Kiata's Story

A word
Rankings in this story (wolf rankings are slightly different in real life) run like this:
The alpha is the dominant wolf, generally male but it can be female. If the alpha has a mate, the mate becomes another alpha, on equal footing. So there can be one or two alphas.

The beta wolf is just below the alphas, poised to become alpha if one or both die. There can only be one beta, so if the beta wolf has a mate the mate will be a gamma wolf. Beta wolves are only seen in fairly large packs.
Gamma wolves are rank-and-file. Any wolf that is not an alpha, beta or omega is a gamma. Loose hierarchies run through the gamma wolves.

The omega wolf is the lowest in the pack. There is only ever one omega.

Cubs are outside the hierarchy, gradually integrating as they grow.

Grey wolves reach sexual maturity at two or three years (this is also the time many leave their packs) and live for six to ten years in the wild, though they live twice that long in captivity.

This story is set in an imaginary, not-quite-pinpointed place somewhere between North America and Europe, and in an unspecified time. The attitude of the humans is somewhat like the Americans during the Civil War, but the humans are bit players alone. We can ignore the technicalities when it comes to them.



I was...unusual...from the start. In my pack there was a great amount of colour variation, from pitch black to a milky grey. But I was something else entirely. White with dark amber eyes, right from birth.

But I had a good pack - Ma, Fa, my two brothers and Colre and Azir, jet-black sisters who had joined the pack long ago. Despite being the weakest, a runt, I fitted seamlessly into the pack that was my birthright.

I grew fast, along with my brothers, and though I was always smaller and slighter than them I joined in all their crazy, wild games of Hunt, playing both hunter and hunted.

But real life isn't a game. As we grew older we became more independent, roaming further, until one day Cakiki, the older of my two brothers, caught a vole all by himself. This was the trigger for my parents to decide that we were ready for our first real hunt.

It succeeded. We brought down a red deer fawn, half grown, wandering too far from its mother.

But that was the beginning. As we grew older, lost our naivety and adults' tolerance, my flaws became ever more evident - I was a weak hunter, and though I avoided fights as much as possible it emerged that I was a horrible fighter too. As I sank from a middling gamma wolf to the omega, I found myself confined more and more to the den - while the others hunted, I stayed behind to guard Ma's six new cubs.

Now I was confined so much, I felt ever more strongly an urge that had only been dimly registered in my mind before - the wanderlust. While I lay in front of the den, watching the cubs play Hunt in much the same way as I had, my mind was racing over our range, glorifying in freedom.

Whenever I could I slipped away to live the dream, journeying endlessly in circles. Our range was large, and covered the whole of the south-facing side of a mountain, just one in a range of mountains. There was an amazing variety of terrain, from barren rocky landscapes where snow fell in winter to forests populated by oak and elm. But wherever you went you could be sure that you had never quite left the ravines and outcrops of rock behind - this was a mountain, after all.

I spent longer and longer away from the pack, staying away for as much as a month. I found myself eating small prey more and more, and began to develop a particular strength for catching rabbits and hares. Those were wonderful days; though still technically a part of the pack, I was no longer the omega and no longer looked down on - I was outside the hierarchy, socialising but not staying long enough to be pigeonholed. My legs grew long and strong, and proved themselves to be the fleetest in the pack. Revelling in finding something I excelled at, I ran from dawn to dusk, the greatest joy in the world collapsing exhausted beneath the trees.

By this time Ma's six cubs, the cubs I had guarded before, were a year old, and I was two years. Colre had died of a terrifying disease that made her itch all over and her fur fall out - Azir caught it too, though she survived. Tai, my brother, had left the pack, and Cakiki, my other brother, had risen to beta wolf - at ten wolves (not including me) we were large enough to have one.

But one month...everything changed. I came back from a month's free roaming, feeling the people-hunger all wolves get, and found a new wolf ruling as alpha.

