by Natalie Erin
“The Ortusans outnumber us now, and that’s never happened before. They have the upper hand.” Snapfoot tried taking control, putting his foot down and staring at the elder.
“What does it matter? We can still chase the other wolves out of here,” the female said again.
“What, and lose half our pack? A move like that won’t just start an uprising between all the other packs, it’ll make us seem even weaker to the unicorns. At least here, we have numbers,” Snapfoot said.
At the mention of unicorns, the pack began to howl and hiss. The hatred was obvious, filling their very eyes as they growled in rage.
When the pack began to get too rowdy, Lilja stepped forward and said, “Quiet, all of you! What Snapfoot says is right. We can’t afford to make any mistakes. The minute we turn on other wolves, the unicorns will see their chance to kill all of us.”
The pack instantly shut up. Snapfoot suppressed a growl. It was annoying that the pack still listened to his father better than they listened to him. But respect had to be earned, and he had only been leader for a short time. It didn’t help that once Snapfoot had taken up the role of alpha, his term had been marred by everything from disease to starvation.
“Thank you,” Snapfoot nodded to Lilja. “Now, the rest of you go back to the den…”
“And do what?” the female asked.
“Rest up,” Snapfoot said. “We’re hunting tonight.”
“With what prey to hunt?” she shouted.
“Oh, leave him alone!” At this statement, another wolf, a pale gray one with a wispy, lithe form, pushed her way to the front. “He said we’re hunting, so we’re hunting! Just do what he says! I’m so tired of wolves giving him trouble. Maybe if you all just shut up and did what he said instead of whining, your mouths would be full of meat instead of words.”
“You’ve got a lot of room to talk, Kaliska,” the elder grumbled.
The wolf tossed her head. “I give most of what I have to the young ones, and keep my trap shut otherwise. I wish I could say the same for most of you.”
She swished her tail and sashayed away, swinging her hips behind her as she went.
“Bigmouthed little tramp,” the other female snapped under her breath.
“Kaliska has been an excellent endorsement to the camp since she arrived,” Cornia growled abruptly, digging her claws in the dirt. “Too bad you haven’t done half as much, Ehawee.”
The wolf bared her teeth, but she didn’t dare talk back to an elder as respected as Cornia, Lilja’s mate and the former female alpha.
“Rest up, all of you.” Lottie came to the front, encouraging the group. Her eyes looked very tired, body seemingly just as worn. She’d been lost, ever since Casiff had disappeared with Kia and Vixen. “We need all the strength we can get.”
The group dispersed unenthusiastically. Lottie sighed and went out to search for healing herbs. Soon, not even her words would be able to boost the pack’s spirit.
“I’m going to scout for something to eat,” Snapfoot told his father.
“At the worst there’s roots,” Lilja said. “We always have a last resort.”
“I think the pack’s getting tired of roots,” Snapfoot added sadly as he walked away. He headed into the ugly, ashy hole that was the Verinian, coughing as he went. No rabbits had stayed in their burrows, no deer had hidden in the decaying trees. Everything was gone.
“Snapfoot! Wait up!” Kaliska came running behind him, sneezing as she kicked up ash.
“Kaliska, you really should stay back with the pack,” Snapfoot said with disapproval. “It’s not safe out here.”
She sighed. “They don’t want me there. You know they don’t.”
“I don’t see why not. You’re one of our best,” Snapfoot muttered.
“All they see me as is an outsider with a strong head, or a stupid one, as they would say,” she added. “And soon, I’ll just be the whore who’s got twelve more mouths to feed.”
Snapfoot didn’t say anything. Kaliska had joined his pack after her mate was killed by Ortusans. Only he knew Kaliska’s secret, but it wouldn’t be long before everyone else in the pack did, too. Eventually, the pack would catch on, and once they did it would be a dramatic scandal that anyone besides the alpha female had been allowed to breed. Snapfoot hadn’t chosen a mate yet, specifically because he knew it would cause issues with Kaliska’s pups on the way.
“Are you sure you’re going to be having pups?” Snapfoot said.
