment he had to leap back to avoid a deadly lunge, barely escaping the vicious fangs that tried to close around his face.

“Back, cur, back, cur, begone, death to you, away.”

The snarling, barking, howling threats and warnings continued as he continued his personal war between feelings of fear and the need to strike back. To add to these feelings was the feeling that there were pups close by, the pups of a rival. If wolves were capable of smiling, this wolf would have had a smile on his face and it would have been an evil, twisted, warped smile. Wolves of course were no more capable of smiling, than they were of plotting revenge. Such things are alien to wolfkind. Nevertheless, the wolf remained and the picture of pups safe in their den remained before his eyes despite the thunderous, blaring commands to leave, and the blood-curdling threats of torn throats, bitten eyes and death that assailed him.

“Go, go, go, go, go, go, go. I will crush your head, I will drink your blood, I will tear you to pieces...” continued Elha, in a clamorous blast of sound as the lone wolf kept his distance, backing this way, that way, but refusing to depart. Without realizing it Elha, in her rage, was moving further and further away from the den, exposing her precious pups within. The pups were huddled together, shivering in their terror at the scene that played itself out before them. Edging towards the entrance of the den while remaining within its dark embrace the pups could see their elfa fighting off a stranger wolf.

As they peered out into the gloom, taking in all the scents and sights of the scene before them, they detected another scent and their ever-sharpening sight was drawn to the distant undergrowth to one side, away from the conflagration ahead. There was another wolf, silently stalking, stealing up towards them. Neither their mother, nor the stranger wolf, was at that moment aware of this presence of a third wolf.

It was one of the bachelor wolves that refused to tangle with Bahr at the incident in the forest that had caused so much distress to the stranger now avoiding Elha’s fangs. Having followed his brother from a distance, he had arrived at the scene and, consistent with his instinct for avoiding trouble, stayed back until he had noticed the scent of none-too-fresh meat emanating from the hidden den. Approaching cautiously, taking advantage of the distraction of the ferocious wolf facing off his brother, he was getting sufficiently close to alarm what appeared to be pups within.

As one, the pups launched into their own squeaking, yapping, warning, alerting their elfa, who had moved further and further away from them, pushing the stranger back into the forest. Noticing how far she had strayed, Elha immediately leapt back towards the burrow, instantly noticing the second stranger and launching at him with a blaring, booming, howling screech. The stranger, startled by the sudden change of events, lost no time in leaping away from danger, narrowly missing the huge jaws that closed about him. Landing on the soft earth, Elha leapt after the stranger, determined to take a warning bite out of his retreating hindquarters before realizing the danger she was leaving her pups in. Leaving the second antagonist to gallop away unharmed, she immediately turned back to the den. It was too late. As she reached the entrance that she had left unguarded, she saw the stranger bound away, his jaws clutching a yipping, shrieking, pup. It was the plucky little wolf whose name was First.

Leaping after him, Elha checked herself and remained, backing into the entrance to the den, protectively, cursing the lone wolf.

“Coward, cur, no-wolf, death to you, death, death, death, death, death to you.”

The wolf stopped in his tracks, a vice like grip on the pup in his jaws, careless of his fangs puncturing the flesh of the young wolf, helpless to save himself.

“Drop me, cur!” shrieked First. “Drop me, drop me, low-born dog. I will bite you, I will kill you, I will carve out your liver with my fangs you mangy dog, you filthy no-wolf.”

As the young wolf kept up his defiant yapping howl, so Elha watched, growling low, struggling against her instinct to intervene to save her own. By will alone she anchored herself to the ground, her own threats ceased.

For another moment, the lone wolf stared his defiance at Elha, ignoring the noise from the pup in his grasp, before turning and walking off into the forest. As he disappeared in shadow, First’s vocal defiance ceased, abruptly. Elha could hear his cries no more.

All of this, Elha replayed in her mind’s eye as Bahr surveyed the pups before him, wondering what had happened to the pup that was no more. Wondering where First had gone. He didn’t need to wonder for long. He knew what had happened. First had been taken by the forest. There was nothing more to be done.

Elha knew better and pictured again and again the scene of her momentary lapse of vigilance as she chased away one aggressor and left another to steal her pup, her proud little First. As she looked at the remaining pups, she could see that one pup had taken a tiny bite out of the wolf that had stolen her brother and there, around the pup’s mouth, Elha could see a remnant of wolf fur with a trace of blood clinging to it.

The little wolf had made her name, and her name was Blood.

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Look out for: Chapter 12 - COMING SOON!

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Thanks for reading. What do you think?

Run with the Pack was published by Park Langley Editions in 2022. I will continue to post each chapter in turn here, as long as there is interest from readers. Please comment and/or like if you wish to read the next chapter.

I am also planning to publish some bonus chapters. I am working on some ideas, but would be delighted if any of my readers wanted to share any of theirs. If you can think of a new adventure for Elha, Bahr and their pups, please make your suggestion in the comments below. Any ideas I use will be credited.

Thanks for continuing to read Run with the Pack.

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• Prologue: Farewell Dear Brother

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