His name was Torak. There was nothing special about him. He had no right to do what he did to us. In him was my hate of pale green eyes born - and my wariness of great strength and size.

When I arrived he was lording it over Fa - who was now the omega. Azir, Ma and the new cubs were cowering against the rocky wall of the ravine we lived in. Cakiki was nowhere to be seen.

I don't want to go through what happened then. Suffice it to say that Cakiki had been killed as he tried to stop Torak taking over the pack, and that Torak had already proved himself interested in spreading his genes and power, but not much else. Torak ruled as alpha alone, none of the females in our pack worthy of being his "mate". Nowolf was allowed to be beta either - Torak held all the power, and anybody who challenged that was dead, if male, or injured, if female.

He demanded absolute obedience from all. But I rankled him, refusing to stay put when he told me to. Nothing could stop my wanderlust, for there was always something new to find in our range, despite the fact that other wolf packs kept me confined. And as I was not a great asset to the pack, Torak decided that I was his official spittoon.

Somehow, despite the fact that I spent very little time with the pack and had even forgotten the names of Ma's new cubs (hence their continued ambiguity), Torak maintained that I was the omega, bumping Fa up to the lowest gamma. Though at first the other wolves, Ma's new cubs (as I had been their carer) especially, resisted this, Torak wormed it into their heads. When you were around him his teeth were everywhere, nipping if you did anything that displeased him. Eventually his teeth came out less, but they didn't need to - after only three months the whole pack had his teeth in their head. Me as well, though less so.

I was not only Torak's spittoon now, but everyone's. Ma and Fa alone treated me as more than dirt, Fa because his spirit was too broken to treat anyone as dirt, Ma because she refused to let go of her mother-love.

Over those long three months I became quiet and withdrawn. I stayed away from the pack as long as possible, though Torak would seek me out and drive me back. Only my fleetness stopped me suffering many a grave injury, and even so I felt his teeth far too often.

I could see my packmates' spirits dying, right before me. Fa felt it worst, not able to understand why Torak pushed him down so. Ma's new cubs became bitter and snappy, seeking an outlet for their pain, an outlet that was me so much. Azir pined and pined for her sister, whining like a cub in the middle of the night

I envied Tai, who had left the pack for a new life. I envied Cakiki, dying a martyrs' death. I even envied Colre, dying in pain and misery. I was dead too, deep inside me - something had died, but my body refused to, and kept on going through the motions of living - hunt, eat, drink, sleep, wake, hunt, eat, drink, sleep, wake...

And then another wolf came.

He came over the mountains, laughing and joking. I saw him first, and spoke to him, and told him what was happening. He came with me to a place overlooking the ravine we lived in, and saw Torak. His muzzle wrinkled into a snarl, but like me he was powerless - he could never beat Torak.

But in that one second of his defiance I saw a shadow of the me I used to be, the me who would not let go of the wanderlust, who would never, could never, be fully dominated. I sold my heart to him there and then.

Lyri...

He brought me back to life. He gave me a reason for life. He took my breaking heart and mended it, giving it back to me even better than before. Now when Torak stole me away from my roaming, driving me back with snaps and growls, it didn't hurt. The memory of Lyri bore me up, and made a shield for me to hide behind.

He hid from Torak, hid well, and was always there when I needed him. He taught me how to play with words, I taught him how to see the beauty in a fallen leaf. We taught each other how to fall so deeply in love nothing else seemed to matter.

Two months after I met him I came into heat for the first time. It was scary, but of course Lyri made it all seem normal. And, naturally, we mated.

I am convinced that Lyri didn't really want pups. Lyri was mating because something in him was telling him to, just like something in you tells you when you're hungry. That's the way all wolves are - the way all animals are.

Unfortunately, the mating was successful, and I became pregnant.

Lyri stuck with me for precisely fifteen days before he cleared off. I had seen it in him; I was ready. I knew him well enough to know he was going to leave, and I'd prepared myself.