“No. Not completely. But I have a feeling. I just hope it’s wrong.”
“Don’t want pups?”
“I’ve already had some. They’re grown now, and with other packs. I’d love to have more, but in the current situation I don’t think now is the time.”
“What, you kidding? The Second Despondent is the perfect time for pups to grow up. They’ll be tough.” Snapfoot laughed half-heartedly.
“And bitter and angry all their lives,” Kaliska added glumly.
“That too.”
After an hour of searching, neither of them had found a single hair indicating any prey nearby. “Well, that settles it,” Snapfoot said.
“It’s roots again, huh?” Kaliska said dully.
“No.” Snapfoot scraped his claws against a dead piece of wood. “There’s only one thing left to do, Kaliska. The only creatures that haven’t fled from the plains or the Verinian are the unicorns.”
“You’re not saying…” Kaliska said slowly.
“Yes,” Snapfoot said. “Tonight, we go on a unicorn hunt.”
Midnightstar had to squash down a feeling of irritation at Dust as they continued on through the edge of the Ice Borns. This wolf, who they didn’t know, had simply waltzed into her group and had taken command of the situation like it was her idea to go on a journey in the first place.
Midnightstar knew that Tatl and Adelaide wouldn’t complain, as they now had a sense of actual direction, but she had been sure that Rabika wouldn’t like a stranger barging her way in and telling them how to do things. On the contrary, Rabika did everything Dust told her to. It was obvious she liked following Dust a lot more than she liked following Midnightstar.
As for Xiuh, he spent his days winding through the trees after them, keeping far away and out of sight. He wasn’t talking to her, and that was just fine by Midnightstar.
At least, that’s what she told herself.
Dust was leading the way as they walked into the morning light. Dust had insisted that everyone be up as early as possible for that day’s journey. They all had jumped up instantly at her command, as if sleep was only a luxury and not something required to survive. If Midnightstar would’ve even suggested they get up early, the wolves would’ve taken an hour to wake up, and an hour more to be ready to leave.
“You seem aggravated,” Tatl said, drawing close to Midnightstar as they walked down the winding mountain path.
“I just have to ask Dust a few questions,” she replied, narrowing her eyes.
“Midnightstar, don’t chase her away. She’s our only guide,” Tatl whispered.
“I won’t chase her anywhere. I’m just a little curious.” She left Tatl’s side and padded to Dust’s, strides matching paw for paw.
“There are some things I must ask you,” Midnightstar started, leaning in front of Dust so she couldn’t be ignored.
“I may not answer, but go ahead,” Dust replied nonchalantly.
Midnightstar’s eye twitched. “Why are you doing this? You don’t know us. This isn’t your war. Unicorns have never bothered you.”
“No, they have not,” Dust said with a touch of amusement.
“Then why?” she pressed.
“I told you. I want to help.”
“Why?”
“Can’t anyone preform an act of kindness without being questioned?” Dust said.
“This isn’t being polite. You’re uprooting your life to travel across the Lands with us, a group of strangers. Surely there must be a reason.”
&n
bsp; “I have no attachment to anything. The only thing that has changed because of my decision is the scenery.”
So that was it. Dust wanted a pack, did she? Made sense, as they had found her wandering alone. Well, that was fine by Midnightstar, so long as she kept out of her way. But from now on, she was keeping an eye on her.
“Why were the Specters afraid of you?” Midnightstar asked suspiciously.
“Because I see them for what they are. I take everything as it is, for what it is.”
“So do I.”
“No. You have hope for this earth to change its ways. I do not. The Specters can’t enchant me because I don’t see what I wish to see, but what I have to see. I take reality as it is, and do not embellish it with foolish wishes and dreams.”
“Are you saying that I’m imagining things?” Midnightstar’s temper instantly flared.
“I wasn’t singling you out at all. Should I?”
“No!” Midnightstar said defensively. “You’re just…acting like you’re better than us!”
“Not at all. I’m just stating the facts. Everyone is out for themselves in this world. You and I are no different. We can’t cure our selfish, greedy nature, and despite what we do to change it, all of us will meet the same cold end. I am just as horribly miserable as the rest of you, Midnightstar. Do not forget that.”
