The tall, sweeping grasses obstructed his vision. Every few strides he’d coil the tensed muscles in his haunches and leap with his tail balancing him like a rudder: head down, ears flat, tail straight, five or six strides then a leap. It had become a rhythm with soft fluid movements and bunched muscles coiling and extending, stretching and flexing. His powerful binocular vision allowed him to see a wide swathe of the horizon and he could see it all: the trees to the west, the quarry partly hidden by the grass and the river quietly disappearing into the valley to the east. Closer and closer he moved as the intoxicating scent of his prey grew stronger, and in front of him the grass parted effortlessly allowing him to choose the path to his quarry.
They were there foraging for their food. Serenely still, the tendrils of early morning mist curling up from the water disguised them in shrouds of grey; the young and the sickly were surrounded and protected by the stronger adults. His instincts told him to stop, to watch and to be patient. An opportunity might arise when, unprotected, a little one would venture forth on its own or a weak one would be left behind. Crouching furtively he stalked, amber eyes focused, unwavering and never leaving their prey. He waited patiently.
Watching his prey, he saw that a smaller animal had moved further from the herd, following the course of the roots and exposing them by pawing at the ground. It stood five feet tall at the withers and weighed about seven hundred pounds. Its antlers were rounded at the tip with a spread of three or four feet. Its legs, head and neck were dark brown and it had a yellowish tan rump. The sun broke through the mist, warming its skin; the steam rose from its hot body and the tendrils of the mist dissipated into nothingness. He was close enough now to hear its soft blowing as it nosed into the loose mounds of dirt; its musky smell different than the small creatures he scented and who left traces of their scat behind. Its large soft eyes blinked slowly as it chewed, serenely unaware of the approaching danger.
The hollowness in his stomach became a deafening roar and lifted him off the ground with its desperation. He flew at the giant body, his teeth bared, and landed at the great animal’s hind feet. Grunting in panic, the animal kicked at him, its hooves landing blows to his head and neck; the dirt and gravel and barks and grunts were a mad cacophony of noise shattering the peaceful quiet of the morning. With one last parting kick, the animal escaped and ran to rejoin the rest of the herd. Deflated, he panted, his tongue lolled and his ribs ached with exertion. He slunk away.
***
He was a large animal with mottled patches of light ochre fur mixed with darker blotches of brown; it was as if nature didn’t know whether he should be dark or light, so it left him a neutral gray. The thick guard hairs on his ruff and back were made for warmth and protection and shone softly iridescent in the light. His tail, which was well developed and long, helped him make sharp turns at high speed. Like a barometer, it would lower in subservience, waft slowly back and forth when he was happy, and float straight out behind him, rippling delicately as he ran. His eyes were luminous, translucent amber flecked with gold and they were situated slightly to the sides of his muzzle. The combination of broad peripheral and binocular vision helped locate and detect the distances of prey, and like most predators, he could see better at night when his heightened vision allowed him to detect the slightest movement in the distant grass or trees. His ears were his most unusual feature. One was firmly erect while the other was permanently flopped over, as if dejected, which gave him a sadly pitiful air.
Many sunup’s ago he had watched “The Others” bring to ground a large antlered beast. It had wandered a short distance from the herd and had been quietly surrounded by five or six of the large grey animals. He had watched and measured himself against them, these beasts with their long canines sharply white in the fading light, and their yellow eyes that glittered with intelligence. Each one seemed to know what the other was thinking; each movement was carefully orchestrated. Taking turns lunging at the animal, they closed in and maneuvered to snap at its nose or to bite at its hamstrings. They followed the beast for miles, slowly and patiently, their stares unblinking, mesmerizing the panicked creature with their amber eyes. Then they finally made their move. Swarming around the beast, they lunged in unison, and the morning calm was shattered as prey and predator united into a seething, writhing mass of blood, hair, and saliva.
They feasted for days, guarding the corpse closely and bringing their families to join in; the parents regurgitated the frothy steaming contents of their stomachs for the young ones to lap up. They played and then they slept, secure in the knowledge they had food for a time.
