Wolven
The Alpha
I barely have time to react, throwing myself back toward the collapsed and screaming woman. The wolf's snarl mingles with my cry of effort as the butt of the rifle connects with its ferociously open mouth. The contact sends the beast to land beside the woman, and I scramble to stand over her, whipping out my hunting knife and brandishing it furiously. Ragged and feral growls of my own issue from my throat as I bare my teeth at the wolves. The entire pack of about 6 wolves encircle myself and the woman I defend, suddenly standing deathly still with their hungry, golden-brown eyes burning into me.
I turn and turn where I stand over the woman, dancing around her shaking and sobbing form to keep all wolves in sight as I internally shout for the other village men on watch to answer my radio call.
"Leave me, just leave me," she cries, her voice torn with pain and tears. "Take him. Please, take him." She barely holds out her bundle to me, I see from the corner of my eye, and I realize with alarm that she holds a human infant in her hands. "They want the Inuit children, they take our babies in the night," she gasps, "You must... Run!" She chokes, her gasps becoming more ragged before suddenly ceasing, and I scream a curse at all of the wolves, flashing the knife at them. They continue to just stare, motionless.
I throw the rifle down onto the ice, and slowly bend to ease the woman's grasp on the bundle with one hand, keeping my eyes fiercely fixed on the wolves as I do so. I gather the papoose in my arm, holding it firmly to my body as the baby begins to cry. The wolves bare their teeth simultaneously at the sound. I snarl right back, threatening them with my blade.
And suddenly, they all stop. One by one, the heads of the wolves turn to a point behind me, their gazes fixed. The warm smell of something familiar fills my senses as I turn to look, and my breath catches.
A massive white wolf stands behind the circle of the pack, its pure fur thick around its neck. Its nose is charcoal black, but its eyes are the color of the iciest blue. The piercing gaze is rimmed by black-flecked fur, and the contrast is startling.
Unable to draw a breath, I watch as the huge white beast prowls beyond the ring of wolves to lower its head and stalk slowly and silently around and around me. The beast's eyes bore into mine with a shocking intensity the entire time. It halts in front of me, taking soundless steps forward to gaze eye-level at me. Its black-rimmed lips rise back silently to show massive, razor-sharp fangs. The lowest rumble of a growl issues from its barrel-like chest.
I jump as he suddenly gives a sharp, deep bark, and the pack instantly sprints away. They run back across the tundra from the direction they came in, the giant white alpha male breaking eye contact with me to trot silently in their wake. It stops slowly to turn its great snout back toward me, that shocking, feral gaze burning with a glacial light.
The baby in my arm fusses as I glare back at the alpha. It blinks competantly at me with a flash of its thick black canine-lashes, its eyes cold with a blazingly-icy fire.
I hear shouts behind me, far up on the rise, as the alpha's chest expands with a rustle of thick white fur. Tilting its head back and closing its eyes, the giant wolf lets forth a bone-chilling howl. The soul-shaking sound rises to a gut-twisting peak of a note, a feral fire clawing and roaring from within me as the alpha lingers on his note before the pitch drops in a hair-raising timbre.
With one last cold look in my direction, the massive wolf bounds off just as gunshots sound from the rise behind me. Stricken, I grit my teeth in anger as I glare at the flanks of the alpha male. I physically cannot eradicate the overpowering gut-feeling that the wolf's cry ignited, nor have I ever felt it this strongly.
I hate it. I refuse it. I will never accept it.
A few of the other village men who could reach me first from their watch posts sprint down the icy rise, taking aim with their weapons at the faint glimmer of the alpha, a white shadow of mist against the equally pure tundra. I bend to swipe my gun up out of the snow with a shaking grip, the Inuit baby wailing in my arms. The men question me about my well being, then inspect the still form of the woman lying in the ice.
Christopher, a man in his mid-thirties, leads me back up the rise with a firm arm around my shoulder. He continually tells me how lucky I am the entire journey to the medical house. I nod and agree, nod and agree, thinking of his own daughter who’s just a few years younger than myself. I wonder how my own father would handle the situation that I’m in.
Christopher escorts me into the doctor’s cabin, and I hand the weary-eyed woman the infant before getting checked over myself by her assistant. I came out unscathed. As the woman in her forties lays the Inuit infant on the table to begin its examination, I watch the procedure with a blank stare.
The babies... The babies!
The Inuit woman’s words ring through my mind with a shuddering potency, and the sudden flash of cutting, wolven eyes burns my memory. I wish that the woman hadn’t died. I want to know more about what she was saying on her deathbed, about the wolves taking the children at night.