“You’re the most cynical wolf I’ve ever met.”
“Am I? Hm.”
“You’re part Changer, aren’t you?” Midnightstar said suspiciously. “You must be. Your voice has an echo to it. Can you change into anything else besides a wolf?”
“Maybe.” Dust smiled again.
Midnightstar was sick of these games. Growling, she turned on her heels and trotted over to Adelaide.
“Watch out for Dust,” she whispered. “I don’t think we can trust her.”
“Oh, why not? She’s the finest wolf I’ve ever seen,” Adelaide said in a bubbly fashion.
“You can’t base everything on looks,” Midnightstar said slowly. “How do we know she’s not leading us into a trap?”
“Why would she do that?” Adelaide asked.
Midnightstar was quiet. Dust said she was on her own, that she had no friends, but Midnightstar wasn’t too sure of that.
The group paused. They all were staring up at Dust, who had climbed on top of a boulder and was taking in their surroundings.
Something was odd about the way she was standing. It was too still, too refined. Dust stared out into the distance, her fur ruffling in the breeze, her beautiful head titled ever so slightly into the wind. She threw her head back, as if casting a great weight off her neck, then continued to speculate into the skies with that deep, unemotional look that never left her face.
Weirdo, Midnightstar thought.
“What do you see?” Rabika questioned, hopping up on top of the rock like Dust and trying to look as good, but failing miserably.
Dust didn’t answer. She slid off the boulder gracefully before shaking her pelt and carrying on.
“What was that all about?” Tatl said.
“She was figuring out her position, dimwit,” Rabika said, trying to come down off the boulder before toppling clumsily to the ground. She got up, spat dirt out of her mouth and said, “She has to know we’re going the right way.”
“She’s kind of strange,” Adelaide said. “She’s sort of like you in that way, Midnightstar.”
“I’m nothing like her,” Midnightstar said sharply.
Xiuh trickled down from the trees. He landed beside Dust and began speaking to her, and the beautiful wolf spoke back. Jealousy began brewing in the pit of Midnightstar’s stomach. What was more, the talk didn’t last for a few spare minutes, as Midnightstar’s inquisition had. Xiuh and Dust’s conversation went on for at least an hour as they traveled. Finally, Dust fell silent and Xiuh slipped back into the trees.
“That’s surprising,” Rabika said. “He managed to get her to talk to him.
Midnightstar let her envy be cooled by her indifference. She didn’t want to care about Xiuh, and now, she had an excuse not to. If he liked Dust better, fine. He was one less creature she had to worry about out here.
When the moon was high, seven wolves followed Snapfoot into the low plains, where the unicorn herd was known to settle during the night. The wolves winded quietly through the tall grasses and looked out, slinking close to the ground. Most of the herd was asleep, while a few others kept watch carefully, their ears pricked and alert. They’d been extra cautious since Vixen had vanished. It was one of the reasons why this endeavor was so risky for the pack to take.
“Snapfoot, this is insane! They almost double our numbers. They didn’t take a hit like the rest of the plains did!” Kaliska hissed at his side. “Let’s go back.”
“We’ve got no choice. Everybody’s hungry,” Snapfoot said. He scanned the crowd, looking for an easy target. “There,” he said, locking his gaze on a young foal who was dozing a ways away from the herd. “We want to get that one away. Spook him into the bushes. We don’t want to cause a stampede. If one of their sentries catch us, we’ll be crushed.”
“I’ll make a distraction,” Kaliska said, shrinking away. “No unicorn can keep up with my quick change of direction. They’ll all fall on their sides.”
“I hope so. Be careful.” Snapfoot watched her go, then started whispering directions to the others, “Alright. Mika, you take the left side, and Ewahee, you take the right. I’ll come up from behind, and the rest of you stay in those bushes over there so we can scare him into your jaws. Kill him quickly, before he alerts anyone else. We want to get the meat and go before the rest of them find out he’s gone missing.”