He watched them as they guarded the carcass, his ribs protruding and his belly aching. Creeping, belly to the ground, he flung himself at the carcass desperately snapping at the meat. They attacked him. Their anger swept him away, and he crept slowly away to a dark place, a dank, small pit surrounded by gorse and boulders. There he tongued and lathed the gouges and torn skin, and soothed the swelling, and the gnawing, hungry emptiness that encompassed his whole being.
***
There was much he didn’t know about “The Others.” He would sit on an outcropping of rocks and watch them for long periods of time, always staying far enough away to be safe. They were used to him now and realized that he was not a threat to their food supply or to their young. They knew he was there, and could scent him, but for some reason, known only to them, they tolerated his presence.
He watched as they lay in the sun, back to back, or huddled for warmth or with a paw or a chin resting on another’s head or back. They played with their young. Even the older adults tolerated the constant yipping and the playful bites from the cubs’ teeth. He watched as they disciplined those that went too far with a growl or a nip. At times he saw them running, jumping and tumbling, the cubs and grownups alike, their bodies moving in some sort of primitive dance of glee.
At night they would sometimes gather, throw back their heads and howl. He could feel their joy, heartbreaking and soulful; the notes free, awakening in him a sense of loneliness and desire. They would begin their chorus slowly and tentatively. Sometimes their howls were discordant and, at other times, harmonious. Others joined in until the howls became shorter and higher pitched, and with a note of finality, ended in a sharp bark.
On these nights he felt a tension, a tug from deep down in his chest urging him to approach them, but fear was always there keeping him from wandering too near. From its hollow core his chest would expand in reflex to their calls; his ears would flatten and he would throw back his head in ecstasy. Again and again his jaws would open, and he would croon, his mouth slowly closing on the notes. It was at these times he would remember the past when his life was full of warmth and love.
***
The people with the large house and fenced yard were young. They had adopted him when he was cute and playful and he would sit in their laps. Food was plentiful, and he ate until he could no longer stand with his tiny stomach round and bloated like a balloon. He licked them in joy, ran to greet them at the door with wags and barks; his floppy ear always hung down, drooping over his eye, or flapping in the wind. When they came home he would run around their legs barking for the sheer enjoyment of it, his tail wagging so hard he could barely stand up. His floppy ear was always there to plague him and if it didn’t droop over his eye like a discarded rag, it would flap against his head, smacking him each time he jounced. His people would laugh at it and smooth it back, rubbing it in their fingers and caressing it with kisses.
His life went on like this for a long time until he grew up and his feet grew big and his hair became thick and coarse. His voice was deep and loud and they would shout at him to stop. He was confused because he still tried to please them.
One day they came home with a tiny bundle in a blanket. It squealed and it wiggled and cried. They would sit and hold it and caress it and all their attention was on this creature; their eyes huge and filled with love. They pushed him away and became angry with him if he stood too close to sniff it in curiosity, or to lick it gently with his tongue in love and acceptance.
It was not long before they took him in their car and drove away, far away from the people and houses and big yards with fences. They drove all day until they came to fragrant forests, rolling hills and sky blue lakes. The air was so fresh and cool he gulped it in like a cool drink of water. They opened the car door and unclipped his collar and left him standing on the gravel road as they drove away with the car’s tail lights receding into the distance. He ran and ran to catch them, at first thinking they were playing some kind of new game. He wasn’t sure of the rules, so he finally stopped running. His lungs hurt and his legs shook in exhaustion. His ear drooped and its fur fell over his eye.
***
Earlier in the day he had seen the small, brown, furry creature hopping in the grass and moving randomly from one thatch to another. It stopped to lean back on its haunches and slowly and contentedly chew on a blade of grass while its eyes glazed over in enjoyment and its whiskers twitched.
He had waited patiently, saliva pooled in his mouth, slowly dripped from his chin and landed softly on the ground. In the entire world there was nothing but his eyes with their unblinking focus, the hollowness in his belly and this little creature. Every ounce of him was on ready alert and in tune: he sprang forward, grasped it in his jaws and with quick efficiency snapped its neck.
***
The cough that awakened him from his sleep was a sort of “quarking” sound, low and gravelly. It was repeated again. Turning his head he saw the sheen of ebony feathers and the beady black eyes of a flying creature. He had seen them before, usually in flocks or in pairs when they followed “The Others” on their hunts and waited for opportune moments to steal from carcasses. Sometimes they were lucky when "The Others" had eaten and left their kill to be scavenged by the birds. At other times, they would meet their end trying to steal from a cache that was guarded by the pack.