I kept far away from the pack. My pregnancy lasted two months, and I knew that if Torak discovered I had been in heat and hidden from him during that time (I was getting quite good at hiding from him now) then things would go badly with me.

At first being pregnant was no different from being any other way, except that I hunted more, aware that I would be unable to hunt and need the fat. But eventually I grew too large to hunt well. I was reduced to scavenging the pack's kills when I stumbled upon them. Sometimes, when they didn't take anything down, I snapped up insects, and once I tried to eat a fallen branch. I was hungry.

The humans didn't help either. They arrived, built a log-den, and stayed. There were...five of them, a male, a female and three cubs. The male hunted us continuously, setting traps that an unwary wolf could stumble into, though he also spent a lot of time at the log-den, doing strange things to the ground that made strange plants grow. They had a strange wolf too, a small thing that growled and barked all the time, speaking threats in puppy-speak. Everything about those humans was strange.

The male was good at what he did. I saw two of Ma's new pups fall to his traps, and I saw Azir shot with his loud bang-stick. Over the course of my gestation Ma became pregnant again, though I could tell she really didn't want to.

All of this was observed from afar. I was hiding from them all, for any one of them might tell that I was pregnant, and if that happened then Torak would hunt me down. Teeth in their heads...Lyri had freed me, but the others were still trapped.

When I gave birth there were only three, and one stillborn. One of the others, a boy, was weak and sickly, dying within hours. I didn't bother naming him.

The last was a girl. Vita, I called her. She did to me what Lyri did - she took my breaking heart and healed it all over again. She became my whole life.

I restricted her greatly. If she saw any strange wolves, she was to hide in our den and not talk to them. She wasn't to go beyond the big oak tree, she wasn't to chase any prey outside her play area, and she was never to go near the fast-flowing river than ran down just a little way away. If she saw any men she was to hide in the den; if she saw the man change anything or put anything down she must not go near it and tell me.

I wanted to protect her. But this time the only wolves in the pack were Fa, two of Ma's new pups and Torak, of course. The men had taken them all.

After Ma died (I had found her body in a snare) I had been numb. I'd learnt to turn off my feelings. But of course that only lasted until I reached Vita, dragging a hare I'd caught for her. Vita let me cry, though not much - my heart broke as she tried to comfort me. The young (and she was young, eight weeks, only just weaned) shouldn't have to do that.

Ma's pups (for another two had died) I felt nothing for.

One day Vita was crying out with boredom. I could hear her from the other side of the range. She was howling her wobbly little howl (I'd forgotten to tell her not to, I'd forgotten, I'd forgotten...) and singing her boredom.

And I knew she was bored. No one to play with, nothing to do...but I had to hunt, for her and me. I had to show my face so that Torak didn't go searching for me.

Torak heard her howl too. The pack was hunting a moose, and I was tagging along. One look at my face and he knew.

"I'll just go and see what that cub is howling about...oh, and don't let Kiata follow me. It could be dangerous."

He slipped away. I tried to follow, but Ma's new cubs blocked me. I went frantic then, jumping and diving, trying to fight when I knew I couldn't. I got through after a couple of minutes, and ran so fast...

But I wasn't fast enough. I was fast enough to see the deathblow, but not fast enough to save her. Vita was dead. Because I couldn't remember; because I wasn't fast enough.

She was dead because of me.

Life was grey, unreal. One of Ma's remaining cubs died; just Torak, the last cub, Fa and me. Four wolves in a range fit for ten. How lonely we were in all that space.

Colour returned, once...one month later? The male human was tracking Fa, bang-stick over his shoulder. The male human was going to kill Fa.

Fa was my only link left to a happy land, a land where I played Hunt, where Colre and Azir laughed as me and Tai and Cakiki tried to be grown-up, failing miserably.

I ran ahead, silent and swift as the wind. I told Fa.

He didn't believe me. Torak was in his head now; some bit of him was Torak. Torak said I was a liar. Torak said I was evil. Torak said I wasn't to be trusted.