The hunting party broke apart and went to their places. Kaliska had successfully lured the other sentries away with her howls from the opposite direction. Mika glanced at Snapfoot, and the alpha nodded. All three wolves sprung from their hiding places, and the chase was on.
At first Snapfoot was frightened that the unicorn wouldn’t wake up, and they would have to kill him in front of all the others. But in the nick of time, the foal heard them coming and instinctively took off, heading right for the trap that was just up ahead.
“We got him!” Ewahee cried. “He’s ours!”
She moved a little too fast, her hunger too great. At the last moment, Snapfoot shouted out, “Ewahee, no!”
The foal kicked her in the shoulder just as she was about to spring. Whimpering, she cowered off, and the beast took off in the wrong direction.
“No, no, no!” Snapfoot shouted. “Wolves, formation!”
The plan failing, all the wolves filed out from the grasses and began to chase, but the foal was fast! They couldn’t keep up. Snapfoot soon fell behind everyone else, indicating they should stop, but they pursued onward. As always, nobody listened to him.
“Get back here, you morons!” Snapfoot cried. He stumbled forward and rolled down a large outcropping of rock, landing on a path in a part of the Verinian that hadn’t been touched by the fire.
“Why?” Snapfoot grumbled. “Why is it every time we hunt, everyone does their own thing?”
There were voices drawing near. Frightened, Snapfoot scurried into the bushes and waited, forcing himself to stay quiet. Eight hooves clomped along his path, four blue, and the others bright red.
“The forest is silent tonight, Crying Ice,” a deep voice nickered. “Like every other night.”
“Yes,” a soft voice whinnied back, her tone cool and fine. “Yet why do I feel as if something’s wrong?”
“You say that every night,” the other unicorn complained, stomping his left hoof.
“Dragonheart,” Crying Ice said in a patronizing tone. “You’re getting too soft. I believe your stomach’s too big for your brain.”
“And your horn is too big for yours. You just want something to kill,” Dragonheart said.
“I don’t kill anything. I eat plants.”
“Don’t lie. I can’t count how many wolves
you’ve slaughtered, sister. When it comes to fighting the beasts, you’re always the first to sign up. I almost think you enjoy it.”
Snapfoot’s head whirled. Of course! Crying Ice. He had heard of her. It had been known for some time among wolves she killed mercilessly and without repent. She had murdered hundreds of wolves, but not one of them had ever managed to put a scratch on her.
Crying Ice let out an infuriated neigh. “I hate wolves, and they hate me. They murdered our sister in front of my very eyes, and would’ve murdered me, too, if Vixen hadn’t come along and stopped them. She forgave them, of course. Said that they had to hunt to survive, that there was no other way and that my sister had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was foolish, too.”
Snapfoot forced himself not to growl. He loved Vixen. He’d always found some sort of wisdom in her odd words. He found it quite ironic that he had more respect for the Great One than a unicorn in her own herd did.
“As for enjoying killing them,” Crying Ice said. “I do.”
“That’s sick,” Dragonheart spat.
“They’ve done worse.” Crying Ice shook her mane.
“Wolves aren’t my favorite either, but I’m not going around getting blood on my horn for no reason. Why can’t you be like the rest of the mares and settle down with a foal?”
“Foals are snotty runts. It’s despicable that the upcoming ones will be running the herd in a few years.”
“Why, because they don’t believe in killing things for no reason?”
“There is a reason. Survival.”
“We have plenty to eat and drink, unlike most,” Dragonheart argued.
“Have you seen their numbers lately?” Crying Ice asked. “There’s over fifty wolves nearby. They’ll be on us in no time.”
“You’re being paranoid.”
“I’m being realistic. It won’t be long. You know, I’ve often thought of eliminating the vile things before they end up eliminating us first.” Crying Ice paused. “Come on. We’d better get moving.”
Snapfoot watched their hooves click away, and made sure to wait before he sprung out of the bushes and away from the sadistic Crying Ice. Next time they went on a unicorn hunt, he would make sure to put her at the top of the list to be eaten.
