zg_shadows | [NPC fic] Memory of summers past...

There was snow on the air, in the breeze that rose before dawn.

He stood up, yawned, stretched, and shook off the faint dusting of snow that clung to his pelt. Around him the pack was rousing; last year's two cubs, leggy and adolescent, stood stock still facing one another, tails curled high over their backs in joyful excitement, then one lunged and the other ran and they chased each other through and around the pack.

Youngsters. As they passed near him he shoulder-charged one, and they rolled together down the slope towards the stream, wrestling for the upper hand, until the younger one broke and bounded away, then paused and looked over his shoulder to see if he was chasing. From up the rise he could hear the happy growling of the alpha pair circling and lunging in mock battle; he turned and ran sure-footed up the uneven slope to join them, the tough tussock grass springy under his paws.

After a few moments the alpha broke away from their games and began to lope purposely away from the now-stripped bones of their last kill. After a few last lunges and play-bites the rest of the pack fell in behind him, drifting slowly up the hill like grey shadows between the patches of pitted snow that still lingered in rock-shadows and depressions.

The wind was stronger as they crested the rise. It blew circle patterns in his fur, but even so he stood still for a moment, nostrils flaring. There was still the snow-scent that urged him to hurry, to finish the hunt before the storm. There was also the overwhelmingly pungent scent of his alpha's piss, a darker stain on the grey stone, reassuring as they moved away from an area that had become familiar. Grass and damp earth; the droppings of a hare, several days old. And a faint trace of something else carried on the breeze; a familiar smell of dung and sweat and musk. He turned his head to catch it again, unthinkingly beginning to drift down the other side of the ridge.

The rest of the pack hesitated uncertainly between alpha and beta for a moment, then suddenly the alpha cantered past him and down the ridge, and they were going in a new direction, towards the tantalising scent of prey.

As they grew nearer the pack split apart. They had hunted together all their lives; there was no need for talk, or someone to give orders, only the overwhelming knowledge of what was to come.

Two trotted towards the herd, and the elk looked up. The male moved forward, sweeping gestures with his enormous antlers showing the sheer power of his muscular neck. Behind him the three does pressed closer together.

The two parted, moving one to each side. The stag circled uneasily, trying to respond to both dangers, his does shifting uncomfortably and trying to back away. One wolf suddenly lunged towards the group and the stag lowered his antlers threateningly in response, but it had only been a feint. On the other side, the other wolf likewise pulled back just before risking danger at the hard heads and sharp hooves of the does. The two trotted around the herd, just far enough away for their own safety, far too close for the nerves of the elk. They lunged again.

One of the does shied away and suddenly all four elk were running, swift and surefooted over the uneven ground, faster than the wolves could keep up. One of the pack dropped back, and one of the young ones swerved in, startling the elk in a new direction. One was a little slower to turn, and the pack ran close behind her, unable to properly separate her from the herd, but driving up by her sides and nipping the air behind her quick heels to harass her.

He could hear their approach from where he lay, belly pressed to the snow to conceal himself, and he bounded forward. The herd startled and turned but the doe, lathered with sweat and exhausted by her fear, couldn't follow in time.

He lunged at her nose but she swung her head at him and he moved quickly aside. A sudden thud and whimper told him that one of the others had misjudged her state and been too quick to attack her hindquarters. The last of the pack caught them up and they began to feint in and out, exhausting her and pricking her with minor wounds that steamed in the cold air and sapped her strength and will.

She staggered and he leaped for the soft skin where head and neck met. His jaws met and held for a moment, her coarse fur pricking at his muzzle. She desperately kicked, her knee meeting his ribs with bruising force, but overbalanced as his weight dragged her head down, and was forced to her knees. He felt her body sway and knew another of the pack had hit her from the side. Bloody foam dripped from where his jaws clamped across her windpipe. And then she folded sideways to the ground where he held her as the pack ripped into her soft underbelly. As she stopped twitching he released his hold and leaped awkwardly over her legs to shove one of the younger wolves aside and thrust his nose into the bloody wound. The flesh was hot and salty and good as he tore it free, and he gave himself up entirely to gluttony.

***

"And before that?" Patches asked her, staring at her with an uncommonly intense gaze.

"The... mammoth," she said, "and snow everywhere. Not hunt mammoth much."

"Nothing else?"

"Remember deer with big branches, and big prey with horn on nose, and mammoth. Remember way it was."

"I've dreamed of halls of gold and marble, and humans who were more than humans..." he started to tell her, but Summer shook her head.

"You've been too much with two-legs," she said, and there was pity in her voice.