The Wolves in the Willows

Under suspicion and false conviction of killing a pup, I am sent out into the forest surrounding our…their territory to live as a rogue, rejected from my origin pack. Of course I had been set up by the alpha’s bitch, abusing her power as she always does; it doesn’t matter though, I’ve wanted to leave for a while. The pup in question was my own, and his death was my mistake, but I still resent the insinuation that it was all my fault, or that anyone has the right to punish me; it’s clearly not enough that the memory tears my insides apart every second.

       I’ve been running for over a week now, taking sips of water from puddles dotted about here and there. I’m no longer part of any pack so I have no radar for the other territories of wolves; I could be trespassing right now and I wouldn’t know. Being part of a pack allowed me to differentiate between the scents of outsider wolves and my own pack; in fact all wolf abilities are enhanced within a pack. I catch the scent of a deer a few miles away and I decide to follow it, my stomach growls loudly to remind me of my dormant hunger. I haven’t eaten since I left and my fat resources have rapidly depleted; I need to eat soon or I’ll die. I lope for about a mile or so until the deer comes into my sights, I watch her from where I stand and slowly stalk up on her; my clumsy, desperate foot treads on a twig and I wince as it snaps. I whine and collapse onto the soft leaves to rest for a few minutes, my fatigue getting the best of me, the deer long gone. My body and mind struggle against each other but my body’s dire need for rest wins out over my minds reluctance to face the loss I’ve suffered. The panic stricken face of my little boy, the last glimpse of him I had, is burnt into the backs of my eyelids. My anger for being framed as his killer by April is nothing in comparison to the anger I hold against myself for not being there to protect him against the rogue that killed him; that is something I will never overcome.

       Once the pain of the fresh memory becomes too much, my haggard body drags itself from the ground to carry on with my aimless journey. I have no idea where to go and somewhere deep down, I guess I don’t want to live to find out; part of me hopes that I’ll come across some territory and be killed for trespassing. Perhaps I’ll come across a hunter and he’ll shoot me for my pelt, it’s not unheard of, of course they quickly realise their efforts and bullets were pointless when they witness our shift back into human form. My contemplations over my death help to distract me from my pain and I speed up a little, searching for some cover to call home for the night. I jump as I hear a howl nearby, some wolf has caught my scent and he’s calling to his pack. My body goes into survival mode, despite my mind’s partiality for death, and I speed up in search of a river, my only chance of escape. The wolf’s howl is picked up by other wolves in the distance; the chase has begun. I crash through the trees, listening for a running stream, smelling my surroundings, but in my current state I haven’t any hope of out-running or fighting anybody; so if I don’t find a river quickly I am a dead wolf. I swivel my ears and hear the thud of large paws hitting the earth, approaching my flank. My joints scream at me and I’m not sure how much further I can carry on; I’m running on pure adrenaline now. I yelp as I feel my pursuer’s claws sink into my flank, the affected leg loses all feeling and I collapse painfully onto the leafy ground, my pursuer landing on top of me. Slowly, he gets up off of me but I can feel his eyes trained on me; though it’s pretty obvious I’m not going anywhere. I hear a quiet whine escape him; I must really look pathetic if a pack-bound wolf felt sorry for me, a rogue. I’m surprised to hear the familiar sound of joints popping as he shifts into his human form.

“Shift now, if you value your life, rogue.” He says this with some conviction but I hear an ounce of pity in his voice. I whine, willing him to just kill me, it’s over now, he won. I still haven’t looked at him; I take no interest in knowing the appearance of my killer, it won’t matter anyway, in the end. I hear the mashing of the soft wet leaves behind me, near where my first pursuer stands.