No... About the wolves taking the Inuit children at night.
I look down at my hands, slender and tan. My straight, black hair falls over my shoulders and into my sight as a chill creeps its way up my spine. Why the Inuit children?
Why would wolves take human infants in the first place?
I turn and turn where I stand over the woman, dancing around her shaking and sobbing form to keep all wolves in sight as I internally shout for the other village men on watch to answer my radio call.
"Leave me, just leave me," she cries, her voice torn with pain and tears. "Take him. Please, take him." She barely holds out her bundle to me, I see from the corner of my eye, and I realize with alarm that she holds a human infant in her hands. "They want the Inuit children, they take our babies in the night," she gasps, "You must... Run!" She chokes, her gasps becoming more ragged before suddenly ceasing, and I scream a curse at all of the wolves, flashing the knife at them. They continue to just stare, motionless.
I throw the rifle down onto the ice, and slowly bend to ease the woman's grasp on the bundle with one hand, keeping my eyes fiercely fixed on the wolves as I do so. I gather the papoose in my arm, holding it firmly to my body as the baby begins to cry. The wolves bare their teeth simultaneously at the sound. I snarl right back, threatening them with my blade.
And suddenly, they all stop. One by one, the heads of the wolves turn to a point behind me, their gazes fixed. The warm smell of something familiar fills my senses as I turn to look, and my breath catches.
A massive white wolf stands behind the circle of the pack, its pure fur thick around its neck. Its nose is charcoal black, but its eyes are the color of the iciest blue. The piercing gaze is rimmed by black-flecked fur, and the contrast is startling.
Unable to draw a breath, I watch as the huge white beast prowls beyond the ring of wolves to lower its head and stalk slowly and silently around and around me. The beast's eyes bore into mine with a shocking intensity the entire time. It halts in front of me, taking soundless steps forward to gaze eye-level at me. Its black-rimmed lips rise back silently to show massive, razor-sharp fangs. The lowest rumble of a growl issues from its barrel-like chest.
I jump as he suddenly gives a sharp, deep bark, and the pack instantly sprints away. They run back across the tundra from the direction they came in, the giant white alpha male breaking eye contact with me to trot silently in their wake. It stops slowly to turn its great snout back toward me, that shocking, feral gaze burning with a glacial light.
The baby in my arm fusses as I glare back at the alpha. It blinks competantly at me with a flash of its thick black canine-lashes, its eyes cold with a blazingly-icy fire.
I hear shouts behind me, far up on the rise, as the alpha's chest expands with a rustle of thick white fur. Tilting its head back and closing its eyes, the giant wolf lets forth a bone-chilling howl. The soul-shaking sound rises to a gut-twisting peak of a note, a feral fire clawing and roaring from within me as the alpha lingers on his note before the pitch drops in a hair-raising timbre.
With one last cold look in my direction, the massive wolf bounds off just as gunshots sound from the rise behind me. Stricken, I grit my teeth in anger as I glare at the flanks of the alpha male. I physically cannot eradicate the overpowering gut-feeling that the wolf's cry ignited, nor have I ever felt it this strongly.
I hate it. I refuse it. I will never accept it.
A few of the other village men who could reach me first from their watch posts sprint down the icy rise, taking aim with their weapons at the faint glimmer of the alpha, a white shadow of mist against the equally pure tundra. I bend to swipe my gun up out of the snow with a shaking grip, the Inuit baby wailing in my arms. The men question me about my well being, then inspect the still form of the woman lying in the ice.
Christopher, a man in his mid-thirties, leads me back up the rise with a firm arm around my shoulder. He continually tells me how lucky I am the entire journey to the medical house. I nod and agree, nod and agree, thinking of his own daughter who’s just a few years younger than myself. I wonder how my own father would handle the situation that I’m in.
Christopher escorts me into the doctor’s cabin, and I hand the weary-eyed woman the infant before getting checked over myself by her assistant. I came out unscathed. As the woman in her forties lays the Inuit infant on the table to begin its examination, I watch the procedure with a blank stare.
The babies... The babies!
The Inuit woman’s words ring through my mind with a shuddering potency, and the sudden flash of cutting, wolven eyes burns my memory. I wish that the woman hadn’t died. I want to know more about what she was saying on her deathbed, about the wolves taking the children at night.
No... About the wolves taking the Inuit children at night.
I look down at my hands, slender and tan. My straight, black hair falls over my shoulders and into my sight as a chill creeps its way up my spine. Why the Inuit children?
Why would wolves take human infants in the first place?