I was an evil liar who wasn't to be trusted.

Fa was killed in front of my eyes, as I lay up in some bushes. He was killed because he didn't believe me.

Teeth in their heads...

I let the pain come that night - I had been blocking it before. The only reason I let it come was that it was too strong, far too strong...if I didn't let it out it would have come upon me at some more inconvenient time.

I howled for the first time in months, until I couldn't. The pain was hard and sharp, and rendered me immobile, then meant I couldn't stay still. I tore long strips of grass from the ground with my claws, sobbing into the raw earth. I wasn't just crying for Fa now - I was crying for everything and everyone I'd lost.

The next morning I was fine. I could feel the pain in me, but I covered it in layers and layers of remoteness, until it was as dim and distant as the stars.

Ma's last cub died just a week later, from a trap the humans set.

There were more humans now. Three log-dens, a dozen humans altogether. Less bang-sticks, more traps, a lot more strange plants and strange wolves. Strange moose too, big, white and brown and black spotted, gave milk.

But that was all a distraction now. I was staying alive.

Torak had lost everything, just as I had. He'd lost all his power. Now the only power he had was over me, and never did I forget it.

He hunted me, pausing only to sleep and eat. But because he was hunting me, his rules governed me too - so I only paused to sleep and eat.

I remember those days in a blur. They passed by in a constant whine of anxiety and sudden awakenings.

But some parts were underlined in fire. The times when Torak would chase me and corner me, advance growling, and I would remember in flashes him killing Vita, Pa dying, Colre and Azir seemingly whining in tandem as one died of illness and one of a broken heart. I would remember the idea of Ma, gentle Ma, trapped in that awful snare. The world would be torn down around my ears once again as Torak pretended he was going to kill me.

And he would let me go. He would stand aside and wait until I slunk past, then burst into laughter as I scampered off. And every time, every single time, he managed to convince me that this time he wasn't playing.

For he was. He was playing, hunting the forbidden prey of his own kind, but still playing - playing a dangerous game that he had to win, because he was strong. It was just a game to him, the most wonderful game.

But I was strong too, and not just in my swift legs. As he chased me, and sometimes I could feel his breath on my hindpaws, and other times he was trailing metres behind, I was plotting. I was not going to just lie down and die.

My plan took shape. I found what I needed. And then, from the next full moon, I counted down his days.

Two months. Vita's life. Enjoy it, Torak, enjoy it. They're your last two months on earth.

And I let him. During those two months I let him corner me. I pretended to be more scared than ever before, but this time it was all pretend.

Two months later, nine days after, when the moon was just under three quarters full, I killed him.

I started leading him to his death place the same time he went to kill Vita. I timed it so that he died almost the same time as Vita had.

There was a place where the male human had set a snare under a fallen log which lay along a ravine. Anywolf running along the ravine would run right under the log and get caught by the snare. There was a way to get round, but it took quite a long time.

I ran up the ravine, after timing it so that I had about thirty seconds before Torak followed. I raced along to the fallen log and clambered up the side, whimpering as loose stones slid under my paws. I reached the top of the bank and scrambled through the tangled roots of the fallen tree, jumping down the other side. I started running, pretending I'd run under the log without any harm.

Torak had just entered the ravine as I landed, but he didn't suspect anything, or if he did he didn't show it. He charged along, and I ran, but as I heard him cry out I stopped and wheeled.

He was fighting the snare. Now you can't fight snares. A wolf caught in one should lie still and hope help comes. But Torak was panicking. He was faced with an enemy that couldn't be fought, so he tried even harder to fight it. Every time he plunged, pulled forward or back, he was hastening his death.

Eventually he lay still, exhausted, feeling the life choke from him. I trotted up to him and lay down almost nose-to-nose.

Torak knew he was dead. He didn't do anything much, just stared at me with his green eyes. Maybe he snarled a little; maybe he didn't.

I lay there and watched till the fire in his eyes died forever.