They studied each other: his great eyes lit like the sun and the flying creature’s small and beady, were warily watching. He lifted his enormous head from his forepaws, and the creature quickly leapt backward abandoning its timid approach to the morning’s carcass. The staring match continued. His lids lowered, shuttering any aggression they contained, and he drifted back to sleep, full and, for now, complete. The scavenger, now unafraid, approached the bloody mass of fur and leavings — and with its powerful beak picked at the bones.
***
One day, when the sun was high in the sky and warm on his sleek fur, he lay down in the sweet smelling grass. The soft breeze was blowing and the hum of insects entertained him. His loneliness was forgotten for a time. His eyes closed slowly and he yawned and tucked his muzzle under his forepaw and fell asleep. The breeze ruffled the guard hairs on his back, bringing faraway scents to tantalize his dreams. A tree waving in the wind lost a leaf that caught in the breeze. Listing back and forth, it fluttered down until it gently landed on his nose.
He awoke with a start, his teeth snapping at the object lying heedlessly on the ground beside his muzzle. Cautiously he tipped at it with his tongue, examining it and nuzzling at it until he was sure it meant him no harm. A light gust of wind suddenly rose, sending the leaf off into a series of spins and free falls, teasing him with its antics. He leapt up, running to catch it, his tongue flapping, his tail wagging and his teeth clacking as he missed it by inches. Instinctively, he twirled and jumped, slid to a stop, hopped, ran and barked at the leaf in the breeze.
***
The sharp loneliness had encompassed him in its blanket of weariness and dejection, and he was cold. At night the bite of it would slowly sink into his body, pushing him down and deep into the earth so he would feel he was becoming part of the grass and trees and insects and birds. He longed for warmth and security and the feeling of belonging. This yearning led him to “The Others.” He haunted their journey like a shadow and he watched. Everything.
That day, the day of new beginnings, he had watched them wandering. They understood now that he posed no danger and he had been able to get closer to them. When they saw him their ears would no longer flatten, and they wouldn’t stand up with their heads and tails tall, and their feet firm and strong.
The cubs were with them pouncing on each other, nipping at the heels of the adults and exploring every anthill and thatch of brush they could find. The braver ones strayed further away, careless and innocent of the danger, chasing their tails and following squirrels into trees. The adults were always there watching and prodding the cubs back to safety. One cub was more of a problem than the rest. He jounced playfully along sucking on the grass and nosing into the dirt as one of its ears drooped and tilted to the side.
The group had wandered close to a river where the water bounded over giant boulders and slithered its icy way between tunnels of trees. The water moved fast and froth spewed up in angry crashes when it was blocked from its journey. The wolves had carefully prodded the little ones away from the water and had wandered further up on the bern. On the bank’s grassy shoulders the droopy eared little cub had been left behind playing its foolish games in the dirt and mud next to the water.
He had watched the thoughtless cub as it leaned over trying to lap at the rushing water, and as it slowly skidded down the greasy slope and scrabbled for a foothold. Its yips and barks for help were lost in the furious sound of rushing water that engulfed its tiny body and pulled it heartlessly under the river.
Reacting instinctively, he waded into the water, slipping on the rocks. His heart thundered as he let out a loud alerting bark. Grappling with the undertow, he tried desperately to keep his footing and saw the cub’s head bobbing up and down and getting closer, its plaintive yelps getting louder as it fought for its life. Struggling against the current, he pushed until he could feel the wet plush of the pup’s ear next to his face. Then, opening his jaws, he grabbed at it, securing its thrashing body in his teeth. Looking to find a firm foothold, he stumbled over the rocks trying to get closer to shore. Finally, he stepped out into the shallows.
The pup landed with a thump on the shore and lay for a moment stunned. Then it jumped up, shook its body from head to toe, and was off to greet its pack with ecstatic yelps. He stood there shaking, his matted fur crusted with mud, and his ear, drooping, was slicked to a point at his muzzle.
“The Others” moved closer, watching him with their amber eyes glinting in the bright sun. He stared back. They turned, their massive bodies sliding away into the shadows. He followed them his body melting into quicksilver.
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